Ok, here is my entry, it's not nearly polished enough but with the deadline ticking away I'm just glad to have got it in on time. Anyone who doesn't recognise the unexpected guests here...well look em up on wiki 
Maybe you can- 2862 words
* * *
Captain’s log: Stardate 56561.9. Vesta is in orbit of Traevis, a somewhat out of the way planet 390 light years from Earth. Until a few years ago the world was affiliated to the Klingon Empire (well for “affiliated to” read “subjugated by”) although even the Klingons didn’t pay it too much heed it seems, and once the Empire became embroiled in the war against the Dominion the Traevans were one of several races who took the opportunity to throw off the shackles of oppression. Strangely the Klingons let it go without a fight, and haven’t made any effort to retake the world now things have gotten back to normal.
Since Traevis sits close to the Federation border, Starfleet have being trying for about a year to enter into diplomatic relations, but it’s only in the last few days that they seem to have borne fruit- unfortunately Vesta was the closest ship so we have to be the ones to make first contact. I hate first contact missions, and I hate diplomacy. Luckily Commander Ishikawa feels quite the reverse so I’ve sent him!
* * * *
‘Look at that,’ said Lia K’Thell as the four of them stepped out of the shuttle before turning to regard their transportation in more detail.
The Type 7 shuttle’s usual white paintjob was obscured by a coating of thick, black dust. Lieutenant Commander Sen Gerrex walked up to it and, slipping his uniform sleeve up and over his hand, rubbed away a line of dust revealing part of the red stripe that swept along the shuttle’s flank. ‘I think it looks cool,’ he said as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Ishikawa looked skywards. ‘It would seem the smog layer in the upper atmosphere is actually thicker than our scans suggested. We were certainly correct to utilise the shuttle rather than the transporter.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said Raam, the hulking Capellan security officer who stood stoically off to one side, arms folded. ‘Given Lieutenant K’Thell’s crazy piloting I think I’d rather take my chances transporting back up again.’
‘Hey,’ yelped K’Thell. ‘You try flying through that level of turbulence.’
‘I’m sure I could, certainly I probably wouldn’t feel the need to fly upside down.’
‘He has a point,’ said Gerrex rubbing at his belly. ‘I thought I was gonna lose my lunch for a while there.’
‘Being upside down is good for you,’ argued the diminutive blue skinned pilot. ‘Sends blood to the brain and increases intelligence. Yulek knows some people could use the help.’
Ishikawa opened his mouth to correct her misconception but decided against it. It didn’t do to correct your wife too often. ‘Interesting place,’ he said instead, gesturing to the landing bay around them. ‘Is it just me, or does this look somewhat familiar?’
Gerrex was nodding. ‘Does look a little old school,’ he agreed.
The ground beneath them looked like concrete, pitted and scorched from use. The shuttle sat between two white painted lines. Stretching off left and right were more such lines. Some spaces were empty; others had a variety of shuttles and even wheeled vehicles in them.
‘This is a car park?’ said Ishikawa.
‘And that,’ said Gerrex pointing off towards a low wooden building nearby, ‘looks like a roadhouse.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Ishikawa.
‘Do you believe this is one of those worlds that has developed along Earth lines?’ said Raam. ‘That seems to happen a lot.’
‘Not as frequently as it used to,’ countered Ishikawa. ‘No, this is…this is something different. At least, given this world’s distance from Earth, I believe this is something different.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Oh dear,’ he said again.
‘Thank goodness y’all have come,’ came a voice from behind them. The owner of the voice was a slim young lady in her early twenties. Despite the cool air she was dressed in hot pants and a white halter top. Her hair was blonde and voluminous, seeming held in place by a significant amount of some kind of hair fixative. She’d have looked like a human woman from Earth’s past…if it weren’t for the bright orange skin and double slit mouth.
‘You have been expecting us?’ asked Ishikawa. They were supposed to be being met by a representative of the Government. That was supposed to be a man named Li however.
‘Well of course, sugar,’ she said, the words alternating between her two mouths. The effect was disconcerting to look at, but sounded natural at least.
‘Maybe I should handle this, Commander,’ said Gerrex, a somewhat lascivious smile on his lips. He was firmly in love with Susie, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t turn on the charm when he wanted too. He extended his hand. ‘My name’s Sen,’ he said.
She took his hand but looked somewhat confused for a moment, then she offered a sly smile. ‘Oh I see, I gotcha, code names.’
‘Code names?’ said Gerrex.
‘Young lady I do not believe we are who you take us to be,’ said Ishikawa, but he found he was addressing thin air, the Traevan had about faced and was now hurrying towards the roadhouse.
‘Come on, we gotta hurry!’ she called out over her shoulder.
‘Commander, what do we do?’ asked Gerrex.
‘I believe we should arm ourselves,’ offered Raam.
‘I think we should follow her,’ said K’Thell. ‘She seems nice.’
Ishikawa was by nature a cautious man, but he needed more information on the situation here, and that necessitated following the Traevan woman. Similarly arming themselves wasn’t a bad idea, but this was a First Contact situation, and that made it delicate, and guns were anything but delicate.
‘We follow,’ he said and strode off after the local.
* * *
Somehow none of them were especially surprised when they walked into the Roadhouse and discovered it full of Traevans dressed as humans. Nor were they surprised at the smell of stale beer that hung in the air between bars of mournful country and western music.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ muttered Ishikawa.
‘Hi,’ said the young woman who had reappeared from behind the bar. ‘Forgetting my manners, I’m Cindi,’ she said and wiped her hands on her shorts before offering it to Ishikawa. ‘You’re him aren’t ya, the leader?’
‘I am in command, yes,’ said Ishikawa.
‘Wow. Great disguise, I mean I knew ya dressed up as a Chinaman an all, but I never knew it would be so convincing.’
‘Actually I am Japanese.’
‘Say what now, honey?’
Ishikawa was about to explain when the doors to the roadhouse were violently shoved open and a gaggle of particularly rough looking (rougher even than usual) Klingons came in. For the most part they were huge, but one in particular looked more hulking than the rest. Suddenly Ishikawa wished he’d allowed them to grab their phasers.
At the appearance of the half dozen Klingons all chatter in the bar ceased, and a moment later the music died with the scratch of a needle.
Is it my imagination, thought Ishikawa, or is everyone moving away from us?
They were, even Cindi, and soon every last Traevan had backed away, leaving Ishikawa, Gerrex and K’Thell standing in a clear space, the floor covered in sawdust that Ishikawa suspected would soak up blood as easily as alcohol. He had just begun to ponder where Raam was when one of the Klingons (not the giant one at least) came up in his face and jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You’re the best mercenaries they could find?’ he said, following up the words with a guttural laugh. He looked up, focusing now on Cindi. ‘I told you, hand over the deeds to this place or I won’t be held responsible for what happens.’
‘No way,’ shouted Cindi defiantly. ‘My daddy built this place.’
‘And your daddy died here,’ said the lead Klingon. ‘Be a shame if you joined him.’
‘Is it my understanding,’ said Ishikawa. ‘That you are attempting to menace this young lady into giving you this establishment?’
The Klingon laughed again. ‘Get out of my way, little man,’ he said and went to dismissively swat Ishikawa away. Despite being a foot shorter however, Vesta’s first officer was no weakling; he deftly grabbed the Klingon’s hand and flipped him to the ground.
There was a collective gasp from the assembled Traevans, and even the Klingons seemed shocked…all except the really big Klingon. This monster of a man stepped forward, hair bound in filthy dreadlocks, scars crisscrossing his face. ‘You know,’ he said with an eloquence more befitting an eighteenth century dandy. ‘You have a very bad attitude.’
Someone tapped the Klingon on the shoulder. He turned to find Raam standing there. ‘Actually,’ said the Capellan. ‘I think you’ll find I’m the one with the bad attitude,’ he said, and swung a haymaker of a punch that collided with the Klingon’s jaw with considerable force.
The Klingon barely blinked. In reply he threw a punch of his own. Raam wasn’t knocked down, but he was pushed back and into the waiting arms of another Klingon.
Suddenly the air of expectation that had hung in the air broke, and a brawl broke out between the Klingons and the Starfleet away team.
Gerrex sensed movement behind him and turned fast. He was ready to lash out at his attacker until he realised it was a Klingon woman, gruff looking yes, but clearly a woman. Besides he was somewhat distracted by probably the largest cleavage he’d seen in a long while. While his chivalry, lust, and good sense fought over what action to take next, the Klingon kicked him somewhere no less painful for a Betazoid male than a human one.
With a warrior roar another Klingon went for K’Thell. She was too quick for him though, dropping to her knees and scrabbling under a table, emerging out the other side just as the Klingon smashed his fists through it, shattering it into a million pieces. Quick as a flash K’Thell jumped to her feet and hopped onto a still intact table, scooping up two large glass tankards as she went.
Even as the Klingon lifted himself up from the remains of the table K’Thell smashed both glasses against his head. ‘Aha! Take that!’ she yelled in triumph.
The Klingon shook his head, scattering tiny fragments of glass like raindrops. Then he looked at K’Thell and growled.
‘Oops,’ she managed to squeak as he snaked out a hand and grabbed her by the throat.
Ishikawa watched his wife hefted up from the table, saw his security chief crumple to the ground clutching at his groin, and watched as three Klingons piled onto Raam. He desperately wanted to help; unfortunately the Klingon he’d thrown to the floor had grabbed him now and pulled him down to the ground and into an impromptu wrestling match.
Ishikawa knew he could best the Klingon, wrestling was his forte after all, the question was: could he do so in time to save Lia?
Suddenly the question became irrelevant, because the chaos inside the roadhouse was ratcheted up by about a light-year…
First came a burst of (bizarrely) machinegun fire, but this was quickly drowned out by the crash as a bulldozer smashed through the wall of the roadhouse.
Despite the hairy Klingon arm wrapped around tight his neck, Ishikawa managed to look up, and was amazed to see a white haired human sat in the cab of the dozer. There was a lit cigar clamped between his teeth. ‘Sorry pals, the doors were locked so we had to crash the party,’ he seethed.
It was at this point that a wiry man in a baseball cap appeared by the side of Ishikawa’s head. ‘Excuse me, Sir,’ he said (sounding curiously like James Mason) ‘but is this man bothering you?’
Ishikawa nodded. ‘Just a bit,’ he gasped.
‘I thought so,’ intoned the faux Englishman. He then jabbed his fingers into the Klingons ribs and began to tickle him.
‘Agh, no, no, get off!’ shrieked the hardened warrior, releasing his grip on the Commander. Ishikawa took the opportunity to punch him into unconsciousness.
Raam was annoyed. He supposed he should be hurt too; these Klingons were punching him repeatedly in the face after all. He could deal with the pain though- pain was a comfort at times to a Capellan warrior- he just didn’t like not being able to return the favour.
He was pleased therefore when two of the Klingons holding him down were suddenly wrenched off their feet and hurled across the bar. This left only the giant Klingon who turned to see who had dispatched his men and found a stocky dark skinned human growling at him.
Raam was impressed at the newcomer’s physique, and he liked his Mohican (he had a huge ponytail after all so he liked ostentatious hairstyles) He wasn’t so keen on the profusion of gold jewellery however.
‘Who on earth are you?’ queried the curiously polite warrior.
‘Pain, sucker,’ said the human and punched the Klingon hard.
The big man stayed on his feet, but was pirouetted by the force of the blow. Handily this presented the newly freed Raam with an easy target, and he punched him too. For half a minute the two men took turns to pummel the giant Klingon until, eventually, one last punch from Raam was enough to drop him to his knees.
The Klingon who had K’Thell hoist into the air was too distracted by her squirming blue form to notice when a devilishly handsome man with a sparkling smile snuck up behind him and…well this is a family show, suffice to say that another Klingon joined the pile on the floor.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked K’Thell.
Vesta’s helmswoman swooned. ‘Oh I’m just dandy,’ she said until the (over) protective arm of her husband snaked around her waist.
Suddenly the Klingon woman was the only one of her group left, she crouched back, drew a d’k tahg dagger, and snarled.
‘Forget it lady,’ snarled the white haired man in reply, brandishing an old fashioned but deadly looking Ruger assault rifle.
The Klingon chuckled, with her free hand she slapped a com badge affixed to her arm and barked an order.
‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ said the man in the baseball cap. Suddenly his accent was American. ‘But if you’re trying to contact your bird of prey I should warn you…’ for a moment he stood there straight-faced. Then, all of a sudden, he began to dance. ‘I flew it into a planet,’ he sang.
‘Crazy fool,’ muttered the man with a Mohican.
‘Don’t worry,’ said white-hair. ‘Your buddies are all alive.’
‘Although they do reek a bit,’ smiled the handsome one. ‘Garbage planets are like that.’
‘We left you a shuttle, should take you a week to reach Klingon space,’ and the man with white hair brandished the rifle once more. ‘Don’t come back.’
Groggy, embarrassed, and vanquished the Klingons staggered to their feet and made a hasty exit.
‘You smashed a hole in my bar!’ shrieked Cindi.
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said the white haired man. ‘Face?’
The handsome guy was staring at a calculator now. ‘Well, once we factor in the cost of repairs against what we were paid…’ he sighed. ‘We owe Cindi three hundred dollars, Hannibal.’
Hannibal chuckled. ‘BA, start work on the wall.’
‘Ok but I don’t want Murdock helping me,’ said the man with the Mohican and half a ton of gold jewellery on his shoulders.
The crazy man in the baseball cap danced after him. ‘I can help, I can help, I can help…’
Ishikawa approached Hannibal. ‘Hannibal, Smith yes?’
He chuckled. ‘Heard of us, eh?’
Ishikawa sighed. ‘Yes, and I had feared this. You are, am I correct, The A-Team?’
‘Sort of,’ said the man named Face.
‘Clones?’ said K’Thell.
‘Androids?’ said Gerrex.
‘Hyper reality sentient stimulants,’ said Hannibal Smith.
‘Let me guess,’ said Ishikawa. ‘Television signals from an old Earth TV show inspired the Traevans to create the heroes needed to drive off the Klingons.’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Hannibal.
‘That makes sense. 390 light years, they’d be getting 1980’s TV shows. You’re not alone I take it?’
‘Oh no,’ said Face. He checked his watch. ‘In fact String should be blowing up another bunch of Klingons whilst we speak.’
‘And we got word from Devon that Michael had sorted out another group,’ added Hannibal. ‘That should just about have cleared the last damn Klingon on the planet.’
‘This isn’t good,’ said Gerrex. ‘Prime Directive and all that.’
Ishikawa shrugged. ‘Starfleet can hardly be held responsible for the actions of Stephen J Cannell. However I feel we should probably return to the ship and inform Starfleet before our diplomatic efforts go any further.’
‘Cool,’ said Smith, handing Ishikawa a cigar.
‘Do we have to fly back?’ asked Raam.
Face tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a beaker full of white liquid. ‘Glass of milk?’
‘Taka?’ said K’Thell as she watched her husband stare at the cigar.
Ishikawa looked up, clamped it between his teeth, and grinned. ‘I love it when a First Contact comes together.’
Maybe you can- 2862 words
* * *
Captain’s log: Stardate 56561.9. Vesta is in orbit of Traevis, a somewhat out of the way planet 390 light years from Earth. Until a few years ago the world was affiliated to the Klingon Empire (well for “affiliated to” read “subjugated by”) although even the Klingons didn’t pay it too much heed it seems, and once the Empire became embroiled in the war against the Dominion the Traevans were one of several races who took the opportunity to throw off the shackles of oppression. Strangely the Klingons let it go without a fight, and haven’t made any effort to retake the world now things have gotten back to normal.
Since Traevis sits close to the Federation border, Starfleet have being trying for about a year to enter into diplomatic relations, but it’s only in the last few days that they seem to have borne fruit- unfortunately Vesta was the closest ship so we have to be the ones to make first contact. I hate first contact missions, and I hate diplomacy. Luckily Commander Ishikawa feels quite the reverse so I’ve sent him!
* * * *
‘Look at that,’ said Lia K’Thell as the four of them stepped out of the shuttle before turning to regard their transportation in more detail.
The Type 7 shuttle’s usual white paintjob was obscured by a coating of thick, black dust. Lieutenant Commander Sen Gerrex walked up to it and, slipping his uniform sleeve up and over his hand, rubbed away a line of dust revealing part of the red stripe that swept along the shuttle’s flank. ‘I think it looks cool,’ he said as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Ishikawa looked skywards. ‘It would seem the smog layer in the upper atmosphere is actually thicker than our scans suggested. We were certainly correct to utilise the shuttle rather than the transporter.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said Raam, the hulking Capellan security officer who stood stoically off to one side, arms folded. ‘Given Lieutenant K’Thell’s crazy piloting I think I’d rather take my chances transporting back up again.’
‘Hey,’ yelped K’Thell. ‘You try flying through that level of turbulence.’
‘I’m sure I could, certainly I probably wouldn’t feel the need to fly upside down.’
‘He has a point,’ said Gerrex rubbing at his belly. ‘I thought I was gonna lose my lunch for a while there.’
‘Being upside down is good for you,’ argued the diminutive blue skinned pilot. ‘Sends blood to the brain and increases intelligence. Yulek knows some people could use the help.’
Ishikawa opened his mouth to correct her misconception but decided against it. It didn’t do to correct your wife too often. ‘Interesting place,’ he said instead, gesturing to the landing bay around them. ‘Is it just me, or does this look somewhat familiar?’
Gerrex was nodding. ‘Does look a little old school,’ he agreed.
The ground beneath them looked like concrete, pitted and scorched from use. The shuttle sat between two white painted lines. Stretching off left and right were more such lines. Some spaces were empty; others had a variety of shuttles and even wheeled vehicles in them.
‘This is a car park?’ said Ishikawa.
‘And that,’ said Gerrex pointing off towards a low wooden building nearby, ‘looks like a roadhouse.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Ishikawa.
‘Do you believe this is one of those worlds that has developed along Earth lines?’ said Raam. ‘That seems to happen a lot.’
‘Not as frequently as it used to,’ countered Ishikawa. ‘No, this is…this is something different. At least, given this world’s distance from Earth, I believe this is something different.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Oh dear,’ he said again.
‘Thank goodness y’all have come,’ came a voice from behind them. The owner of the voice was a slim young lady in her early twenties. Despite the cool air she was dressed in hot pants and a white halter top. Her hair was blonde and voluminous, seeming held in place by a significant amount of some kind of hair fixative. She’d have looked like a human woman from Earth’s past…if it weren’t for the bright orange skin and double slit mouth.
‘You have been expecting us?’ asked Ishikawa. They were supposed to be being met by a representative of the Government. That was supposed to be a man named Li however.
‘Well of course, sugar,’ she said, the words alternating between her two mouths. The effect was disconcerting to look at, but sounded natural at least.
‘Maybe I should handle this, Commander,’ said Gerrex, a somewhat lascivious smile on his lips. He was firmly in love with Susie, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t turn on the charm when he wanted too. He extended his hand. ‘My name’s Sen,’ he said.
She took his hand but looked somewhat confused for a moment, then she offered a sly smile. ‘Oh I see, I gotcha, code names.’
‘Code names?’ said Gerrex.
‘Young lady I do not believe we are who you take us to be,’ said Ishikawa, but he found he was addressing thin air, the Traevan had about faced and was now hurrying towards the roadhouse.
‘Come on, we gotta hurry!’ she called out over her shoulder.
‘Commander, what do we do?’ asked Gerrex.
‘I believe we should arm ourselves,’ offered Raam.
‘I think we should follow her,’ said K’Thell. ‘She seems nice.’
Ishikawa was by nature a cautious man, but he needed more information on the situation here, and that necessitated following the Traevan woman. Similarly arming themselves wasn’t a bad idea, but this was a First Contact situation, and that made it delicate, and guns were anything but delicate.
‘We follow,’ he said and strode off after the local.
* * *
Somehow none of them were especially surprised when they walked into the Roadhouse and discovered it full of Traevans dressed as humans. Nor were they surprised at the smell of stale beer that hung in the air between bars of mournful country and western music.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ muttered Ishikawa.
‘Hi,’ said the young woman who had reappeared from behind the bar. ‘Forgetting my manners, I’m Cindi,’ she said and wiped her hands on her shorts before offering it to Ishikawa. ‘You’re him aren’t ya, the leader?’
‘I am in command, yes,’ said Ishikawa.
‘Wow. Great disguise, I mean I knew ya dressed up as a Chinaman an all, but I never knew it would be so convincing.’
‘Actually I am Japanese.’
‘Say what now, honey?’
Ishikawa was about to explain when the doors to the roadhouse were violently shoved open and a gaggle of particularly rough looking (rougher even than usual) Klingons came in. For the most part they were huge, but one in particular looked more hulking than the rest. Suddenly Ishikawa wished he’d allowed them to grab their phasers.
At the appearance of the half dozen Klingons all chatter in the bar ceased, and a moment later the music died with the scratch of a needle.
Is it my imagination, thought Ishikawa, or is everyone moving away from us?
They were, even Cindi, and soon every last Traevan had backed away, leaving Ishikawa, Gerrex and K’Thell standing in a clear space, the floor covered in sawdust that Ishikawa suspected would soak up blood as easily as alcohol. He had just begun to ponder where Raam was when one of the Klingons (not the giant one at least) came up in his face and jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You’re the best mercenaries they could find?’ he said, following up the words with a guttural laugh. He looked up, focusing now on Cindi. ‘I told you, hand over the deeds to this place or I won’t be held responsible for what happens.’
‘No way,’ shouted Cindi defiantly. ‘My daddy built this place.’
‘And your daddy died here,’ said the lead Klingon. ‘Be a shame if you joined him.’
‘Is it my understanding,’ said Ishikawa. ‘That you are attempting to menace this young lady into giving you this establishment?’
The Klingon laughed again. ‘Get out of my way, little man,’ he said and went to dismissively swat Ishikawa away. Despite being a foot shorter however, Vesta’s first officer was no weakling; he deftly grabbed the Klingon’s hand and flipped him to the ground.
There was a collective gasp from the assembled Traevans, and even the Klingons seemed shocked…all except the really big Klingon. This monster of a man stepped forward, hair bound in filthy dreadlocks, scars crisscrossing his face. ‘You know,’ he said with an eloquence more befitting an eighteenth century dandy. ‘You have a very bad attitude.’
Someone tapped the Klingon on the shoulder. He turned to find Raam standing there. ‘Actually,’ said the Capellan. ‘I think you’ll find I’m the one with the bad attitude,’ he said, and swung a haymaker of a punch that collided with the Klingon’s jaw with considerable force.
The Klingon barely blinked. In reply he threw a punch of his own. Raam wasn’t knocked down, but he was pushed back and into the waiting arms of another Klingon.
Suddenly the air of expectation that had hung in the air broke, and a brawl broke out between the Klingons and the Starfleet away team.
Gerrex sensed movement behind him and turned fast. He was ready to lash out at his attacker until he realised it was a Klingon woman, gruff looking yes, but clearly a woman. Besides he was somewhat distracted by probably the largest cleavage he’d seen in a long while. While his chivalry, lust, and good sense fought over what action to take next, the Klingon kicked him somewhere no less painful for a Betazoid male than a human one.
With a warrior roar another Klingon went for K’Thell. She was too quick for him though, dropping to her knees and scrabbling under a table, emerging out the other side just as the Klingon smashed his fists through it, shattering it into a million pieces. Quick as a flash K’Thell jumped to her feet and hopped onto a still intact table, scooping up two large glass tankards as she went.
Even as the Klingon lifted himself up from the remains of the table K’Thell smashed both glasses against his head. ‘Aha! Take that!’ she yelled in triumph.
The Klingon shook his head, scattering tiny fragments of glass like raindrops. Then he looked at K’Thell and growled.
‘Oops,’ she managed to squeak as he snaked out a hand and grabbed her by the throat.
Ishikawa watched his wife hefted up from the table, saw his security chief crumple to the ground clutching at his groin, and watched as three Klingons piled onto Raam. He desperately wanted to help; unfortunately the Klingon he’d thrown to the floor had grabbed him now and pulled him down to the ground and into an impromptu wrestling match.
Ishikawa knew he could best the Klingon, wrestling was his forte after all, the question was: could he do so in time to save Lia?
Suddenly the question became irrelevant, because the chaos inside the roadhouse was ratcheted up by about a light-year…
First came a burst of (bizarrely) machinegun fire, but this was quickly drowned out by the crash as a bulldozer smashed through the wall of the roadhouse.
Despite the hairy Klingon arm wrapped around tight his neck, Ishikawa managed to look up, and was amazed to see a white haired human sat in the cab of the dozer. There was a lit cigar clamped between his teeth. ‘Sorry pals, the doors were locked so we had to crash the party,’ he seethed.
It was at this point that a wiry man in a baseball cap appeared by the side of Ishikawa’s head. ‘Excuse me, Sir,’ he said (sounding curiously like James Mason) ‘but is this man bothering you?’
Ishikawa nodded. ‘Just a bit,’ he gasped.
‘I thought so,’ intoned the faux Englishman. He then jabbed his fingers into the Klingons ribs and began to tickle him.
‘Agh, no, no, get off!’ shrieked the hardened warrior, releasing his grip on the Commander. Ishikawa took the opportunity to punch him into unconsciousness.
Raam was annoyed. He supposed he should be hurt too; these Klingons were punching him repeatedly in the face after all. He could deal with the pain though- pain was a comfort at times to a Capellan warrior- he just didn’t like not being able to return the favour.
He was pleased therefore when two of the Klingons holding him down were suddenly wrenched off their feet and hurled across the bar. This left only the giant Klingon who turned to see who had dispatched his men and found a stocky dark skinned human growling at him.
Raam was impressed at the newcomer’s physique, and he liked his Mohican (he had a huge ponytail after all so he liked ostentatious hairstyles) He wasn’t so keen on the profusion of gold jewellery however.
‘Who on earth are you?’ queried the curiously polite warrior.
‘Pain, sucker,’ said the human and punched the Klingon hard.
The big man stayed on his feet, but was pirouetted by the force of the blow. Handily this presented the newly freed Raam with an easy target, and he punched him too. For half a minute the two men took turns to pummel the giant Klingon until, eventually, one last punch from Raam was enough to drop him to his knees.
The Klingon who had K’Thell hoist into the air was too distracted by her squirming blue form to notice when a devilishly handsome man with a sparkling smile snuck up behind him and…well this is a family show, suffice to say that another Klingon joined the pile on the floor.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked K’Thell.
Vesta’s helmswoman swooned. ‘Oh I’m just dandy,’ she said until the (over) protective arm of her husband snaked around her waist.
Suddenly the Klingon woman was the only one of her group left, she crouched back, drew a d’k tahg dagger, and snarled.
‘Forget it lady,’ snarled the white haired man in reply, brandishing an old fashioned but deadly looking Ruger assault rifle.
The Klingon chuckled, with her free hand she slapped a com badge affixed to her arm and barked an order.
‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ said the man in the baseball cap. Suddenly his accent was American. ‘But if you’re trying to contact your bird of prey I should warn you…’ for a moment he stood there straight-faced. Then, all of a sudden, he began to dance. ‘I flew it into a planet,’ he sang.
‘Crazy fool,’ muttered the man with a Mohican.
‘Don’t worry,’ said white-hair. ‘Your buddies are all alive.’
‘Although they do reek a bit,’ smiled the handsome one. ‘Garbage planets are like that.’
‘We left you a shuttle, should take you a week to reach Klingon space,’ and the man with white hair brandished the rifle once more. ‘Don’t come back.’
Groggy, embarrassed, and vanquished the Klingons staggered to their feet and made a hasty exit.
‘You smashed a hole in my bar!’ shrieked Cindi.
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said the white haired man. ‘Face?’
The handsome guy was staring at a calculator now. ‘Well, once we factor in the cost of repairs against what we were paid…’ he sighed. ‘We owe Cindi three hundred dollars, Hannibal.’
Hannibal chuckled. ‘BA, start work on the wall.’
‘Ok but I don’t want Murdock helping me,’ said the man with the Mohican and half a ton of gold jewellery on his shoulders.
The crazy man in the baseball cap danced after him. ‘I can help, I can help, I can help…’
Ishikawa approached Hannibal. ‘Hannibal, Smith yes?’
He chuckled. ‘Heard of us, eh?’
Ishikawa sighed. ‘Yes, and I had feared this. You are, am I correct, The A-Team?’
‘Sort of,’ said the man named Face.
‘Clones?’ said K’Thell.
‘Androids?’ said Gerrex.
‘Hyper reality sentient stimulants,’ said Hannibal Smith.
‘Let me guess,’ said Ishikawa. ‘Television signals from an old Earth TV show inspired the Traevans to create the heroes needed to drive off the Klingons.’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Hannibal.
‘That makes sense. 390 light years, they’d be getting 1980’s TV shows. You’re not alone I take it?’
‘Oh no,’ said Face. He checked his watch. ‘In fact String should be blowing up another bunch of Klingons whilst we speak.’
‘And we got word from Devon that Michael had sorted out another group,’ added Hannibal. ‘That should just about have cleared the last damn Klingon on the planet.’
‘This isn’t good,’ said Gerrex. ‘Prime Directive and all that.’
Ishikawa shrugged. ‘Starfleet can hardly be held responsible for the actions of Stephen J Cannell. However I feel we should probably return to the ship and inform Starfleet before our diplomatic efforts go any further.’
‘Cool,’ said Smith, handing Ishikawa a cigar.
‘Do we have to fly back?’ asked Raam.
Face tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a beaker full of white liquid. ‘Glass of milk?’
‘Taka?’ said K’Thell as she watched her husband stare at the cigar.
Ishikawa looked up, clamped it between his teeth, and grinned. ‘I love it when a First Contact comes together.’
Last edited:
I think my head just exploded! 
