Fanfic

teh fanfic. this is an extract. lemme no if you want it all.

Kirk: Wait! We come in peace. We mean you no harm.

(The tribesmen turn and look at their fallen comrades, then look back at Kirk.)

Kirk: Uh...

(The one with the tackiest hair moves forward.)

Chieftan: You do not belong to my tribe. You are prisoners!

Kirk: Listen. We are members of the starship Enterprise. Our seemingly never-ending mission is to explore strange new worlds, seek out slimy blobs and poorly-dressed weirdos, to boldly--

Chieftan: Shut up. Our tribe is bored by pompous talk.

Spock: Logic suggests that we should not attempt further action until we obtain more data.

Kirk: Excuse me, Spock, but you keep saying `probability dictates' and `logic suggests'. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Spock: Fascinating. I will have to further explore this idiosyncratic linguistic anomaly. Meanwhile, I believe I may be able to simplify the current situation. I shall now ascertain which aspect of Earth's cultural history these people mirror completely except of course for one minor but nonetheless significant difference. Tribal Chieftan, how do you live?

Chieftan: We are a free people. We travel much and live off the land. We hunt animals for food and dig for roots. We weave to make clothes and manufacture light bulbs for religious purposes.

McCoy: Light bulbs? Great! We'll take a dozen.

Chieftan: Sacrilege! You will all die painfully for this.

Kirk: Well, Bones, you've put your foot in it now. Hey, Chief, are there any scantily-clad ingenues on this planet? Just thought I'd ask.

Chieftan: Why, yes, my daughter Arianna is one. Here she comes now.

(Enter a gorgeous blonde with perfect teeth wearing a fur bikini and way too much eye make-up. Switch to soft focus. She catches sight of Kirk.)

Kirk: Hello.

Arianna: No man has ever spoken to me with such tender beauty. Oh, kiss me, kiss me passionately, Stranger! Father, you can go ahead and disembowel the other intruders but spare this one if you would spare your daughter.

(switch to regular focus)

Chieftan: Go to your hut, Arianna; we will talk later. Bring the prisoners to the Deathcave where my son lies. They will stay there while the sacrifice is made ready. Perhaps they will find my son Ranor fitting company during the hour of preparation.

Kirk: Listen! I am Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise and I demand you release us.

Chieftan: Your former titles mean nothing here, Captain.

(Scene: A gloomy cave. Kirk, Spock and McCoy are standing by a boulder that has sealed off the entrance.)

Captain's Log, Stardate 5188.2. I have made contact with a lady named Arianna. She's a foxy blonde and she's really hot for me. They all are. I sometimes wonder: is it my good looks or my terrific personality? Not that I really care; just so long as they know the score. Oh, also Dr. McCoy, First Officer Spock and myself beamed down to Luminos in attempt to secure much needed light bulbs and are trapped in a cave awaiting sacrifice at the hands of savages while the Enterprise appears to have left planetary orbit.

McCoy (eagerly pointing): Look, Jim, it's a sick guy! Oh boy, this is great! (adopting a professional tone) There, there son. I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you. What seems to be the trouble?

Ranor (moaning): I have...a hangnail, which is fatal to the people in our tribe. Our witchdoctors have searched...many generations -- aaagh -- for a cure, but have not found one. Do -- ungh -- do you have the knowledge and medical skill to remove it?

McCoy: Astounding! Our culture solved that problem centuries ago. Now I'm just a simple country doctor with advanced surgical training and high-tech equipment, but I'll have you cured in no time.

(McCoy sets to work, and Kirk turns to Spock.)

Kirk: Let's see, the chieftan made a remark that we would have an hour until the sacrifice. How much time do we have left?

Spock: I would estimate about 7 minutes 17.4 seconds.

Kirk (amused): Thank you, Spock. I don't suppose you could come up with a `rough sketch' of an escape plan?

Spock: Actually, Captain, I have formulated 13 different plans of escape, with probabilities of success ranging from near certainty to 342,984.6 to 1 against. However, extrapolation based on estimated psychological profiles suggests that none of them would involve another passionate interlude between Arianna and yourself.

Kirk (pounding his fist on a rock): Well, then, we'll JUST have to FIND another way! There must BE....another way.