BY
MARK TORRES
(TUESDAY: STARDATE - 51362.8... or 82631.5?)
Captain's Log...Stardate 51362.8...or is that 82631.5? I'm pretty sure it's a Tuesday. My crew and I have been monitoring the progress of the 312th Annual Michaels Family Reunion. In the two weeks since the beginning of the reunion, we have estimated that nearly seventy-eight percent of the family have arrived. The other approximately 90,000 family members should arrive within the week. The way this family grows, it will only be a couple of years before the island resort of Hawaii will be two small for these family outings. So far we have no reports of any problems. This will soon change. It's taught to every cadet at the academy in Michaels 101, that every Reunion is accompanied by some type of disaster, whether it be natural or man-made. As the family grew, so did the problems. Almost every family line has a large constituency. But only the Michaels family insists on congregating in a small area at least once every 365 days. In the late 21st century, when the Michaels started to colonize other planets, it was deemed necessary that an organization be created to help keep track of this ever expanding clan. As a result, on March 18, 2097, a Thursday I might add, the United Federation of Michaels was founded. It's job is to protect the family members from the inevitable disasters as well as minimize any collateral damage.
"Captain! We're receiving a distress signal from Sector Nine!"
"So? What do you want me to do about it?," the Captain said in a sarcastic voice. "How many times to I have to tell you, that we have more important things to do than rescue some yahoo who breaks his own ship because he doesn't know where to stick his warp coil! Let Starfleet handle this."
"But Sir," Commander Kelly rolled her eyes in disgust, "the ship is registered to Andy Travis VIII."
"And he would be...?"
"Oh Puppy Child," responded Cloward, the resident Michaels Historian, "you can be so obtuse sometimes."
"Thank you. But you still haven't told me who this Travis guy is."
"The Travis family is a main branch of the Michaels clan." Cloward paused to give Abdul a chance to catch up. "The Travis line holds the honor of being the organizers for the reunions as well being famous for keeping alive the tradition of wearing obscenely tight jeans."
"Your point being...?"
"Since are primary mission is to protect the Michaels family, then we should respond as soon as possible to any distress call made by a member."
"Well why didn't you tell me?" Captain Abdul exclaimed as he adjusted his shirt with a quick tug of his hand.
Under her breath, Kelly replied, "She just did, you moron."
"What was that?"
"Nothing... nothing at all."
"Well, I guess we better hurry. Lieutenant Wagner, Warp Two!" Abdul stood a little taller, proud of his decision.
"Sir, it would take us a week to reach Sector Nine at that speed," the helmsman informed their befuddled leader.
"Oh. What I meant to say was Warp Twelve!"
"Sir, we can't achieve Warp Twelve," responded Wagner. "May I make a suggestion?"
"Don't tell me. I'll get it. Is it three?" The Captain held up three fingers.
"Higher," Lieutenant Wagner suggested.
"Warp Eight?"
"Lower," growled Commander Kelly.
"How about One?"
"HIGHER you idiot!" yelled Kelly.
"If you're going to call me names, I'm not going to play anymore," the Captain pouted.
"Fine! Be that way," Cloward added, tired of the Captain flaunting his mental prowess.
"It's okay," Counselor Gustainis' soothing voice interceded. "It was meant with affection."
"It was?" Abdul perked up. "In that case, Warp Five?"
"Close enough! You win!" barked Kelly, "Wagner...Warp Six...Engage!" With a high pitched Zwooom, the Starship Harem raced off to Sector Nine. Upon arriving at their destination the vessel returned to normal space without a sound. On the bridge's view screen a personal shuttle could be seen being fired upon by a pirate ship five times its size. The shuttle's shields obviously wouldn't take the abuse much longer.
"Hey, what happened to that Shwoosh sound we usually make when we come out of warp?" asked the Captain, totally oblivious to the battle taking place.
"What! No Shwoosh?" panicked Chief Engineer Wagner (a different Wagner, not the one who pilots the ship). "How can we possibly function if we don't go Shwoosh when we come out of warp? I must fix this immediately!" Chief Wagner rushed off the bridge heading toward the engine room.
"I have communications with the shuttle," reported Kelly.
Through a patch of static a worried voice could be heard. "This is Andy Travis. I'm being attacked! I'm okay, but I don't think my shields are going to last much longer."
"Andy? Andy! Andy's out there!" cried a voice through the intraship commline. "Beam him directly to Sick Bay!"
"Dr. Hargan, calm down," Gustainis advised. "He's not even injured."
The static got louder. "The shields have failed! The ship is breaking up! Aaaaaahhhhh!"
"Beam Travis directly to Sick Bay," ordered Kelly.
"I'm afraid we can't beam him directly there," Transporter Chief Moss informed her. "That circuit is booked through the holidays. "We'll have to cross-circuit to a substation, then after a brief lay-over, we can direct him to sickbay."
"You're a miracle worker, Moss," the Captain praised his highly efficient chief.
Moss gave him an "all in a day's work" smile and set to work.
"Captain, ready to fire on your order," Weapons Officer Pearce reported with a bloodthirsty gleam in her eye.
"Fire? Fire at what?" questioned the Captain.
"At the pirate ship!"
"What pirate ship?" Abdul turned around and was startled as he finally noticed what was on the fifteen foot high view screen. "Oh, that pirate ship?"
"Well?" Pearce held a finger over the firing mechanism.
"Okay, fire at will."
Weapons Officer Pearce smacked the weapons console with enthusiasm, only to be rewarded with a sputtering noise. "The weapons have failed!"
"Wagner, what's wrong with the weapons?" demanded Commander Kelly.
"How should I know? I only drive the ship," exclaimed Lieutenant Wagner.
"Not you. The other one. Chief Wagner... status report."
"I've almost got the Shwoosh fixed. But, I had to take the weapons off-line," responded Chief Wagner from the engine room. "I hope it's not an inconvenience."
"Not at all," Abdul commented. "The Shwoosh is very important."
"The pirate ship is powering up their phasers!" Kelly observed. "Raise shields!"
The pirate ship fired at the Harem. The crew ricocheted all over the bridge as the ship took a direct hit.
"Oh, yeah. I took the shields off-line as well," added an embarrassed Wagner. "But everything is working now."
"Let's hope so," Gustainis sighed, with a 'why am I here' look.
"Firing phasers." Pearce slammed her fist against the console. A beam of intense energy struck the pirate ship's engine, disabling the craft.
"Firing Photon Torpedo." A torpedo collided with the helpless ship, tearing it to shreds.
"Pearce?"
"Yes, Captain."
"By any chance, are you part Klingon?"
Pearce responded with a toothy grin.
"Captain?"
"Yes, Counselor?"
"This has been a stressful situation. I believe a neck rub is in order," counseled the Counselor.
"I believe you're right." Abdul sat in his chair and tried to get comfortable. "I could use a good massage."
Gustainis walked toward the Captain and took the chair from behind him. She moved it in front of Abdul and sat down. "Okay. You can start now."
Not questioning the Counselor's wisdom, Abdul began giving her a neck rub.
"Captain, I'm reading an energy drain," reported Chief Wagner. "Somebody is using the tractor beam."
Commander Kelly rolled her eyes. "Lieutenant Wagner, will you stop cleaning up the debris. Let it float in space."
"But Commander," Wagner protested. "It's such a mess!"
"Just leave it." Kelly stopped and began to sniff the air. "Does anybody smell smoke?"
At that moment, an alarm went off throughout the ship. "Fire in Sick Bay... Fire in Sick Bay!"
"Bridge to Sick Bay. Dr. Hargan, is everything okay?"
"Umm... uhhh... yeah," Dr. Hargan hesitated. "Everything's fine."
"How's your patient?" Kelly motioned to activate the view screen.
As the Sick Bay came into view, Dr. Hargan could be seen waving her hands, trying to clear what looked like cigarette smoke. "He was wonderful. I mean, he's very healthy."
"Then why is he lying on the table naked?" The entire crew, except the Captain, crowded around the view screen.
"Well..." Dr. Hargan smiled, "I had to give him a thorough examination."
Captain Abdul, struck a pose in the middle of the bridge, lifting his head in pride. "Our work here is done. Let's go home."
Nobody was listening.