Meme Ficlets (Star Trek)
Title: The Tribble Storm Cometh
Prompt: Bones, #12 (storm)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Word Count: 480
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Jim Kirk, Montgomery Scott, Spock, Janice Rand (cameo)
Summary: Short AOS spin on the TOS classic Trouble With Tribbles.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to st_reboot and trekfics)
It was one of the facts of life of living in close proximity to James T. Kirk: when it rained, it fucking poured. Which Leonard McCoy could generally handle when it was in the literal sense (with the very big exception of lightning storms in space). This, though-- this was becoming a real shit storm.
Bad enough that Jim was letting the crew take Shore Leave on Deep Space K-7 at the same time as a Klingon vessel but some idiot had gone and fed Scotty's pet Tribble. They were already up to their ankles in the damned fuzzy things and, since the little alien puff balls had gotten inside the grain being housed on the station, that didn't look to be changing anytime soon.
McCoy had been trying to find a humane way to make them sterile or something before the goddamned things filled up the quadrant-- which wouldn't take nearly as long as he'd like to believe (something the half-Vulcan calculator called Spock had been helpful enough to point out). Unfortunately, it wasn't going so well and every time he turned around it seemed like another dozen Tribbles had popped up.
The senior staff assembled in the meeting room, surrounded by a frustrating number of pleasantly cooing balls of fluff. Jim's expression was uncharacteristically frustrated and McCoy suspected it was because people kept slipping Tribbles onto the Captain's seat when he wasn't looking. "Someone tell me they've come up with a way to get them out of here."
There was a mournful expression on Scotty's face. "Still workin' on gettin' the sensors t'isolate the lil' buggars, Captain."
McCoy didn't have much better news. "I haven't been able to figure a way to stop them from being born pregnant. S'long as they're not fed, they won't have any more babies but that still leaves the population growing at a steady rate." And increasing infinitely.
"Indeed." Fuck, it was a bad day when Spock was agreeing with him.
Scowling, Jim looked at Yeoman Rand. "I want every available hand on Tribble clean-up. I don't care how we do it but we are getting these damned things off my ship." He glanced at the chronometer and made a face. "I have to go meet with our friendly neighborhood station manager." His gaze swept over his staff. "Figure something out."
Yeah, right, as if it was that easy. McCoy rolled his eyes. Yup, it was pouring, all right. (Because the Klingons hadn't been problematic enough.) "Shit storm," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he headed back to Sickbay. Of all the ways he could die in space (and he'd thought about it at length and in great detail), drowning in Tribbles seemed the least dignified. So he was going to not do that if possible.
Damn Jim Kirk and his damned ridiculous luck. When this was all over and he and Scotty were commiserating over a bottle of something good, McCoy was not inviting Jim. (He meant it this time, too. Really.)
Title: which is yes
Prompt: Kirk and Pike and Bones, #11 (wind)
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 657
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Jim Kirk, Chris Pike, Spock (cameo)
Summary: in which McCoy is jerked around, Kirk is the wind, Spock is a mountain and Pike laughs (or, Leonard McCoy's futile attempts tried to get out of a piloting elective)
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Also, the title comes from a quote by e.e. cummings, which is not mine, either. Please don't sue.
companion piece/sequel here: if you miss, you may hit a star
(pimped to st_reboot and trekfics)
The thing about Jim Kirk is that he blows into your life like the fucking wind, uproots shit and stirs things around, and then blows out again before you even realize what happened. At least, that's McCoy's feeling on the matter because he definitely didn't sign up for a piloting class of all things on his own volition, that's for damned sure.
Yet here he is. Still adamant that fully understanding everything about how and why shuttles and spaceships work will not in any way help assuage his fears about going out into the giant vacuum of death and disease that is space, sure, but present all the same. (Not for lack of trying to get out of it but apparently Jim had slipped McCoy's advisor some of his warped Kool-Aid because the infernal man just would not let him drop this damn elective.)
Thankfully, they won't even be looking at the inside of a real shuttle until the second half of the semester. That gives him plenty of time to either figure a way around his advisor or come to terms with this damn class being a reality and just deal. Personally, he's hoping for the former and expecting the latter. (Cynic, thy name be Leonard Horatio McCoy.)
It's his effort to bypass his stupid ass advisor that he comes face to face with Christopher fucking Pike. (Which is, admittedly, probably better than their first meeting in which McCoy was still on his Big Fat Divorce Drinking Binge, but he doesn't like that the second impression he's leaving on the captain is one of being a whiner.)
Here's the thing, though: Chris Pike is the reason Jim Kirk is at Starfleet Academy. Chris Pike is the reason Leonard McCoy even met Jim Kirk at all. Therefore, Chris Pike is indirectly responsible for the aviophobic McCoy having to suffer this stupid piloting class. So he figures the captain kind of owes him there and, really, he's just trying to appeal to his human side here.
And Chris Pike's response? Laughter and lots of it. "Cadet McCoy, do you really think there's anything on this planet-- or any other, for that matter-- that can stop a determined Jim Kirk?" And, well, when he puts it like that, McCoy really does see the futility of his efforts. (Not that he didn't before. SEE: Leonard Horatio McCoy, not-so-closet pessimist.)
Because Jim Kirk is like the fucking wind. He blows through life and there's no stopping him, no matter how much you might want to. (Admittedly, McCoy doesn't usually want to as much as he tries to pretend he does but still.) You just have to wait it out and hope nothing gets too broken in the process to be fixed again.
McCoy doesn't think anything will be. He thinks Chris Pike agrees with him, too, otherwise he probably wouldn't have pushed Jim to enlist in the first place. So there's that. And him taking this damn piloting class-- he knows a futile effort when he sees one. Add it to the hundreds of other things he never thought he'd do because, hell, this is his life now.
And, God help him, he doesn't hate it. Probably mostly because of Jim Kirk but McCoy isn't looking too deeply into that. (Isn't willing to admit he might actually need another human being, not after everything that happened with his bitch ex-wife.) Isn't telling Jim, either-- kid's got a big enough head about himself as it is.
Still, he can't help but wonder what'll happen when Jim finally blows into a mountain. (As it turns out, what happens is a lot of ridiculous shit because that mountain is named Spock and what starts as one thing turns into something else entirely and by the end of everything McCoy doesn't know what to think about anything anymore, least of all Jim Kirk who saved the whole goddamned world. But that's a whole other story.)
Title: Relative Definitions (or how context changes word meanings)
Prompt: Picard + Data or Worf, #7 (sleet)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Rating: G
Word Count: 179
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Worf, Data, Will Riker
Summary: Another day, another away mission. Unfortunately for Worf, this one involves cold precipitation.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to trekfics)
"I thought this planet was supposed to be hospitable," Worf grumbled under his breath, swatting at the falling flakes that were trying desperately to cling to his face and hair.
Data glanced over to the Klingon. "I believe that the Kazarites consider this to be hospitable weather."
Worf grunted. "It is snowing."
"Actually," Data tilted his head thoughtfully, "this precipitation seems to be a mixture of rain and snow, more commonly referred to as sleet or wintry showers."
Ahead of them, Will Riker hid a smile-- and changed the subject: "It's not like you to complain, Mr. Worf."
Stiffening almost imperceptibly, Worf grit his teeth. "I am not complaining," he countered, disdain for the implication evident plain by how he said the word. The effect was ruined, however, when he sniffed loudly and growled. "Although I will admit, cold weather does not... agree with Klingons."
Data opened his mouth-- perhaps to comment, perhaps to ask a question-- before apparently thinking better of the action and shutting his mouth again.
This time Riker didn't bother to hide his amused grin.
Prompt: Bones, #12 (storm)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Word Count: 480
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Jim Kirk, Montgomery Scott, Spock, Janice Rand (cameo)
Summary: Short AOS spin on the TOS classic Trouble With Tribbles.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to st_reboot and trekfics)
It was one of the facts of life of living in close proximity to James T. Kirk: when it rained, it fucking poured. Which Leonard McCoy could generally handle when it was in the literal sense (with the very big exception of lightning storms in space). This, though-- this was becoming a real shit storm.
Bad enough that Jim was letting the crew take Shore Leave on Deep Space K-7 at the same time as a Klingon vessel but some idiot had gone and fed Scotty's pet Tribble. They were already up to their ankles in the damned fuzzy things and, since the little alien puff balls had gotten inside the grain being housed on the station, that didn't look to be changing anytime soon.
McCoy had been trying to find a humane way to make them sterile or something before the goddamned things filled up the quadrant-- which wouldn't take nearly as long as he'd like to believe (something the half-Vulcan calculator called Spock had been helpful enough to point out). Unfortunately, it wasn't going so well and every time he turned around it seemed like another dozen Tribbles had popped up.
The senior staff assembled in the meeting room, surrounded by a frustrating number of pleasantly cooing balls of fluff. Jim's expression was uncharacteristically frustrated and McCoy suspected it was because people kept slipping Tribbles onto the Captain's seat when he wasn't looking. "Someone tell me they've come up with a way to get them out of here."
There was a mournful expression on Scotty's face. "Still workin' on gettin' the sensors t'isolate the lil' buggars, Captain."
McCoy didn't have much better news. "I haven't been able to figure a way to stop them from being born pregnant. S'long as they're not fed, they won't have any more babies but that still leaves the population growing at a steady rate." And increasing infinitely.
"Indeed." Fuck, it was a bad day when Spock was agreeing with him.
Scowling, Jim looked at Yeoman Rand. "I want every available hand on Tribble clean-up. I don't care how we do it but we are getting these damned things off my ship." He glanced at the chronometer and made a face. "I have to go meet with our friendly neighborhood station manager." His gaze swept over his staff. "Figure something out."
Yeah, right, as if it was that easy. McCoy rolled his eyes. Yup, it was pouring, all right. (Because the Klingons hadn't been problematic enough.) "Shit storm," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he headed back to Sickbay. Of all the ways he could die in space (and he'd thought about it at length and in great detail), drowning in Tribbles seemed the least dignified. So he was going to not do that if possible.
Damn Jim Kirk and his damned ridiculous luck. When this was all over and he and Scotty were commiserating over a bottle of something good, McCoy was not inviting Jim. (He meant it this time, too. Really.)
Title: which is yes
Prompt: Kirk and Pike and Bones, #11 (wind)
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 657
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Jim Kirk, Chris Pike, Spock (cameo)
Summary: in which McCoy is jerked around, Kirk is the wind, Spock is a mountain and Pike laughs (or, Leonard McCoy's futile attempts tried to get out of a piloting elective)
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Also, the title comes from a quote by e.e. cummings, which is not mine, either. Please don't sue.
companion piece/sequel here: if you miss, you may hit a star
(pimped to st_reboot and trekfics)
The thing about Jim Kirk is that he blows into your life like the fucking wind, uproots shit and stirs things around, and then blows out again before you even realize what happened. At least, that's McCoy's feeling on the matter because he definitely didn't sign up for a piloting class of all things on his own volition, that's for damned sure.
Yet here he is. Still adamant that fully understanding everything about how and why shuttles and spaceships work will not in any way help assuage his fears about going out into the giant vacuum of death and disease that is space, sure, but present all the same. (Not for lack of trying to get out of it but apparently Jim had slipped McCoy's advisor some of his warped Kool-Aid because the infernal man just would not let him drop this damn elective.)
Thankfully, they won't even be looking at the inside of a real shuttle until the second half of the semester. That gives him plenty of time to either figure a way around his advisor or come to terms with this damn class being a reality and just deal. Personally, he's hoping for the former and expecting the latter. (Cynic, thy name be Leonard Horatio McCoy.)
It's his effort to bypass his stupid ass advisor that he comes face to face with Christopher fucking Pike. (Which is, admittedly, probably better than their first meeting in which McCoy was still on his Big Fat Divorce Drinking Binge, but he doesn't like that the second impression he's leaving on the captain is one of being a whiner.)
Here's the thing, though: Chris Pike is the reason Jim Kirk is at Starfleet Academy. Chris Pike is the reason Leonard McCoy even met Jim Kirk at all. Therefore, Chris Pike is indirectly responsible for the aviophobic McCoy having to suffer this stupid piloting class. So he figures the captain kind of owes him there and, really, he's just trying to appeal to his human side here.
And Chris Pike's response? Laughter and lots of it. "Cadet McCoy, do you really think there's anything on this planet-- or any other, for that matter-- that can stop a determined Jim Kirk?" And, well, when he puts it like that, McCoy really does see the futility of his efforts. (Not that he didn't before. SEE: Leonard Horatio McCoy, not-so-closet pessimist.)
Because Jim Kirk is like the fucking wind. He blows through life and there's no stopping him, no matter how much you might want to. (Admittedly, McCoy doesn't usually want to as much as he tries to pretend he does but still.) You just have to wait it out and hope nothing gets too broken in the process to be fixed again.
McCoy doesn't think anything will be. He thinks Chris Pike agrees with him, too, otherwise he probably wouldn't have pushed Jim to enlist in the first place. So there's that. And him taking this damn piloting class-- he knows a futile effort when he sees one. Add it to the hundreds of other things he never thought he'd do because, hell, this is his life now.
And, God help him, he doesn't hate it. Probably mostly because of Jim Kirk but McCoy isn't looking too deeply into that. (Isn't willing to admit he might actually need another human being, not after everything that happened with his bitch ex-wife.) Isn't telling Jim, either-- kid's got a big enough head about himself as it is.
Still, he can't help but wonder what'll happen when Jim finally blows into a mountain. (As it turns out, what happens is a lot of ridiculous shit because that mountain is named Spock and what starts as one thing turns into something else entirely and by the end of everything McCoy doesn't know what to think about anything anymore, least of all Jim Kirk who saved the whole goddamned world. But that's a whole other story.)
Title: Relative Definitions (or how context changes word meanings)
Prompt: Picard + Data or Worf, #7 (sleet)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Rating: G
Word Count: 179
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Worf, Data, Will Riker
Summary: Another day, another away mission. Unfortunately for Worf, this one involves cold precipitation.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to trekfics)
"I thought this planet was supposed to be hospitable," Worf grumbled under his breath, swatting at the falling flakes that were trying desperately to cling to his face and hair.
Data glanced over to the Klingon. "I believe that the Kazarites consider this to be hospitable weather."
Worf grunted. "It is snowing."
"Actually," Data tilted his head thoughtfully, "this precipitation seems to be a mixture of rain and snow, more commonly referred to as sleet or wintry showers."
Ahead of them, Will Riker hid a smile-- and changed the subject: "It's not like you to complain, Mr. Worf."
Stiffening almost imperceptibly, Worf grit his teeth. "I am not complaining," he countered, disdain for the implication evident plain by how he said the word. The effect was ruined, however, when he sniffed loudly and growled. "Although I will admit, cold weather does not... agree with Klingons."
Data opened his mouth-- perhaps to comment, perhaps to ask a question-- before apparently thinking better of the action and shutting his mouth again.
This time Riker didn't bother to hide his amused grin.