The crew of the Starship Enterprise NX-01 received some unfortunate news regarding the future of their mission. A completely tongue-in-cheek parody written shortly after news of Enterprise’s cancellation hit.
FUN FACT: This story was briefly posted on Fanfiction.Net before it was taken down due to what was deemed “disregard to proper language.” I have no idea what they mean by that, but I never made another attempt to repost the story on there, so consider this a Webstation exclusive (for whatever that’s worth.)
Disclaimer: The author would like to remind readers that Star Trek and related properties are owned by Paramount/CBS Consumer and not the author.
It has been five long and treacherous hours since Captain Jonathan (no T) Archer had been contacted by the newest Starfleet admiral named Moonves. Understandably, the crew was very, very nervous because Moonves was recently hired to replace Admiral Gardner, who just got killed off in another embassy explosion. After what seemed like an eternity in his private chamber, Archer emerged on the bridge to find his command crew surrounding the briefing table. He slowly approached his usual spot, dreading the words he was about to declare to his gallant crew.
“I just got word from Admiral Moonves,” Archer told them with a heavy heart, “The mission’s been cancelled.”
T’Pol’s eyes lit up. “This cannot be.”
Normally-calm Malcolm Reed suddenly burst into tears. “C-C-C-CANCELLED?! WHY?!”
Archer gulped hard. “Apparently, no one cares about our missions anymore ever since we started having them on Friday Nights. And apparently, we don’t fit into Starfleet’s plans for the foreseeable future!”
“B-But that’s not r-right, sir!” Travis Mayweather cried out loud, “I mean, the movie deal! The action figures! THE SEVEN-YEAR CONTRACT AND PREQUEL TRILOGY DEAL! It has to be some sort of mistake!!!”
“Unfortunately,” Archer wept, “It’s not a mistake. We’ve been cancelled, gang.”
“Now what?” Trip Tucker asked as he suddenly appeared on the viewer.
Archer sighed. “We head home for Earth and our ship gets disassembled or even recommissioned with a new crew and a new creative staff under a new ship and registry number. And meanwhile, we’re to be out of jobs.” He turned to Trip. “Luckily for Trip, he’s still on Columbia and so he’ll still have a job… I guess.”
“Whew! That’s a close one, Cap’n!” Trip sighed in relief. “Okay! Bye!” The viewer went black and the crew broke down into rivers of tears – except for T’Pol, who just stood there and pretended to repress her emotions.
“With all due respect, sir,” Malcolm Reed argued, “They’re out of their bloody minds! Our missions are much more exciting than before. We aren’t having dull, boring explorative missions that lack caricature definition like those folks on the Bon Voyage.”
“You mean Voyager?” Hoshi corrected, getting in her one line for the day.
“Whatever,” Reed scoffed. “The point is we’re better than them!”
“What about letter-writing campaigns and fan protests and CONVENTIONS?” Travis suddenly and eagerly suggested, “It worked for our successors who will also eventually get cancelled. That boosted their image and got them movies and spin-offs!”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Archer said, “But they had the space race going for them at the time. What do we have?”
“Hot Vulcan Sex?” Travis’ eyes had a glow in them when he mentioned those three words.
T’Pol’s eyes nearly popped upon hearing that. “THAT IS NOT LOGICALLY POSSIBLE! YOU’VE EXPIRED YOUR LINES PER EPISODE!”
Travis quickly clamped up, for further dialogue would likely get him sued.
Archer, with a heavy heart and deep regret, nodded in agreement. “Yes, and we’ve already had complaints from the Vulcanist Female Movement across the solar system next planet.” He paused to pound his fist on the conference table. “Man, oh man, I feel funny.”
At this point Doctor Phlox hopped in. “It must mean that Doctor Sam Beckett, the character you’ve played in a previous lifetime, is about to phase into another quantum reality.” He promptly exited the room, having performed his one line a day.
“Are you serious?!” Archer cried out, “And I was really enjoying myse…”
“Doctor Sam! Are you okay?”
Sam Beckett woke up suddenly and violently, finding himself in another time and place thanks to the long-delayed quantum leap that had served as his means of transportation through time and space and whatever. Sitting next to Beckett’s pristine white bed situated in a pristine white room was a Man in a pristine white jacket and was sporting a pristine white beard.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Beckett answered weakly, “What happened?”
The Man raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve just been in a coma for four years.”
Beckett stared at the Man. “Four years in a coma? But it felt so real!”
“Maybe so, Sam,” he told Beckett, “But don’t worry. You’re with us now and it’s all over.”
Sam nodded in agreement with the Man, but he sure felt that the whole experience on the Enterprise was so real. Then he felt hungry and went to the white kitchen next door to cook up a sandwich. Everything seemed right in the world…
…or did it? Only the true fans know for su…
“GET A LIFE, WILL YOU, CAPTAIN!” Chef Kirk suddenly cries from the galley, breaking Jonathan Archer’s train of thought as he fumbled on the text display containing his last captain’s log entitled These Are The Voyages, to be read by a future generation.
“I’m sorry, Chef?” Archer asked politely, “You say something?”
“FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, IT’S JUST A STARSHIP!” Chef cried again!
Archer took one long look at his Captain’s Log and smiled. Surely, if his voyages had to end, it would have to be with a better Captain’s Log than this. With a renewed sense of writer’s creativity or something, he deleted the current log entry and began anew, starting with the title.
“These Were The Voyages…”
THE END… FOR NOW!
Yeah, I know it’s short. I’m sorry… I’ll do better next time.
Worf sighs. “Keep trying.”
“HEY!” Chef Kirk yelled from the galley, “YOU DON’T BELONG HERE YOU KLINGON B…”
“Enough,” says Worf, “End this, now.”
Sure, okay.
THE END… FOR REAL!
dtm666 