[drabble] So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish
Title: So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish
Author: Luna (dreamweavernyx)
Pairing: Minimal (but still kind of there if you kind of squint) Spock/Uhura, Scotty/Enterprise, Chekov/Russia, Sulu/plants, maybe some McCoy/sanity
Genre: Crack, bordering on idiocy
Summary: Kirk likes to immerse himself in the world of science fiction (and blur the lines of reality in the process). The crew will never be the same.
Notes: OH WOW I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN WHAT, HALF A YEAR? trying to get back in the swing of things, so pushing out weird shit like this now sigh. (Please forgive me)
Copious number of references to the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
No offence meant to Celine Dion/Sarah Brightman. No sperm whales/germaniums were harmed in the writing of this fic.
~
0_
The Enterprise is not a ship stocked for avid readers of books. It does, however (and for some unknown reason), contain a decent number of books from the genre classic Terran authors refer to as ‘sci-fi’, particularly in the space travel type.
Kirk calls it ‘research’, and spends his breaks (however precious few he has) leafing through musty volumes.
Bones calls Kirk’s excuses ‘bullshit’, and has long grown tired of helping Kirk re-establish the boundary between reality and spaceship-themed science fiction.
Spock, on the other hand, has learned to take the logical solution to this, and avoids Kirk for at least three hours after he comes out of the Enterprise’s library.
Three weeks into the new expedition following the Khan debacle, however, Kirk walks out of the library clutching The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Bones is locked up in the medical wing, firmly refusing to put up with Kirk’s library shenanigans - “If I’m going to have to spend five years with you on this ship I demand at least a month of sanity. I’m a doctor, dammit, Jim, not some sort of therapist.” - and so there is nobody around to witness the strange little smile creeping its way across Kirk’s face as he reads, engrossed in the pages even as he ambles down the corridor.
This proves to be the undoing of the crew of the Enterprise.
(Somewhere in the engineering wing, Scotty sneezes and sprays shortbread crumbs and tea all over his worktable.
“I have a bad feeling all of a sudden,” he says, looking in dismay at the rapidly forming tea stains. “Like a wee chill up my spine.”
Keenser just chatters disapprovingly, eyeing the mess with practiced disdain.)
~
1_
“Alright,” says Kirk as he sinks into his comfy black seat on the bridge. “Let’s go. Mr Sulu, punch the Improbability Drive, would you?”
Sulu goggles at him.
“The- the what, Captain?”
“Improbability Drive,” Kirk says impatiently, drumming his fingers on his armrest. “How else would we get anywhere?”
“…By…warping, sir?”
At that moment, Chekov happens to turn from his navigator panel, and notices a book lying innocuously in Kirk’s lap.
“No,” he breathes, voice edged with just a hint of dismay. “The Keptin’s been reading.”
Everybody on the bridge freezes as Chekov’s voice carries, and somewhere near Uhura’s station comes the tinkle and crash of something fragile falling from suddenly nerveless hands.
“Oh. My. God.”
~
2_
“Ensign, were you about to go to the pantry?”
“Keptin!” Chekov jumps, startled - he hadn’t thought Kirk would have seen him, what with his attention constantly flickering between the view outside the ship and his book. “Yes, I was.”
“Can you help me get a drink?”
“Sure, Keptin. Coffee?”
Kirk shakes his head absently as he flicks to the next page.
“Something like tea would be nice.”
“Tea, sir?”
“Tea,” Kirk confirms. “Something quite like tea.”
Chekov frowns at the strange phrasing but nods, turning away as he mutters a quiet “Russian is not zis complicated” under his breath.
“But at the same time something entirely unlike tea!” Kirk calls after Chekov’s retreating back.
Chekov gets him water, and has Bones put in food dye until it’s as yellow-brown as fresh-brewed tea.
“Perfect!” Kirk says, and takes a sip. “Quite like tea, yet entirely unlike tea.”
Sulu and Uhura both shoot Chekov a pitying glance as he sinks back into his seat, still holding his own food (shortbread pilfered from Scotty’s hoard) and wishing he could put on his headphones and blast Russian grunge rock at full volume.
~
3_
“Captain-”
“Ah! Marvin!”
Spock is not pleased by the new nickname, and does not hold back in informing Kirk of this fact.
“My name is Spock, captain. I fail to see exactly who this Marvin is.”
“But he’s a robot!” Kirk protests. “And he doesn’t understand humans! Like you!”
For a brief, brief, moment, Spock resists the urge to perform the Vulcan nerve pinch on Kirk. Then Uhura sidles up behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder, and Spock heaves a minute sigh before walking away.
“Don’t steal Trillian from me!” Kirk calls after them.
The bridge door slides smoothly shut.
~
4_
“Are these germaniums?”
“Yes, sir,” Sulu replies, eyeing Kirk cautiously as the captain looks around his small garden.
“That’s nice. Where did you get them from, Mr Sulu?”
“Earth, sir. My parents are quite fond of gardening themselves.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Kirk nods, eyeing the pot of germaniums. “But have you ever considered that this pot of germaniums might have once been a sperm whale?”
Sulu never lets the captain into his garden again.
~
5_
“She’s not configured to travel through time!” Scotty’s horrified voice rings throughout the hold.
“But the end of the universe, Mr Scott! Doesn’t that just sound grand?”
“I don’t doubt for a wee moment that it would be, if we weren’t stuck in the middle of it,” Scotty grumbles.
“There’s a restaurant! And talking steak!”
“Aye, aye,” sighs Scotty. “Give me sandwiches any day.”
~
6_
“Attention, crew of the Enterprise, this is Captain Kirk speaking.
I am implementing a new regulation onboard the Enterprise, effective immediately. Every crew member is to carry a towel with them at all times, and it must be in an easily accessible place when out in the field. In the event that the Enterprise is unable to beam you back up, the new protocol is to use the towel and hitchhike onto another ship until we are able to negotiate with that ship’s crew for your return.
Kirk out.”
Chekov blinks.
“Can he do zat?”
“This is getting out of hand,” sighs Uhura. “We need to get the doctor.”
~
7_
“One month of sanity, dammit! Just one month of peace without having to deal with that guy blabbering to me about plasma and spaceships.”
“Doctor McCoy, by hiding in your quarters without emerging you have exposed the rest of the crew to this hazard.”
“Come on, Uhura, surely he can’t be that bad!”
Uhura raises a single eyebrow.
“Ensign Chekov is reduced to a shivering wreck at the mere mention of tea.”
“Well, maybe they don’t have tea in Russia-”
“Mr Scott has taken to muttering about ‘time travel’ and going into a meltdown every time the Enterprise gets so much as a scratch.”
“He did always love the ship-”
“I recently saw Mr Sulu trying to persuade a pot of germaniums that ‘the Captain didn’t mean it’.”
“Wha-”
“He was making cooing noises. I can’t exactly blame him for going mad, after two days of listening to him blather on about the benefits of towels and Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters anybody could go insane.”
“Listen, I’m a doctor, not a-”
“Fix it,” Uhura explodes, and suddenly Bones realizes that the dark circles under her eyes are very pronounced indeed, and her pupils are dilated with desperation. He can recognize the symptoms of a person slowly descending into despair, and Uhura is not, by nature, a woman to cave in easily.
He wonders how bad Kirk’s gotten this time, remembers the earlier shipwide broadcast about the towel protocol, and shudders.
~
8_
There’s a strange sense of familiarity on the bridge, tempered partially by the fact that Bones has not appeared on it for three and a half weeks.
Kirk seems to be talking about some machine that produces tea, and out of the corner of his eye Bones notices Chekov twitch slightly every time Kirk mentions the word ‘tea’.
“Alright, Jim,” he says, clearly and slowly, like he’s trying not to startle a deer. “Hand that book over and come with me and nobody gets hurt.”
“You can’t threaten me,” Jim singsongs, swiveling around in his chair. “I’ll read you my poetry if you do.”
“Your poe- Look, I have my great-grandmother’s collection of Celine Dion music with me, loaded onto the database for safekeeping. I will not hesitate to play the entire playlist.”
Kirk’s brow furrows.
“Resistance is futile!” he crows.
“What-”
Bones gapes, and Kirk launches into recitation.
“Oh! Freddled gruntbuggly! Thy micturations are to me-”
“Whiz kid! Now!” Bones roars, and Chekov blinks at him, confused.
“…Yes?”
“The playlist!” snaps Bones, even as Kirk drones on in the background.
“-drangle thee in crinkly brindlewurdles, or I will rend thee-”
Chekov desperately punches a few buttons, and suddenly the warbling voice of Celine Dion singing My Heart Will Go On comes onto the shipwide broadcast system, crackling slightly with static as she hits the high notes.
The entire bridge watches with bated breath as Kirk pauses his monologue, looking slightly disoriented.
The singing begins to escalate in pitch, and Bones cringes, jamming fingers into his ears as he remembers the high notes to come. Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Spock, and generally everybody else on the bridge does the same, except for Kirk, who still looks vaguely mystified.
Celine Dion launches into the final note, voice warbling on and on (going on as long as her heart would, apparently), and Kirk’s eyes roll upwards before he slumps in his chair.
Bones makes a quick hand signal, and Chekov hurriedly ends the broadcast.
“Knew that would put him to sleep,” says Bones, a tad smugly. “Did it every time for me.”
As one, the bridge crew collectively heaves a sigh of relief.
~
9_
“Ugh, what happened, Bones? I don’t seem to remember anything.”
“You just hit your head,” says Bones dryly.
“And I was out for half a week, just like that?”
As mutual consensus, the crew has agreed never to mention the Hitchiker’s Guide debacle ever again, especially within earshot of one James Tiberius Kirk.
“Yes,” says Bones. “Just like that.”
~
10_
“Hey Bones! Check out this new book I found in the library! It’s called Star Wars-”
Bones scrambles for the Sarah Brightman records he inherited from his grandmother. (He’ll need something a little stronger than Celine Dion this time.)
He plucks the book gingerly from Kirk’s fingers after he collapses, and hightails it back to the library, where he carefully conceals the volume behind three volumes of the Encyclopedia Vulcanica. (He’s running out of places to hide all of Kirk’s fiction books - soon he’ll need to start concealing them behind the cookbooks.)
“Dammit, Jim,” he mutters. “I’m a doctor, not a librarian.”
fin.
Author: Luna (dreamweavernyx)
Pairing: Minimal (but still kind of there if you kind of squint) Spock/Uhura, Scotty/Enterprise, Chekov/Russia, Sulu/plants, maybe some McCoy/sanity
Genre: Crack, bordering on idiocy
Summary: Kirk likes to immerse himself in the world of science fiction (and blur the lines of reality in the process). The crew will never be the same.
Notes: OH WOW I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN WHAT, HALF A YEAR? trying to get back in the swing of things, so pushing out weird shit like this now sigh. (Please forgive me)
Copious number of references to the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
No offence meant to Celine Dion/Sarah Brightman. No sperm whales/germaniums were harmed in the writing of this fic.
~
0_
The Enterprise is not a ship stocked for avid readers of books. It does, however (and for some unknown reason), contain a decent number of books from the genre classic Terran authors refer to as ‘sci-fi’, particularly in the space travel type.
Kirk calls it ‘research’, and spends his breaks (however precious few he has) leafing through musty volumes.
Bones calls Kirk’s excuses ‘bullshit’, and has long grown tired of helping Kirk re-establish the boundary between reality and spaceship-themed science fiction.
Spock, on the other hand, has learned to take the logical solution to this, and avoids Kirk for at least three hours after he comes out of the Enterprise’s library.
Three weeks into the new expedition following the Khan debacle, however, Kirk walks out of the library clutching The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Bones is locked up in the medical wing, firmly refusing to put up with Kirk’s library shenanigans - “If I’m going to have to spend five years with you on this ship I demand at least a month of sanity. I’m a doctor, dammit, Jim, not some sort of therapist.” - and so there is nobody around to witness the strange little smile creeping its way across Kirk’s face as he reads, engrossed in the pages even as he ambles down the corridor.
This proves to be the undoing of the crew of the Enterprise.
(Somewhere in the engineering wing, Scotty sneezes and sprays shortbread crumbs and tea all over his worktable.
“I have a bad feeling all of a sudden,” he says, looking in dismay at the rapidly forming tea stains. “Like a wee chill up my spine.”
Keenser just chatters disapprovingly, eyeing the mess with practiced disdain.)
~
1_
“Alright,” says Kirk as he sinks into his comfy black seat on the bridge. “Let’s go. Mr Sulu, punch the Improbability Drive, would you?”
Sulu goggles at him.
“The- the what, Captain?”
“Improbability Drive,” Kirk says impatiently, drumming his fingers on his armrest. “How else would we get anywhere?”
“…By…warping, sir?”
At that moment, Chekov happens to turn from his navigator panel, and notices a book lying innocuously in Kirk’s lap.
“No,” he breathes, voice edged with just a hint of dismay. “The Keptin’s been reading.”
Everybody on the bridge freezes as Chekov’s voice carries, and somewhere near Uhura’s station comes the tinkle and crash of something fragile falling from suddenly nerveless hands.
“Oh. My. God.”
~
2_
“Ensign, were you about to go to the pantry?”
“Keptin!” Chekov jumps, startled - he hadn’t thought Kirk would have seen him, what with his attention constantly flickering between the view outside the ship and his book. “Yes, I was.”
“Can you help me get a drink?”
“Sure, Keptin. Coffee?”
Kirk shakes his head absently as he flicks to the next page.
“Something like tea would be nice.”
“Tea, sir?”
“Tea,” Kirk confirms. “Something quite like tea.”
Chekov frowns at the strange phrasing but nods, turning away as he mutters a quiet “Russian is not zis complicated” under his breath.
“But at the same time something entirely unlike tea!” Kirk calls after Chekov’s retreating back.
Chekov gets him water, and has Bones put in food dye until it’s as yellow-brown as fresh-brewed tea.
“Perfect!” Kirk says, and takes a sip. “Quite like tea, yet entirely unlike tea.”
Sulu and Uhura both shoot Chekov a pitying glance as he sinks back into his seat, still holding his own food (shortbread pilfered from Scotty’s hoard) and wishing he could put on his headphones and blast Russian grunge rock at full volume.
~
3_
“Captain-”
“Ah! Marvin!”
Spock is not pleased by the new nickname, and does not hold back in informing Kirk of this fact.
“My name is Spock, captain. I fail to see exactly who this Marvin is.”
“But he’s a robot!” Kirk protests. “And he doesn’t understand humans! Like you!”
For a brief, brief, moment, Spock resists the urge to perform the Vulcan nerve pinch on Kirk. Then Uhura sidles up behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder, and Spock heaves a minute sigh before walking away.
“Don’t steal Trillian from me!” Kirk calls after them.
The bridge door slides smoothly shut.
~
4_
“Are these germaniums?”
“Yes, sir,” Sulu replies, eyeing Kirk cautiously as the captain looks around his small garden.
“That’s nice. Where did you get them from, Mr Sulu?”
“Earth, sir. My parents are quite fond of gardening themselves.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Kirk nods, eyeing the pot of germaniums. “But have you ever considered that this pot of germaniums might have once been a sperm whale?”
Sulu never lets the captain into his garden again.
~
5_
“She’s not configured to travel through time!” Scotty’s horrified voice rings throughout the hold.
“But the end of the universe, Mr Scott! Doesn’t that just sound grand?”
“I don’t doubt for a wee moment that it would be, if we weren’t stuck in the middle of it,” Scotty grumbles.
“There’s a restaurant! And talking steak!”
“Aye, aye,” sighs Scotty. “Give me sandwiches any day.”
~
6_
“Attention, crew of the Enterprise, this is Captain Kirk speaking.
I am implementing a new regulation onboard the Enterprise, effective immediately. Every crew member is to carry a towel with them at all times, and it must be in an easily accessible place when out in the field. In the event that the Enterprise is unable to beam you back up, the new protocol is to use the towel and hitchhike onto another ship until we are able to negotiate with that ship’s crew for your return.
Kirk out.”
Chekov blinks.
“Can he do zat?”
“This is getting out of hand,” sighs Uhura. “We need to get the doctor.”
~
7_
“One month of sanity, dammit! Just one month of peace without having to deal with that guy blabbering to me about plasma and spaceships.”
“Doctor McCoy, by hiding in your quarters without emerging you have exposed the rest of the crew to this hazard.”
“Come on, Uhura, surely he can’t be that bad!”
Uhura raises a single eyebrow.
“Ensign Chekov is reduced to a shivering wreck at the mere mention of tea.”
“Well, maybe they don’t have tea in Russia-”
“Mr Scott has taken to muttering about ‘time travel’ and going into a meltdown every time the Enterprise gets so much as a scratch.”
“He did always love the ship-”
“I recently saw Mr Sulu trying to persuade a pot of germaniums that ‘the Captain didn’t mean it’.”
“Wha-”
“He was making cooing noises. I can’t exactly blame him for going mad, after two days of listening to him blather on about the benefits of towels and Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters anybody could go insane.”
“Listen, I’m a doctor, not a-”
“Fix it,” Uhura explodes, and suddenly Bones realizes that the dark circles under her eyes are very pronounced indeed, and her pupils are dilated with desperation. He can recognize the symptoms of a person slowly descending into despair, and Uhura is not, by nature, a woman to cave in easily.
He wonders how bad Kirk’s gotten this time, remembers the earlier shipwide broadcast about the towel protocol, and shudders.
~
8_
There’s a strange sense of familiarity on the bridge, tempered partially by the fact that Bones has not appeared on it for three and a half weeks.
Kirk seems to be talking about some machine that produces tea, and out of the corner of his eye Bones notices Chekov twitch slightly every time Kirk mentions the word ‘tea’.
“Alright, Jim,” he says, clearly and slowly, like he’s trying not to startle a deer. “Hand that book over and come with me and nobody gets hurt.”
“You can’t threaten me,” Jim singsongs, swiveling around in his chair. “I’ll read you my poetry if you do.”
“Your poe- Look, I have my great-grandmother’s collection of Celine Dion music with me, loaded onto the database for safekeeping. I will not hesitate to play the entire playlist.”
Kirk’s brow furrows.
“Resistance is futile!” he crows.
“What-”
Bones gapes, and Kirk launches into recitation.
“Oh! Freddled gruntbuggly! Thy micturations are to me-”
“Whiz kid! Now!” Bones roars, and Chekov blinks at him, confused.
“…Yes?”
“The playlist!” snaps Bones, even as Kirk drones on in the background.
“-drangle thee in crinkly brindlewurdles, or I will rend thee-”
Chekov desperately punches a few buttons, and suddenly the warbling voice of Celine Dion singing My Heart Will Go On comes onto the shipwide broadcast system, crackling slightly with static as she hits the high notes.
The entire bridge watches with bated breath as Kirk pauses his monologue, looking slightly disoriented.
The singing begins to escalate in pitch, and Bones cringes, jamming fingers into his ears as he remembers the high notes to come. Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Spock, and generally everybody else on the bridge does the same, except for Kirk, who still looks vaguely mystified.
Celine Dion launches into the final note, voice warbling on and on (going on as long as her heart would, apparently), and Kirk’s eyes roll upwards before he slumps in his chair.
Bones makes a quick hand signal, and Chekov hurriedly ends the broadcast.
“Knew that would put him to sleep,” says Bones, a tad smugly. “Did it every time for me.”
As one, the bridge crew collectively heaves a sigh of relief.
~
9_
“Ugh, what happened, Bones? I don’t seem to remember anything.”
“You just hit your head,” says Bones dryly.
“And I was out for half a week, just like that?”
As mutual consensus, the crew has agreed never to mention the Hitchiker’s Guide debacle ever again, especially within earshot of one James Tiberius Kirk.
“Yes,” says Bones. “Just like that.”
~
10_
“Hey Bones! Check out this new book I found in the library! It’s called Star Wars-”
Bones scrambles for the Sarah Brightman records he inherited from his grandmother. (He’ll need something a little stronger than Celine Dion this time.)
He plucks the book gingerly from Kirk’s fingers after he collapses, and hightails it back to the library, where he carefully conceals the volume behind three volumes of the Encyclopedia Vulcanica. (He’s running out of places to hide all of Kirk’s fiction books - soon he’ll need to start concealing them behind the cookbooks.)
“Dammit, Jim,” he mutters. “I’m a doctor, not a librarian.”
fin.