Hey everybody! Thought you might be interested in a "Trek" parody a friend and I started some time ago. I know, I know-- another parody. But I'm hoping this one is a bit different than most. I'll only say that the title of it is "The Voyages of the Kirk's Libido" and hopefully that will be enough to get people to take a look at it... The idea is that the "Voyages" are all separate stories, but told in a serial type format. Below are the not-to-be-taken-seriously rules, and following you will find the "prologue" (written by me) and the first real episode (written by my good friend Jason Toluba). Any feedback, comments, flames, etc., would be most appreciated-- feel free to contact me at the above address (cjkst6+@pitt.edu). Enjoy! Chris Kocher ________________________________________________________ The Updated Rules Governing "The Voyages of the Kirk's Libido": 1. Each story must end in a cliffhanger which the other person must resolve. The writer may also give suggestions of what could be included in the next story. 2. Each story will be a story on its own, with a build-up, climax, and resolution. But there must be some semblance of advancing the main plot (destruction of the Borg once and for all) in each story, but don't strain yourself. (A way to do this might be to activate the Kirk's Libido Drive at the end of each story, have it go wonky, and set them off on another adventure.) 3. No ridiculous computer clues requiring the advance manipulation of numbers are allowed. 4. No drinking, smoking, or use of the word "salami." 5. A strictly PG rating must be maintained. 6. The following plot devices may not be used: women of the names Candi, Bambi, or Sharlene; Nazis; participants in the Russian, French, or Industrial Revolutions; Troi's mother; Ross Perot; Roger Clinton; small furry animals; or evil twins named Skippy. 7. The stories must be as non-P.C. as possible. 8. We are to rip off and steal as many ideas as we can. The breaking of copyright laws is a difficult crime to prove and prosecute. 9. Scotty must humiliate Geordi at least once a story. 10. Any of the above rules may be broken if doing so results in fun. 11. The above rule may be broken. 12. Screw rules 10 and 11. Prologue: The New Assignment by Chris Kocher Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in the waiting room of Admiral Savalan's office, with a million questions running through his mind. Why had Starfleet recalled the Enterprise from the middle of space to return to Earth? Why wasn't Dr. Crusher's hair replacement treatment working? And why had he been forced to pack everything and take it with him when he left? He glanced over to the numerous boxes piled in the corner. Amazing how much one could accumulate after seven years in space, he thought. Was that why he was called back? To be "promoted" to a boring desk job somewhere? He shuddered at the thought. A noise made him look up in alarm. The admiral's secretary, a slime- covered creature with one eye and three arms, had just emitted the most incredible belch he had ever heard. The intercom next to him (her?) beeped, and Picard heard the admiral's voice say, "Send him in." The alien grunted and motioned Picard to the door marked "Broom Closet." The captain merely shrugged and stood, tugging at his tunic to straighten it out. A large hole tore right in the center. "Damn," he muttered, and seeing the secretary making hacking noises which he assumed must be laughter, he became even more angry. Still, he couldn't keep the admiral waiting, so he went over to the door indicated and entered. It was not the broom closet. Picard stood taking in the magnificent office for some moments. It must have been twice as big as the bridge on the Enterprise, with a huge window overlooking San Francisco. He could see a group of gay-rights advocates protesting in Golden Gate Park, holding up signs and chanting loudly. On the other wall hung a dart board, and Picard was startled to see that the photograph on it was of Wayne Newton, whose clone was making a comeback in New Las Vegas. At the far end of the room, under a blank viewscreen, was a huge desk. Behind the desk sat an adolescent Vulcan in a command uniform. He watched Picard with great interest. "All right, where's the secret camera," said the captain as he approached the desk. "This is for the 'New Improved Candid Holograph' show, isn't it? Where is the real Admiral Savalan?" One of the young Vulcan's eyebrows shot up in a questioning manner. "Captain Picard, I can assure you I am the admiral-- a minor accident in the transporter this morning which will soon be rectified." "You're taking it quite well," commented Picard. "'Well'? It is the Vulcan way." The bloody unemotional way, the captain thought irritably. Why couldn't the Vulcans just admit they have feelings just like anyone else? But he said, "Why have we been brought back here? And why have I been forced out of my own ship?" The admiral indicated a chair. "Sit down and I will explain." Picard sat, with an annoyed glance at his tunic. Savalan must have noticed this glance, because he asked, "What happened to your uniform, Captain?" "I, ah... I had the super-hot wings for lunch downstairs, sir." "Ah, yes, I have ruined more uniforms that way. But, to the point of this meeting. Captain, you are being reassigned to another ship." "Another ship? With all due respect, I'd like to continue commanding the Enterprise. Her crew and I have a certain rapport--" "Yes, I have heard as much, which is why your senior officers will be transferred with you to your new command." Picard was a little relieved to hear this. At least he wouldn't have to break in a new set of officers. "But why another ship, sir?" The admiral pushed a button on his desk, and the screen behind him came to life with an image of a half-organic, half-robotic soldier, ten times larger than life. "The Borg," Picard said, trying desperately not to sweat-- it glistened quite noticeably on his bald head. His throat went dry, but he managed to ask, "What do they have to do with this?" If he didn't know better, Picard would have thought that the admiral enjoyed seeing him squirm a bit. "They are a continuing threat to the Federation. And since you were once captured by them, you are the most qualified for this new assignment." "Which is?" the captain asked, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Find and destroy the Borg, wherever they may be." Picard almost laughed in spite of himself. "My dear admiral, most of the Borg are located several years' journey away. And even if we were to find them, we'd have a devil of a time destroying them. Such a task would be impossible." "Not anymore," said the admiral cryptically. "What do you mean, sir?" "Captain, what is the most powerful force in the known universe?" Picard thought for a moment. "Matter/antimatter reactions?" "No." The captain was puzzled. He had actually stayed awake in physics at the Academy. "Limburger cheese? Earl Gray Tea? Prune juice?" he said after some more thought. "No on all counts, Captain." The Vulcan paused and looked around before pushing another button on his desk. "The most powerful force ever known is the famous libido of James Tiberius Kirk." Picard looked up to see that the picture had changed to Kirk himself in the arms of a busty blonde woman wearing what looked like a tinfoil bikini. The captain almost slapped himself-- how could he not have known? Kirk's exploits with women were legendary, even now. "At the moment of his death," the admiral explained, "scientists were able to harness the energy of Kirk's libido, but only now have they found a way to utilize it." He pushed the button again, and the image became that of a starship with six nacelles protruding from one end. By comparing it with a shuttle flying in front of it, Picard estimated it to be several times bigger than the Enterprise. The captain emitted a low whistle. "Quite a ship," he said. "The U.S.S. Kirk's Libido, first of the Colossal class starships, and the only one with the Kirk's Libido Drive." "Patent pending, I'm sure," said Picard with a chuckle. The Vulcan gave him another quizzical look. No sense of humor either, he thought grimly. "But why only one ship? Wouldn't many ships be more useful to attack the Borg?" "There is enough of Kirk's libido to power numerous ships, but this is the experimental prototype." Enough to power numerous ships, Picard thought with a grin. What an incredible libido! "You will notice there are six nacelles," the admiral said. "Three are for the Kirk's Libido Drive, and two are for regular warp power." "And the sixth?" The Vulcan looked a bit uneasy. "The human designers said that one was for 'good luck,' but I do not see what luck has to do with it." "No, you wouldn't," muttered Picard. Savalan seemed not to hear. "On the front of the ship is the Libido Projector, a weapon known to destroy anything in its path." "The main thrust, you might say," said the captain, trying to look serious but not really succeeding. "Yes, you could say that," replied the admiral, making it even harder for Picard not to laugh. "We have managed to persuade two crew members who served under Kirk to return to Starfleet duty, since they have previously seen Kirk's libido in action." The Vulcan pushed the button once more, and a cartoon with the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote came on the screen. The coyote was about to drop a boulder on the road runner. "I was not aware they had served with Captain Kirk," said Picard, finally laughing out loud. The admiral looked positively flustered. "Um, I do not know how that got there." I'm sure, Picard thought. Savalan hit the button with his fist, and the picture changed to show a split image with Ambassador Spock on one side and Captain Montgomery Scott on the other. "I had thought that Spock was on Romulus..." Picard began. "He was deported several months ago for passport violations. And Captain Scott was found on the Gondar pleasure planet trying to exchange the shuttlecraft you gave him for a shipment of Scotch." "Good old Scotty. So when does this mission start, admiral?" The Vulcan checked his watch. "Right about-- now." Suddenly Picard felt the queasy feeling of a transporter, and saw the admiral's office disappear in front of him. Once Picard was gone, the admiral turned the cartoon back on and swiveled his chair around to watch it. Picard found himself standing on a transporter pad surrounded by boxes. At least they remembered his stuff, he thought. Waiting for him were Scotty (who the captain estimated to be at least twenty pounds heavier, since the buckle on his uniform looked like it was straining), Spock (wearing what looked to be a long bathrobe), and William Riker (his first officer with a libido that contended with Kirk's). "Welcome to the Kirk's Libido, Captain," said Spock. "Thank you, Ambassador," said Picard. He turned to Riker. "See that my belongings are taken to my quarters, Number Zero." "That's Number One, sir-- were you scrambled a bit in the transporter again?" The captain became annoyed. "Of course not, Number Six-- can't you just follow my orders?" "Yes, sir, Captain Picardo," Riker replied, leaving in a huff. Scotty looked amused. "He's in a wee bit of a snit, isn't he?" "Oh, don't mind him. It's good to see you again, Snotty." "'Snotty,' eh? Well, I never!" Scotty tramped out of the room also. Picard turned to Spock. "What did I do, Mr. Spick? Do you think something's wrong with the transporter again?" "I believe so, but there is a way to repair the damage." The Vulcan held out his hands and approached Picard, but the captain swatted him away. "We have no time for a mind meld now," he said, again annoyed. "I assume everyone is in the conference room waiting to be briefed?" "Mr. Scott has already explained the concepts behind the new drive system," Spock replied. "All that remains is your telling of our mission." "Well, then I suggest you take me to them..." Picard was rather surprised to find the corridors of the Kirk's Libido to be rather narrow. He had assumed, with the ship being larger than the Enterprise, that everything would be larger, or at least the same size. When he asked Spock about it, the Vulcan explained that the Kirk's Libido Drive took up much of the ship's interior space. Something else to put up with, Picard thought with a grimace. Spock led him to a room marked "Broom Closet," which opened to a rather cramped conference room. His senior officers sat elbow-to-elbow around what looked to be a green kitchen set with mismatched chairs. The captain tried not to look upset as he took a seat at the head of the table. He glanced at each one of his officers in turn. Riker glared at him, as did Scotty seated next to him. Counselor Deanna Troi had that faraway look she usually had when doing Betazoid crossword puzzles in her head. Commander Data, the android across from him who looked, as he usually did, like he needed some sun, was trying to scrape a large jelly stain from the table's surface. Worf sat with a scowl on his face, which told Picard that he was in one of his few good moods. Dr. Beverly Crusher, the medical officer, appeared to be writing a letter to her son Wesley. Picard remembered again how good it was to have that boy out of his hair-- well, what was left of it, at least. Only Geordi LaForge, the chief engineer, seemed to really be paying attention to him, but then Picard could never tell since Geordi's were hidden by a prosthesis. He could be peeping through Troi's uniform for all the captain knew. Picard watched Spock sit in the only empty chair besides his own, then sat himself and cleared his throat loudly. Everyone continued to do what they had been doing. He cleared his throat again, and still nothing. Finally he banged his fist loudly on the table, and suddenly his officers came to attention. "Thank you for giving of your valuable time," Picard said, hoping the sarcasm was evident in his voice. "Now, I understand that Mr. Scott has told you about the Kirk's Libido Drive, so I need not go into it again. I do, however, need to explain our mission." One of the officers made a noise like snoring. The captain glanced around furiously. "All right, who was it?" he demanded angrily. The snoring noise came again. "Right then, if that's the way you want it..." He paused for what he hoped was dramatic effect. "We are to kill all of the Borg, and there will be no discussions or debates about it. Mr. Scott, have the Kirk's Libido Drive powered up to leave in fifteen minutes." With that, he got up and walked briskly from the room. His officers suddenly came to life, each voicing a loud protest, but the conference room door had already shut behind him. "We have left Earth's orbit, sir," said the ensign at the helm. She broke the silence that had hung about the tiny bridge since the conference fiasco. Everyone sat brooding at his or her station, and even Data seemed to be particularly quiet. "Lay in the course," said Riker. "Sir, we are receiving a subspace transmission," said Worf. "From the Enterprise." "On screen," said Picard and Riker at the same time. They glared at each other. The main viewscreen showed the spacious bridge of their old ship, and several gazed at it longingly. In the command chair sat none other that Captain Jellico, who had commanded the ship for a short time when Picard was being tortured by the Cardassians. "Captain Jellico, what a surprise," said Picard, knowing full well that Jellico had wanted to keep the Enterprise even after the Cardassians had released him. "I just wanted to wish you the best of luck," Jellico said with an almost sadistic look on his face. "And, of course, to rub it in that your beloved ship is now mine." He laughed maniacally for several seconds before the transmission cut off. Riker had turned red with hidden anger. "Ensign, aim the Libido Projector at the Enterprise and fire at my command--" "Cancel that order," said Picard sharply. He turned to his first officer. "We'll have none of that, Number One." "Sorry, sir." "On the mission we're on, we're going to need all the friends we can get. Counselor, what's the general mood on the ship?" Troi thought for a moment. "There is a definite feeling of suppressed excitement and tension, sir." "Ah, the crew is excited about our mission--" "No, not the crew, captain. Kirk's libido." Picard felt at a loss for words. "Um, what is the feeling among the crew?" "They are incredibly afraid, captain." "Hmm..." Suddenly a whistle indicated an incoming intercom message. Riker hit the correct button to answer. "Yes?" "Engineering, sir," came Scotty's voice. "We're as ready as we'll ever be down here." "All right, prepare to activate the Kirk's--" Picard stood. "Hold on a moment-- there's something I have to do." He walked in front of the viewscreen full of images of stars. "Space... the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Kirk's Libido. Its ongoing mission: to seek out the Borg and blow them to kingdom come!" Picard smiled with satisfaction and sat back down. "Scotty, activate the Kirk's Libido Drive." Seconds later an incredible grinding noise filled the bridge, and soon the ship seemed to be out of control, careening them back and forth off of instrument panels and each other. After what seemed like a long time, the movement and noise stopped, and they were plunged into darkness. ker, and their red glow illuminated the bridge once more. "Scotty, damage report." "I think we blew out most of th' circuits in the whole ship," came the distant-sounding answer. "It'll take us two or three months to repair everything, sir." "You have ten minutes, Mr. Scott," Picard said in an annoyed tone. "I think I can do it, sir." The rest of the bridge crew picked themselves up slowly and returned to their positions. Data glanced at his control panel. "We are several hundred light-years from where we were-- and there is another ship approaching." "On screen," said the captain. The viewscreen showed a ship in what had to be the strangest configuration any of them had ever seen. It was all black and had large wings and thrusters. But the body had had large spoked wheels attached to the bottom and a frame that seemed rather unsuited for space travel. "We are receiving an incoming audio message, captain," said Worf with a growl. "Let's hear it," Picard replied. The channel opened up with a crackle. "This is Luke Lancaster of the Millennium Horsecart. Surrender your ship or prepare to be destroyed." NEXT EPISODE: "AMISH WARS" 1. Amish Wars by Jason Toluba The Amish, History of: The Amish were a peaceful, farming people who had prospered in the fertile rolling hills of central Pennsylvania for centuries. Their communities survived unchanged because pressures from the rapidly changing world did not effect them. However, in the mid- twentieth century a serious threat to their lifestyle took shape-- the real estate developer (today commonly mistaken for Ferengi, since they are almost identical). The developers despised the clean open country, so they built malls and shops, printed travel brochures, advertised in The New York Times. Like a fly to shi. . . I mean honey, the tourists came. They swarmed like locusts over the land buying antiques, taking photographs, and running down horse carts. The Amish were under siege. From the Revolution to the Second World War the Amish had maintained a position of non-aggression. They believed whatever happened, they would never resort to violence. But then 'it' happened. Two events changed forever their outlook on life. The first was the First (and last) Annual Beard Pulling Contest of '84, sponsored by the Lancaster community council (first prize a trip to Las Vegas to see Wayne Newton). The Amish were outraged, and extremely sore from the constant tugging. They had no idea what to do. That same year the movie Witness was released. Rumor of it spread through Lancaster, and despite their beliefs the Amish were soon lining up to see it. They went wild. It was a movie they could relate to. Who of them hadn't had their noses rubbed in vanilla ice cream by some wiseass in their lifetime? With pitchforks in hand, they broke their vow of peace and spread havoc across the land, driving all outsiders away. They succeeded in cutting Lancaster County off from rest of the world, but the Amish found they could not go back to their old way of life. They had had a taste of power. No one would ever push them around again: the tourists, the Jehovah's Witnesses, Brownie Troop Nine, no one. The United States government was not pleased losing a chunk of Pennsylvania to the newly violent, pitchfork-wielding Amish. The National Guard was called out, tanks were on the way, surrender leaflets were dropped, and Geraldo was on the scene. The Amish were very afraid. Harrison Ford had solved their problems before, so maybe he could again, the Amish reasoned. They scourged outside of Lancaster, looting video stores of all Harrison Ford films ever made. They were most impressed by the Star Wars trilogy. The Amish liked the idea of traveling through space. It had appeal and it looked much faster than the horse carts they were accustomed to riding. Amish scientists had been restricted to the physics and engineering of barns for hundreds of years, but no longer. Released from designing barns, the Amish began to build spaceships. Early on the morning of August 21, 1984, thousands of Amish flocked from neighboring counties and states to Lancaster. By the end of the day they had completed their armada. In some ways they had kept to tradition, since the ships resembled Amish structures: cargo and transport ships were barn and silo shaped, and the fighters were engineered around a horsecart frame. All ships had the insignia of their people, the mark of the Amish, a little fluorescent orange triangle attached to the back of the ship. There had been problems finding fuels, since there was no oil, uranium, or dilithium crystals in Lancaster. But with the invention of the hyperspace corn drive and milk impulse propulsion systems those problems were solved. On the morning of the 22nd, they boarded their ships and left Earth. They found new star systems, and began colonizing planets, planting fields, and building barns. They spread throughout their corner of the galaxy and formed a mighty Republic. They were happy once again. The forces of evil are never at rest, however, and were definitely not finished with the Amish. Several Branch Davidians had stowed away on a barn transport ship. (Another creature of evil, a young Amish wannabe named Jeff Gold, stowed away also. However, he is of no importance to the story, dying of a paper cut on the voyage over.) Secretly the Branch Davidians began to spread their influence throughout the colonies. They bred like rats, their numbers growing. Meanwhile the Amish began to explore the psychic world. They discovered the power of the Amish: to have blind luck, the ability to heal, to levitate objects, to see past and future, and increase beard growth at a touch. They formed a group of guardians known as the Mennonite Knights, sworn to protect the Republic against intruders and to keep order within. For a hundred years the Mennonite Knights defended the Republic, keeping aliens and invaders at bay. But within the Republic the Davidians were at work. They wanted complete power, CNN, and the abolition of buttermilk. They began harnessing the dark side of the Amish. Civil war broke out, the Davidians taking control of many a battle cruiser. It looked as if the dark side of the Amish would win. Since most of the Mennonite Knights had been killed in the fighting, there were few left to stay the tide of evil. When the Amish were at their bleakest hour and looked as if all was lost, a hero arose. A young farm boy named Luke Lancaster, strong in the ways of the Amish, helped to defeat the dark side and overcome the Davidians and their leader, Koresh Vader. Young Luke reestablished the Mennonite Knights, and the Republic was whole again. --Encyclopedia Galactica (Reader's Digest Condensed Version) Now the Amish were at war with the Borg. Both sides were equal in power, and neither could defeat the other. They were in a deadlock. Picard took into account the scenario before him. He was on a mission to find the Borg wherever they may be and blow them to kingdom come. He had taken command of the new experimental ship, a ship powered by the miraculous libido of the late James T. Kirk. Only ten minutes out of spacedock the Libido Drive had malfunctioned and brought them nowhere near the Borg (or so they assumed). Now they were being threatened by hostile aliens or, to be more precise, hostile Amish. Nothing out of the ordinary here, he pondered. Still, the threat of being blown up had to be dealt with, even if it was a little tiresome. Things like this were getting to be old hat. The first two or three dozen times is exciting, but after that the adrenaline rush just doesn't kick in anymore. What fun is that? How many times had the Enterprise been threatened termination by some disgruntled race or organization? The Romulans, Ferengi, Cardassians, even the Mormons had threatened the ship at one time or another. Picard wished something a little more exciting would occur. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it, so he'd better get down to business. "Mr. Worf, hail the Amish vessel." "The Amish ship is ignoring us, captain." Typical, very typical, Picard thought. This was a skill they had mastered over the centuries. "Continue hailing, Mr. Worf." "The ship is still not responding, sir." Dammit, Picard thought, neither is the Libido Drive. The situation was getting desperate, and everyone was looking to him for leadership. He knew what had to be done. It was time to make a life-threatening decision. He jumped up, taking a dramatic stance. "Red alert!" he said in a loud commanding voice, expecting the bridge to be basked in a glowing blood red light. This was something that didn't tire Picard. He loved watching the new ensigns soil their uniforms in fear. But nothing happened-- no lights came on. Picard blinked. Where were those flashing red lights he had grown so much to love? "Captain, I forgot to inform you that the normal warning lights are out of commission. There is a back-up system, but it doesn't quite suit a red alert warning," explained Riker, trying to clear the look of confusion on Picard's face. "Number One, we cannot have a red alert status without flashing lights. Bring on the backup system." "Captain, I'm sure you would be much happier without it." "Enough, Commander-- bring on the lights." "But Captain, it's a disc--" Before he could finish Picard interrupted. "That is an order, Number One." Picard was not to be trifled with in this matter, Riker thought. So be it. He can have his alert lights. Knowing Picard's aversion to a certain dance music of 1970's Earth, Riker was going to take pleasure in this. "Ensign, bring on the back-up lighting," he commanded. From the ceiling a panel opened, a large multifaced silver ball descended. It began spinning and projected all colors of the spectrum around the bridge. In the background, there was the faint sound of the Bee Gees. Picard swallowed hard, his bald head turning color to match the bright red of his uniform. I will not punch Riker in the face and dash his brains across the computer console, he thought. Riker glanced over and gave him an "I told you so" smirk. Picard stared back, imagining little nuclear mushrooms exploding around his head. I must maintain my composure, Picard thought. The crew cannot see an emotional captain in times of crisis. "Worf, weapons and shield status!" screamed Picard in a high pitched whine. "Shields and weapons off line, Captain." Picard could see Worf grimacing, which was nothing new in itself. Still, the Klingon must be a little worried. To be defeated by Amish would be a joke indeed. Worf would probably be dishonored if news spread to the Klingon High Command. Picard didn't feel like going through that nonsense again. He turned to Data, "Data, estimated time until Amish ship intercepts." "Eight minutes, twenty five seconds, eleven decaseconds, three centiseconds-- " "Thank you, Mr. Data." "Thirty one yugoseconds, sixty-five cream cheese seconds, three pickle seconds-- " "Shut up, Data!" Not much time left. What the hell is going on in engineering? Picard wondered. "Scotty, LaForge, what is your status?" Below in engineering Scotty and LaForge scrambled to answer at the same time. Scotty responded first. Somehow by accident Geordi's communicator found its way into a nearby ceiling vent. "Captain, we've got a lot damage down here. The Libido Drive is gonna take a couple o' years to fix." Picard's kidneys almost imploded, almost, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. "Scotty, you have five minutes." "I think I can do it, captain. Scott out." Spock nodded in approval. Some things never changed. Geordi fished his communicator out of the vent. He was not happy. Scotty was acting unprofessionally. Geordi was no pushover, and if it happened again he'd really screw Scotty to the wall. He'd file a complaint to the captain. Geordi looked over at Scotty, who was pulling out the hair on his head muttering, "How in the hell am I supposed to fix the blasted libido in five minutes?" Intuitively Geordi guessed that Scotty was having difficulty fixing the drive. I bet I can help, Geordi thought. "Maybe if we take subprocessor 23M and attach it to the intercoolant flux modulator thereby establishing a high capacity, low energy proton field that will magnetize the interspacial anti-matter disrupter and supply enough energy to the galactic spectrometer bypassing the main inertial. . . ." Scotty looked up and hit Geordi upside the head. "Are you daft! Quit fooling around-- I don't have time for ye games. We have to fix the Libido Drive!" he hollered. Scotty's mind raced. How could he fix it? What would Kirk do at a time like this, with a nonfunctional libido? He thought back to the past. Even alive Kirk occasionally had trouble with his libido, but what had he done? Suddenly he remembered. "That's it! I've got it!" he shouted. "Quick, follow me! I know how to fix the Libido Drive." "Where are we going? How are we going to fix it?" Geordi asked groggily. His head was still reeling. There was definitely going to be a complaint filed. "To the biology lab aquarium. No time to explain," said the excited Scotsman as they rushed out of engineering. Spock knew that they had to buy time for Scotty to get the Libido Drive back on line. He also knew Picard would probably surrender the ship and not risk the lives of his crew. This would be the logical choice. However, Spock was no longer the logical Vulcan he had once been. Over the years, exposure to the irrationality of the late Admiral Kirk had destroyed much of Spock's deductive reasoning. The presence of his libido only intensified Spock's unreason. (There were other problems. He had a strange fascination with astrologers, fortune tellers, tarot cards and the like. He was also considering belly-dancing.) Despite these problems, he had a plan. By employing one of Kirk's old tactics he thought it possible to save the day. The ship was still at red alert status, evident by the crew members dancing around the bridge. Picard was standing, frozen, making a very obvious effort not to go into convulsions. When "Stayin' Alive" started up for the fifth time, Picard's lower right lip began to twitch, almost in rhythm with the beat of the song. Spock walked over to the captain, resting his hand on Picard's shoulder. "What do you want!" screeched Picard. Spock decided that first he should alleviate the situation a bit. He punched the commands for red alert sound control, accidentally raising the volume. Picard began hyperventilating. Quickly Spock turned off the music completely, much to the disappointment of the bridge crew. Within seconds Picard's breathing returned to normal. "Captain, I believe that we may have to surrender the ship. I doubt that Scotty can put the ship back in order on time. The Amish ship is due in one minute." "Yes, he could be blowing his bagpipes for all we know." Spock pretended not to hear that remark. Frankly he kind of liked the bagpipes ever since Scotty had played them at his funeral. (Only yesterday he had bought "Bagpipe's Greatest Hits" volumes 8-10.) "There is a course of action that would save the ship," the Vulcan continued. He tried to sound dramatic and unemotional at the same time, which only succeeded in cracking his voice. Picard looked at Spock quizzically. Didn't he know that only Wesley could save the day at this point? Picard was sure Wesley was nowhere in the sector, so he had little confidence in any plan that Spock might come up with without the little brat. "Captain, we must negotiate with the Amish," Spock said. "We delay them long enough for Scotty to get the Libido Drive functioning. Once the weapons are back on line, we shoot them." Picard contemplated. It was a good plan, straightforward with lots of explosions, and would definitely save the day. For a moment he had a crazy thought. He peered carefully at Spock, mentally peeling off the wrinkles to see if it was Wesley in disguise. After several seconds Picard shook his head and regained his senses. Somehow Spock had devised a plan to save the ship without involving the wonder nerd. Incredible! thought Picard. In engineering, Scotty and Geordi were placing the last of the raw oysters in the libido chamber. Geordi was complaining. "What are we doing with those oysters? You're just clogging up the libido chamber! It doesn't make any sense. How is this going to work?" "I see you have a lot to learn about engineering, lad," said Scotty. "We're supplying the libido with an age-old aphrodisiac. These raw oysters are going to give the energy lift the libido needs. They've worked for Kirk before and nothing is gonna stop it now." "Oh," Geordi muttered as he began banging his head off the nearest wall. Scotty took a second to pity his fellow engineer, however ignorant in the ways of engineering, and refired the Libido Drive. On the viewscreen, actually a 10-inch black-and-white television bolted to the wall, the Amish ship could be seen moving into firing range. From the weapons console, Worf was heard emitting a low growl. "The Amish ship is hailing us, captain." "On screen," replied Picard. The image of a young man appeared. He had blond hair, a long beard of the same color, and a straw hat atop his head. "I am Luke Lancaster of the Amish. Surrender your ship or die. Do not beg or plead for mercy-- the Amish have heard it all before. We are xenophobes and do not tolerate outsiders as our ancestors once did. We are closed minded, ignorant, and Republican. We are right and you are wrong. You have ten seconds to transfer command of your ship or be destroyed." Troi turned to Picard. "Captain, I'm sensing something from Luke. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I believe he may have hostile intentions." Picard smiled and nodded at the counselor, wondering how much Starfleet was paying her. Picard took a step towards the viewscreen. Time to give Spock's plan a shot. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Kirk's Libido. We come in peace. . . ." Scotty's voice came in over the intercom, "Captain, the Libido Drive is fully functional again. We are back to full power." Immediately Picard reacted to the good news. "Mr. Worf, shoot to kill!" Worf's finger was within millimeters of the firing button when he began to feel a tingling sensation in his throat. There was a strange taste. . . . like, like, buttermilk! Suddenly Worf doubled over, making choking sounds. On the viewscreen, Luke Lancaster let out a small chuckle. "Do not make any more attempts on my ship. Anyone who tries will meet the same fate as your shipmate. You will be blown up for attempting to destroy me, but first I will let you watch your fellow officer die in excruciating pain." Troi turned to Picard again, this time with a look of certainty on her face. "Captain, the Amish's emotions are definitely hostile." Picard hoped that if they were destroyed, Deanna would be the first killed in the opening salvo. If he were lucky maybe her head would explode. The turbolift doors opened, Dr. Beverly Crusher stepped out making way to the choking Klingon. "Captain, we have to move away from here, or Worf is going to die." Picard looked grimly at the dying Klingon, hoping Worf had left him something in the will. He had his heart rather set on some of Worf's battle gear. Picard's thoughts were suddenly distracted. On screen shots were hitting the Amish vessel, but from where? Had Jellico somehow followed, and was it the Enterprise saving them? The Amish vessel was turning trying to return fire, but it was already badly damaged. Now Picard could see the ship that was firing. It was (gulp) very large and cube-shaped. The Borg. The crew figured this out for themselves and began diving under their consoles crying for mommy. Picard followed suit, realizing for the first time how spacious it was under his chair. The Borg ship turned towards the Kirk's Libido, apparently finished with the Amish ship for now. Please let Troi be first, please Troi, please Troi, thought Picard as the Borg ship turned towards them. Wait, what am I thinking? he realized. We have the Libido Projector! Data was the only crew member stupid enough to be at his station. Androids may be superior, but they have the survival instincts of cheese mold. From under his chair Picard shouted, "Data, aim and fire the Libido Projector at the Borg ship." Data responded, setting the energy level of the Projector to flambe. The crew could feel the power surge. For a moment an aura of energy encompassed the ship, and no crew member was left untouched. Disguised as a giant Rubik's cube, the Borg had been nearby all along, unnoticed by the Amish or Federation ships. It had waited, wary of other Amish ships coming into the sector. When none appeared it had made its move and attacked what it ignorantly thought was the more powerful and dangerous of the two ships. The Borg systematically crippled the Amish ship. It didn't want Luke dead-- it planned to assimilate him and the power of the Amish. (Those straw hats would complement their body armor nicely, the Collective thought.) With the Millennium Horsecart disabled, they moved towards the wussy Federation vessel. No more Mr. Nice Borg, the Collective thought as it aimed its disintegration beam. It was time to get rid of these losers. Suddenly the Borg felt a sudden surge of power from the Federation ship flying off any scale known to them. The Collective mentally peed its pants. Maybe it had made a slight booboo. A blinding white energy beam transfixed the ship and tore it apart. Pulling himself out from under his chair, Picard watched as the Libido ProjectorUs beam ripped the Borg ship to pieces. He felt satisfaction. It wasn't Troi blowing up, but it was close enough. The ease of destroying the Borg proved the power of the new ship, and for the first time Picard believed it possible to fulfill his mission. The Amish and the Federation made a temporary alliance to beat the spit out of the Borg. Little spit was collected, but soon the scattered remains of Borg ships littered Amish space. The Borg grew wary of the new ship, and the Rubik's cube trick no longer worked. The Borg fled to the barb-wired borders of Amish space. The Borg realized it must be the all-destructive libido of James T. Kirk that was behind this sudden imbalance in the war. Only a powerful Impotency Field could save them now, the Borg deduced. The Collective began to churn like a blender (specifically a Sears model 67TY-bbbbb). After several seconds of mixing and dicing the universe it discovered the meaning of life, why the sky is blue, and the mystical secrets of filing income tax forms, but none of these mattered to the Borg. After a few more seconds on high spin, the Borg found what it needed in the chopped remains of Picard-- actually his knowledge collected from him when he was called Locutus (but secretly known to the Collective as "Spanky"). The information in Spanky's brain contained the location of the only force in the known universe strong enough to nullify Kirk's libido. Spanky had feared it more than Wesley, Troi, and the combined forces of disco and country/western. It was something very dangerous, even to the Borg, and assimilation was not an option. Assimilation would mean the end of life for the Borg as they knew it. Manipulation would be the key. The Borg ship designated as QWE2565U, or the "Kamikaze," sped off to Federation space at a speed that would have surprised even the roadrunner. Eventually the Borg ship slowed its speed and entered the desired solar system. Camouflaging into the standard Rubik's cube form, the ship approached the fifth planet. None of the planet's defense systems were aware of the ship. Not that it really mattered, since their weapons were archaic compared to the Borg. (The Borg knew where to shop for weapons. "Zany EddieUs Wholesale Mass Destruction Depot" was the place to go for the latest in anti-matter, laser, and rice-cake technology.) As the ship neared closer to the planet, the Borg sensors could detect a great source of power. The Borg may have been evil and corrupting, but this power was something even more so. Nevertheless, the Borg locked on and beamed their deadly cargo aboard into a guarded and heavily shielded cell. Lwaxana Troi was everything the Borg had feared, if not more so. At first she was indignant about the kidnaping, whining something about being the holder of the Sacred Rings of Betazed. The Borg tried ignore her, wishing it had assimilated that power of the Amish long ago. That was when the problems really started. She began to hit on her drone guard, asking questions like: "When do you get off work?" "What's your sign?" along with other not so subtle comments like, "Let's get married!" and "I really love tall, pale men with lots of prosthetic devices!" The Borg replied back in its cold mechanical voice, "Your questions are irrelevant, you will not be assimilated. We would rather assimilate Andorian slime slugs. We repeat, there is no way in hell you will ever be assimilated. Never, never, never..." Despite this threat, Lwaxana only commented, "Resistance is futile." She persisted in trying to hook up with the drone, repeating her obnoxious and evil pickup lines. Her power was too great for the guard, after several minutes of abuse the Borg collapsed in a smoking heap. Another drone replaced its fallen comrade. Several minutes later it too lay in smoking ruin. A stack of fallen Borg began to collect outside Lwaxana's cell. The Borg considered its options. For a moment the idea of crashing into a nearby star occurred. Only the thought of Kirk's unimpeded libido waiting to again thrust its power kept the Collective from doing so. However, at the current rate of drone destruction, there would be no Borg left to pilot the ship once they reached Amish territory. Already two dozen had fallen. The ship increased speed, breaking the intergalactic limit of 55 million light years an hour, tearing towards Amish space with a rapidly decreasing crew. Aboard the Kirk's Libido, the Federation and the Amish coordinated their efforts. Things had been tense at first, the Amish complaining about the lack of buttermilk on board, and the crew complaining about that "cow smell" that lingered wherever the Amish representatives went. However these small problems were "plowed over" by the success of their war. For a week there were no encounters with the Borg. They were no longer on red alert, and the crew was enjoying a much needed rest. Luke Lancaster was on board the Kirk's Libido, his ship parked in one of the shuttle bays. With him was his trusted friend M2K2N, a small robot who communicated in beeps and whistles. M2K2N quite strikingly resembled a milkcan on wheels, which was in fact what he was. During his stay, Luke began to feel the presence of someone who had potential to be strong in the ways of the Amish. That someone was ironically Lt. Worf, the Klingon officer he had almost killed. Luke asked the large, hairy, non-deodorant-using Klingon if he would like to learn the ways of the Amish. Worf said nothing in response, instead giving Luke a demonstration of traditional Klingon tap dancing right on top of M2K2N. Later the defunct robot ended up as an ashtray in Ten-Forward, becoming one of Data's best friends. Luke was not perturbed by the Klingon's aggression. He had dealt with many a Girl Scout Wookie before, a creature grumpier than even Mr. Worf. He went to Picard, explained the situation and was able to get the captain to order Worf to cooperate. Worf's first instructions in the ways of the Amish took place in the holodeck. They sat in the middle of a vast cornfield, barns and haystacks dotting the landscape. Both were dressed in the traditional garb of the Mennonite Knights: black cloaks, overalls, and straw hats. "The Amish is all around us, Worf," Luke explained. "It surrounds and binds all living beings throughout the galaxy, concentrating itself around farm animals especially. There are a few of us who are unique, able to use the force of the Amish; you are one of those peop-- I mean, creatures. Always use the Amish as a power of good, never for evil." Luke held up his hand in warning. "Beware the dark side of the Amish, Worf. It corrupts and eventually destroys all who follow it. Greed, hate, fear, and low-fat milk lead down the path to the dark side." "Is the dark side more powerful?" Worf asked. Luke paused to think. "No, only better dressed," he replied finally. While Worf learned the mysteries of beard growth, Picard was finishing his 200th line of Tetris. He heard a beep from the door to his ready room. Damn, always interrupted. "Enter," responded Picard. Geordi entered the office, not looking very happy. "Captain, I wish to make a complaint about Captain Scott." "Yes, of course. Have you brought the proper forms?" inquired Picard. "Um... not really." "Well I'm afraid I cannot hear your grievance unless I have the proper forms. We do have to follow procedure on this ship, Mr. LaForge. Troi should be able to get you a copy. Come back when you've filled them out." Several hours later Geordi returned bearing a stack of papers. "I've filled out the requested forms, sir." He set them on Picard's desk. Picard leafed through them for a few minutes, then sighed. "Mr. LaForge, I believe these papers are inadequate. This is form 23-B, which are for a grievance of an officer against an ensign. Your case is against a fellow officer so you need forms 23-C." Later Geordi wheeled in the aforementioned papers in a small wheelbarrow. "Here are the 23-C forms about my complaint." Picard viewed them and threw the stack into the trash basket. "Ink, not graphite, Mr. LaForge. Follow directions next time and use a pen." Geordi returned the next day, with the 23-C forms in pen and, for safety's sake, in triplicate. Picard studied them for a minute. Most of it was a lot of crap about Scotty's engineering practices and equations showing how the Libido Drive didn't work within the laws of physics. Finally he looked up. "I've read your complaint about Scotty and the Libido Drive, and here is my answer to your complaint. Get a spine, LaForge. I hate whiners. If you have problems working with him, go find some other project. Make yourself useful. And in future don't be such a baby. Dismissed." Picard grinned as he pressed a hidden button under his desk. A small trap door opened, causing Geordi to abruptly disappear through the floor. Always wanted one of those, Picard thought to himself as he heard Geordi's echoing screams fade away. Ten-Forward on the Kirk's Libido was a bit different from the Enterprise's lounge. The designers of the ship had had Kirk in mind when they decorated the room. The lounge was dim, the only light provided by the candles on the small two-person tables. The floor was carpeted in a red shag, and the walls decorated with photographs of famous women, most of them the focus of Kirk's libido at one time or another. The waitresses were dressed in tin-foil bikinis, and a lounge lizard in the corner was playing "Feelings" on the piano. Overall it was a real classy place. Guinan, the ever-present bartender on the Enterprise, had elected to move to the new ship also, and so she managed this lounge as she had in the past. However, she always looked a bit uneasy with the new decor, especially under the larger-than-life photo of Nyota Uhura. But the only indication that anything had changed at all was a new habit of wearing tinfoil hats. Riker sauntered into Ten-Forward, scanning the room for hot babes. None of the Enterprise's crew had transferred with the officers, so there were bound to be plenty of young female ensigns on board. He saw Dr. Crusher at a table in the back, but the thought of Wesley as a stepson momentarily sent a chill up his spine and almost shriveled Riker's own libido. (His was a powerful and energetic libido, but, truth be told, nowhere near the magnitude of Kirk's.) No way he was messing with her. Besides, everyone knew Picard had the hots for her. Scotty entered, or, more accurately, lumbered into Ten-Forward and took a seat on the opposite end of the room near the lounge singer. After a few minutes a steady stream of women entered the lounge, taking seats near Scotty. Riker walked towards the crowd of women. He had targeted his first kill of the night, a gorgeous redhead sitting with the Scotsman. After several fake coughs, Riker managed to make eye contact with the woman. She's mine, he thought, as he used one of his most successful pick up lines: "Hey babe, let's go to my place and have some fun." She glared back at Riker for an instant, then turned her attention back to Scotty. "Wow, an engineer! What an exciting job! Please, please, tell me more about it!" Maybe she didn't hear me properly, thought Riker. He repeated his offer, a little more loosely and to the point. This time he got a response-- a swift kick to the family jewels. Stunned, embarrassed, and feeling his vocal cords ascending several octaves, Riker took a time out from his babe hunt. He drug himself over to the bar and ordered a very strong drink. When he had somewhat recovered, Riker noticed that almost all of the women in the room had their attention fixed on Scotty. Some were sighing at the engineer and others just sat and stared. What the hell is the matter with the universe? thought Riker. They're passing up me for a balding, 150-year-old, expanding tub of lard. Riker watched in horror as Scotty ate several hot dogs, bananas, pickles, zucchini, cucumbers, and a large salami. Afterwards he began smoking a large cigar. A female ensign wiped the corner of Scotty's mouth with a napkin. They were enthralled with him, laughing at whatever he said, funny or not. The first officer was frustrated, not understanding that powers greater than his libido were at work. He glanced around the room. Not a single woman left in the lounge except... Riker steadied himself as he got up and began a conversation with Dr. Crusher. Picard stood in front of Beverly Crusher's door. He had finally come to the decision to ask for her hand in marriage. For years he had been smitten with the doctor, but she had married Jack "The Geek" Crusher, an extremely brilliant and annoying young ensign/vegetable. One lucky day (a day Picard still had some semblance of a weave on his bowling ball like head), "The Geek" was trapped by an accident. Picard was forced to give the order to seal off the area to protect rest of the ship. He still chuckled over the matter to himself, grinning on the poor widow's doorstep even now. After the accident Picard thought everything was assured, but "The Geek" was not finished with Picard. Wesley, the nerdspawn of "The Geek," continued in his father's left-footed footsteps. Only with Wesley away did Picard have the courage to ask Beverly to marry him. Nothing was to deter him now. He checked to make sure he had what he needed with him: flowers, ring, the large bottle of formaldehyde. Everything there. He knocked on the door, a rather striking figure in his tuxedo and newly buffed and waxed forehead. There was a rustling in the room, then Riker answered the door in a bathrobe. The two men stared at each other, not knowing what to make of the other's appearance. Picard managed to speak first. "Sorry, commander, I must have the wrong room. Not used to the ship yet, I guess. Sorry to disturb you." As Picard embarrassedly hurried away, trying to figure out where he had made a wrong turn in the corridor, he could distinctly hear Beverly's voice calling to Riker, " Come back, darling-- I'm lonely for your love. . . " and Riker replying, "Right away, snookie." Picard made his way back to his room, and changed into uniform. He immediately began filling out the execution papers for Riker. A message came in from Amish surveillance. Fifty Borg ships were on the way, making straight for them. Picard hastily put the execution papers away. He'd deal with Riker later. The ship was put on alert and headed to intercept the Borg. The Kirk's Libido, helped by several Amish X-wing Hay Wagons, engaged the enemy. Picard was preparing to give the Borg a defeat they would never recover from. "Mr. Worf, raise shields and arm the Libido Projector. Fire at the Borg on my command." The first Borg ship moved within range rather unsteadily, almost as if it were trembling. "Fire!" The ship began to shake, buckling and vibrating. The bridge tilted violently side to side, sending crew members flying into each other. There was a loud noise, almost like something groaning in great pain. The Projector finally emitted a very faint beam, which deflected off of the Borg ship entirely. The beam didn't even make a scratch. More Borg ships moved within firing distance, ripping with their lasers into the ship's hull. Picard didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want everyone to assume he was responsible for this disaster. He immediately contacted engineering. Using Scotty as a scapegoat might make life less difficult at the court martial. "Mr. Scott, what the hell is going on? Quit fooling around with those bagpipes and get the libido on line!" (Picard was correct about Scotty fooling around, but it wasn't with his bagpipes, rather with Ensigns Nelson and Callahan.) "Captain, it's a mess down here," the Scotsman replied, pulling away from the ensigns. "We have several people dead, and the libido chamber is a wreck." "We need power and we need it now!" Picard yelled. "Get that libido working, Mr. Scott, or you're fired!" "I've used as many oysters as I can-- many more and she's liable to blow! The libido already has a bad case of indigestion." Despite the chaos on board, Picard carefully contemplated Scotty's last sentence. A libido with indigestion? Maybe Geordi was right about Scotty being short a few dilithium crystals. Throughout the Kirk's Libido there was a sudden loss of power. Red emergency lighting turned on automatically. On the barely-functioning viewscreen the crew could see big chunks of the ship floating away from them. The Borg were efficiently cutting them to pieces. On the Borg ship, the Collective was enjoying itself immensely. It was like playing with a big piata. In vain the Amish ships tried to help, but their fighters were too small and too few to make a difference. On board, the captain was freaking out. "Condition screwed! I repeat, condition screwed! All hands abandon ship, all hands abandon ship!" yelled Picard over the ship's intercom. "Captain, this ship doesn't have any escape pods! Starfleet felt we would never need escape pods, so they would have been a waste of money!" screamed Riker. Geordi's voice broke in over the intercom. "Captain, I'm transferring power to the bridge right now. It's not enough to power our weapons, but we should have enough for the engines and shields." Geordi had taken the captain's advice and made himself useful. He had built a matter/anti- matter reaction chamber in his room out of cardboard and old pipe cleaners, knowing that it would be useful sooner or later. "Mr. Data, back us off from the Borg ships, full impulse power!" The ship pulled back, but the Borg were relentless. Already the new power transfer to the shields was being hammered to pieces. Luke Lancaster was on the bridge using the Amish to the best of his ability to disable the Borg. He could not completely hold off the attack, however, because the Borg were becoming immune to buttermilk. He had to save the ship another way. Psychically he called light years away to the commanders of the Republic's newest gigantic battle cruisers known as the Death Plows. "Amish reinforcements are on the way," foretold Luke to the crew. Six gigantic ships leapt out of hyperspace. They were three-sided cruisers, seven miles long, that immediately tore into the Borg armada with a flurry of energy blasts. Borg ships exploded in their path. Nothing could stand in their way or divert their course. The Borg quickly regrouped, concentrating its efforts against this new threat and ignoring the Federation vessel. The crew of the Kirk's Libido were on their feet, watching the battle in disbelief, amazed by the power of these mighty battleships. In front of them, one of the Borg ships sat perfectly still. It was the ship they had initially encountered. Troi was ignoring the battle, concentrating her attention on that ship. Suddenly she screamed, "Mother!" Picard looked at Troi, simply nodding, thinking she was commenting on the battle and the awesome power of the Death Plows. Troi turned to Picard excitedly. "Captain, my mother is aboard that ship!" Everyone on the bridge looked at Troi in disbelief, as if trying to determine how a person like her had gotten out of her straitjacket and was allowed to run loose. "That would explain why Kirk's libido malfunctioned in battle," Spock broke in. "In life Kirk would have avoided Lwaxana Troi like the plague. His libido has the same survival instincts." Spock knew of Lwaxana Troi through a personal encounter at the Universal Ambassador's Convention some ten years ago. He had barely escaped alive, and still bore the scars. "Captain, we must send an away team over to save her! I believe she's in terrible danger!" Troi pleaded. "No, it's too dangerous. We can't risk the lives of the crew." Of course Picard really didn't mean that, but it sounded good. He had no problem with the concept of the expendable ensign here and there, he just didn't want Lwaxana Troi anywhere near his ship, crew, or person. However, Luke interceded. (Later he would regret this decision.) "Picard, I will lead a rescue team over to the ship myself. I can go alone-- there is no need to send anyone else." For some reason Picard suddenly felt like a complete yutz. He swallowed. "Well, in that case Troi and I will accompany you." Riker immediately jumped up, "Captain, I cannot allow you to go. Your place is here on the ship. I will not allow you to risk yourself." "OK," Picard said, jumping back into his chair. Riker blinked. He had not expected Picard to actually take him up on his offer, but it was too late now. He followed Luke and Troi down to the transporter room and beamed over to the Borg ship. Between Troi's emotional senses and Luke's Amish power (not to mention the constant shouting they heard down the corridor), they were able to find Lwaxana very quickly. On the way they encountered many Borg, all dead. They found Lwaxana in her cell screaming, "Ow, oh, ouch, I broke a nail. Damn, I hate when that happens!" Luke withdrew a long, slender rod from within his cloak. It was the traditional weapon of the Mennonite Knights, the light pitchfork. Three bright energy prongs materialized from the end of the weapon. In a swinging arc the glowing green prongs ripped through the energy shields of the cell and Lwaxana was released. They quickly beamed back to the Kirk's Libido. The Borg were soundly defeated at the battle known as 'Cow 349', named after the sector it was fought in. A treaty was signed between the Federation and the Amish, granting the Amish membership into the Federation. (Membership benefits included valet parking, caddies, and 50% off at all Federation souvenir stores.) Lwaxana Troi was to be left behind as a goodwill ambassador. (After the Kirk's Libido left, the Amish would begin to wish that the Borg had assimilated them.) The Kirk's Libido sat in a barn-shaped Amish spacedock for a few weeks to repair the damage done by the Borg. Both the Libido Drive and Geordi's room were overhauled and updated. To prevent further conflict, Scotty was to be in charge of the Libido Drive and Geordi the matter/anti- matter drive. Picard was anxious to return back to Federation space and rid himself of Lwaxana Troi. She followed him wherever he went. Not even the men's room deterred her. Already exposure to her had caused the rest of his hair on his head to fall out. Now even his eyebrows were starting to thin. Before they left, the crew was given a banquet in honor of their victory, medals and awards of valor were presented. Worf was given his own light pitchfork and made an honorary Mennonite Knight. He swore later to return to complete his training. The following day the Kirk's Libido left spacedock and turned toward home. They would file reports to Starfleet command about the new alliance with the Amish and the defeat of the Borg in this sector when they got back. Down in engineering, a huge argument raged between Scotty and Geordi on which form of propulsion the ship would travel back. "Listen I'm tired of arguing with ye, Geordi," Scotty said at last. "How about we flip a coin and let chance decide." "That sounds fair to me," replied Geordi. "All right, heads I win and tails you lose," said Scotty as he tossed a coin into the air. It landed on the floor, tails facing up. "Sorry, you lose. It's the Libido Drive back to Federation space." On the bridge Picard gave Data the proper course and heading. With a dramatic hand motion, Picard commanded, "Engage!" As soon as Data hit the final button, the ship shook, blasting forward into space with an audible pop. It began rolling, as if it were at sea on gigantic crashing waves. Soon the entire crew, with the exception of Worf and Data, were nauseous. Troi could be heard saying, "I feel great pain," before she vomited all over Picard's shoes. Finally the ship stopped. Picard cursed in disgust. Troi had eaten some rather nasty food earlier. "Mr. Data, where the hell are we?" The android's look was almost puzzled as he studied the readings in front of him. "I do not know," he said finally. Why doesn't that surprise me? Picard thought. Scotty was really going to get it this time. "Engineering--" "Did I mention that there is a large yellow ship bearing down on us?" Data asked. "Ten seconds to impact." The entire bridge crew groaned. Oh no, not again, they all thought at once. "Well, get us out of here!" Picard yelled. "All systems are nonfunctional--" As the yellow ship closed in on the Kirk's Libido, there was a sudden blinding light. Horror struck as the entire universe collapsed before them and exploded. NEXT EPISODE: "DINNER STOP AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE" (currently under construction)