Chapter 2

 

Okay, okay, Corny had his fun with his mindless acts of random violence (or was that random acts of mindless violence?  Or violent acts of mindless randomness?  Or... whatever).  Anyway, when SPOOFE finally managed to back the nose of the shuttle out of the swamp, there was a gigantic plume of smoking rising up from the Everglades, and the squad commander spiraled upwards around the ersatz pillar.

He brought the ship into a low Earth orbit and activated the cloaking device, allowing him to head to the back of the ship to begin questioning Elian.

In the main chamber of the shuttle, he found his crew in numerous states of undress, although none were naked (yet).  They were in the process of putting their infiltration armoring and weaponry away and preparing for the ensuing Post-Mission Success party, where Josta would be served in bulk (well, duh).  However, SPOOFE had to remind them that there was still work to do (oh yeah... he’s, like, all responsible and stuff).

“All righty, everyone, job well done, yadda yadda,” SPOOFE said.  “Casey, where’s the prisoner?”

“The what..?”

“The prisoner.  Elian.”

“Ooh, right,” Casey replied.  “He’s in the back.”

“Go get ‘im.”

Casey frowned.  “What... now?”

“Yes, now, you weenie!”

Casey mumbled his displeasure as he walked back to the brig.  He returned a few seconds later with a large lump of whitish material sitting in a spinny chair.

“What the hell is this?” SPOOFE asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” Sam Boxleitner said, appearing (literally) out of nowhere.  “This is a ‘Spinny Chair’, chair species spinnius wheelius charius minimus.  Regarded by all but fools as the most important invention in the history of mankind, the spinny chair can readily--*”

“Sam, Sam!” SPOOFE cried.  “As much as we appreciate your vast vaults of spinny chair knowledge, I was talking about what’s sitting in the spinny chair.”

“Oh...” Sam mumbled, dejected.  He walked away.

SPOOFE cleared his throat.  “So... what the hell is this?”

Eric patted the white lump.  “It’s Elian,” he said.  “While I was back there putting my powersuit in my locker, I got to thinking... ‘We have this kid here, and a full-body plaster cast of him may come in handy at some point in the future... why the hell not?’  So I poured the molds and now it’s almost dry.”

“How much longer before I can question him?” SPOOFE asked, more than a little impatiently.

Eric glanced down at his watch.  “Four... three... two... one...”  He pulled a hammer out of nowhere and delivered a nice, solid whack to the top of the plaster lump.  At first, nothing seemed to happen... then a slight crack was heard, and with a loud THUNK, the lump split perfectly in two.  Eric grabbed the two pieces of plaster and disappeared into the back of the ship, leaving a rather flustered Elian sitting on the spinny chair, his clothes covered in small pieces of plaster, and two straws shoved up his nose.

“What the heck is going on?!?” he demanded.

SPOOFE grabbed a bright light and shined it directly into Elian’s face.  “We’re asking the questions here, punk,” he said.  “Who’re you working for?!?”

Elian blinked.  “I’m my own boss,” he stated proudly.  “And man, you wouldn’t understand how much more stressful that is.  On the other hand, I’ve got a lot more freedom with my business dealings... and you should see the Internet Company I’m going to start up!  It’s a place where you can buy books online... I call it ‘Nile.com.’”

“Yeah, yeah, like we care,” SPOOFE said, yawning.  “We need to know where Britney Spears is.”

Elian narrowed his eyes.  “Why do you want to know?”

“We want to kill... er... I mean, we want her autograph.”

Elian grunted.  “Well, tough shit, pal.  I’m not telling you a thing.”

SPOOFE shrugged.  “That’s all right.  Flip!  Bring me the Acme Aggressively Intrusive Mind Reader.”

Flip ran over to one of the equipment closets and returned with the device, which looked like a funky-looking bike helmet with wires and silly lights and gizmos glued onto the outside, and a ten-inch long spike jutting downwards from the inside surface.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Elian asked.

“Well,” SPOOFE replied, “this long, nasty-looking, and probably-unsterilized spike will be jammed into your skull, right through the center of your brain hemispheres, which will channel all your thoughts into the reader devices in the helmet, which in turn will transmit the data to us.”

Before Elian could reply, SPOOFE jammed the massive spike onto the little boy’s head.  Elian’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as the intrusive device began sucking his thoughts dry.

“Oh, did I mention that some brain damage may result?” SPOOFE asked, shrugging.  “Let the buyer beware, I guess.”

A few moments passed, after which a little ding emitted from the helmet.  “All done!” SPOOFE announced happily.  He pulled the helmet off of Elian’s head and wiped the blood and brain material off the cerebral spike, then handed the helmet back to Flip.  Elian’s eyes were still wide and his jaw remained dropped, and the only movement coming from him was the steam rising from the hole on the top of his head.

“You thon of a bitth,” Elian said with a very noticeable lisp.

“That may be so,” SPOOFE said.  “As it is, we don’t need you anymore.  Casey, prepare to dispose of this excess baggage.”

“Not tho fatht!” Elian shouted.  He reached into his pants and pulled out a small black box marked “Distress Beacon”.  Before anyone could react, he pressed a small red button on the box.  As soon as he did, everyone in the shuttle vanished in a nifty twinkling special-effect-esque glow.

SPOOFE found himself re-integrating in a large, overly-shiny room, with a large desk/computer consol was situated opposite of him.  He looked around and instantly recognized one of the transporter rooms on the USS Enterprise.  And, finally, his Josta-and-unexpected-teleportation-addled brain noticed the security officers standing there with phasers (you remember, those pieces of shit that look like TV remote controls?) drawn.

“We’re taking you to the brig,” one of the security officers said.

“Why?” SPOOFE asked.

The officer reached into his pocket and pulled out a big clump of papers.  “Uh... I don’t know,” he said, looking over the papers.  “That’s not in the script.  But I’m sure the scriptwriters have some reason.  Let’s go.”

With a shrug, SPOOFE let the security guys take him down to the brig, where a whole two cells were waiting.  In one cell were the rest of SPOOFE’s crew: Ronnie, Casey, Katharine, Flip, Eric, CornHusker, Kia, and Chris (the last two had their faces pressed tightly against each other, with slobber flying about the area).  In the other cell were a dozens of poorly-dressed, unwashed, unkempt guys.  SPOOFE was thrown in the latter cell, where there was barely enough room to stand.

“Hey, who are all you guys?” SPOOFE asked.

One of the poorly-dressed etc. etc.’s wiggled his face around.  “We’re all the scriptwriters that UPN’s employed over the years to write for Star Trek.  Apparently, they didn’t like my idea for the Enterprise to encounter a giant, mutated turkey that was created in a freak transporter accident.”

“I never saw that episode,” SPOOFE said.  “How did it end?”

“The crew was helpless, but the turkey was destroyed by a Floopion Terapoidial burst from the starboard nacelle raplifoycen emitters, which was all initiated by Wesley Crusher.”

At this, SPOOFE screamed and began pounding against the force field.  “Lemme outta here!!  I didn’t write any Star Trek episodes!!”

One of the security peons ran forward and lowered the force field, keeping the teeming mob of bad hack writers at bay with his shitty little phaser.

“I’m sorry, sir, we always make mistakes like this,” the security peon said.  “None of us have had any training, you see.”  He then lowered the force field on the opposite cell, and tossed SPOOFE in.

SPOOFE was surprised to notice the rest of his team sitting in the cell (Ronnie was playing a harmonica), but he was even more surprised that he hadn’t noticed them before.  But, then again, I was making fun of Star Trek, so I guess it’s okay...

ANYway, as soon as SPOOFE entered the cell, his whole squad stood up and saluted... well, okay, they stayed seated and threw rotten fruit (how they got rotten fruit in the brig of the Enterprise is beyond me).

SPOOFE brushed the fruit off and addressed his team.  “All right, everyone... we have to find a way to escape.”

Flip reached into his pocket and pulled out a crust of bread.  “Perhaps we can use this, combined with some lint and a hand grenade to make a hand grenade with a crust of bread and some lint on it!”

SPOOFE scoffed.  “Where the hell are we gonna get a hand grenade?”

“Right here,” Casey said.  “There was a huge bag of ‘em tucked underneath the bench.”

“It won’t work,” SPOOFE said.  “Next idea?”

“Se-e-e-e-e-e-e-ex!” Corny shouted.

“That’s your answer to everything!” SPOOFE replied.

“Well, we never do it,” Corny retorted.

SPOOFE rubbed his chin.  “Hmm... that’s so crazy, it just might work.  Let’s do it!”

So they all had sex.  It was fun (although a tad messy).  However, when they were all finished an hour later (except Chris... he was finished in two minutes), they found to their dismay that they were still stuck in the cell.

“It didn’t work,” SPOOFE said, tugging his pants on.  “Hey, wait a minute...”  He looked into his pants.  “Oops, I got someone else’s underwear by mistake.”

Katharine squeaked in the back.  “Those must be mine,” she said, her face turning a funky shade of pink.  “I... ah... seem to be stuck with some yellowing, way-to-big boxers with holes in the crotch.”

“You can keep ‘em,” SPOOFE said.  “These are soooo comfy.  I especially like the matching garter belt.”

“Shut up!” Kat screeched.  “I don’t want anyone to know about that!”

“Both of you shut up,” Eric said, “I’ve got an idea.”

SPOOFE shushed the crowd.  “What’s your plan?”

Eric gestured towards the seemingly open doorway.  “Let’s just walk out.”

“There’s a force field there, genius,” SPOOFE replied.

“Maybe there is now,” Eric said, “but if we were to distract the cameraman whilst we make our escape, the special effects guys wouldn’t be able to add in the little force-field shimmer effect.  After all, with no video, they can’t add in any CG, now, could they?”

SPOOFE thought for a moment.  “Hmm... that’s so crazy, it just might work.  Let’s do it!”

Eric walked right up next to the force field and looked straight at the camera.  “Look!  A Klingon orgy!”

The camera panned away for a few seconds, and when it pulled back the whole team had broken out of their cell and were beating the crap out of the security officers.

“This is for being such wimps!” Corny exclaimed, smashing a security guards’ head like it was an overripe grape.

“All right,” SPOOFE said, “we’ve gotta find a way off this ship.  Me, Ronnie, and Corny will head towards the bridge; Casey, Flip, and Eric will try to make their way to the aft shuttle bay; and Kia, Chris, and Katharine will try to get to one of the transporter rooms.  Everyone got that?  Go!”

The group separated, each heading towards a different bank of turbolifts.  The lift that SPOOFE picked was barely large enough to hold himself, Corny, and Ronnie.

“Let’s go to... uh... Deck Zero?” SPOOFE suggested.  The turbolift’s computer beeped in compliance, and the little lit stripes blurred by to signify that the lift was moving.  A few moments later, it opened up on a poorly lit room.  SPOOFE hit the light switch against the wall, revealing rows upon rows of lingerie hanging on racks.  Other shelves had chains, handcuffs, tight leather bras of various sizes, crotchless panties, and dozens of jars of lubricant.

“Wow, it looks like my personal harem,” SPOOFE said as he walked into the chamber.  He picked absent-mindedly at a garter belt.

“Look at this,” Ronnie said, picking up a large phallic object.

“I believe that’s called a ‘dildo,’” Corny said.

Ronnie smacked him upside the head with the aforementioned sex toy.  “No, dummy, there’s a name along the side.”  She peered carefully at the ribbed (for her pleasure) edge.  “Property of Jean-Luc...”

SPOOFE’s eyes went wide.  “Wow, the captain’s own private sex chamber.”

Sarge walked into the room.  “Nobody touch nothin’,” he said.

“It’s hot as hell down here,” another marine said.

“Yeah, but it’s a dry heat,” Hudson replied.

SPOOFE kicked Sarge in the butt.  “Get your squad out of here!  You want the Aliens set down the hall!”

“Right,” Sarge replied.  “Sorry ‘bout that.”  He turned towards his squad.  “You heard the man, ladies... assholes and elbows!  Hudson, come here... come here...!”  The marines left.

As they left, something caught Ronnie’s eye.  “Hey, look at this,” she said, walking towards a large metal locker.  She opened the front-facing door to find a rack of high-powered Phaser rifles.  “Coo-oo-oo-oo-ool...” she said, her eyes going wide.  “These are nice...”

“Those are weak,” Corny said.  “Give me a quad-damaged rocket launcher any day.”

Ronnie grabbed one anyway.  “I don’t care,” she replied.  “They look nice.”

“I can spice that up for ya,” SPOOFE said.  “But we have to keep going.”

He led the other to across the harem towards the exit door.  It slid open to reveal the captain’s ready-room, which happened to be empty.

SPOOFE walked over to Captain Picard’s desk and activated the computer.  “Let’s see what kind of dirt we can find here,” he mumbled.

“Maybe you can find some nice topsoil,” CornHusker said.  “Or maybe a bit of sand.  Oh, and a small pile of fine powder, too.”

Everyone looked at Corny as a rimshot echoed through the room.  A few seconds later, an alarm sounded.

“Corny, you fool!” SPOOFE hissed.  “They heard the rimshot!”

“Aw, let ‘em come,” Corny said, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, facing the doorway.  As it slid open, revealing the security crew, he charged forward and slammed into them.  The whole mass of bodies fell to the floor, with Corny’s fists smashing heads and rib cages.  A few moments later, he stood up, blood, flesh, and organs dripping from his frame.

“Hail Nebraska,” he whispered, brushing somebody’s eyeball off his shoulder.  “Anyone else want a piece of this?”

He received a chorus of negative answers from the rest of the bridge crew.  SPOOFE stepped forward with his MP-10 held out and gestured for the crew to get into the bridge turbolift.  When they were all in, SPOOFE locked the turbolift door, then headed towards the main navigation consol.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” SPOOFE said to the other two.  “Ronnie, you get to the security consol and make sure that the security officers are sent all over the ship, mostly away from where our people will be going.”

“Gotcha,” Ronnie said, running to the large computer consol extending behind the captain’s chair.

“Okay, Corny, take control of the communications’ and weapons’ systems,” SPOOFE continued.  “Try to take down the ships’ comm systems, and then transfer control of phasers to the navigator’s station.”

“Oh boy, computers,” CornHusker replied eagerly.  He wiped his bloody hands on his shirt, then began typing furiously at a consol.  A few seconds later, he slapped his hands against the railing and shouted, “Done!”

“Perfect,” SPOOFE said.  “Okay, lock target onto the Moon...”

Ronnie looked up from the security station with a worried look on his face.  “You’re not going to blow of the Moon, are you?”

“What’s it to you?” SPOOFE asked.

“Without the Moon, we couldn’t have the Dark Side, could we?”

SPOOFE nodded.  “Excellent point.  You’ve just earned a promotion.”

“Promotion?  To what?” Ronnie asked.

“What rank are you now?”

“Uh...”  Ronnie thought for a moment.  “I’m a Ronnie.”

“All righty,” SPOOFE proclaimed, “you’re hereby promoted to Ronnie Mark II.”

Ronnie sighed.  “Woo-hoo.”  She turned back to her work.

“And fear not,” SPOOFE continued, “I’m not going to blow up the Moon.  Rather, I’m going to... improve it.”  He pressed a few buttons, and a phaser beam lanced out from the Enterprise and traced along the surface of the small celestial body.  After a few moments, SPOOFE shut the phaser beam down and glanced out the viewscreen at his work.  The Moon now sported gigantic, multiple-mile-high letters that spelled out “Josta 4 Ever.”

“Ah, nothing like a refreshing burst of the truth,” Corny said, saluting.  A small tear was running down his cheek.

“You two are sick,” Ronnie mumbled.  “Anyway, I’ve screwed up the comm systems.  What now?”

“We wait,” SPOOFE replied, lounging back in the chair.

 

Eric led the way through the Enterprise’s hallways, his weapon systems deployed and ready for battle.  Casey and Flip followed behind, bickering about... oh, something nonsensical.  Eric ignored them and turned his attention to possible threats.  He had his internal scanners set for maximum awareness, and it wasn’t long before he detected a life sign approaching their position.

“Quiet down, you two,” Eric said.  “We’ve got incoming hostiles.”

Casey whipped out his yari, while Flip deployed his trusty shotgun Bessie.  Eric activated his own weapon systems, extending his minigun from its’ concealment bay in his forearm.  He held it out as he led the way towards the target.  The trio cautiously walked down the corridor for several dozen feet, then stopped in front of a large doorway.  Eric glanced at his two comrades, and they all nodded.  With the touch of a button on the control panel, the door opened.

They found a large, dimly-lit living room, opulently decorated.  It didn’t seem to fit the layout for the rest of the ship.

“Oh, I see,” Eric said.  “This must be the holodeck.”  He heard a noise coming from the bedroom, so he waved forward down the hallway.  He cracked the bedroom door open a smidge and peered in.  He saw Wesley Crusher on a bed having sex with Anna Nicole Smith.  Eric gagged at the site of Wesley naked, and closed the door again.

“Computer, replace Anna Nicole Smith with Mae Young,” Eric said.

A few seconds later, a blood-curdling scream came from the bedroom.  Wesley threw the door open, screaming, “My eyes, my eyes!  I’m blind!”

Eric placed his minigun up against Wesley’s head and fired.  The stream of bullets disintegrated his cranium into a substance closely resembling lumpy spaghetti sauce.

“Excellent,” Eric said.  “I’ve always wanted to kill that smarmy git.  Computer, end program.”

The holographic house vanished, and the three left the holodeck and continued down the hallway.  They met no other resistance during their trek, and eventually found themselves gathered in front of the main doorway to the primary transporter room.  Eric reached out and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” an extra called.

“Pizza delivery,” Eric said in a falsetto voice.

“What’s pizza?”

Eric paused.  “Uh... I mean, Tribble Pie.”

“Oh boy!”

During the following pause, Eric gestured for Flip to take up position in front of the door.  Flip nodded and lowered his shotgun, and when the door slid open, the extra on the other side got a gutfull of buckshot.  The body slumped to the ground with a splash of blood.

“Don’t you just love these unrealistically exaggerated special effects whenever someone dies?” Eric asked.

Shut up, Eric.

“And don’t you just love it how I always manage to push the narrator’s buttons?” Eric continued.

I said shut up, Eric.

Eric just grunted and walked into the transporter room and began fiddling with the consol.  Casey and Flip dragged the body into the corner and left it to rot.

Eric checked the transporter systems, then pulled out his comlink.  “This is agent Levelhead,” he announced.  “We’re in position.”

“Good job,” SPOOFE’s voice answered back.  “Now we just have to wait for the other three.”  The transmission ended, and Eric tucked his comlink back in his pocket.

“So what do we do now?”

Eric continued pressing a few buttons on the consol.  “We wait,” he replied.  “Until then, I’m gonna play ‘Tribes.’”

 

Katharine leaned patiently against the wall as Chris and Kia broke out in yet another spontaneous make-out session.  They had their faces pressed so tight against each other that the friction actually caused flames to erupt, and then they usually spent another five minutes or so saying “Ba-a-a-a-aby...” over and over again.  Needless to say, Kat was greatly annoyed that they were acting so silly and goofy and childish, not to mention the unbearably slow progress they were making.  However, she endured the annoyance in silence.

They were heading towards the aft turbolift to gain access to the shuttle bay when Chris and Kia pounced on each other for another session of ultra-quick passion-making.  They leaned up against a door, which unexpectedly slid open.  They rolled around on the ground, inspecting each other's tonsils and dry-humping a tad, not noticing the shift from vertical to horizontal.  Kat followed them into the room, tapping her foot in impatience.  The door slid shut behind her.

“Hey, what are you doing in my room?” a voice asked.

Kat looked up; her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.  There stood... well, a rather plain looking guy, but for plot devices, we’ll pretend that she found him incredibly sexy and desirable.  “Who are you?” she asked, with just a slight swoonish quality to her voice.

“I’m Commander William Riker,” the average-yet-perceived-as-attractive man said.  “Who are you?”

Kat’s eyes half-lidded.  “I’m... I... I... I’m hor--*” She paused.  “Uh, can you excuse me for a second?”

Riker nodded, confused.  Kat disappeared into the bathroom, and within a few seconds some splash-like noises were heard, followed a few moments later by a loud and high-pitched squeak.  Kat re-emerged immediately after that, short of breath and flushed ever so slightly.  She stood right next to Riker again.

“So, handsome,” she said with a dopey grin plastered on her face, “you seein’ anybody?”

“Are you kidding?” Riker replied incredulously.  “Only half the women on this ship.”

Kat grinned even more.  “So what’s one more?” she asked, her voice taking on a husky (for her) tone.

“Su-u-u-ure, why not,” Riker replied, staring at Kat’s breasts.  “Your place or mine?”

“How ‘bout right here?” Kat suggested, her voice seeking an even-lower register.  She had her legs pressed tightly together, and shuffled her feet ever so slightly.

“Huh-huh, sure,” Riker said.  He began to take off his clothes, but had trouble with the zipper.  “Stupid starfleet uniform,” he grumbled.

“Lemme help,” Kat said.  She ripped his shirt off, mad with lust.  The atmosphere in the room took on qualities that resembled a greenhouse.

However, before they could continue, the door to the room opened again, and revealed Deana Troi standing in the doorway.  “Will!” she shouted.  “What are you doing with that cheap floozy?”

Troi ran into the room, ignoring Chris and Kia’s passionate love-making.  Kat just stood there in a hormone-induced stupor, and as such wasn’t prepared when Troi shoved her away.

“Don’t you know that Will is my bitch, bitch?!?” Troi screamed.

Kat climbed to her feet.  “No, no I didn’t...” she began, but Troi didn’t let her finish.  Instead, she reached out, grabbed one of Kat’s (very) erect nipples, and twisted like there was no tomorrow.  Kat screamed and jumped five feet in the air, then fell to her knees when she landed a few feet away.  She slowly got up again, gingerly holding her pained boob.

Troi didn’t let up.  She lifted her foot off the ground and kicked Kat in the butt, knocking her forward.  Kat bumped her head on a small table, which put her out of the fight.  Troi just crossed her arms over her chest, satisfied that she had vanquished the female invader.

“Wow,” Riker said.  “I love it when you’re violent.”

“You’ve yet to see how violent I can be,” Troi said, grabbing Riker’s chest hair and tugging him towards the bedroom.

“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” Riker said, like a kid at Christmas.  The bedroom door slammed shut after them.

Kat just groaned and lay where she was for a few moments.  When she finally stood up, she tried to rub her head, her tit, and her ass at the same time, but finally gave up when she remembered that she only had two hands.  Instead, she walked over to where Chris and Kia were still going at it and kicked them both until they stopped.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said glumly.

“But baby...” Kia began.

“I’m not your ‘baby!’” Kat yelled.

Kia squinted. “Oh, yeah... right.”  With a sigh, she hauled Chris to his feet, and the two stood staring at each other, muttering “baby” back and forth.  Finally, Kat grabbed each of them by the ear and led them out the door.  She continued pulling them via their lobes (with many protests coming from both of them, let me assure you) until they reached the shuttle bay.  There was only one shuttle landed there, and several crates were lying around the hangar.  However, there wasn’t anybody on guard.

Kia and Chris were pressed up against each other in moments, so Kat grabbed them and tugged them along with her into the shuttle.  She pushed them onto one of the little cots, and then climbed into the pilots’ chair.  After a quick pre-flight checklist, she pulled out her comlink and switched it on.

“This is agent Shortcake,” she said.  “We’re in position down at the shuttle bay.”

“What took you so long?” SPOOFE’s voice came back.

“I... ah... met someone,” Kat answered sheepishly.  “Didn’t really work out well... I let my, ah, womanhood get the better of me...”

 

“Just get ready for the plan,” SPOOFE said, sighing.  Needless to say, SPOOFE was greatly annoyed that she was acting so silly and goofy and childish.

He pressed another button to signal the other squad, and a few moments later, Eric’s voice answered back with a, “Ye-e-e-essss?”

“Here’s what we’re going to do, people,” SPOOFE announced.  “Eric, you and your team will use the transporters to get back aboard the Josta I.  Kat, you’re going to launch the shuttlecraft and dock with the Josta I and wait for further orders.  Up here in the bridge, we’re going to do something ‘special’ with the rest of the ship.  Everyone got it?”

There were a couple of affirmative responses, so SPOOFE shut his comlink off and turned towards the helm controls.  “Okay, the shuttle’s taking off,” he mumbled to himself.  “And Eric, Flip, and Casey have just teleported off the ship.”  He turned to Ronnie and Corny.  “Okay, are you guys ready?”

Ronnie and CornHusker glanced at each other, then back at SPOOFE.  “Ready for what?” they asked together.

SPOOFE glanced back out the viewport, a mad gleam in his eye and an unstable grin on his face.  “We’re going to crash the Enterprise into the Mir Space Station!”

“Why are we going to do that?” Ronnie asked, rolling her eyes.

SPOOFE and Corny looked at each other.  “Uh...” SPOOFE mumbled, “we just are, okay?”

“Right,” Ronnie sighed.

SPOOFE turned back to the navigation consol and grinned madly.  He accelerated the Enterprise towards the coordinates of the decrepit old Russian space station.  When it came over the horizon of Earth, he pointed the large Galaxy-class ship at it and gunned the engines.  The whole vessel began to vibrate as its’ antimatter core was stressed to its limits.

“Fifteen seconds ‘til impact!” Ronnie shouted over the roar.

“Corny!” SPOOFE yelled.  “Prepare to beam us over to our ship!”

CornHusker nodded and accessed the teleportation systems.

“Ten seconds ‘til impact!”

SPOOFE locked the controls in, and then jumped out of his chair.  “Beam us over, now!”

“Five seconds!”

SPOOFE felt the stomach-lurching tug that accommodates being deconstructed into base particles, and reconstituted again on the Josta I.  He ran to one of the starboard viewports just in time to see the Enterprise and Mir collide.  A massive explosion ripped through the vacuum of space, and a kaleidoscope of blazing ribbons appeared as the pieces of debris burned up in the atmosphere.

From up in the cockpit, SPOOFE watched the visual display spiral down towards terra firma.  After a few minutes, when the flames and debris dissipated, he wandered back to the conference room.  The rest of his team was in the process of removing their infiltration uniforms and armor and putting away their weapons and equipment.  SPOOFE shed his bandolier and weapons belt, but kept the rest on as he stepped over to one of the computer terminals dotting the perimeter of the room.  Within a few moments, he had brought up a program containing the information that had been sucked out of Elian Gonzalez’s head.

He turned to address the group.  “Is everyone here?” he asked.

There was a loud thud, and the ship vibrated slightly.  A few seconds later, Kat, Kia, and Chris appeared.  “Yes!” Kat exclaimed.

“Good,” SPOOFE replied.  “We’ve found where Warlord Spears’ campaign manager is hiding.”  He tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, and up on the main screen appeared an image of the Eiffel Tower.  “This... is not where he’s hiding.”  He pressed a few more buttons, and an image of the Playboy Mansion came up.  “Here it is... Hugh Hefner’s place.”

There was a loud, splattering KLANG sound.  Everyone turned to see Flip’s jaw resting firmly on the floor, and a veritable flood of saliva pouring out.  He quickly replaced his jaw.  “We get to go there?!?” he asked.

“Well, you don’t,” SPOOFE said.  “You guys have to go here...”

A picture of Mount Rushmore came up.  “This is where Warlord Spears is going to be holding her first concert of the tour.  Flip, Casey, Eric, Corny, you four will go here, infiltrate the place, and put plans into motion to demolish the site on command.  The rest of us will head to the Playboy Mansion to get it on... I mean, to find Spears’ campaign manager.”

“You mean I have to go there too?” Kat whined.

“Yup.”

Kat pouted.  “But... but... but...”

“But what?”

She sighed.  “We all know that I’m really a closet lesbian.  Being around so many hot women might get my juices flowing.”

“SPOOFE, you’re doing it again,” Eric said.

Shut up, Eric.

“He’s right, you’re being an ass again,” Ronnie interjected.

Shut up, Ronnie.

Ronnie pursed her lips, then smacked SPOOFE in the head.

“Ow, what’d you do that for?!?”

“For screwing up the narration.”

But I’m not..!  Oops, sorry... ::ahem::... “But I’m not narrating!”

“You were then,” Eric said.  “Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” SPOOFE asked innocently.

Eric grunted.  “For instance, we all very well know that Kat’s not a lesbian, closet or no.  She has a hard enough time becoming sexually attracted to men.”  Eric gasped and covered his mouth.  “I believe I said to cut it out.  We all know that I didn’t say that.”

“Hmph.  Fine.”

“So I’m not a lesbian?” Kat asked.

“Of course you are,” SPOOFE replied.

“Hey!” Ronnie and Eric said together.

“I’m allowed to answer in the non-narrative sense, aren’t I?” SPOOFE asked incredulously.

Ronnie smacked SPOOFE upside the head again.  “You’re being too confusing.”

SPOOFE sighed.  “Fine.  Kat, you can be straight if you want to be, all right?  I just happen to suspect otherwise.”

Ronnie smacked SPOOFE again.

“Ow!!  What was that for?!?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Fine, fine,” SPOOFE murmured.  “I guess I’ll just keep my mouth shut completely.”

“E-e-e-excellent,” Eric said.

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