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Witch plans to kill a mage, but he has other plans.
Captain Pick-A-Card has had to discipline Mannu-Wharf. The Captain relegated Wharf to the ship basmement. Wharf hollers down in the basement, which is also the galley. His deep voice is muffled and basically Wharf is talking to himself, though he can be heard from time to time in the corridors of the the ship. Pick-A-Card toys with the idea of sending Wharf down some war paint.
"I am going to get Captain T-Shirt. He cheats at seven card, he lies to women about his past missions. I know Kirk's past achievements as a swaggering space captain. He also found a way to rig the holodeck, him and Sortie. The last time I went to the Holodeck for some relaxation I thought I was in Jurassic Park. Kirk should stay on his own ship."
Pick-A-Card had decided to put Wharf on detention for his flirtations with a new yeoman. The two were fondling openly on the main deck. And there was a yellow alert because of an alien ship. What else is new, right, the moody captain mused. Is there not always a yellow alert because of a passing alien ship? The last logged passing of one read that it was a commercial cruiser. It was selling ice cream. Lt. Commander Ketone-Trois had a hankering for lime sherbet that would not stop.
Pick-A-Card said "You are Betazoid? You require cold confections? You can't hold back until we get to the next port?
The commander thought. The next port? Why no. I don't think that I can. If I wanted to I could wait. Ketone-Trois knew the Captain could not read minds.
Wharf had found the wine coolers down in the galley made from the giant grapes of Nebuleen. Hopefully, the Klingon would soon pass out...but after he would be singing folk songs and ballads of the Klingons. To be heard all over the second class starship.
The wavers from Planet Ozone are still bugging Captain T-Shirt. He is trying in vain to have a meeting with an admiral's aid, getting frequency feed-over from a soccer game on a close frequency. Then a camera finds a fan at the soccer game. The fan has a hand-held device that detected what star fleets were in the area. And who was up there. The fan looked up at the camera.
"It's Captain T-Shirt of the Starship Carotene!"
Kirk thought. Somebody give that guy an I-Pod. A faulty one.
The soccer fan is looking at the captain through the main telescreen. Like the guy was looking through the third wall. "Hello Captain T-Shirt."
About this time space captain's communicator beeps.
"Are you on television too, Captain?" It was Mudd.
"What are you doing here, Harry Mudd?"
"Well...they said it was harder to mess up the future than screw up the past, so here I am."
"Who is they, Harry? Isaac Asimov?"
"I have a clean record, Jeremiah. So far. Right now I am carrying entertainment, and none of them need a green card, a blue card, or a red card."
"Where did you get the hardware and the software? Are you carrying androids, Harry?"
Lt. Chelsea Lightspeed, the communications officer, spoke. She had been listening to the soccer game when she got a message that Pick-A-Card wanted to speak to Kirk.
Put him on, Lieutenant. T-Shirt thinks, I'll speak to both of them. What else do I have to do, right?
"Hold that thought, Harry. Captain Pick-A-Card. This is the Captain of the Starship Carotene. Aren't you just a little bit out of your area?"
"Have you forgotten about our poker game we have every solar year?"
Captain T-Shirt stretches, yawns. "Well, it's your money, Captain Pick-A-Card."
The Captain of The Enterprise was having real trouble out here in space, so far from a good racquetball court and a dry sauna.