Scottie’s Log, 2550:
We appear to be stranded somewhere in the Vega system.
3 suns and boy it is hot.
Course, Kirk has had his shirt off since we landed on this damned planet, prancing around in his nylon Speedos.
He is always on the prowl – even now.
I messed around with the Dilithium Crystal configs and blew the life support system, so everyone is pissed at me.
The captain especially.
They forget the time I pulled us off Tantalus before its 2 suns simultaneously exploded.
Or the million times I’ve warp sped away from enemy pursuit.
No one notices me until something goes wrong.
Maybe Kirk is getting newly laid every week, smooching with every pretty yeoman that gets beamed aboard; not me.
New planets, new women for the captain.
I’m not sure if I’m mad because I’m jealous or because he’s a bastard.
But I do love him – loved him since we met at the academy.
Will I die out here in space? So far from my home – away from everything I have ever known – green hills, rocky cliffs, Mary MacDuff’s blue eyes.
Must I go on?
Can I bear this heavy load alone?
Too much time by myself in the basement of the Enterprise.
Too much time waiting for something to go wrong.
Too much time.
When will the luck go my way?
Back to the pickle I have got us in; as soon we’re off again, I’ll be off the hook – until next time.