Episode 1: "We've Already Been Here, Man"
Extortion. The surest way to keep your job. These are the voyages of the starship Nixon. Her five year mission: To secretly follow behind Starfleet's "golden boy," Captain James T. Kirk and fix his fuck ups before they get out of hand. To cover shit up and never let him know what's going on.
Captain's Log: Stardate 1314.1 Why the fuck couldn't Kirk have simply done the noble thing and blown his ship up like the captain of the Valiant had done? Instead, he has to go and try to save everyone.
Following the Enterprise through the galactic barrier has severely damaged the Nixon, and our only possible place of repairs, Delta Vega, has been cannibalized of all useful components. Not that my chief engineer, Mr. Aphroodle could make much use of them, even if they were there, Pakled's are not exactly known for their engineering prowess. Still, somehow, we have to get this ship up and running before Kirk reaches his next destination. I wonder if Kirk knows just how big of a fuck up, he really is.
Captain Lincoln's dictation into his log was interrupted by the entrance of the Science Officer, Sybok.
"Captain, the away team is assembled and awaiting you in the transporter room." Sybok's tone was his usual cheerful nature, meaning, as always, he didn't understand the gravity of the situation.
"Thank you, Sybok." Lincoln snapped off his terminal and stood up. "We're going to have to figure out some way getting the lithium cracking station up and running again, as well as making the necessary repairs to our ship. Judging from Kirk's report to Starfleet, we're going to be lucky to do anything at all. Bastard took the prime parts and suggested that Galactic Mining Corporation be informed of this, so the next time they send a ship out here, they'll have the necessary spares. Of course, with nothing to pick up, they'll have no reason to send someone out here to make repairs, the market for cracked lithium isn't exactly a high demand one."
"Oh, I'm sure that the market will turn around, sir! I, myself, just bought some cracked lithium futures! They're only going to go up and up! Harry Mudd told me so!"
"You're awfully emotional for a Vulcan, Sybok." Lincoln remarked dryly.
"Oh, don't talk to me about other Vulcans! They think that they've figured out the secret to the universe, but the truth is, they're the most prudish species in the universe. Why, if it hadn't been for Finnegan having that Orion slave girl go down on me and then give me a rim job, I'd be the same kind of insufferable bastard the rest of the Vulcans are! I tell you, captain, those women really know how to treat a man."
"Sybok," Lincoln sighed as they stepped into the turbolift, please spare me the details of your sex life."
"But sir," There was an obliviousness to Sybok's manner that grated something fierce on Lincoln's nerves. "Until you've had an Orion slave girl lick your asshole while wearing a Denebian tongue vibrator, you just haven't had a meaningful sexual experience!"
"And the fact that she's doing it under duress and is forced to live her life in bondage doesn't bother you a bit?"
"Oh, no, sir! Once you've had sixteen orgasms in as many seconds, things like that don't bother you at all!"
Lincoln was saved from further details of Sybok's sexual escapades by the turbolift catching fire. Normally, Lincoln would be pissed at such an event, and proceed to launch into a tirade about the substandard equipment Starfleet had issued them, but he was so grateful for the distraction that he didn't mind the fire, nor the failure of the automatic extinguishing system. Even the manual extinguisher being broken to the point where he was forced to smash it against the wall repeatedly in order to get it to function didn't get a rise out of him. All that mattered was that he no longer had to Sybok speak.
The two of them stumbled out into the corridor, once the fire was out, coughing and gasping for air. They staggered towards the transporter room, and practically fell through the door.
"We planet go?" Aphroodle asked from the transporter pad.