“Scotty, prepare the transporter for Mr. Spock and me to beam down to the surface.”
“I dinna think that’soo a good idea, Captain … nae wi’ the Klingon battle fleet bearin’ down.”
“I must agree, Captain, our business can wait.”
“I have an important meeting with the Bunco ambassador, one that cannot be postponed.” Kirk checked his profile on the hologram projector and tightened his girdle. “Need I remind you, Mr. Spock, that the Bunco ambassador serves Altairan brandy.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “In that case, Captain, it is imperative that I accompany you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spock, for once we agree.”
“This is madness, Kirk,” Doctor McCoy joined the discussion, “Bunco is a pleasure planet. The ambassador is an exotic dancer.”
Kirk tilted his head at his image and pinched his cheeks. “I must go where no man has gone before.”
“I must point out, Captain, that the ambassador has had many partners.”
“But no human partners, Mr. Spock,” Kirk shook his finger, “I would be the first human.” He shrugged rolling his hands out.
“Damn it, Kirk,” said McCoy, “what is it with you anyway? Your diplomatic missions have exhausted our stores of anti-exotics. Last time I had to quarantine you for eight days.”
“Bones, the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the few.”
“It is logical,” Spock said, hefting his cupped hands, “the ambassador’s attributes are indeed quite extraordinary.”
Kirk gave his chief engineer a sour look. “Scotty, to take care of Bones’s issues, could you set the transporter to delete whatever we pick up?”
“Aye, I can strip the pesties oot, but I kin nae guarantee it woon’t delete your membrum virile.”
“That won’t do. I still have two years to spread galactic tranquility.” He widened his eyes at Scotty. “Two to beam down, NOW.”
Kirk and Spock stepped onto lighted disks on the low transporter platform. Scotty set the coordinates and hit ‘transport’. Sparkling light cylinders formed around the two officers, and their images faded. Turning away, Scotty dragged a finger across the console scrambling the designator.
“Mr. Scott,” McCoy gasped, “half of their bodies will be scattered in space.” He found himself staring at a wide-grinning Scotsman.
“Kin yee nae be a happy man? From noo on we’ll hae nae problems.”
McCoy returned Scotty’s smile and flashed a Vulcan split-finger salute. “Live long and prosper, Mr. Scott.”
Stardate 952117, Captain’s Log USS Enterprise, Chief Engineer Scott commanding.
We lost Captain James T. Kirk and First Science Officer Spock due to a magnetic anomaly during their transport to Bunco-I. We held a memorial service immediately afterward. So bereaved was the crew, they required buckets of Romulan Ale to drown their grief.
With the Klingon battle fleet approaching, we delayed our departure to Rura Pente only long enough to beam aboard a few dozen Bunco-I entertainers. These we plan to trade with Rura Pente’s rich dilithium miners.
Strange Things Done 