Spock's Brain

"Captain's Log – Ha Ha. I laugh to myself inside every time I say that. 'Captain's Log'…sounds like something I left in the bathroom this morning.

"Anyhow, Spock, McCoy and Scotty, because he needed to get out more, and one 'security' person, beamed down to a planet to investigate something Spock said he saw outside his private window. Since I wasn't doing anything and my yeoman was away on maternity leave, I decided to join them.

"We ended up in a big room. There was no one else here. The security ensign didn't live long, in spite of all the things the doctor did to her…I mean for her. She did however outlive Spock's estimation by four minutes, so I covered the spread and collected $100."

"She's dead, Jim," said Dr. Leonard McCoy for the umpteenth time. He ran his bloody fingers over his face and his lips twisted in anger over the loss of yet another red-shirted crewman. The dead crewman was yet another in the long…very long… line of security officers the academy kept sending to the Enterprise only to have them die in the stupidest possible way.

"Aye that she is, Captain. Dead as my acting career. She was a fine piece of lass, she was," Scotty concurred, tears running slowly down his cheeks. "If only she'd had access to those carrots and tomatoes she'd been wanting, who knows the greatness she could have accomplished?"

Kirk turned his back on the crying Scotsman. He couldn't handle the emotional display from a man…a woman he could tolerate because he knew women liked to show their vulnerabilities by crying in his presence…but a man, Kirk believed, should never cry.

Instead of listening to the disgusting display, he turned, upper lip curled in derision and a sub-vocal sneer escaping from his diaphragm, Kirk began to pace the large room they were in.

Away from the other men, he pulled his tunic down over his protruding belly, what with it being late in the season and all. He hated when his white, sun-tanless belly rolls flopped down over the top of his pants. For a man of such stature, such standing in the universe, admired by countless races, both alien and domestic, and savior of earth…and the galaxy many times over, Kirk felt drooping belly rolls hanging below his tunic was a bad thing. He also tired of having to suck in his gut to keep himself looking the part of a chiseled Greek God of whom countless statues on many worlds were model. Plus, he'd heard rumors throughout the ship of his new nickname being Captain Muffin.

When no one was looking however, the gut was no longer sucked and succumbed to gravity. Away from the crowd, he also had the freedom to scratch his special spots. He preferred to do it in private because every time he did it in Spock's presence, that damn Vulcan would giggle.

McCoy, also disgusted by Scotty's constant blubbering, put his face inches from the crying Scotsman. "Shut the hell up, you fat drunken bastard," he screamed with spittle flying from his mouth. "She wasn't just a good 'piece,' as you so eloquently put it. She could satisfy three or four crewmen an hour. Now all we have left is the butt-ugly blow-up doll Spock picked up at the Vulcan Whores and More store, or the replacement crewman who no one was pleased with."

Springing to his feet, fists at the ready, Scotty wiped the tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his uniform. "'tis the Captain we should be fighting lads. Had he controlled himself she'd still be with us.

"He drove her to madness with his demands. No woman has the fortitude to withstand that kind of use. And such a tiny thing she was. We'll not be finding another of her ilk. Maybe Mr. Sulu is still open for…."

With Kirk off pacing the tiny room, Spock raised his hand, commanding silence.

"Your mourning makes no sense, it so, very, very illogical, and neither does your anger. Our choices are clear," the Enterprise first office said, licking his lips and making up and down motions with his hand, which was curled like he was holding a beer and sticking his tongue deep into first one side, then the other of his cheeks. "Let us leave the captain to his log and proceed forward. I suggest we draw straws to see who will inform Mr. Sulu of his new status and the rest of us get back to the chore at hand."

McCoy, still angered with the engineer, now turned his full fury to the Vulcan first officer. "I'd sooner piss on an open energy conduit than play your little 'draw straws' routine." McCoy remembered vividly how often Spock had duped some new crewman into "pulling his short straw." It nauseated him. "You want to play draw-the-straw, go some where else. There's a fine looking crew woman on the deck. Her life has been cut short because our commanding officer was too busy combing his comb over to notice she was dying."

Spock, unperturbed by McCoy's ranting, pointedly stared emotionlessly at the good doctor. "Might I suggest you follow the words of Surrak. When his enemy ordered him to give up his arms, he spoke those immortal words: 'Up Yours,'" he said with his smooth baritone, emotionless voice. He then swilled a 32-ounce mug of Bud Light. "Up yours, doctor," he reiterated, then burped a very wet and bile smelling, but emotionless burp.

The atmosphere became heavy with potential and all eyes went to McCoy as he sat sprawled on the floor.

"It's my job to save lives not to stand to the side and watch them die." Shrugging away Scotty's helping hand up, McCoy rose to his feet to meet Spock's eyes unwaveringly.

Spock raised his newest beer can in silent comment, his face devoid of any expression and his eyes smoldering beneath heavy lids.

Taking first one, then another step forward, McCoy straightened his tunic and cleared his throat before adding somberly "you recall your history well to speak that way Spock," McCoy allowed, "and as a Vulcan you will never understand. But I'm a doctor dammit. I can't help but care about the fate of our crew's members."

Stone-faced, Spock lowered his now crushed beer can and firmly grasped his own inner thigh. "I got a member, right here, doctor. Why don't you kneel back down and give it some care?"

Scotty, still blubbering in outrage at the loss of the woman, tears trailing down his face like streaks from a bad Tammy Bakker photo, and a small roll of fat trying to escape from beneath his maroon parka, could take it no more. He stepped between the two men of science, the tall green one, a man of mechanical science, the short white one, a man of medical science.

Both men were glaring daggers and lasers, brows furrowed and lips trembling. Scott knew there was a war about to happen. He knew these men might explode at any moment.

The tension building was palpable.

Scott had no idea what might happen. As drunk as he was, he shit himself.

"Save the dancing for another time gentlemen. We've got bigger problems to deal with." Captain James Kirk strode into the tumultuous teapot and diffused the situation with his captainly presence alone.

With his uniform, torn from neckline to bicep, his bronze flesh gleaming with freshly applied oil and sweat, Kirk shook his mane of hair and gestured impatiently toward the deck.

"The ship called and there's a ship approaching and I don't like the looks of it, I fear," taking a deep breath, manly chest heaving more than a bunch of college kids after a kegger, "we could be under attack…under attack soon."

"And we can," heaving chest again, "not," heaving chest, "survive," a slight pause for effect, "if we fight..." another longer pause for more effect "...and I am not in command."

He dramatically flipped open his communicator and asked Chief Kyle to beam the four live ones back up. The dead one was getting a little rank so was beamed up separately.

"All hands to your stations, we'd best prepare to be boarded." Captain Enterprise ordered as soon as all his molecules got put back together. "And what IS that smell? It smells like something died."

Scotty was relieved that Kirk thought he smelled the rotting corpse of the dead redshirt rather than the wet brown stuff now flowing freely down his left leg. "I don't know, sair," he said as he rushed out of the room. "I'll be in Engineering," he added as he dashed away, his left shoe squishing noisily.

Two men of science continued to stare at each other, despite Kirk ordering them to their stations. McCoy, smiling smugly to himself as Spock's left eye began to quiver in the stare-down, leaned a little closer to the Vulcan. "You heard him, first officer. All hands to stations. Shouldn't you be going somewhere? Like maybe to into the communal showers down on C Deck? I hear you like to station yourself there on Saturday nights."

Spock, nonchalantly retorted, "He also said 'we're about to be boarded,' shouldn't you get getting ready like you do on most nights...laying down on your stomach on the floor with a jar of Vaseline in both hands and saying 'Next!' every couple of minutes?"

McCoy snorted. The two friends of James T. often bickered and made rude comments to each other. It was their way of relieving the stress of being best friends with a man of such heroic stature. "At least someone pays me some attention. I hear your nights include a bag of Doritos, six home-rolled doobies and two hours worth of crying for your momma."

"Captain!" someone screamed from the hall way, outside the door Scotty had just run through. "Come quickly."

"I'm going bust whoever started that rumor right in the mouth," Kirk said. "It's been taken out of context as time is relative and…."

"Captain," Spock said, interrupting what appeared to be a tirade of legendary proportions. "I believe something is going on in the hallway which demands our attention."

Kirk, Spock and McCoy meandered slowly toward the exit, the doors sliding open slowly enough so that when Kirk had to stop, Spock and McCoy bumped into him from behind. Kirk laughed and said "I needed that," and then entered the hallway.

The three men stopped.

Standing in front of them was a wall of three women. A nameless redshirt was on the floor, obviously dead.

All the women were slim and nubile. Their bodies were sensuous and tightly formed. Their faces were made up with what looked to be salon-perfect makeup, with full pouting lips and gorgeous eyes. And all were looking at the men who just entered the hall.

"Sweet Jebus and thank you stars," McCoy exclaimed, pushing Kirk out of his way to move toward the women. Kirk shoved back, but he couldn't get his weight behind it and fell off to the side. Spock, emotionless and unaffected by the gorgeous women, watched Kirk stumble and just before the captain caught himself, stuck a foot out causing him to tumble head first into the floor. He then laughed at Kirk. "HA!"

"What brings you here, sweet ladies?" McCoy asked the women in a suave southern drawl. "I'm Doctor Leonard Boner, I mean "Bones" McCoy and I'm sure I'm going to need to give all of you a thorough examination in sick bay."

"I think not," said one of the women, stepping forward. "My name is Cindi, with an "i" and I am in charge of this group of women. We are here to take his brain."

McCoy looked to whom she was pointing. It was Spock.

"Fine, take it. He ain't using it," McCoy said.

"Like hell you are," Spock said. "I use it pretty regular and if you take it, I might die."

Kirk said in an atrociously bad Chicago accent, "Now, wait a minute. Wait… a …minute. Get that heater down. Don't you want to take a look at what you're going to fight?

"Wrong episode, dumbass," Spock supplied helpfully. "That was the one with the gangsters who violated us."

"Oh, right," Kirk said while climbing to his feet and wiping some brown, smelly liquid off his hand that housecleaning must have missed. "I mean, what do you want with Spock's brain, Cindi with an Eye who looks like she really has two?

Cindi's eyes rolled. "Not Cindi with an Eye, nutbag," she corrected. "Cindi with an "i." As in….oh screw this," at which time she pressed a button on the control panel on her arm and stunned Kirk, Spock and McCoy. The three fell to the deck like three incapacitated drunks falling from a car. McCoy's right foot landed in perfect placement to catch Spock's left eye as the Vulcan's head was just about to hit the floor. Kirk fell into the smelly brown stuff.

All over the ship people dropped in their track. Six crewmen died when the red shirts they were wearing got twisted as the crewmen fell to the deck and strangled their wearers. Poor bastids.

Several hours later, Kirk and McCoy woke up. Kirk had drool on his face that'd crusted and McCoy still had his hand down his own pants.

"Shit," Kirk said, kicking McCoy's legs off his own.

"What...what...what happened?" McCoy asked, slowly getting to his feet, bones creaking and snapping like an old brush pile in a high-powered brush shredder.

"You're asking me?" Kirk asked. "I was out as long as you were. Last thing I recall was the three of us talking with three chicks in thigh-high boots and sexy cleavage."

"Oh, yea," McCoy recalled, bending over to rub his legs. "That one in the center, the one with an "i" in her name and two in her head, said something about screwing and the next thing I know, I'm hitting the floor."

"Spock!" Kirk hollered, seeing the Vulcan still on the floor.

Spock didn't move.

"Spock!" Kirk hollered again, which really annoyed McCoy because he had the grand daddy of all headaches.

McCoy pulled a Q-tip from his med kit and stuck it in the Vulcan's ear. Looking up at Kirk he said solemnly, "His brain is missing." Piano music played loudly from a hidden speaker.

"Get him to sick bay," Kirk ordered. "I've got to get to the bridge."

McCoy nodded acknowledgment and grabbed his brainless friend by the foot and started dragging him to sickbay.

Kirk left the doctor to take care of Spock and headed down the corridor, looking for a turbolift that would get him to the bridge. He found one and pressed the button and the doors opened for him like magic. Inside was one of the six dead redshirted crewmen who had died by strangulation. Kirk kicked the body out of the turbolift and grabbed the handle.

The turbolift sped two decks higher and deposited Kirk on the bridge. Sulu, Uhura, Chekov, and three of four nameless redshirts were already returning to their posts. Kirk could tell they'd been knocked unconscious. Sulu still had part of his underwear sticking out from his pants, Chekov had his shirt on backward and Uhura's coiffure was mussed.

The three nameless red-shirted crewmen no one cared about. The dead one was dead.

"Chekov," Kirk said hurridly in his best captain voice, "Some one, three chicks, Spock's brain, brain steal, ship steal, screw one eye."

Chekov, prepared for understanding Kirk's ramblings because of a several classes he'd taken at Star Fleet Academy on understanding the ramblings of a lunatic, understood completely.

"Aye, sir," Chekov said, getting up from his navigator station, "I'll go to Mr. Spock's science station and try to determine how the three women got on our ship and see if we can track them."

Kirk nodded and climbed into his chair. With nothing to do but wait, he sucked his thumb and whimpered a little.

Chekov, from the science station finally reported. "Sorry it took so long, sir. Mr. Spock had a lot of porn queued up and I had to get through it before I could access the external sensors.

"There is an ion trail bearing 105 mark seven. It looks like it was left by something that attacked us and made me do vile things to Sulu."

Sulu snorted. "Like you had to be coerced to do those things. All it took was Uhura saying "Get 'im!"

"Enough!" Kirk bellowed. "Follow that trail!" He then slapped the buttons on the arm of his chair. "All hands to battle stations. Engineering I want all available speed."

"This is engineering, Lt. Reilly, sir. Mr. Scott is still in the head, sir. I think he's sick."

"Lieutenant, we need full speed. Can you do it?"

From the speaker Kirk heard Reilly nod. "Not a problem, sir. All I have to do is turn the engine on. It's pretty easy. I saw Scott do it hundreds of times. Takes about two seconds."

"Damn that man! He told me it was difficult and took a long time to turn the engine on. That old dog," Kirk said. "Well do it Reilly. We need warp speed now!"

"Already done, sir."

Kirk smiled. Reilly would go far. He then looked to Sulu. "Welllll...what are you waiting for? GO!

"OK," Sulu said and shifted the great ship out of neutral and stalled it. He restarted it and tried again. The ship lurched, but began to make some speed. Sulu pushed the throttle all the way forward. "Wheeeeeeeee!" He bellowed. "I mean, captain, we're on course at warp speed."

"How long until we find them?"

Sulu shrugged. "I'm a pilot, not a science officer. Ask Spoc...oh wait. Too soon?"

Kirk ignored him. "Chekov, how long?"

The young ensign mumbled something which Kirk didn't hear. "Say again, ensign?"

"I said, Spock has some really good porn here."

Kirk wiped his brow and looked at the ceiling. "How long to find the ship that left that trail?"

"Oh that. We won't. It wasn't a ship, it was a transporter. And it came from that planet," there was a long pause, "that we just passed."

"Stop!" Kirk hollered at Sulu. Sulu slammed on the brakes and everyone tumbled from their chairs. One of the red-shirted crewmen died when he fell leaving just two alive on the bridge.

Kirk and the others laughed at the dead one as they got up off the floor. "I bet we reach a new record of dead redshirts this year," Chekov said. "That's got to be the 12th this month. I swear, they're hardly even trying to stay alive."

"Enough!" Kirk bellowed. "We have Spock's brain to find and we can't be worried about every crewman who dies on the bridge. The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the few who out weigh the needs of the many and all that crap."

"I gotta go number two," Sulu said.

Kirk looked at him.

Sulu looked back.

Kirk looked at Chekov.

Chekov looked back.

Kirk looked at Uhura.

Uhura was filing her nails and talking with LaWanda on the phone.

Kirk looked back to Sulu. "Keep your sphincter shut. We have a mission.

"Uhura! Get off that damn phone..."

Just then, McCoy entered the bridge. Following him was Spock.

"He's alive!" Kirk cheered, jumping up out of his chair. "I knew he didn't need that stupid brain of his. Whew! Now we don't have to risk our lives going down on that planet below," he cheered as he ran up to Spock and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

Spock toppled over.

"Wrong again, captain sir," McCoy said, watching Spock tip over stiffly, hitting his head on the science station, then chair, then boot McCoy had playfully put in the way.

"I have put a mechanical headband on him to keep him alive for the next five hours. With this control panel," McCoy said pointing to the controls on his wrist, "I can make him walk, stop walking, turn left, but not right, and grab things with his powerful, yet surprisingly gentle hands, but that's it."

Kirk pointed to a redshirt and then to Spock and the two worked together to help the Vulcan to his feet. The redshirt was very careful, gentle and sympathetic to the first officer.

He died when the medical headband hit him in the nose.

"Thirteen!" Yelled Chekov.

"Crap," Kirk said, wiping some snot off his hand he received when helping Spock back to his feet. "That means we will have to go down to the planet. Damn." He then got more snot on his hand when he wiped his nose. He wiped that off on his pant leg.

"To the transporter room! Away!" Kirk yelled to no one, because pretty much everyone was busy doing other things and really didn't care what the captain was doing. When no one moved, Kirk nudged McCoy who was sitting on the science station console, playing with the medical headband control unit making Spock's left hand rise on drop. "This means you, doctor."

"Fine, whatever," he said standing up. "I'll bring Spock too. If we get bored we can use him for laughs."

"Good idea.," Kirk said.

The three beamed down to the barren planet. Dust blew around their feet. The only thing visible was a round tank sitting on a small rise about 20 feet in front of them. McCoy, in a bit of whimsy, made Spock walk into the round tank. Both he and Kirk laughed. A door in the tank opened the third time Spock banged into the side of it.

"Should we get in?" Kirk asked.

"Nothing going on up here," McCoy said and used his controller to make Spock enter first. The animated Vulcan entered the tank followed by Kirk and McCoy. The door slammed shut and the floor dropped.

"An elevator?" Kirk asked, looking at McCoy.

"Duh. Umm, no, it's an airplane and we're flying now."

"Don't be a smarta..." Kirk began to retort, but was cut off when the elevator came to an abrupt halt and the door opened. Spock fell out when the door opened. Kirk and McCoy laughed at him.

They found themselves standing at the end of a hallway. In the hallway were women. Beautiful women. Tall women, short women, stout women, young women, middle-aged women, older women and all prettier than a sunrise on the gulf coast.

They were all looking at each other, and not at Kirk or McCoy or the flopping form of Spock on the floor.

"What the hell kind of world is this?" Kirk asked.

From a communication grill on the wall came Spock's voice. "Captain Kirk, this is really flippin' weird. It's the same way I feel after doing toa...I mean...fascinating."

Kirk and McCoy looked at each other, then at the animated Spock.

"Well I'll be damned," McCoy said.

"Spock," Kirk asked the communication grill, "where the hell are you?"

"Ummm...I'm not real sure. I think, I feel, I hear, I see and I smell, but I can't tell where I am."

"You smell all right. Doctor McCoy hasn't hooked up the controls to keep your ass from leaking shit," Kirk observed. "Your body is really beginning to reak."

It was then that one of the women in the hallway noticed the two men and approached them.

"Hi, I'm Cindi," she said.

"We know, we met before," McCoy answered as Kirk continued to look her up and down. His tongue refused stop dripping. "You're the Cindi with two eyes who insists you have just one."

Cindi cocked her head, put a finger to her mouth, furrowed her brow and used her other hand to brush a stray hair from her face.

"Huh?" she finally asked.

Kirk finally got control of his tongue. "Yes, you came to our ship and stole Spock's brain."

Something flickered in Cindi's eyes. They twinkled a little. It looked for a moment there was something she wanted to say. Kirk and McCoy watched expectantly.

Finally, after moments of deep thought, she said, "Huh?"

Kirk, furious with the wasting time put his hands on her shoulder. "Brain, Spock. Stole. You. Why?"

Nodding, a smile came to Cindi's face. Kirk smiled, feeling as if he'd gotten through to her.

"My name is Cindi. What's yours?" she asked.

Kirk let go of the woman and looked back to Dr. McCoy. "It's like talking to my son."

"Yea, whatever. Hey, this little device I brought with me is pointing down the hall. Let's go."

The two made it a dozen paces before they realized they'd forgotten Spock's body. McCoy grinned sheepishly and tapped the controls on his arm. Spock started walking toward them. He bumped into several of the women and Kirk and McCoy laughed at him.

Eventually, the three Star Fleeters came to a door. Kirk was winded from the long walk. It'd been years since he'd been forced to walk more than 100 feet and he was feeling it in his calves. They came to a door that was marked with strange lettering Kirk couldn't read.

"Is this it?"

McCoy nodded. "It must be. This thing-ama-bob is pointing at this door."

Kirk knocked on the door.

Nothing happened.

McCoy knocked.

Nothing still happened.

McCoy made Spock walk into the door.

Kirk and McCoy laughed at him.

"This never gets old, does it?" Kirk said.

McCoy nodded. A big southern smile on his face. "It's more fun than throwing puppies at passing star ships."

"How do we get in the door?" Kirk asked.

From a grill on the wall, Spock's voice came. "Try the round knob, genius."

Kirk put his hand on the knob and pushed. Nothing happened. Then he tried tapping the knob. The door still didn't open. He looked at McCoy and McCoy shrugged.

"I got and idea," Kirk said.

A moment later Spock was banging into the knob while Kirk and McCoy roared in laughter. McCoy even had the animated body back into the knob several times. Neither of the men saw the small smile on the Vulcan's lips.

After a few minutes of this, Spock's voice came from the grill. "Enough of this abuse. Turn the damn knob and push the door open."

The captain did just that and the door opened.

Inside there was a room with Spock's brain floating in the middle of a pool of fluids. From his brain was a wiring harness from Radio Shack that led to a control unit from Best Buy.

"We found you," Kirk said. "Now how do we get your brain back in your body?"

The animated body of Spock, bruised and rumpled finally made its way into the room. McCoy made him walk into the door frame several times just for giggles.

"I would suggest a doctor put it back in," Spock's voice said. "And the sooner the better. I'm beginning to forget what my real body feels like ad I am really getting tired of having to watch my body walk into walls and door frames."

"McCoy, get to it," Kirk ordered.

"Jim, I'm a doctor, not a doctor. Oh wait. Okay," the doctor said.

With that, McCoy began surgery to return Spock's brain to his body. It was touch and go for a while because Kirk would look over McCoy's shoulder and touch part of the brain with his finger and then go back to whatever he was doing.

After 20 minutes of slapping ganglia back together and knitting a new cap for the now bald head, Spock was back in his body and slapping the shit out of Kirk and McCoy for making him walk into so many walls.

Just as the slapping finished and Kirk and McCoy were on the floor cowering from the stong Vulcan, Cindi entered the room. She was no longer so blank-eyed as before.

"Get out of here and get away from our planet!" she hollered at the three. "We thought his," pointing to Spock "brain would power our world. But after we got him hooked up, we all became idiots."

The three from Star Fleet looked at each other. "Well that was stupid,' Kirk said. Those were his final words on the planet as Cindi tapped an order into her wristband. The three dematerialized and returned to the Enterprise.

They rematerialized on the bridge. Spock's form materialized on top of the lone redshirt remaining on the bridge, who died from the sudden weight.

"Fourteen!" Chekov cheered.

"Let's get out of here and find something interesting to do," Kirk ordered his bridge crew. "McCoy, get these deadshirts," he said, using the common nickname for any redshirted crewman, "off the bridge.

"Mr. Spock, find out what our next orders are."

Spock inclined his head to the captain and walked toward his station. McCoy's foot found it's way into his path and the first officer tripped and fell face first into Uhura's lap.

Everyone laughed.

It was good to be home.