The Crabapple

[Atoz 77]

THE CRABAPPLE

The landing party from the Starship Entry-prize materialized in the middle of a gorgeous clearing in an exquisitely manicured tropical jungle. You could tell at a glance it was too good to be true. The trees were perfect, standing straight and tall, and swaying gently in the breeze like giraffes who had had just a little bit too much too drink. The underbrush was perfect, just thick enough to decorate the landscape but not thick enough scuff your shoes or to trip you up. The temperature was perfect, just warm enough to be nice but not hot enough to make you sweaty. There weren't even any bugs!

Doctor McRoy let out a whistle and said, "Land sakes! I mite jess stake me a claim and build myself a little banana plantation down hyeh!"

Bean Kird, Captain of the Entry-prize, wagged a finger at him. "Nothing doing, Bonehead! The Primo Directive says there are natives already here."

"I won't tell if you won't."

The rest of the group -- Ensign Check-off and a few security guys in red shirts -- had already started to wander off, following behind a babelicious young Yeoman in a miniskirt. Spoke, the half-Volcanite Science Officer, was sniffing a handful of dirt. "Remarkably rich and fertile, Captain," he said smugly. "Husbandry should be quite efficaceous."

Kird blinked at him. "Are you gay, or something?"

"According to our instruments," said Spoke, ignoring him, "the entire planet looks like a stage production of 'South Pacific'. Even at the poles, the temperature is a balmy 72 degrees."

"I guess we won't be finding any cute little penguins on this planet," said Kird. "Bummer."

Check-off sidled up to Kird and whispered something in his ear. "Now?" said the Captain. "Why didn't you take care of that before you left the ship?" The navigator looked shyly at the ground without answering, but began to fidget urgently. Kird pointed to the bushes.

"Keeptyn," said Check-off, "do you expect me to boldly GO vere no man has gone before?"

"Just do it," Kird sighed.

"Captain, look at this," said one of the security guards. He was standing in front of a nondescript little bush, with a single flower on a tall stalk. It looked sort of like a scrawny, dried-up chrysanthemum. Kird couldn't see what the big deal was, but a second later the thing had shot a couple of dozen little burrs, making a neat little pattern on the guy's chest. He rolled up his eyes and dropped to the ground.

"Hendork!" shouted Kird, running over to him.

"He's dead, Bean," said McRoy, giving the man a quick examination before starting to go through his pockets.

Pausing for about three seconds to mourn, Kird flipped out his communicator. "Kird to Entry-prize. We haven't been here five minutes and one of the red shirts has already managed to get himself killed by a flower."

"Och, that's a shame," replied Skitt, the Chief Engineer, exuding all the sympathy of a lavatory sink. "We've got a wee problem, too, Captain. The antimatter banks are starting to..."

"Fine, fine," said Kird. "Stay on top of it. Kird out."

"What was that about the antimatter banks, Captain?" asked Spoke solicitously.

"Skittish will take care of it," Kird said dismissively as he put his communicator away. "Meanwhile, there's supposed to be a village down here somewhere. Let's see if we can find it."

"Wait, Captain," whispered Spoke. "My highly developed and vastly superior hearing has detected something moving stealthily in those bushes. Humanoid...moving with remarkable agility..." They all whirled around in the direction he indicated, drawing their phuzzers...just in time to see Check-off stumble out of the underbrush, zipping up his pants. "Ensign, will you stop clomping around like that?" said the Volcanite irritably.

[Atoz 77]

Sending another of the expendable security guards on ahead to scout, Kird led the way down a path, bravely forcing his way through the ample corridor formed by foliage growing neatly on either side. Check-off eagerly took up station behind the sexy Yeoman. The rest plodded along behind.

As the path turned a corner, Spoke's attention was attracted to a pile of odd, multi-colored rocks a little to one side. Picking one up, he launched into a boring monologue: "Hmm. Very low atomic density. It appears to be a mixture of hornbeam, elderberry and zoozooite, plus a few other compounds I cannot immediately identify. An analysis should prove interesting." Breaking off a chunk on the heel of his shoe, he pitched the smaller half away. It whizzed past Kird's ear and struck a tree trunk, where it exploded with a very large bang.

"Would you mind being more careful where you throw your rocks, Mr. Spoke?" blurted Kird, watching his life flash before his eyes.

"Obviously highly unstable, Captain," said Spoke as splinters from the obliterated tree settled around them like toothpicks. He looked at the piece of rock he had been just about to carelessly sling into his specimen bag. Instead, he slowly and carefully bent over to put it down. Kird's communicator chose that moment to beep loudly, nearly giving him a fatal heart attack.

"Kird here. What is it now?"

"It's Skitt again, Captain. I was trying to tell you earlier, there's some kind of beam coming from the planet's surface, and it's destabilizing our antimatter banks..."

"That sounds like a problem," Kird mused. "Coming from the surface, you say?"

"The location is a little hard to pin-point, but it looks like the exact center of that village you're heading for."

"How suspiciously convenient! Okay, we'll check it out, Skittish. Kird out." He was about to put his communicator away again when he noticed one of those deadly chrysanthemums about four feet away, turning its wilted stalk in his general direction. The next thing he knew, Spoke was yelling in his ear and trying to push him aside, tripping over his big feet in the process, so that they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Lying on his butt in the neatly manicured grass, Kird was about to say something really sharp and stinging, when he looked up and noticed about a dozen of those little burrs sticking out of Spoke's chest. "Oh, poop!" said the Volcanite, and keeled over onto his face.

"McRoy!" Kird screamed.

The others ran over, very nearly trampling Spoke in the process, with the doctor bringing up the rear. McRoy gave him a perfunctory examination and then jabbed him with a hypospray. "I've given him enough jazziform D to make the entire crew do the jitterbug, and he's not even doing a respectable foxtrot!" he blurted.

Irritated at the amount of paperwork involved if his Science Officer kicked the bucket on him, Kird flipped open his communicaator. "Kird to Entryprize! Beam us all up, Skittish!"

The sparkle effect started to form around them, but then it faded away again. "What's the holdup?" Kird demanded.

"The entire trainspotter system seems to be inhibited, Captain," said the Chief Engineer, pausing to let the camera zoom in on him for dramatic effect. "The way it is now, we couldna beam up a fly!"

"I'm not asking you to beam up a fly," Kird gibbered. "I'm asking you to beam ME up! I could get KILLED down here!"

[Atoz 77]

After a quick station break, Spoke startled everyone by suddenly sitting up. McRoy, who had been busy trying to pry his Rolex off his wrist, hastily let go. "It must be that off-green Volcanite blood," he said, with a disappointed grimace. "I guess he just took a while to respond."

"What did you think you were doing, you moron?" asked Kird, helping Spoke to his feet. "I saw that plant, and it would have completely missed if you hadn't pushed me in the way."

"I suppose a reward is out of the question, then?" said the Science Officer sheepishly.

"Do you realize how much Starredfleet has invested in you?"

"Certainly," Spoke replied. "For the Mr. Wizard E-Z Book of Science, 19.99 plus tax. For the How To Be A Dynamic Leader Corresponance Course..."

"Never mind."

"Say, I've just thought of something, Bean," said McRoy suddenly. "When bacteria invade a human body, the immune system automatically rushes white corpsicles to fight off the attack."

"So? What does that have to do with us?"

Spoke scoffed. "Doctor, if you are suggesting that some kind of sophisticated planetary defense system is mobilizing to attack us, that is undoubtedly the single dumbest idea you have ever had! I..."

His voice was drowned out by the sound of thunder from directly overhead. The sky, which had been a perfectly clear cerulean blue two seconds ago, was now one big dark, boiling cloud. "Still think it's a dumb idea?" McRoy smirked, shouting over the rising wind.

"(Bleep)!" said Spoke, as a lightning bolt hit the ground five feet away, accompanied by a deafening CRACK! of thunder. They all scattered like rats. As the party cowered under the dubious shelter of various trees, one of the remaining red shirts stood out smack in the middle of the nearest clearing, pointing his phuzzer at the sky as if he thought that would do any good. Before anyone could tell the fool to get under cover, a stroke of electricity was attracted to his weapon like a lightning rod. When they looked again, all that was left of him was an empty pair of boots, still gently smoking.

The storm disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "Yep," said Kird ironically. "Another beautiful day in paradise..." His communicator beeped again.

"It's me, Pallory. I've found the village, Captain. It's..."

"Pallory, you're breaking up," said Kird, irritably tweaking buttons at random on his communicator, pretty much guaranteeing he would lose the connection.

"Captain," said Spoke, glancing into his tripcorder, "his coordinates are conveniently just on the other side of these bushes."

"Let's go!" They all started running, and since they were out of shape from riding in turbo-elevators all the time, were all winded after just a few yards. As they leaned against trees, panting and wheezing, Pallory suddenly came strolling down the path. There just happened to be a lot of those multi-colored, explosive rocks lying around the neighborhood. Overcome with curiosity, he quite naturally picked up one about the size of a football, hefted it, and....

"Don't KICK it, you numbskull!" somebody yelled, but it was too late. Various bits and pieces of him rained down from the sky onto the party. The grisly stump of his left leg dropped into Check-off's outstretched arms, which he immediately let go of with a cry of disgust.

Once the smoke had cleared (and the pieces had stopped falling), everyone turned to look at the sole remaining red shirt in the group, who nervously adjusted his collar and delivered his only line of the episode: "Um, is it too late to put in for a transfer?"

***

Captain Kird was overcome with remorse for the loss of his crewmen. "If only I had beamed us up sooner," he whined. "But I didn't, and three of my men are dead...dead....DEAD!"

"In every case, there was nothing else you could have done," said Spoke comfortingly. "At least, that is what I will say at your court-martial in exchange for a small pecuniary consideration...."

"Whew!" said Kird, brightening up. "That's a load off my mind. Now, what do you say we..."

"Shhhh," said the Volcanite, putting his finger to his lips. "Someone is spying on us from those bushes. I really mean it, this time."

Kird asked Spoke and Check-off to create a distraction, then turned to the remaining security guard. "Go about fifty yards up the path and then cut back to the left." Faced with the prospect of being sent off on his own on this dangerous planet, the red shirt nodded glumly and walked away, sobbing quietly.

"What kind of tripcorder setting do you call that?" Kird could hear Check-off say, as he slipped into the jungle.

"WHO is the setting on the first disk," Spoke explained patiently. "WHAT is the setting of the second disk. I DON'T KNOW is the setting on the third."

"I don't care about the third disk," said Check-off. "What is the setting on the first disk?"

"I just told you, the first disk is WHO! WHAT is the second disk!"

"That's what I'm asking YOU!"

Just ahead of Kird, a stocky little guy was hiding in the bushes, engrossed in watching their comedy routine. He had white hair which clashed with his tanned skin, and seemed to be wearing nothing but a terrycloth bath towel wrapped around his waist. At that moment, the red shirt came blundering in from the far side, causing the little guy to suddenly jump up and run in Kird's direction. The captain had drawn back his fist to punch him smartly in the jaw when the little guy hopped into the air and planted a kick right in the middle of his spare tire. "OOF!" said Kird, as he dropped heavily to the ground.

"Whaddya mean sneaking up on a guy like that?" said the little guy grumpily, as Spoke, Check-off and the others surrounded him.

"We're not..." gasped Kird, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs, "...not...going to...hurt..."

"Darn right you're not going to hurt me," said the little guy, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Do you have a name?" asked Kird, once someone had helped him to stand up.

"I am Achoota."

"Gesundheit."

"I am the Eyes of Buul. He must see."

"Uh....Buul?" echoed Kird.

"Yeah, Buul! You deaf or something?"

Spoke had crept closer to the little guy, examining a pair of aluminum foil antennae which were sticking out of his hairdo in the back. "Those are my Ears for Buul," said Achoota.

"No doubt," said Spoke, just as Kird's communicator beeped.

"I just thought I'd call and remind you, Captain," said Skitt's voice. "We're into the deep, deep manure up here. The antimatter banks are completely shot, the Warped Drive is practically bent in half, the ship will probably dive out of orbit in about fifteen minutes now, and the new season of Stargate Atlantis doesn't start for another three months!"

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"I've talked to the Experimental Physics lab about using the Time Travel intermix formula to download us an advance copy of the next season, but that's risky..."

"I meant is there anything you can do about keeping my ship from falling down and going SPLAT?"

"Oh, that," said the Chief Engineer with a shrug. "Well, sir, we could try bypassing the bypass circuits and boosting the boosters, but..."

"Hop to it then, Skittish," said Kird, hanging up his communicator. Turning back to Achoota, he said, "Tell me about Buul."

"Buul is Buul," said Achoota, looking at Kird as if he were a retarded chimpanzee. "He makes the sun to shine and the rain to fall."

"Can we speak to Buul? It's just we've got this little problem..."

"What do I care?" the little guy shrugged. "It's a free country. But if you expect an answer, he speaks only to me. I am the Voice of Buul."

"I'll bet you are," muttered Check-off.

[Atoz 77]

A few seconds of walking brought them face to face with a cliff, and carved into the cliff was an enormous purple dinosaur head, its mouth open in a stupid grin big enough for several people to stand inside. Two beady eyes were glowing dully. "That's Buul?" said Kird, once the dramatic music on the soundtrack had died down enough for him to be heard.

"Captain, this is a machine," said Spoke, peering into his tripcorder. "Extremely ancient. Most of it is underground, and this is but an access point..." The Science Officer strolled forward absent-mindedly, and was about to step up into the mouth when there was a brief flash of light. Letting out a yelp, Spoke landed thirty feet behind them.

"Told ya!" said Achoota smugly. "But would you listen?"

"A force field, I take it?" said Kird, trying to keep from laughing.

"Yes, Captain," said the Volcanite, rubbing his posterior. "Conventional in composition, but sweet mama pajama did it sting!"

"When he's hungry, he might talk to you," said Achoota grudgingly. "Come on, then. I ain't got all day."
They followed him around the corner and into a primitive native village of crude, straw-covered huts. Loitering around, playing backgammon and eating various tropical fruits were a dozen or so natives, both men and women. They all looked to be about in their twenties, young and gorgeous, and they were all wearing the same outfit -- a skimpy bath towel wrapped around their waists and nothing else. "We are the Caterers of Buul," Achoota announced.gruffly, making a half-hearted gesture with his hands which might charitably be called a greeting. "Welcome."

"Where are the children?" asked Kird, tearing his gaze away from the rack on one of the girls.

"The what?"

"Rugrats...anklebiters.... Small at first, but they grow up..."

"Oh, you mean Replacements," said Achoota. "None are needed."

The cute female Yeoman had been drooling over one of the hunky, barely-clad young guys. "But...when a man...and a woman fall in love..." she moaned erotically, reaching towards the broad, naked chest of the bronzed Adonis with a yearning look in her eyes. Check-off suddenly grabbed the babe around the waist before she could pounce on the guy and start sucking his face off, but even so it took the combined efforts of him, McRoy and the security guard to keep her off of him.

"Oh, you mean fooling around!" said Achoota. "Buul has forbidden all that stuff."

"Holy Cow!" blurted McRoy, nearly fainting. "You mean never? NEVER EVER?"

The Caterers of Buul had gone on about their activities without paying any attention to the landing party. Achoota went over and gruffly kicked over a backgammon game "These people are strangers," he demanded. "Welcome them." The people reluctantly got up off their rear ends and clustered around, sulkily handing over bunches of artificial flowers and half-eaten apples. One sweet young girl tied a garland around Spoke's neck, cinching it up tight and cutting off the circulation to his head. The Volcanite's face immediately turned a bright shade of green.

"It does something for you, Mr. Spoke," said Kird, trying to keep from laughing.

The Science Officer frantically indicated by signs that he was unable to breathe. When McRoy cut the lei off of him, he gasped, "Yes it does, Captain. It gives me a rash."

Achoota next showed them to the smallest, most decrepit hut in the whole village. "This place is yours," he said, furtively wiping an ancient spider web out of the doorway. "Stay one minute past eleven o'clock, and we'll have to charge you for another day. I'll try to remember to send somebody back with a fruit basket." And with that, he vanished.

"Now we're welcome," said Check-off, dumping the Yeoman in the corner. "A minute ago, this whole planet was trying to kill us."

"I'll tell you something else that don't make sense," chimed in Dr. McRoy, waving his tripcorder. "I just did a complete medical check on these people, and they are sickeningly healthy. No evidence of diseases, tissue degeneration, toxic substances, or aging. In short, no bugs, tugs, drugs, or rugs."

"What are we doing sitting around on our tushes," asked the Yeoman, "when we could be out there hooking up?" She wilted a little as everyone looked at her. "I mean, since the ship is as good as cooked, anyway..."

"Yeoman, speculate," said Kird, trying to distract her from the imminent destruction of the Entry-prize, which was obviously weighing heavily on her mind. "What would happen if these people needed a Replacement?"

"But they're in perfect health," she moaned. "Perfect!"

"Accidents happen," Kird insisted.

"But they don't know anything about orgasms or fellatio or anything," the girl said. "They don't even have Cosmo magazine! How is it done?"

"If it was me," suggested Spoke, "I would just run off a copy of the Kama Sutra."

"Keeptyn," said Check-off, standing immediately to attention. "I volunteer to..."

"Shut up, Check-off."

Outside, a heavy gong started to sound. Curious to see what the commotion was, Kird poked his head out of the hut. All the Caterers of Buul were walking briskly towards the big purple dinosaur, pushing wheel-barrows full of those colorful, explosive rocks. Following, he and Spoke found all the natives carting those rocks up into the Buul's mouth and dumping them inside with the help of crude bamboo shovels, while Achoota supervised from under the shade of a tree, his head nodding from time to time. "They're feeding it those explosive rocks," said Kird. "Ah, that's why they call themselves the Caterers of Buul! I guess the Shovellers of Buul doesn't have the same ring to it..."

"A most impressive set up, Captain," observed Spoke enviously. "Obviously this is no ordinary machine. They feed Buul, and Buul provides what they need. A perfect example of reciprocity."

"It would take a mind like yours to say something like that," said McRoy, sticking his head out of nearby bush and poking the Volcanite in the eye. "These people are humanoids! They've got to advance!"

"You are becoming emotional, doctor," said Spoke, hauling off and punching the doctor squarely in the nose. "This is a practical society."

"It's not practical, it's obscene," retorted McRoy, head-butting the Science Officer in the stomach.

"These people are healthy,"grunted Spoke, wrapping his arm around the doctor's neck and kicking him in the ribs with his knee, "and they are happy."

"They are not! They're stagnating!" insisted McRoy, wrestling Spoke to the ground and twisting his leg behind his back.

"Gentlemen," said Kird testily, "this argument can wait until the ship is out of danger and I can charge admission. Which reminds me..." He flipped open his communicator. "Skittish? How are things up there?"

"Almost ready, Captain," Skitt reported, "we're just about done connecting all the break room vending machines to the impulse engines, and later we'll tie in the men's room hand-dryers..."

"What good will that do?"

There was a slightly embarrassed pause. "Er...well, none really. It's something to do to pass the time...I mean, until we crash into the atmosphere and burn up..."

"Okay," Kird sighed, wondering why he hadn't fired the Chief Engineer years ago. "I'll check back with you in a few minutes."

[Atoz 77]

As they walked back towards the village, the three of them came across a small mob of the natives standing around and silently watching something. There seemed to be some sort of minor commotion going on the bushes, and whatever it was, the villagers apparently found it fascinating. "Three guesses who that is," muttered Kird, chasing the people away. "Check-off! Yeoman! Front and center!" he shouted.

"Aye-aye, Captain!" the couple answered, popping up into view and hurriedly straightening their clothes.

"I am concerned, Captain," said Spoke, as they approached their hut. "These people depend upon Buul. If we do what it seems we must, we will be in violation of the Primo Directive, which says we are Absolutely Forbidden to interfere with an alien culture unless we really, really want to."

"That refers to a normal, living, growing culture," Kird replied. "Do you think this is one? As much as I hate to admit it, Bonehead is right."

"I am?" said McRoy, who only argued with Spoke out of habit.

"Look around!" Kird went on. "These people do nothing but sit around enjoying themselves all day long! Does that sound like a normal human culture to you? If I don't get to do that, then why should they? Besides, I've always had this thing about grinning, purple dinosaurs. Singing those dopey little songs, and dancing..."

As they arrived back at their hut, suddenly there was Achoota and a line of native villagers blocking the path, each of them holding a big stick as if it were a piece of roadkill that they didn't have any idea how to dispose of. "Look out! They're attacking!" screamed the Yeoman, for no reason whatsoever. The last remaining security guy heroically whipped out his phuzzer. Charging forward, he tripped over his shoelace and ran his head right into a tree, cracking his skull like a melon.

"What an idiot!" moaned Kird, as the red shirt dropped to the ground.

The villagers instantly let go of their makeshift weapons. "Don't look at me!" said Achoota, thrusting his hands behind his back. "Buul told us to do it! He said if we didn't do something, you guys would soon have us smoking, drinking, gambling, and eating meat!"

"All right! I've about had it with this Buul," announced Kird.

Right on cue, that heavy gong starting sounding again, and as the Caterers of Buul started to form a line next to the wheel barrow, Kird suddenly had a brainstorm. "I want all these people kept inside their huts," he said, pulling out his phuzzer.

"Huh? Why?" asked McRoy stupidly.

"So they don't feed Buul!" said Kird. "Don't let them feed Buul!"

"Buul calls to us!" Achoota complained, as Check-off and McRoy rounded up the villagers at phuzzer point, gleefully zapping a few of the stragglers on the buttocks. "He hungers!" Kird payed him no attention. He and Spoke sprinted back to the cliff face where the big purple dinosaur was carved. The beady little eyes were glowing like a couple of angry fireflies.

"Skittish!" said Kird, whipping out his communicator again. "How's it going?"

"It's no use, Captain," said the Chief Engineer, shrugging his shoulders dejectedly. "We tried everything to break free of that tractor beam, but we just dinna have enough power. There's nothing else left to try."

"How about the ship's phuzzers?"

"By a strange coincidence," said Skitt, "even though we used every single ounce of power from everything else in the ship, I kept a full charge on the phuzzers, because I knew you'd want to blow something up if all else failed."

"Great! Aim them at that big, purple dinosaur and let 'er rip."

Dark clouds were already rolling in as the phuzzer beams from the Entry-prize lanced down out of the sky and bounced off of Buul's force field. "Buul is tapping his power cells, Captain," said Spoke, glancing at his tripcorder. "But his reserves could last for days, unless..."

"Unless someone left his electric razor plugged in overnight," said Kird, triumphantly pointing towards Achoota's hut, where his open bathroom window was visible. "I knew he looked too clean-shaven to use a sharpened rock."

The storm overhead grew more violent as Buul's force field weakened. Lightning zigged and zagged across the sky. "Take cover!" yelled Kird, pushing Spoke in front of him just in time to catch a stray lightning bolt in the small of the back. "Ouch! Sorry about that," he said, helping the Volcanite to limp across the clearing and duck under a palm tree.

More lightning crashed, wind howled, and the phuzzer beams hummed. Little puffs of smoke started going off inside Buul's huge mouth as his circuits overloaded. All at once, the phuzzers stopped, Buul's beady little eyes went out, and silence fell over the jungle.

"No power generation at all, Captain," said Spoke, peeking out from under the bush where he was hiding and looking into his tripcorder. "I think he's dead."

"He could be playing possum."

But by then the Caterers of Buul had come out of their huts and were gathering around the lifeless purple dinosaur. Achoota walked up and kicked it. "What did you do to him?" he demanded, turning to face Captain Kird. "You broke him! Who's going to take care of the weather for us now?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Kird, brushing his hands complacently. "And don't bother to thank us. We..."

"Who asked you to butt in, you Jerk?" said Achoota, as the natives all turned and angrily started grabbing those explosive rocks. "Get 'em!"

"Now wait just a..." Kird began, but one of those rocks narrowly missed him, blowing up a small boulder and showering him with charred pebbles. The rest of the landing party, a shade quicker on the uptake, had already disappeared into the cover of the forest, running for their lives.

***

All was right with the universe once again. Safely back on board the Entry-prize, Kird was walking down the corridor minding his own business when Spoke and McRoy ambushed him. "I want you to hear this, Bean," said the doctor.

Spoke cleared his throat. "Perhaps you recall the biblical story of the Garden of Eden, Captain?"

"I recall it very well, Mr. Spoke."

"We found a race of people living in Paradise, just as Adam and Eve did."

"Excuse me, Captain," said a passing crewman. "We're cleaning the air filters on this deck, so you might want to wear this red cape over your uniform, just for the next hour or two."

"Thank you, crewman," said Kird, absently draping the thing around his shoulders as he tried to concentrate on what Spoke was saying.

"In a manner of speaking," the Volcanite continued, "we have given the People of Buul the Apple...the awareness of good and evil, if you will..."

"Pardon me, Captain," said another crewman, "but could you just hold this pitchfork for a second?"

"...and as a result, they have been driven out of Paradise."

"Do I understand you correctly, Mr. Spoke?" said Kird, shifting the pitchfork to his other hand. "Are you casting me in the role of Satan?"

"Well, sir..."

"What's this on your face, Bean, shaving cream?" interrupted McRoy, brushing at Kird's upper lip and surreptitously drawing a sinister little black moustache there.

"Do I look anything like Satan to you?" Kird demanded, as McRoy held up two fingers behind his head so that he looked like he had horns.

Spoke stood there with his hands folded behind his back. "I am not aware of anyone who fits that description, Captain," he said with a perfectly straight face.

"No, I didn't think you would be," said Kird, turning and marching off down the corridor.

---- THE END -----

[LeopardessGirl]

*Claps* Wow, That Must've Took Some Time. I Loved It All!