SKYTREK - CHAPTER 3 (standard:humor, 3893 words) [3/15] show all parts
Author: Danny Miami	Added: May 01 2010	Views/Reads: 2001/1540	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter 3 of the Star Trek parody.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

could--” 

The Guard pointed the laser pistol at him. 

“Kharg's decoy ship is in its final position,” the old Astronomer
blurted quickly, his eyes never leaving the pistol. “The Orion is now 
approaching it.” 

The Guard grinned again and squeezed the trigger. A beam shot out, there
was a strangled scream from the old Astronomer and he dropped to the 
path. 

“Prat,” the Guard sneered and slammed the heavy door shut. “A message
for Kharg, eh?” he muttered to himself. “There could be some gold in 
this for me.” 

He ran his grubby hands through his greasy hair, brushed at some food
stains on his filthy uniform and scraped some mud off his boots. 

“How do I look?” he asked a prisoner who was chained to the wall. 

“Immaculate,” replied the prisoner. 

The Guard grinned, picked up a bucket and threw the stinking, putrid
contents over him. 

“Mmmhh!” muttered the prisoner appreciatively, licking the revolting
mess as it dripped from his hair. “Breakfast's early today.” 

The Guard put his helmet on and strolled up a short corridor to the
young Captain's room. After a final attempt to tidy himself up he 
knocked on the door and entered. 

“Morning sir,” he said, saluting and knocking his helmet off. 

The impeccably groomed young Captain was sitting at a table,
breakfasting. He put down his silver cutlery and watched contemptuously 
as the Guard fumbled with his helmet and tried to get it back on. 

“You disgusting toadball,” he sneered. “You slime coated slug.” 

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” the Guard said. “Sorry to disturb your
breakfast, sir. Just on my way to see the Major,” he explained, edging 
towards the far door. 

The Captain pulled at a wall sash then rose and strolled over to block
the Guard's way. “Why do you wish to see the Major, you walking pile of 
skunk droppings?” he asked. 

The Guard scratched at the stubble on his chin and frowned then he
suddenly remembered. “Oh yes, there's a fleet of Klinger ships 
approaching.” 

The Captain shook his head in disgust. “You lying rat,” he sneered. “You
have a message for Kharg, don't you?” 

The Guard bit his lip. “Well, sort of.” 

“What is it?” 

“I'd rather take it myself, sir.” 

In response to the Captain's earlier sash pull, a servant had appeared
carrying a narrow wooden box. He opened it, revealing two silver laser 
pistols lying on a velvet lining. 

“Thank you, Willis,” the Captain said, selecting one. 

Seeing what was happening, the Guard started to sweat and began edging
back to the door. “Kharg's decoy ship is in its final position,” he 
babbled then lost his nerve completely and turned and bolted. “The 
Orion is now approaching it!” he yelled from the corridor on the run. 

The Captain took casual aim and fired. The Guard's running stopped and
there was a choked cry followed by the sound of a body thudding to the 
ground. 

“Toad,” muttered the Captain and handed over the pistol. 

Willis replaced it in the box, bowed respectfully and withdrew. 

“A message for Kharg, eh?” the young Captain said to himself as he
preened himself in front of a mirror. “The old boy will be delighted 
with the news. I fancy there could be a spot of promotion in this for 
me.” 

He smiled at his handsome reflection then strolled over to the far door.
He listened carefully for a few moments then opened it very gently. He 
peered in but the room was empty so he quickly darted in and took cover 
behind a large desk. 

“What is it, Captain?” the Major called brusquely from an adjoining
room. 

“I have to see Kharg rather urgently,” the Captain replied, remaining
under cover. 

“Why?” 

“There's been an outbreak of leprosy on Dulcodaz.” 

“Damned bad show. What's the real reason?” 

The Captain hesitated. “You won't shoot me if I tell you?” 

“Don't be ridiculous,” scoffed the Major. 

Still the Captain hesitated. “Promise?” 

“Yes of course,” snapped the Major. “Good God man what d'you want me to
do – pull out my liver and let you keep it as a hostage?” 

The Captain peered cautiously over the top of the desk. The silver
haired Major was standing in the open doorway of his adjoining room. He 
was wearing a smoking jacket and in one hand he held a cigar and in the 
other a report he'd been reading. Relieved that a laser pistol wasn't 
being pointed at him, the Captain smiled and stood up. 

“Good show,” said the Major. “Now what's this damned message?” 

“Kharg's decoy ship is in its final position,” the Captain told him.
“The Orion is now approaching it.” 

“Excellent,” said the Major. 

Suddenly a third hand holding a laser pistol appeared from under his
smoking jacket. A beam shot out and zapped the Captain who screamed and 
fell. 

“Fool,” said the Major, taking off his smoking jacket which had a padded
false arm with a report held in the realistic hand. He brushed at his 
uniform and ran a finger along his neatly clipped moustache. “A message 
for Kharg, what?” he muttered. “Jolly good. Should be something 
interesting in this for me.” 

He walked through to the desk in his adjoining room, stubbed out his
cigar and pressed an intercom. 

“Yes?” responded Kharg's rasping voice. 

“Forgive the intrusion, your Majesty,” said the Major, bowing several
times to the intercom, “but I have an important message for you.” 

“Come through,” rasped Kharg. 

A recessed arched door slid up and the Major walked through to Kharg's
quarters. It was a large room with a lot of complicated electronic and 
communications equipment set up in it, with banks of monitors and 
screens taking up half of one wall. 

Kharg turned from a console he'd been working at. He was still wearing
his high-collared, long velvet robe and the bright lights in the room 
seemed to diffuse though his face, giving it a strange, translucent 
quality. 

Sitting next to him on a high stool and also still wearing his top hat
and tails was Giraffe. He had been playing Grand Theft Auto IV however 
on seeing the Major coming in he paused the game and gave him his full 
attention, knowing he could be relied on to provide some entertainment. 


“What is the message you have for me?” Kharg asked in his slow, rasping
voice. 

The Major bowed deeply before him. “Your serene Majesty,” he intoned. 

Kharg sighed and waited. Giraffe grinned. 

“Your most noble and revered Highness,” the Major went on, “without
whose presence our lives would be in perpetual darkness.” He dropped to 
one knee and held out his arms in worship. “Without whose guiding light 
we would be as worms crawling blindly in the mud.” 

Giraffe applauded. 

“Before you I am prostrate,” continued the Major and tried to get down
on both knees to illustrate the point but discovered he was too stiff 
and settled for bowing his head. “I am not worthy to be in your 
presence. I should not be breathing the--” 

“The message!” rasped Kharg impatiently. 

Startled, the Major looked up. “The what? Oh yes, the message,” he said,
disappointed that his speech had been cut short now that he was in full 
flow. “The message...now let me see, what was it?” 

“Why do I tolerate these damned fools?” Kharg muttered, shaking his
head. 

“It's, ah...” the Major began, frowning and trying to remember. “Oh yes
it's...no, it's not that. Hang on just a minute, it'll come back to me 
I'm sure it will.” 

Watching from his stool, Giraffe sniggered at the Major's discomfort and
Kharg's impatience. 

“Wait! I have it!” announced the Major, getting to his feet. “The
Orion's in its final position and your decoy ship is now approaching 
it.” He frowned. “No, that doesn't sound right....your decoy ship's in 
its final position and the Orion is now approaching it. Yes that's it.” 


Kharg's oval, yellow eyes glittered. “So the Orion draws near and my
decoy ship awaits it. Excellent news!” he rasped. “They will be too 
stupid to resist the bait.” The slit in his lower face opened slightly, 
revealing thin, pointed teeth as he smiled. “Soon we shall meet again 
Captain James T. Kork and I shall take what I need from you and your 
Bulcan friend before I kill both of you.” 

He drifted over to the centre of the room where there was a pyramid of
glowing, brightly coloured cubes. At the top of the pyramid was an 
intricately patterned ivory casket. 

A misty blue light floated round it and Kharg snapped his fingers and
the mist vanished. Carefully he picked up the casket and opened it. 
Neatly arranged inside and seeming to glow from within were the 
Krystals. 

“The Krystals of Kharg!” he murmured, lovingly stroking them. “They will
guide me to the Dark Power and when I possess it I shall destroy Earth 
and then the Universe will be mine to rule as I please.” 

He returned the casket to the top of the pyramid then flicked a long
bony finger at it. Immediately the misty protective light surrounded it 
again. 

Behind him the Major coughed discreetly. “So glad to have been of
assistance, your Highness,” he said. “If the news I have brought has 
pleased you even in the smallest way I am well rewarded.” 

Kharg looked at him and shook his head. He reached into his robe,
brought out a glittering diamond and tossed it to him. 

The Major caught it expertly. “For me?” he asked, affecting great
surprise. “My most humble and sincere thanks, your Divineness.” 

On his stool, Giraffe applauded. “Ten out of ten for grovelling!” he
declared. 

“Out!” commanded Kharg, tiring of the Major. 

He began backing off, bowing and scraping as he went. “It's an honour to
serve you, my Lord. It fills my heart with joy to--” 

As soon as he had cleared the room Kharg flicked a button and the arched
door slid down, mercifully cutting the Major off. 

On the other side of the doorway the Major dropped all pretence of
grovelling and quickly drew out an eyepiece from his pocket and 
examined the diamond. “A beauty!” he muttered appreciatively. “Nearly 
flawless.” He pocketed the eyepiece and held the diamond up. It 
glittered and sparkled in the light and he grinned as he gazed at it. 
“It'll be leg over time with that young blonde chamber-maid after she 
sees this, I reckon!” 

PART TWO 

Not far from Dulcodaz a ship drifted along aimlessly in the black wastes
of space. It was Kharg's decoy ship and it was still beaming out its 
distress call. There was no crew on board and it was being moved along 
slowly by the gravity pull of Dulcodaz, its own Drive lifeless. It was 
still too far away to appear on the Orion's forward observation screen 
but it now showed up distinctly on one of Lieutenant Youhoor's 
monitors. 

“Scanner reports indicate the ship beaming out the distress call,” she
announced. 

Captain Kork swivelled round in his chair. “Distance?” he asked. 

“One hundred space miles,” Youhoor replied. 

The Captain nodded. “Put it on screen, Crackers,” he instructed.
“Maximum view.” 

Crackers pushed his telescopic lever all the way across and the view on
the forward observation screen jumped closer. Kharg's decoy ship came 
on screen but it was still too distant for a detailed visual 
inspection. 

The Orion was gaining on it all the time however and the bridge crew
were studying it intently – they had come a long way across space to 
investigate, diverting from their original route and naturally they 
were all curious. 

Mr Sprock was back amongst them. His ears had changed again but this
time they were normal sized and slightly pointy and hardly warranted a 
second glance. 

“Run a thermal scan on the inside of the ship,” the Captain ordered
Youhoor then turned to Crackers. “Can we identify it yet?” he asked. 

Mr Crackers had already anticipated his request. “It's a small warship
with significantly less capacity than the Orion,” he replied, reading 
the information on his monitor. 

At the mention of the word ‘warship' the Captain initiated standard
safety precautions. “Arm Lasers,” he ordered Butch Bradley. “Raise 
Shields.” 

“Thermal scan negative,” Lieutenant Youhoor announced. 

The Captain glanced at his First Officer. “That means there's no crew on
board,” he said. 

“Or no crew alive,” replied Sprock. 

“There's something else, Captain,” Youhoor said. “Heat generation from
the ship is extremely low.” 

“Which means the Drive is inoperative,” said Sprock. “No crew or a dead
crew on a ship drifting along and beaming out a distress call. Very 
strange, Jim.” 

By now they had neared sufficiently to get a closer look but it didn't
help them any. The small warship was just drifting along in space 
showing no signs of life. 

“Return the screen to normal,” the Captain ordered Crackers. “See if
there's a response to a direct communication,” he said to Youhoor. 

She turned back to her console and flicked open her ship-to ship line.
“Warship off our starboard bow, this is the Federation ship Orion. We 
are picking up your distress call. Respond please.” 

They waited but there was no reply. 

“Warship this is the Federation ship Orion. Respond please.” 

They waited again but there was still no reply. 

“Forget it, Lieutenant,” the Captain said. “It just confirms the thermal
scan. There's no-one alive on board.” He studied the screen for a few 
moments then turned to his First Officer. “Impression, Mr Sprock?” he 
asked. 

Sprock stared thoughtfully at the screen. “The ship doesn't appear
damaged so that rules out the probability of attack,” he said. “Which 
leaves two possibilities – either the crew died for some reason after 
activating the distress call or there was never a crew on board in the 
first place.” 

The Captain glanced at him. “You mean the ship's deliberately been left
there empty?” 

Sprock nodded. “Possibly as a decoy.” 

“Let's blow it out the friggin sky!” suggested Butch. 

The Captain sighed and turned to him. “Not just at the moment, Mr
Bradley,” he said, “but I'll keep your suggestion in mind.” He 
swivelled back to the screen and stared at the drifting warship. “So 
somebody has gone to the trouble of bringing us across space to an 
empty ship,” he mused, stroking his jaw. “Why?” 

“Perhaps whoever is behind it wants to take us to Dulcodaz for some
reason,” Sprock suggested. “Since it's the nearest planet.” 

“That seems fairly logical, Mr Sprock,” the Captain said, smiling at
him. “Do we know anybody there?” 

“Not to my knowledge, Jim.” 

“Computer information on the planet Dulcodaz,” the Captain ordered
Crackers. 

Mr Crackers typed in the request on his console and moments later the
observation screen changed to a view of Dulcodaz. 

“The planet Dulcodaz lies at the heart of the Avalon System,” ran the
commentary. “It was subject to a study by the Federation during 
Stardates 75.1 to 75.3. Conclusions : Earth-like in structure, 
vegetation and temperature. No particular mineral or organic wealth. 
Populated by human types of average intelligence. Lack of obvious 
financial incentive rules out any further interest by the Federation.” 

After several different close-ups of Dulcodaz the screen reverted to its
normal view. 

“Not the most inspiring of planets,” the Captain remarked. 

“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Sprock. “I can understand why the
Federation weren't interested.” 

“Well somebody appears interested in us,” said the Captain. 

Sprock nodded then glanced at the warship which was back in view. “Your
intentions, Captain?” he asked. 

Captain Kork stood up. “To beam aboard and investigate,” he replied. 

Sprock arched an eyebrow. “Is that wise, Jim? It could be a trap.” 

The Captain smiled at him. “We Earthlings differ in several ways from
you Bulcans,” he said. “My reason for beaming across to the warship 
demonstrates one of them – curiosity!” 

“In that case, Captain, may I accompany you?” 

“Of course. I'd appreciate it if you would. Mr Crackers – lock us on to
the same course and speed as the warship. Lieutenant Youhoor – stand by 
to beam us across. Mr Bradley – take charge till I return...and don't 
blow anything up.” 

Butch grinned and snapped out a salute with the wrong hand. 

The Captain and Mr Sprock slipped on their Transporter Bracelets and
strolled over to the Platform. When they were ready Youhoor punched in 
some co-ordinates on her computer and flicked some switches. Instantly 
the Captain and Mr Sprock were outlined in a shimmering white light 
which then penetrated their entire bodies. They seemed to fragment into 
tiny pieces then they vanished. 

Butch Bradley leapt to his feet as soon as they'd gone. “It's party
time!” he yelled. “Get the bar opened!” 

PART THREE 

On a monitor inside his room at the palace, Kharg watched the Captain
and Mr Sprock as they explored the empty bridge of his warship. His 
yellow eyes glittered and the slit in his lower face opened in its 
usual facsimile of a smile. 

“Soon we shall meet, Captain Kork!” he hissed triumphantly as he looked
at the screen. “And I will have my revenge for the past.” 

With malicious satisfaction he watched their fruitless efforts to try to
discover why the ship was empty then he turned to a console and jabbed 
a button. 

The Captain and Mr Sprock were thrown to the floor of the bridge as the
warship shuddered to life and suddenly increased speed. They scrambled 
to their feet and the Captain pulled out his Transceiver. 

“Captain to the Orion,” he said into it. 

“Yes sir?” Youhoor replied above the loud party music. 

The Captain frowned. “What's all that noise, Lieutenant?” he asked. 

“Jocky's doing some repairs in the bridge,” Youhoor lied smoothly. 

A trusting Captain believed her. “The warship's started moving under its
own Drive,” he informed her. “Beam us back.” 

“Roger Captain - standby,” Youhoor replied. She swivelled round in her
seat and yelled to the partiers. “Captain's coming back! Clear the 
Platform!” 

Reluctantly, the dancers who had been boogying away on the Transporter
Platform stepped off and someone killed the music. The rest of the crew 
moved smoothly into their practised regime and within a minute the 
bridge was back to normal. 

On the warship the Captain and Mr Sprock waited to be beamed back but
nothing seemed to be happening. 

Impatiently the Captain flicked open his Transceiver again. “Captain to
the Orion. What's the delay, Lieutenant?” 

On the bridge a puzzled Youhoor was staring at the empty Transporter
Platform. “No delay, Captain,” she replied. “I beamed you back but 
nothing happened. Is everything all right at your end?” 

The Captain glanced at Mr Sprock. “Any ideas?” he asked. 

“It's probably been caused by somebody operating a Trans-Gyrational
Anti-Warp Booster,” replied Sprock. “It's very simple really. It's only 
a matter of estimating the number of atoms available in each body and—“ 


“Sprock!” the Captain cut in. “I've got the message. Does that mean
we're trapped here?” 

“Affirmative Jim.” 

“And heading towards Dulcodaz?” 

“Looks like it.” 

The Captain held up his Transceiver. “Did you get all that, Youhoor?” 

“Yes sir,” she replied crisply. “We can't beam you back. What are your
orders?” 

“We'll go on ahead at Warped Speed and bomb the shit out of Dulcodaz in
retaliation!” Butch suggested eagerly. 

Captain Kork sighed wearily. “You'll do no such thing, Mr Bradley,” he
ordered. “You will carry out my instructions to the letter – keep the 
Orion one space mile behind us and increase speed only if we do. 
Understand?” 

“Understood,” Butch replied disappointedly. “Friggin liberal,” he
muttered to himself. 

The Captain flicked off his Transceiver and turned to his First Officer.
“Somebody seems determined to get us to Dulcodaz,” he remarked. “I 
wonder why?” 

Kharg, who had been watching events on a monitor, pointed a bony finger
towards the ivory casket sitting on top of the pyramid cube. “Because 
of the Krystals!” he rasped in reply. “As you will soon discover, 
Captain James T. Kork!” 


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