By Any Slightly Similar Name

[Mr. Atoz]

BY ANY SLIGHTLY SIMILAR NAME

[Note: This is obviously a parody of the TOS episode "By Any Other Name". I want to state up front that I am posting it in four installments because I myself don't like reading huge blocks of text on a computer screen. Five or ten minutes at a time is about my limit, so I'm separating it into sections about that long, to make it easier to read.]

The USS Entry-prize had picked up a distress call and followed it to a small, earth-like planet. Even though there was no sign of any wreckage, Captain Kird decided to beam down and investigate, taking with him Science Officer Spoke and Dr. McRoy, plus Yeoman Trompson and Security Officer Shy. As the landing party wandered around, a man and a woman suddenly stepped out from behind a small grove of trees. They were both dressed in jumpsuits, but the woman’s top was skimpy and tight-fitting enough to show off her chest to good advantage.

“I’m Captain Bean T. Kird of the starship Entry-prize,” said Kird, looking at the girl’s lovely bosom. “We came in answer to your brassiere call -- I mean distress call.”

“Oh, goody, goody,” said the man. “You can just surrender your ship to us then.”

“Sure thing,” mumbled Kird, still thinking about the girl’s shape. “Uh...what did you say?” he added ten seconds later, after his brain had finally processed the man’s words.

“I said you can surrender,” said the man, as he smugly turned a little knob on the box attached to his belt. Nothing happened. Kird looked at McRoy and Spoke, shrugged, and kept walking towards the pair. “I am Rho-jam, of Kalvin-an'Hobbes,” said the man, frantically clicking the switch back and forth, with no apparent effect. He went on, grunting with frustration. “…and this is Kelilinda. I am…your commander….from this moment…on. Oh, this darn thing!”

Kird and Spoke and the security guard were almost on top of him now, looking curiously at the strange device which he was desperately trying to get working for some reason. “Here, let me see,” said Kird, helpfully giving the box a good thump.

There was a buzzing sound, and all the Entry-prize people were paralyzed! “Aha!” crowed Rho-jam in triumph, as the girl went around collecting their phuzzers and communicators. “You are paralyzed by a neural field which neutralizes voluntary muscle impulses, or something like that. I will now release you.” He clicked the switch again, and they could all move again.

Kird frowned. “What do you want?”

“Our home will soon be incapable of supporting life. We are invaders, here to conquer your galaxy,” said Rho-jam complacently. “But our spaceship...uh...crashed. We need to get back home and tell them it's okay to begin the invasion, so we have chosen your ship. It is the best of its kind.”

Kird primped. “I know that,” he said smugly. “Well, maybe we can drop you off. Where do you need to go?”

“The Andromeda galaxy.”

“Whoa Nelly!” stated Spoke, the Volcanite Science Officer. “The distance to the Andromeda galaxy is two million light years! Even at maximum velocity, thousands of years would be required for the Entry-prize to traverse such a magnitudinous remoteness.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” said Rho-jam, testily playing with the switch on his little belt box. “We can make modifications to your primitive engines. The journey will only require hundreds of years.”

“Oh, that’s different,” said Spoke.

“Hundreds of years? But I’ll be an old man by then!” blurted Kird, thinking of the crimp that would put in his love life. “Why can’t you just send a radio message, or a drone or something?”

“Because... just because,” said Rho-jam, annoyed that he hadn't thought of it.

Suddenly another alien called up on his communicator. “Ah, Hay-nar,” said Rho-jam. “Have you captured the ship, yet?”

“Yes, Commander,” said the other alien. “We have taken control of the bridge and engineering. Two-mar has already started the modifications.”

“Where the heck do these aliens come up with these silly names?” whispered McRoy.

“I know what you mean,” murmured Spoke, over his shoulder.

“Good,” said Rho-jam. “Kelilinda, take these specimens to the holding area and lock them up, so that they may have the customary chance to escape.”

***

The “holding area” turned out to be a cave, the entrance sealed with bars made out of some type of strange, impenetrable, high-density, semi-transparent metal alloy (either that, or plastic). Kelilinda stood guard outside.

“What kind of creatures are these, anyway, Bonehead?” muttered Kird morosely. “Did you check them out with your tripcorder?”

“I sho’ ‘nuff checked out that sweet young thang Kelilinda,” said McRoy, grinning from ear to ear.

“Are they human?”

“Perfectly,” said the doctor, smiling like a jack-o-lantern. “Couldn’ be more perfect!”

“Spoke, what are the odds of aliens from another galaxy being so exactly like us?”

“I would say, approximately….” The Science Officer chewed on his tongue, drew figures in the air, erased them, drew some more, erased some more, then gave up. “…er…pretty darn long, sir. It seems more logical that they are weird, bug-eyed aliens assuming human form.”

“Then the only advantage they have over us is those neural paralyzer thingies,” said Kird.

“I wouldn't mind having one of them, myself,” said Spoke, jealously.

“You'll have one, sir,” said Shy, pacing anxiously to the bars and looking outside, “if I have to wrestle Kelilinda to the ground and lie on top of her for an hour.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Kird quickly. “If anyone's going to wrestle pretty girls to the ground, I get first dibs, 'cause I'm the Captain.” The Security man backed down, looking contrite. “Well, the first step is to get out of here. Mr. Spoke, can you do your Volcanite mind melt, like you did last season to get us out of a similar jam?”

“I could try, sir.” The Volcanite rubbed his hands together, taking up a position near the wall where Kelilinda was standing guard. He closed his eyes and fell into deep concentration as he made telepathic contact with her.

At first, the Kalvin woman did not seem to respond. Then she tossed her head back, running her fingers luxuriously through her hair, and began to moan. Her hands roamed over the delicious curves of her body, flirting with the zipper of her jumpsuit. The men watching her began to sweat. “My apologies, Captain,” murmured Spoke. “I seem to have isolated the wrong impulses. Let me…”

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” said Kird quickly. The Captain signaled the others to move out of sight of the entrance, while he took up a good position of ambush beside the door. Suddenly, Spoke broke his telepathic contact, or had it broken for him. He let out a groan and was thrown across the room.

Kelilinda came to the door, opened it, and started inside, ducking under the slight overhang at the cave entrance. Kird leaped upon the girl at once, smugly aiming a powerful karate chop at her neck. She deftly caught his arm before the blow fell and casually flipped him over. Slamming the Captain to the floor, she jammed her foot in his throat. “Ung,” he grunted feebly. “Best two out of three?”

As she stood up to full height, however, their captor struck her head on the overhang and knocked herself cold. McRoy, Spoke, and the security guard were instantly there to catch her limp body and carry her inside the cave, where they fought over her like a pack of dogs over a bone. McRoy, always keeping in mind his medical oath, loosened her jumpsuit to make her more comfortable, and the men examined her chest extremely carefully, to make certain she was still breathing.

“Don’t everybody rush to help me,” said Kird from the floor, as he ruefully brushed her footprint off of his neck. “I’m quite all right.”

After a few minutes, Yeoman Trompson rolled her eyes and punched Dr. McRoy on the ear to get his attention. “Are we going to get out of here, sir?” she said.

“Bonehead, look after Spoke,” said Kird, snatching up Kelilinda’s belt device. “Let’s go.”

Out in the open, the party ran for it. Almost immediately, they were cut off by Rho-jam and Hay-nar. Rho-jam was still having trouble with the little box on his belt, flicking the switch quickly on and off, on and off, on and off, struggling to get it to work.

Kird ran, jerking like a demented marionette under a strobe light, partially frozen in one step, free the next, then frozen again. The final buzz as the paralyzer kicked in caught him poised on one foot, and he slowly toppled over, to land flat on his face with a splat. “Nuts!” he muttered.

“Escape is futile,” announced Rho-jam, smugly.

Spoke, McRoy and the others were still standing at the mouth of the cave, having had the sense to stop as soon as they had seen the two Kalvins. “So much for his idea,” murmured Spoke in McRoy’s ear. “Now for Plan B. Listen carefully, doctor….”

[Mr. Atoz]

Nurse Chippie put down her Glamour magazine and jumped up in alarm when she saw McRoy and the Kalvin Two-mar wheeling Spoke into the examining room on board the Entry-prize. As they screeched to a stop under the diagnostic panel, the Volcanite was breathing strangely, drawing ragged breaths and letting them whistle out between his lips in a nasal whine. The doctor went to work, while Two-mar watched everything suspiciously.

“Miss Chippie,” ordered McRoy, putting on his deepest, most theatrical frown, “prepare two cc’s of oveltine.”

“Oveltine? But, doctor...“

“Don’t argue with me, Nurse,” said McRoy, winking, jerking his head in the Kalvin’s direction, and making shushing motions with his lips, hoping she would get the message.

Unfortunately, Chippie (never exactly an Einstein) was being especially dim today. “Oveltine is just chocolate syrup. Why on Earth...“

“Miss Chippie,” interrupted the doctor, kicking her in the shin, “please follow orders.”

The nurse screeched in pain, hopping around the room on one leg, while Two-mar watched her with curiosity. McRoy got the hypo himself and injected it, hoping to distract the alien. He smiled wryly. “This may be the turning point. Prepare another dose, Nurse.”

Nurse Chippie yanked at her hair. “What for, you quack? And why is Mr. Spoke doing his relaxation trance which also happens to simulate illness thing?”

Two-mar was obviously alert for any sign of deception, watching the nurse like a hawk, and McRoy was winking and jerking his face at her so hard, he thought his eyeball would work its way out of its socket. She paid him no attention, however. “All you have to do is give him a gentle nerve massage, like this,” Chippie said, grabbing the Volcanite’s testicles and twisting them about 360 degrees.

“YEEOOOW!” screamed Spoke, sitting bolt upright on the table.

“That does it,” said McRoy, hurrying Two-mar out of the room. “He’ll be all right now. It was just a stroke of Rigillian Cassava Melon Arthritis. It recurs every now and then.”

“Spare me your double talk,” said Two-mar. “I will inform Rho-jam.” He left the room, and McRoy went back to Spoke, grinning with relief.

“Who are you smiling at, you moron?” said the Volcanite, brushing tears of pain from his eyes. “I said I would awaken myself. You didn’t have to yank my balls off!”

“That was Nurse Chippie,” said the doctor, glaring angrily at her. She stuck out her tongue at him, discretely stepping out of the room. She had always secretly wanted to do that.

“What was that shot you gave me?” demanded Spoke, rubbing his arm.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said McRoy. “It was just oveltine, a vitamin supplement. It’ll put a little green in your cheeks…”

“Bonehead!” shrieked Spoke, wildly clutching his chest. “I’m allergic to oveltine! ACKK!” And with that, the Volcanite collapsed on the table and began to go into convulsions.

“Crap!” muttered McRoy. “Nurse! Nurse Chippie! Get your skinny behind back in here!”

***

Back on the planet, the Kalvins let Kird out of his cell, confident that he would not try to escape again. Rho-jam had demonstrated another switch on his belt device by turning Trompson and Shy into styrofoam figurines, and Kird was sulking like a responsible captain should. Was Starredfleet going to dock his pay for them?

“So what do you want me for?” he said angrily.

“We will soon be beaming up to my ship...” said Rho-jam.

“You mean MY ship!” said Kird.

“...And I wish you to understand your duties,” said the alien, with his hand resting smugly on the switches of his belt device.

“My duty is to stop you anyway I can,” said Kird, jutting out his chin like a true action hero. He had practiced this for hours in the mirror of his cabin.

“You will obey me,” said Rho-jam, simply. “We Kalvins have a harsh and demanding code of honor, Kird. It demands much from us and from those we conquer. I respect your sense of duty, but remember... I'll slap you silly if you get in my way!”

Kird was silent, impressed by Rho-jam's obvious integrity and basic honesty of purpose. He immediately began thinking of how those qualities could be turned against him.

Kelilinda had moved over to a bunch of flowers. “These are beautiful. What are they?”

“You don't know what a flower is?” said Kird, absently.

“Our records tell of things such as this, which fill the room with a cloying stench. We call them sachets.”

“The rose by any other name...” said Kird. And then, when he saw the puzzled looks of his captors, the starship captain explained further. “A quotation, from a great American greeting card writer named Shakespeare. 'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell like feet' -- or, er, something like that.”

Moments later, Rho-jam had them all beamed up to the Entry-prize. The only people on the bridge when they got there were the communications officer Lt. Yoo-hoo-ra and navigator Ensign Check-off, guarded by Hay-nar and another female Kalvin named Dreeea.

“Dreeea has already plotted a course for our home,” said Hay-nar. Kird looked her over. She was just another extra, not quite as good-looking as Kelilinda, but she filled out her costume almost as well. He could only hope she was better navigator than Check-off, who couldn't find his own bottom with a star atlas and a hunting dog.

Check-off looked at his console with alarm. “Keeptyn!” he said, laying the Russian accent on thick because this was his only line in this episode and he wanted to make it count. “Ve haf zhoost joomped to Varp Eight!”

“That's nothing!” said Rho-jam. “We'll need to go a lot faster than that to get home. Increase to Warp Eleventy.” The Kalvin woman, Dreeeea, did something to the controls, and out the windows the stars began to zip past even faster. “Hay-nar,” continued Rho-jam. “See to the neutralizing operation.”

“What neutralizing operation?” said Kird, in a strangled voice.

“Captain, you people are troublesome for us,” explained Rho-jam very patiently. “The five of us cannot guard all of your crew, not to mention feeding them for the four hundred and ninety-nine years our journey will take. Furthermore....I just can't stand the sight of you all.”

As he spoke, Hay-nar had already flicked the switch on his belt which turned Check-off and Yoo-hoo-ra into styrofoam figures.

[Mr. Atoz]

Kird wandered the empty corridors of the ship, finding similar figurines here and there, and groaning as he mentally subtracted another fifty credits from his bank account for each one. He just had to find a way to turn them back! He found Spoke, McRoy and chief engineer Skitt in the mess hall stuffing their faces -- their usual reaction in a crisis. “Well,” he said sulkily, “how did your brilliant plan work out?”

“As you recall,” explained Spoke, “our subterfuge called for myself to simulate death by means of a relaxation trance, thus enabling Dr. McRoy to smuggle me back on board the Entry-prize to Sickbay.” He tactfully avoided mentioning how close he had come to actually dying, thanks to the doctor's incompetence. “Once there, Mr. Skitt would be summoned for a routine physical evaluation, and the engineer and I together would, utilizing some common items of medical equipment found in Sickbay, contrive a means of neutralizing the Kalvins' formidable neural paralyzer beams.”

As the Volcanite paused, Kird jerked awake from the light doze he had fallen into. “Huh? That was the plan, was it?” he said. “Did it work?”

“It did not!” said McRoy, ruefully thinking of the charred ruin they had left of Sickbay. The contraption Skitt and Spoke had thrown together had looked like a plumber's nightmare. Once Skitt flicked the switch, the thing had immediately shorted out, nearly electrocuting all three of them and starting a fire which had taken out half the deck before they could stop it.

“Well, what else is there?” said Kird despondently.

“There's self-destruct,” said Skitt instantly.

“I wonder how many of us they're going to keep around,” said Kird, pointedly ignoring him.

“Only those they consider essential,” said Spoke, raising his eyebrows a little smugly. “And it would seem that the four of us are the only officers which conform to that category.”

“There's self-destruct,” repeated Skitt with almost unseemly glee.

Kird saw the gleam in the engineer's eyes at he contemplated destruction. “Aside from my personal distaste at the idea of getting myself blown to tiny bits, it's not practical. We'd have to go through that routine with the computer, the voice recognition and the code words and so on. Rho-jam would paralyze us before we even got started.”

“Nah,” said the engineer, licking his lips with excitement. You might have thought he had spent half his time thinking of ways to destroy the ship. “Remember we've got to cross an energy barrier at the edge of the galaxy. I could bypass the governors on the matter-antimatter engines, cross a few wires, flood the pods with positive energy and ....BOOM!”

Skitt was standing, waving his arms around and almost foaming at the mouth. Spoke and Kird tackled the engineer, wrestling him to the floor and silencing him. Two-mar had just come into the room. He casually walked over to the four of them, looking at the food on their plates.

“I do not understand,” said the alien, “why you eat all this garbage.” He pulled a small pill box from a pocket and showed them. “These vitamin pills contain all the necessary nutritional requirements.”

“Not for human forms, they don't,” said Dr. McRoy, putting on a simpering smile. “The human digestive system requires bulk. Whoo-boy! I can't wait for ya'll to start getting stomach cramps and diarrhea! Serves you right!”

“In that case,” said Two-mar, resting a hand ominously on his belt device, “you had better show me what I need to do to avoid them.”

“Me and my big mouth,” said McRoy, as he got up to demonstrate the food selectors.

“As much as I hate to say it,” said Kird, watching enviously as the Kalvin got some food and gleefully began pigging out. “Maybe we should think about self-destructing, just to spite them.”

“That is not logical,” said Spoke, watching the alien inhale a whole plateful of food and let out a huge, greasy belch. “When I touched Kelililinda's mind, I received isolated glimpses of the Kalvins' true form, captain. The Kalvins have superior intellectual capacity, but in order to attain it, they apparently sacrificed emotions and pleasures -- any stimulus which would tend to distract them.”

“So why is Two-face skarfing down vittles like they was going out of style?” blurted McRoy, joining them.

“He had taken human form, and is having human responses,” said Spoke, sitting back and folding his arms complacently.

“If they all respond to stimulation this way,” said Kird slowly, trying to come up with a plan, “maybe we can confuse them. They can't have had time to adjust to these new emotions yet. If I can get Kelilinda alone and distract her long enough, maybe I can get into her pants!”

The other three all looked at him. “If we can distract them long enough,” said Spoke quietly, “perhaps we can get their belt devices away from them.”

“I was going to say that next,” said Kird.

***

The four of them decided to each pick out a different alien to try stimulating. Skitt said to Two-mar, “You're going to need something to wash that down with, lad,” and took him off to his cabin. If what he had in mind was the bootleg engine-room moonshine that he usually drank (suitable for lubricating engines and stripping paint), Kird almost felt sorry for the alien. McRoy called Hay-nar to Sickbay and, giving him some song-and-dance about anemia, prescribed “vitamin concentrates”. Then he closed his eyes, reached into his medicine cabinet, and pulled out a drug at random. By the end of the day, he was mixing doses of two or three different chemicals just to see what would happen, and Hay-nar was literally bouncing off the walls.

Kird naturally made a bee-line for Kelililinda's cabin. “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

She looked up from the tape she was viewing. “What is it that you wish?”

Kird desperately bit his tongue to keep from saying the thing that he really wanted. “I came to apologize for hitting you earlier.”

“When was this?”

“Down in the holding cell,” said the captain. “That is, to apologize for trying to hit you.”

“There is no need,” said the girl, standing up. “You tried to escape, as I would have done. The only difference is that I would have succeeded.”

Kird walked around behind her, sarcastically mouthing I would have succeeded and sticking out his tongue at her. “I don't usually try to hit beautiful women,” he said, kissing her neck and gently nuzzling her ear. “Not on the first date, at any rate.”

“Why not?” she asked innocently, causing Kird to roll his eyes and make a mental note to get ahold of some whips and spanking paddles if he ever got out of this alive.

Without further ado, Kird jumped her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his body against her while he latched onto her neck with his lips, sucking for all they were worth. He didn't let up until he had given her a hickey the size of the third moon of Beta Orgasmia VI. “Is that better?” he asked, panting from the effort.

“Was it intended as a remedy?” asked Kelilinda, as if he had been playing jacks with her.

Turning her around to face him, Kird rolled up his sleeves, took the girl in his arms and gave her a French kiss that made her hair curl, sticking his tongue so far into her mouth he could tickle the back of her throat. Right at that moment, the door opened and Rho-jam came in. Kird jumped back a few paces, allowing Kelilinda to fall flat on her face with a thud.

“Is there a problem, captain?” said Rho-jam.

“There wasn't when I came in,” said Kird, and quickly slipped out the door.

“What did the captain want here?” asked Rho-jam, helping Kelilinda off the floor.

“Something about apologizing,” she said groggily, little wisps of smoke still coming out her ears. “Apparently it involves some peculiar touching contacts.”

“In what manner?” he asked politely.

She showed him everything Kird had done.

Rho-jam stepped back. “Odd creatures, these humans!”

[Mr. Atoz]

Spoke had taught Rho-jam to play three dimensional chess, since that was the game he cheated at best. They were playing in the recreation room, where the Volcanite seized the opportunity to needle the alien commander. “Yes, humans are peculiar,” said Spoke, raising an eyebrow quizzically and moving a piece. “But they make an interesting psychological study.”

Rho-jam moved in his turn. “I just don’t understand this business of giving someone a hickey to apologize.” He face was beet red, and he was drumming on the table with his free hand.

“You mean necking,” said Spoke, starting to move a piece. “What in the world is that behind you?” he said suddenly. When Rho-jam turned, the Volcanite quickly moved two of his pieces and stole one of the Kalvin’s. “It is my understanding that such apologies are exchanged between two people who have the hots for one another.”

“Kelilililinda has no interest in Captain Kird,” said Rho-jam, seething. He picked up a piece and slammed it down, leaving a crack in the super-tough plastic board.

Spoke raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “You seemed disturbed about the incident,” he said, picking some acrylic shards out of his face.

“Why should I be disturbed?” said Rho-jam, his face turning bright green. “Kelililililinda is a female, nothing more.”

“Captain Kird finds her quite attractive,” said Spoke, moving a piece and stealing another of the alien’s while he wasn’t looking.

“She IS attractive,” said the Kalvin, steam seething out of his ears. He moved another piece, smashing the board again and breaking off part of the table.

“But you are not jealous,” said Spoke.

“NO!” yelled Rho-jam, snatching up what was left of the board and cracking the Volcanite over the head with it.

“Nor upset,” said Spoke, from the floor.

“Certainly not!” screamed Rho-jam, yanking off Spoke’s left leg and beating the Volcanite savagely about the head and shoulders with it. Then he jumped up and down on the injured Science Officer a few times, before storming out of the recreation room in a rage. Spoke groggily lay there in a pool of his own green blood, wondering if he might have miscalculated just a little in needling the alien.

***

Kird and Kelilinda were in the mess hall, making out like a pair of crazed minks on one of the tables, when Rho-jam found them.

Blind with rage, Rho-jam leaped at Kird, snatched him up like a rag doll and threw him at the wall. The Captain got to his feet, grinning because he knew that he was a lot better at street fighting than any pansy-wansy alien was. A dozen or so well-placed punches (some under the belt) soon had the alien commander reeling. Kelilinda just sat there, watching. Spoke and McRoy came in and silently placed bets on the winner.

“Rho-jam, wait,” said Kird, simpering smugly now that he had the upper hand. “Why don’t you use your paralyzer? Huh? Know why? Because you’re….”

“Thank you for reminding me, Captain,” said Rho-jam, panting with the effort. He flicked the switch on his belt, the buzz sounded, and Kird was frozen, unable to move. “Now I’m going to give you the pasting of your sorry life!”

The Kalvin grabbed Kird by the throat and snatched him so hard his toupee flew off. Then he threw him to the deck and began to stomp on him. “This isn’t going the way I’d planned,” Kird grunted in dismay, as blood began spurting from half a dozen open wounds. “Spoke! McRoy! Don't just stand there! Do something!”

The two of them stood in the doorway, shrugging helplessly. Spoke had his hand out, and McRoy was ruefully counting bills into it.

“Wait, Rho-jam,” said Kelilinda suddenly, softly restraining the big alien’s arm. “Don’t you see what’s happened? I’ve never seen you behave this way before!”

“Huh? What?” muttered Rho-jam.

“She means,” said Spoke, putting away his winnings, “that you were forced to adopt human forms, which you are unaccustomed to. For the next four hundred and ninety-nine years, you all will remain trapped in human bodies, contaminated by human thoughts and human physical urges. By the time this vessel reaches your home, you and your descendants will be aliens, and the Kalvins, their enemies!”

They both stared at the Volcanite for a long moment as this sunk in. “No,” said Kelilinda, shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant at all.” She snuggled up to Rho-jam’s chest, fluttering her lashes at him. “I mean, you’ve never been jealous before, and I think it’s a real turn on!” She ripped off his clothes and mounted him, right there on the floor of the mess hall.

Spoke and McRoy, bug-eyed, watched them go at it for a good ten minutes before they realized that Rho-jam and Kelilinda’s belt devices were now theirs for the taking. They freed Kird from his paralysis, then went around the ship paralyzing the other Kalvins. The three of them restored their crew to their proper shapes, dismantled the Kalvins’ machines, and had the Entry-prize turned around again and well on its way home before Rho-jam and Kelilinda finally came up for air.

“We have a mission,” said the Kalvin commander stubbornly, as he pulled his shorts on. “We must carry it out.”

“Your mission was to find strange, new worlds for your people to live on,” said Kird, striking a histrionic pose. “You can still do that. We can take your problem to the Folderation. There must be thousands of unpopulated planets from one end to the other of our galaxy, spread out among the countless stars.” He swept his hands dramatically, nearly taking off McRoy’s nose. “You could settle on one, tame it, nurture it, develop it in peace -- your way. Our highest law says that what’s yours is yours. We do not welcome invaders, but we do welcome…friends.”

“Perhaps,” said Rho-jam thoughtfully, “it could be done.”

As Kird turned to begin giving orders, Spoke and McRoy cornered Rho-jam. “Now that we’re buddies,” said McRoy quietly, “we got a proposition for ya. Is there any chance of us gettin’ our hands on one of them neural paralyzer projectors?”

“Certainly, friends,” said Rho-jam. “What do you need one for?”

“Perhaps it may not have escaped the scan of your optical sensing devices,” said Spoke, “but there is among us a certain person, who shall remain nameless,” -- the Volcanite darted a glance at the oblivious back of Captain Kird -- “who, in times of great stress, has the unfortunate and inopportune tendency to emote with a certain degree of excess….”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” confessed the alien.

“He means Kird overacts at the drop of a hat,” explained McRoy.

“Uh, yes.”

“And we figure a device like this paralyzer would be handy to have around,” said the doctor, “next time he starts a’chewin’ on the scen'ry.”

>>>THE END >>>