It was the darkest of times for Brian O'Toole.  He sat and fantasized about what he would do in the event of a Klingon attack and wondered if anyone else in the world had the foresight to handle the situation as he did.   Brian knew the most important element in dealing with attack, surprise or otherwise, was to order one of his underlings to activate the emergency lights.   His underlings were, of course, his friends dressed up for the purposes of a more realistic fantasy, as Starfleet officers of varying rank and grade.  His first officer was his best friend Ralph, always only a little under Captain Brian.   His helmsman was his brother Bill.  The navigator was his cousin John.  The doctor was his boss, Gary.   Only Uhura remained Uhura, as Brian didn't know any black gals and lacked the dimension to see anyone other than a black gal as Uhura. 

            The fantasy was underway.

            "Sir, there is a Klingon cruiser in the quadrant, closing at full impulse," said helmsman Bill.

            "My God," said Captain Brian with breathless simplicity.   "My, my God."

            He turned to First Officer Ralph.  "Ralph?  Alternatives?"

            "Assuming, Captain, that you suggest we raise the shields and arm the photon torpedoes, then my alternative suggestion is let's get the hell out of here now," said Ralph.

            "Hmmm," said Captain Brian, drumming his right index finger over his lip.   "No, I believe we shall steer this course and see what happens.  We are Starfleet officers, Ralph, and Federation ambassadors moreover.   What kind of message will it send if we just turn and run?  No, no, all, we shall go and meet destiny like men and women of candor this day."

            "Captain, the Klingon cruiser is arming torpedoes," said helmsman Bill.

            After a deliberate pause, Captain Brian O'Toole said, "Bill, raise the shields."

            Bill complied, just in the nick of time.  A torpedo blast slammed into the ship, causing debris to fly and the lights to go out.

            "Bill," said the captain, "turn on the emergency lights."

            "Yes sir!" shouted Bill over the blaring alarms.

            "Ralph!" the captain snapped his fingers.   "Damage report!"

            "We have a hull breach in sector 5, decks 14-27, and function on auxiliary power only, sir," said Ralph.

            The captain turned his chair to face the turbo shaft and began to engage in quiet reflection.   After three seconds, he said "damn!"

            "Sir, the Klingons are preparing to fire another torpedo," said Bill.

            "Prepare to return fire from the first blast," said Captain Brian.

            "Yes, sir!" shouted Bill.

            "And pray to God we're doing the right thing here today," added Brian.

            "Yes, sir!" shouted Bill.

            The captain looked around at the damaged bridge and his underlings trying to fix the problems.

           "Angels and ministers of grace defend us."

 

"Brian, Brian, wake up!" screamed Belinda.  "This mincemeat isn't going to make itself."

Brian forgot he told Belinda he would help her make mincemeat today. 

            "Aw, shit," he said.

            "Aw, shit yourself!" said Belinda.  "You promised me mincemeat and I want my mincemeat.  I want mincemeat or I'm going to scream!"

            "Well crap, I think you already took care of that, didn't you?" he retorted.

            "I know what you were doing, Mr. Profound Nerd, you were daydreaming about being on Star Trek again."

            "Beats the hell out of this," he muttered to himself.  

            Brian wondered why no one ever took him seriously when he was trying to be serious, and they always frowned when he was trying to make a joke.  

            "Activate the emergency lights, Bill," Belinda mocked from the kitchen.

            "Oh, what would you know about it?" he said.

            "Get in here and make this mincemeat, dammit, now!" said Belinda.

            Brian dragged himself slowly into the kitchen.   Captain Kirk never had to make mincemeat for some broad.  He went to the bowl and began to stir all the stuff together.

            "Say Brian, you've got really strong arms for a nerd," she said.   "Or maybe thick is a better word.  You've got really thick arms for a fucking Star Trek geek."

            "Be quiet and just throw the stuff in the bowl," he said.

            "Here's a hot tip for you, honey," she continued.   "Instead of waiting until the last minute to raise the shields, get them up as soon as you know Darth Vader is on his way and then fire your torpedoes first.  Great idea, huh?"

            "You know nothing of the dramatic moment," Brian said.

            "I know that in the time it takes for your ass to be profound, you'd already be blown to smithereens if you were captain of an actual ship."

           Brian had the mincemeat thick and good.  He assumed he was done and stopped, but Belinda had other plans.

            "Now that you're done with that, you can help me with this oyster stew," she said.   "Start stirring, Captain."

            Belinda finally decided to shut up while Brian mindlessly stirred oyster stew components together and drifted back into space.

            "Captain, two more Klingon ships entering sector," said helmsman Bill.

            "Put them on the screen," said Captain Brian.   The two new ships appeared.

            "Oh.my.God."

            "Sir?" inquired First Officer Ralph.

            "Those are birds of prey," said Captain Brian.   "Smaller, faster, more maneuverable.  They could mean real trouble." 

            Almost in afterthought, Captain Brian said, "Return fire to main Klingon cruiser!"

            The Enterprise fired two torpedoes at the first attacking cruiser.  Direct hit.

            "Well, I dare say, sir, that should incapacitate them for a good while," said First Officer Ralph.

            "Aye, Ralph, aye," said Brian.  "Hopefully it will give us enough time, at least, to deal with these two birds of prey-unless, of course, there are more of them out there that are.cloaked."

            "Hey Captain," shouted Belinda through the din of Brian's fantasy.   "Why don't you try attacking those other ships first instead of letting them pound the shit of you?"

"Captain, those two Klingon birds of prey are equipped with the new Maximus torpedo!" exclaimed helmsman Bill.  

            "Oh dreadful, no!" cried Captain Brian.  "Evasive action, Bill, do you hear me, EVASIVE ACTION!"

            "It's too late, they're attacking," whispered First Officer Ralph.

            "There is no such thing as a Maximus torpedo, Brian, you made that up!" shouted Belinda.

            "Oh what to do, what to do?" asked Brian in panicked sadness.   "I can hardly concentrate with all this noise!"

            "Keep stirring, you lazy dick," said Belinda.  

            Another powerful torpedo blast rocked the ship.

            "Captain, we've got casualties," said Dr. Gary.   "Bad ones."

            "Keep stirring!" snapped Belinda.

            "Captain, the navigational computer has been completely knocked out," said navigator John.

            "I have no control at helm," said helmsman Bill.

            "Hey, I haven't added the oysters yet!" said Belinda.

            "Captain, I'm having trouble communicating," said Uhura.  

            Captain Brian's head was starting to hurt.

            "Aaaaaaargh!  Everybody shut up!"

            The bridge crew was quiet.  Belinda stared at him incredulously.   The Klingons stopped attacking.  The anticipation was thicker than freshly poured concrete. But all Brian wanted to do was take a nap.