STAR SICK: The Original Generation

The night had been rough. Captain Clerk almost never slept well, but having to leave his mildly villainous brother stranded — again — was nerve-wracking, and for a guy whose nerves tend to stay in a constantly wracked state, it meant another long night of playing Tetris until his eyes could no longer stay open… which happened around 4:48am, coming within 6 minutes of his all-time record.

Still, Clerk had never been late to a shift in his life, and today was no exception, though it took 2 cans of Red Buranga® to make it happen.

Stepping off the elevator onto the Bridge, he moseyed on over to Lt. Whatsisname, who was already busy doing… whatever it was he did all day.

“I’ve just had the strangest dream, Lieutenant,” he muttered.

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Hey everybody. This isn’t really an episode, but… I had decided I was ready to end the blog, but wanted to have one last episode to wrap things up. Unfortunately, I kept putting off writing it until I no longer felt up to it. I almost left it as it was, but didn’t want that sudden ending be the last word. On the other hand, I wasn’t fully enthused about the series finale I had planned. So, in lieu of a “proper” end to the blog, here’s an outline of what the last episode was going to be. Thanks for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story. Maybe someday I’ll do a sequel.

Captain’s Blog

Captain, we’re out of ideas.

Clerk grabs a book. Why, we have tons of ideas! Charlie Y, Spock’s Spleen, Yet Another Gorn Fight, etc.

Then I (author) enter the story and argue with the crew.

Set phasers to kill! Maim! Slice! Dice! Tickle! Nothing works.

Sorry guys, the blog’s over.

So that’s it?

Well, I was gonna have Clerk wake up and this episode be a dream.

Yeah, that would have been bad.

Could be worse. Could have been a two-part episode stretched out over seven seasons.

“Banished?” Clerk asked. “Oh, you mean how I saved your neck by dropping you off here, where the Romulans couldn’t get to you? They’re still upset over the drain-clogging scam, you know.”

“I was handling the situation just fine, man. I didn’t need your help.”

“Whatever. You called me, crying, because they had you holed up on Rutabaga III in a penal colony. I’m starting to regret having volunteered to respond to the extradition request.”

Lionel leaned back against the wall again, and took another sip of his root beer. Suddenly, he felt a strange tingling sensation. He looked at the can, and to his shock, he saw he was drinking the one he’d marked for his brother. His eyes widened and he turned a little pale.

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Meanwhile, back on the ship…

“Hello everybody,” said Lt. Whatsisname as he stood at the front of Training Room B. “Sorry it’s taken so long for us to get the New Crewmember Orientation session going. As you know, we’ve had quite an unusual last couple of months, what with the yearly inspection, the kitchen fire, the Monopoly tournament, discovering over a dozen new floors to the ship, and all the other craziness going on. Still, it’s Fleet policy to go over all this stuff, and hey, better late than never. So, to get started, we’ll–”

Just then, the doors opened, and a very disheveled (and sleepy) Mr. Klaa’ck stumbled into the room.

“7:30am is a very illogical time for an orientation session,” he growled.

“It’s 8pm, sir.”

“You are very fortunate I do not have anything sharp on me.”

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“Plan?” asked Captain Clerk. “I just heard you say you had no operation.”

“Well yeah,” Lionel said, shifting in his chair. “I mean, you gotta get through plan phase to get to operation phase.”

Sigh. “Okay, fine. Tell me your plan.”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes I do. I asked, didn’t I?”

“But you don’t want me too. You just want to get it over with so you can call me names. Any time you start with ‘Okay, fine‘ I know you–”

“Just tell me, okay?”

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