Star Yecch -1: It's The BOOBYPRIZE! You're Saved!!

Captain's Log: Stardate 7:9102.02

"The Amalgamation Starship BOOBYPRIZE, DYF-0151-A, is on what could be described as a necessary patrol in the nether regions just north of the Home Sector. It also could be described as the most boring and useless duty ever, next to straightening out one's sock drawer. I, Admiral James Tyrone Quirk, the most infamous starship Captain in the known universe, and the personal enemy of the Klingfree Empire, am about ready to tell Starfleet to shove this patrol..."

"Capt'm, Capt'm!!! We're receivin' a really obnoxious message." This was Communications officer Commander Ijusta Olhora. "He be sayin' 'Beep Beep! Get owta my way!'"

At that point in time, Ensign Devider Intwain, the new navigator, somehow instituted an evasive right, tossing everyone who was asleep, and some who were not, out of bed.

"Godsdammit Intwain! Tryin' to kill us?" bellowed Quirk. "Hans, What do you make of her?"

Hans Oleo, expert helmsman and soon-to-be Captain, looked hard at the view screen. "Yes, sir. It's just your standard rice-rocket from Mitsubishi Sector, Uncle Ben Class, converted, Sir. She's doin', oh I'd say WArP 9. Probably a smuggler."

"Engineering! Scotchy! I need everything you've got. WArP 10!", announced Quirk.

"At your command!" replied Montgomery Ward Scotch, the universe's greatest engineer.

"Red Alert! Hi-ho, Oleo! Away!" begged Quirk.

And, quicker than you could say "Oops" (which is pretty damn quick), the BOOBYPRIZE, The Amalgamation of Non-Aligned Lifeforms Starfleet's most infamous Edsel Class Battlewagon, stumbled into WArP speed, trekking the light fantastik in persuit of the insignificant slimy Nipper.

The elevator opened to the bridge, discharging First Officer Ynabed Ubeddumma Savage, alarmingly alarmed. "Big Jim, I mean, Admiral sir, we shouldn't persue this so quickly. That rice rocket is heading in the direction of the Calcutta!"

"Not the Calcutta!!" screamed the bridge crew.

"Yes, that Calcutta!" returned Savage. "By the way, you all did that nicely!"

"Admiral, no one has ever returned from that black hole!", cried Oleo.

"Hans, full reverse! Hang a right!"

The BOOBYPRIZE strained at the sudden attempt to change direction. Lights dimmed, decks twisted, stomachs turned, cookies crumbled, balls bounced. Savage's hair was tossed like a chef's salad, and her insipid orange bobby pins were dispersed through space like electrons in a cloud.

The BOOBYPRIZE's computer did not go unused.

The view screen grew blanker and blanker as the hole loomed closer and closer. "Too late, Admiral! We're goin' in," announced Savage.

"Oh, lawsey, we'ze gonna die!" yelled Olhora. "Starfleet! Starfleet! This is the BOOBYPRIZE! Oh, lawzey! We be enterin' the black hole of Calcutta! Do you read us?! Hey, Mutha trucka's! We is gonna die! Oh, Farina! Oh, Buckwheat! Oh, Aunt Jemima! Hi-Ho Silver! We is goin' away!"

"And that's the last we heard of them, Ophelia?" asked Admiral of the Fleet H. L. Niagara.

"Yes, sir, that's it. Not so much as a peep," replied Admiral d'Cleavage.

"Good. Maybe we're rid of them. Send out a Porneaux Patrol Ship to the sector to conduct a search. Tell them not to look too hard or too long."

Deep in the deep dark cavern of the universe, a slightly queer, nay, lisping, nay, queer is better, a queer voice speaks to a machine.

Captain's Log: Thtardate 10:1785.39

The SADDAM HUSSEIN, DYF-0199, the last of the Edsel-Class Battlewagons, is prethently patroling the Calcutta Sthector. We have not theen any action since yethterday when we recovered the hulk of an ancient Mitthubithi rithe rocket. The hull rath deformed entirely beyond recognithion by the gravitational fortheth which envelope the Calcutta thingamajig. Yeth, thingamajig. It uthed to be called a black hole, but it rethently had changed color to a shade of purple-gray.

Our Klingfree crew hath been asthigned to thith thhip ath a way to familiarithe ourthelveth with the Amalgamation thhipth. All of thith headache wath cauthed by the inthipid peathe treaty, completed a kilofortnight ago, betwixtht the Amalgamation of Thuper-Thuperfluouth Humanoidth of Limited Enterprithe and the Klingfree Empire. We have joined together becauthe we are oh-tho-tired of fighting each other, and the fact that neither of uth have heard from the Remouladeth in fourty-five yearth hath bothered uth a wee bit.

We had to do a little refurbishing of the ship to meet our tasthteth. Bruuth, my firtht and only mate, picked out thith ethereal magenta running hide for our chairth, and a tathteful thunthine yellow for the wallth of the bridge. I found thome picthureth of a human pleathure palathe that I hope to model the bridge after. This thhip ith tho crath! It'th hideouth! I love it.

We haven't got the hang of thith rolling-the-die before firing Pharton torpedoeth, but I do like the thhade of red they uthe for battle alert.

Thith patrol could be dethcribed ath the motht boring and utheleth duty ever, nextht to thtraightening out one'th thock drawer. BOOORING!

"Amiga Krrrl! Amiga Krrrl! The Tappan long-range sensors are picking up something exiting the 'jig!" chirped Ensign Grade AA Large Mrrxs.

"Quick, yellow alert! Dscortt, what do you make of her?" questioned the Amiga.

"Well, I'd like to make her into a jelly roll with pylon cream filling, but I can't, since she really looks like one of ours!" explained Lt. Commander Dscortt.

"It's an Edsel!" screamed the bridge crew!

"That's Impossible!" retorted Krrrl. "We're the last of the Edsels, or so the Amalgamation would have us believe." The Amiga paused for a second. "Something's damn peculiar. Go to Red Alert! Full Battle Status!. If they want to test us, we'll give them a test to end all tests."

"Sounds very proctological to me, Amiga!" returned Science Officer Mffdvr, who was just entering the bridge.

"Ship is now at full alert, sir!" reported Mrrxs.

The brige grew quiet for a moment, that quiet that one hears while lying in a hotel room, listening to the person upstairs undress, and that person has taken off only one shoe.

Mr. Mffdvr's boot broke the silence. "Ouch!" suffered Mffdvr. "Sorry. Sir, I think that I'm reading this right. The ship is definitely an Edsel, a very old and rare Corvair configuration. She's running on COM-POST power, of all things. How uugh! The computer is trying to figure out who she is."

"That can't be hard," figured Dscorrt. "They only built five of that design — the TITANIC, PAN AM, HOOD, TENNESSEE, and the.."

"Oh my Stars!" screamed Mffdvr. "They are signalling us! They want us to talk to them! Can you believe that?!"

"What if they want us to surrender?" Mrrxs wondered. "What will we do? What will we do?"

It was the darkness which panicked everyone. When one is used to having multi-colored displays, screens that show swirls and blinking squares, and the view screen constantly eminating light, total darkness can scare the bejesus [whatever that is] out of you. Especially, if you are James Tyrone Quirk, a man in his extremely late forties who still sleeps with a night light.

"Scotchy! Can you get us some power up here?! Lights, candles, anything! Damn, something's crawling up my leg!" screamed Quirk.

"Sorry, Admiral," begged Savage. "I, uh, lost my, uh, place"

"Oh, that's okay. Carry on." An orgasmic moment passed. "Scotchy!"

"In just a minute, Admiral! We're picking up the pieces down here!" Muffled thuds, bangs, clanks, and screams accompanied Mr. Scotch's voice. "All we've got left is the batteries, sir. Ugnhf! I can have auxilliary power as soon as I can Ouch! find the damn light switch. Yikes!"

A sizzling sound ended the last transmission, but not before the lights came on, which was then followed on the bridge by muffled swearing, the sounds of zippers being pulled, and "thanks" being passed around.

"It would seem to me that Mr. Scotch found the right fuse," mused the Admiral.

A "ding" followed by a "swish" announced the fact that the elevator had arrived.

"Goddammit Jim, what the hell's going on?!" This was the galaxy-revered medical officer Leonhard 'Bones' Maloy, ship's doctor and movie critic. Also galaxy-revered drinking partner of the Admiral, the engineer, and two-thirds of the galaxy.

"Bones, how'd you get up here? Didn't you know the lifts weren't working?"

"Sorry, didn't have time to check the script."

"Anyway, how could you see where you were...?"

"Shit, haven't any of you idiots ever heard of a flashlight?"

"I have!" came from a few of the bridge crew.

"Oh shut up. You haven't answered my question, Jim."

"We got pulled int the black hole of Calcutta," sighed Jim. "As soon as Scotchy gets us some power, we can find out where we are. Anyway, shouldn't you be in sick bay? There's bound to be some people hurt, if not killed."

"Well, I guess I should. Have a nice day!"

With that, the lift sighed and whisked Dr. Maloy down and across to the hospital, where there were wounded and dying awaiting him.

Meanwhile, back on the bridge, auxilliary power had been restored, causing computers and instruments to commence blinking, buzzing, and chirping. Ensign Entwain was about to report.

"Sir, it seems that we are pretty close to where we were before we went into the hole."

"What do you mean, 'it seems'?"

Before the ensign could respond, Quirk's attention was grabbed by the viewscreen, which showed the usual magnificent field of different colored stars against the solemn black of space. Only this time there was a white dot up and to the left of the center. It was growing larger.

"Hans, what the hell is that little dot?"

"I don't know, sir. It looks like one of ours."

"We don't have any dots. Savage, check it out."

Savage checked her computer, punching numerous buttons many times over. The computer screen displayed the outline of an Edsel class Battlewagon, but inserted question marks next to its name and number.

"No doubt, one of ours, but which one? Looks like the computer's confused."

Quirk pondered the situation for a moment, during which a deathly silence reigned on the bridge, if you don't count the buzzing and chirping of the instruments and computers.

At last, Quirk spoke. "Could be a rescue ship. Olhora did yell pretty loud."

"Thank you, hunney."

"But, I'm not taking any chances. I still remember that Con crap. The computer's screwed up, and we really can't see it very well. It could be a Klingfree Frog of Prey in disguise. I heard they can do that with their Croaking devices. Savage, go to Red Alert."

Savage punched some more buttons, causing lights to blink, sirens to wail, Olhora to yell, PHASERs to charge, shields to raise, and torpedoes to arm. Not a bad job for just a few buttons.

"Olhora, open a hailing frequency. Let's see who they are."

The multi-efficient commications officer bent to her task. "You're on, Jim, baby"

"How many times have I told you not to call me..."

"Sir, that is an open line," reminded Savage.

Quirk spoke into the air. "This is the Amalgamation Starship BOOBYPRIZE. Identify your vessel. I repeat, this is the Amalgamation Starship BOOBYPRIZE. Identify your vessel."

Silence once again filled the bridge, if again you don't count the buzzing and chirping of the instruments and computers. Seconds dragged into moments, and moments into a minute. As they watched, the other ship loomed ever closer to the BOOBYPRIZE.

"Why don't they answer?" wondered Quirk.

"Maybe their Chamber's coil has overloaded?" pondered Oleo. "That could be it, or maybe they're waiting to get close enough for a real shot."

"They're already close enough or that. F'narkie, target the engines, and stand by with pharton torpedoes."

Commander Achew F'narkie, the best shot this side of Dodge City, grinned a huge grin, and set his sights on the other ship. "Ready, sir. I rolled a two."

Silence once again filled the bridge, if again you don't count the buzzing and chirping of the instruments and computers. Olhora finally broke this silence. "Sorry, guys. Musta been those beans I ate."

While everyone began to hold thier breaths, a lisping voice appeared on the radio.

"This is the Amalgamation Starship SADDAM HUSSEIN. You have given the identification of a non-existent ship. Properly identify yourself, or I will blow you..., er..., smash your ship into iddy bitty bits."

"He sounds like a Kling! Olhora, get me a visual!" yelled Quirk.

The viewscreen changed to show the interior of a ship that could best be described as a hideous cross between an Edsel and a really cheap New Orleans whorehouse.

"It is Klings! Why, those fuzz-sucking insufferable blue-nosed pick-lickers have captured one of our ships! Fire!"

Two brown spheroids screamed from the hull of the BOOBYPRIZE, impacting nanoseconds later into the hull of the HUSSEIN. The result was painful to the eye, and much more painful to those occupying the HUSSEIN, especially the engineering department.

The HUSSEIN began to tumble from the impact as parts of her ain drive area were dispersed through space like electrons in a cloud. Quirk was pleased at the growing destruction.

"Good shooting, F'narkie! Olhora, order them to surrender and prepare to be boarded."

"Sir, they be radioin' for help! And they's askin' why we fired on them."

Suddenly, a green PHASER beam weakly streaked from the HUSSEIN to the BOOBYPRIZE, and for a brief moment the two ships were connected.

"No damage, sir. The Dalkon shields can hold that intensity!" cried Savage.

"Let me finish them off, sir!" begged F'narkie. "Please?!"

Quirk thought for a moment. "Could there be a chance any of our people could still be aboard? Olhora, patch me in."

The scream changed once again, but this time the hideous whorehouse looked like it had been raided by King Kong. Smoke drifted everywhere, torn bodies were visible, as was damaged equipment.

"Hey, are there any humans aboard your ship?" asked Quirk.

"Of course not. This is an all Klingfree crew!"

Quirk smiled. "Thanks, that's all I wanted to know."

He turned to F'narkie and winked. "Leave no trace."

Green rays from the BOOBYPRIZE raked the SADDAM HUSSEIN, neatly cutting pieces from the ship. Hull plates collapsed and/or exploded, sparks filled space where cables and tubes were cut. An escape pod was jettisoned, but Hans Oleo, who had joined at the weapons console, nabbed the little bastard. As soon as the torp load status showed ready, F'narkie sent them flying.

The main dish section ripped into billions and billions of pieces, assuring that hardly anyone was left alive. The bridge crew on the BOOBYPRIZE cheered each explosion, until Lt. Savage spoke.

"Sir, their engines are going to blow in about five seconds."

Quirk sat upright. "Hans, get us out of here. Scotchy, WArP drive, now!"

"Ayer Admiral! Step on it!"

"Hi-Ho, Oleo! Away!"

And, once again, quicker than you could say "Ops" (which is a whole lot quicker than "oops"), the BOOBYPRIZE, The Amalgamation of Non-Aligned Lifeforms Starfleet's most infamous Edsel Class Battlewagon (a little redundant, don't you think?), stumbled into WArP speed, trekking the light fantastik in a heroic attempt to save their lives. (It's amazing the things you can do with your word processor.)

Captain's Log: Stardate ...

"Olhora, what's the stardate?"

"Well, according to Starfleet, it be 10:1786.39," responded the luscious Commander.

"Wait, you got Starfleet? I thought you told me a minute ago that you couldn't make out most of the radio transmissions?"

"I did say dat, but I was able to find WWV and get the correct time."

Lt. Savage butted in. "Sir, either the computer is still screwed up, or we have jumped ahead 87 years."

"Think about it, Savage," returned Quirk, "this is the BOOBYPRIZE."

"Oh." Savage pondered a moment. "Well, I guess that means the computer is screwed up."

"There's no way that this tub could... Well, it is possible. . . Nahh." That was typical Quirk.

A 'ding' followed by a 'swish' announced the fact that the elevator had arrived.

"Dammit, Jim, you know we've time traveled before." This was equally typical Dr. Maloy. "Think about it."

Silence once again filled the bridge, if again you don't count the buzzing and chirping of the instruments and computers. Most of the crew had been aboard the first flight of the new DeSoto class Battlecruiser EXPECTORATION when they took a gay trip across time and space before perfecting the new Trash-WArP drive. The minds of the crew were not filled with happy memories.