The Return of R'Dorko

By John Kanost & Gordon Scott

CAPTAIN'S LOG: STARDATE 37314.89: It has now been three months since our return to the Federation. Many things have happened; many changes have occurred in Lamefleet. Fleet Admiral Reenow, who was lost during the Lamulan Conflict one year ago, has been replaced by Admiral Zh'n't'p'f'sss, a Sorryan. It seems hard to believe that it was only a year ago--but that's probably due to the fact that I lived over ten actual years of my life in a destroyed universe that has only recently been restored... a fact known only to a select few. Now that the dreadnought Powerhouse is under Commodore Scot's capable command, Captain Finley has been given command of the destroyer Vengeance, and is now on patrol at the Clingon Neutral Zone with my old friend, Jean-Luc Kanost, and the dreadnought Nova-Scotia. My old "buddy-boy" Doctor Ron McDonalds has returned to the Benterprise as chief medical officer, but is currently on leave with his brother and sister. We are scheduled to pick him up at Kolestiraal Five, a vacation planet popular with the McPeople. There we will also rendezvous with the Powerhouse, which is picking up Doctor Bozo McDonalds, and begin our patrol.

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG: ENTRY NUMBER 512.9: Well, other than Doctor McDonalds' expected harassment of me and my bridge crew, I can foresee nothing unusual happening on this mission--looks as if we're in for smooth sailing...

END LOG ENTRY -- USS BENTERPRISE, NCC 1706-A -- ADMIRAL BENJAMIN T. AVERY, COMMANDING

Approximately four billion years before...

"Captain R'Dorko! I detect a distortion--approximately ten thousand kilometers ahead of us!" reported Lieutenant G'Reen.

"What?" exclaimed the captain, startled out of his reverie of three weeks by a new development. "Weapons officer, confirm!"

"Confirmed, captain," replied the raspy voice of Lieutenant K'Plunk. He was an older officer with many battle scars, one of which was a damaged larynx. "It is a subspace anomaly emitting irregular pulses of radiation. A wormhole, sir. We are on a collision course, ETA three minutes."

"And we can do nothing!" said the harsh, bitter voice belonging, of course, to Commander T'Singer, the first officer of the Bambi. Ever since they had been driven into the core of a nebulous infant star by the flathead scum, the ships of R'Dorko's Lamulan fleet had been totally without engine maneuverability, and they had all quickly drifted off in different directions. The Bambi had been drifting along on her present course for weeks... there was no way to stop her. "Curse those scum! This should not have been our--

T'Singer's voice was cut off by his captain. "No. It is... better. Better to perish here, now, with our honor intact. Would you have us drift through this barren space until our food runs out and we starve to death, waiting to die like a scharteth awaits its slaughter? Or even worse, until we all go mad and murder one another? No, T'Singer--it is far, far better this way."

"Yes, of course, Captain R'Dorko, sir. I--forgive me--

"No need. Prepare yourselves... we enter."

SHIP REPORT NUMBER 50065.0079 - ILV BIG BIRD - CAPTAIN T'SPAK, COMMANDING: Standard scientific investigation of subspace anomaly number 1049 proceeding as planned. Science officer R'Geek notes unusual time-wave distortion effect never previously encountered with wormholes of this type. In my opinion, of no importance. We shall move on as soon as required monitoring time is fulfilled.

***PERSONAL NOTE*** I grow weary of patrol duty! This scientific investigation protocol is a foolish waste of time. Unusual readings from a wormhole aren't going to help us win any wars. I'd like to get my sights on some Fed scumbags and make some action!

END OF ENTRY - ILV BIG BIRD - CAPTAIN T'SPAK, COMMANDING

Captain T'Spak leaned back in his command chair, only to once again have his sensitive Lamulan nerves grated upon by the incessant voice of science officer R'Geek.

"What is it now, sub-lieutenant?" demanded T'Spak. "More of your silly distortions?"

"Yes captain! But--there is a change! Something happening! Something is emerging from the wormhole! It--Captain! It appears to be a vessel!"

"Aaah... this is the life." Ron McDonalds picked up a Big Mac in one hand and a supersized Coke in the other. He, Bozo, and ClaraBelle were sitting on a beach of the Fahgt Continent, near the equator of Kolestiraal V. Clarabelle had brought along a wide selection of McPlanet foods: fries, Big Macs, Quarter Pounders, apple McPies, Cokes, and McDonaldland Cookies. All were having a wonderful time eating, joking, and doing whatever else McPeople do to enjoy a day at the beach, when Clarabelle spoke.

"Boys, I have a question for you two."

"Yes?" came the reply.

"What would you guys do if a really close friend of yours was thinking about joining Lamefleet?" Bozo and Ron thought for a moment, then answered simultaneously:

"Another doctor in Lamefleet could be an asset!"

"Officers who truly appreciate the importance of a good, hearty McMeal before an operation are sorely needed!" exclaimed Bozo.

"Not like those stuffed shirts who believe in eating tofu all day! That's the worst stuff! Believe me, I know!" said Ron.

"Good!" said Clarabelle. "I'm glad you feel that way! It wasn't actually a friend I was thinking of at all! Boys, I've been accepted to Lamefleet Academy!"

"Taking up the family business!" shouted Bozo.

"Becoming a ship's doctor like the hundreds of McDonalds before us!" yelled Ron. "We're so proud!"

"Well... not exactly a... doctor..."

"A counselor, then?" queried Bozo.

"No..."

"A chief of recreation!" supplied Ron.

"Well, no, I--

"A barber?" asked both in unison.

"No, nothing like that," came the reply. "I've been accepted to Lamefleet Command School! I'm going to be a CAPTAIN someday!"

"WHHHAAAAAATTTT?"

Captain Scot strode onto the bridge of the Powerhouse.

"Report!" Lieutenant Commander T's'p'k'lk'd'r'p's'n'm'f'z'tk'a, who had recently received a demotion for his behavior unbecoming an officer during the absence of Scot, looked down at his keypadd.

"Sir, the Gungthangian Zipthaynge beasts are secure for transport to Krodos XI, and the last shipment of Mydakingese Bastroff grain is being transported into the holds as we speak."

"Confirmashon! No trepidashon this locashon!" said Cajun Mann.

"What about the Aldebarak Death Mosquito anti-venom shipment?"

"On schedule as planned," said T's'p'k'lk'd'r'p's'n'm'f'z'tk'a. "We anticipate smooth sailing from here on out."

"Good." Scot abruptly plopped down into his command chair. BBBTTTTHHHBBBBTTTT! Scot pulled a deflated whoopee cushion from beneath him and called to sickbay. "Bridge to Doctor McDonalds--

"He's not here! Still on shore leave," exclaimed Ensign Blindasabat, the medical officer on duty. "May I take a message? Or perhaps your order, sir? I hear the salads are extremely fresh."

"No thank you, Mr. Blindasabat," said Scot. "Just recall Doctor Bozo so we can get on with the stor--er, with our mission."

"Aye, sir!" Scot sighed. It looked as though this command was going to be as... interesting... as the previous one. Seconds later, the Powerhouse was speeding towards Kolestiraal V.

SHIP REPORT NUMBER 50165.1208 - ILV BIG BIRD - CAPTAIN T'SPAK, COMMANDING: It would appear that our investigation of subspace anomaly 1049 has not been as pointless as I had previously thought. Upon closer investigation, we have discovered Captain R'Dorko and the Bambi, apparently all that is left of the failed Federation offensive of one year ago. The vessel emerged from the anomaly at 1308.32 hours and drifted toward us. Upon scanning, we discovered life signs and took her in tow. We are now en route to Lamulus under Captain R'Dorko’s orders. He seems reluctant to disclose any details concerning the whereabouts of the rest of the missing fleet, or where his ship and crew have been for the past year. I suspect he wishes to report directly to the Praetorian Council.

END OF ENTRY - ILV BIG BIRD - CAPTAIN T'SPAK, COMMANDING

Captain T'Spak looked up from his log recorder to gaze upon the broad back of R'Dorko, who was standing in from of the viewscreen, his gaze fixed upon the depressing image of his battered ship, held in the Big Bird's tractor beam. Without turning, R'Dorko spoke to T'Spooner, the navigator of the Big Bird.

"Subcommander, what is our ETA at Lamulus?" T'Spak was intrigued that the man's voice still radiated confidence, despite what he had gone through... and what he would yet suffer. For surely, the anger of the Praetor would likely vent itself on R'Dorko. The supreme ruler of the Lamulan Empire did not take failure lightly.

"At farp wive... expected arrive of timal at Lusulame is ix sours, four-two-tee minutes, Captain D'Rorko, sir," reported T'Spooner.

"Hmmm..." R'Dorko still did not turn, but kept his gaze, and his mysterious thoughts, on the Bambi. "Increase speed to warp seven."

T'Spak gazed at the man whose tactical strategies he had studied in command school, attempting to divine the nature of R'Dorko's thoughts.

"What next, warrior? How will you get out of this one?"

"Welcome aboard, doctor!"

The Benterprise, in orbit around Kolestiraal V, had arrived to pick up Doctor McDonalds, the chief medical officer, who was returning from shore leave.

"It's good to see you again, doctor!" As captain of the ship, Admiral Avery was there to welcome the doctor aboard.

"Aw, go eat tofu, you second-cousin to a greaseless fry-cooker!" Ben's mouth dropped like a ton of bricks. Ron had just used the worst insult known to McPerson vocabulary! Ben was shocked!

"Ron! What's wrong with you? Didn't you have a good vacation?"

"Oh cursin' cholesterol counts! Just leave me alone, Avery!" Ron shouted, and then stormed out of the transporter room angrily. Ben was now completely astonished. For as long as he could remember, Ron had never called him by his last name! It was always "Benny-boy."

"What's gotten into him?" said Ben, to no one in particular.

Meanwhile, on the surface of Kolestiraal V...

Clarabelle packed the last of her suitcases--she had twelve in all--into her Mini-McShip, and began to seal the airtight hatches. It was a difficult task to perform through the hot, angry tears that burned in her eyes.

"You would think," she muttered angrily, "that a girl would at least get some support from her own brothers!" Finishing the last seal, she climbed into the hatch and sat in the pilot's seat, preparing to take off. Upon hearing her excited announcement that she was entering Lamefleet Command School, both Ron and Bozo had reacted entirely opposite to what she had expected. Instead of being glad for her and offering to take her out for a shake, they had immediately begun trying to talk her out of it. And they hadn't let up until moments before when they had left for their respective ships.

"I don't care what they think! I'm going to be a captain, with my own starship, just like Avery, Scot, and Kanost! They’ll see the light, just as soon as I've made a name for myself!" Clarabelle took comfort in that thought.

"Just think... Captain Clarabelle McDonalds!"

On the planet Lamulus, in the center of the Lamulan capital, in the heart of the Praetorian Council chambers...

Captain R'Dorko, surrounded by the Lamulan Senate, stood before the high seat of the President of the Council, His Excellency, Ch'Riak the Ninth, Praetor and Emperor of the Lamulan Star Empire. At the rear of the great chamber, Captain T'Spak observed the proceedings with keen interest. He had pulled some strings with a senator he knew in order to be allowed to attend R'Dorko's inquisition. Near T'Spak were seated R'Dorko’s bridge crew: T'Singer, K'Plunk, G'Reen... all were there. The Praetor spoke.

"Explain to us, Captain, how you led your entire fleet to defeat at the hands of the Federation. Explain to us why you alone have survived this debacle! Choose your words carefully, R'Dorko. Your career--and perhaps your very life--hang in the balance." As R'Dorko began his defense, T'Spak leaned forward with interest.

"As you know, Your Excellency, our initial attack against the main body of the Federation fleet was highly successful. We obliterated the forces of Fleet Admiral Reenow, and then prepared to cross the neutral zone at the juncture of our empire, the Federation, and the Clingon Empire. A second Fed fleet arrived and attempted to halt us with a tephlon field designed to detect our cloaked vessels. We, however, outnumbered them, and when a small Clingon fleet arrived on the scene, we attacked simultaneously. The Lamefleet vessels retreated, and we observed while the Clingons gave pursuit. Soon after, the Clingon vessels mysteriously disappeared, so we crossed the zone and tracked the Federation fleet to the McSun system, where we were lured into a time warp as we pursued them."

"Do you expect the Emperor to listen to such drivel?" interrupted V'Ruhm, a senator who had opposed R'Dorko in the past. "Your crackpot story is--

"Silence, Senator!" commanded Ch'Riak, astonishing everyone, including R'Dorko. "Tests have been conducted on the hull of the Bambi which confirm that the ship has been subjected to the rigors of time warp travel. There is also the fact of the Bambi's unusual return to us to substantiate R'Dorko's story." V'Ruhm was seated, and then the Praetor motioned to Captain R'Dorko to resume his narrative. With renewed confidence, he continued.

"Our instruments indicated that we had traveled back approximately four billion years into the past. We scarcely had time to register this fact, however, for the Lamefleet cowards finally decided to turn and fight. I ordered our fleet to return fire, but to stay clear of the nebulous, infant star we had slingshot around. The battle was going well, and victory would certainly have been ours. Although we had lost the Photonfodder, one of our frigates, I had ordered a full alpha strike on their flagship that would have certainly overwhelmed it and secured us the victory. Then--

R'Dorko paused for dramatic effect, and then lifted a single, accusatory finger... pointed directly at Lieutenant G'Reen.

"Then, this incompetent fool of a navigator chose the key moment in our battle to dive us directly into the heart of the nebula! The entire fleet followed us in, acting on my previous orders, and every single engine was rendered inoperational by the elemental forces within the nebula! Lieutenant G'Reen is responsible for our defeat! He is the traitor who secured victory for our enemies!"

G'Reen leapt to his feet, aghast! The look of surprise on his face quickly changed to one of anger as he whipped out a concealed phaser and leveled it at R'Dorko.

"I suspected you would try to put the blame of your failure on me, Captain! Well, I may be stripped of my rank, honor, and career, but I shall deprive you of your life!" ranted G'Reen. Suddenly, as G'Reen's finger began to close on the trigger of his weapon, his midsection burst into green flame! Dropping his weapon, G'Reen howled in rage and agony as the phased energy beam vaporized him from the inside out.

"Good work, T'Spak," said R'Dorko. The captain of the Big Bird bowed shortly.

"A pleasure, Captain," he said as he re-holstered his phaser.

All charges against R'Dorko were dropped.

Meanwhile, on the Powerhouse...

"Security! Deck five! Emergency!" Security Chief Playodoh started as Lieutenant Smalley's voice blared over the comm network. Playodoh, the only known member of an undiscovered race of metamorphs, was not surprised by much, but so seldom did Stuart's voice carry such urgency that he instantly knew that this was no mere Ho-Ho shortage in ship's stores. Playodoh instantly sprang for the turbolift, closely followed by Commodore Scot, who had heard the communique as well. As the commodore left the bridge he shouted out his orders behind him.

"Commander Rowe, you have the con!" The turbolift doors snapped shut. As the lift descended, Playodoh spoke to Commodore Scot.

"I don't understand... deck five is command quarters!"

"I'm not entirely certain of the nature of the problem myself, Mr Playodoh, but set your phaser on stun just in case there is any trouble." After a few moments, the lift slowed down, stopped, and the doors parted to reveal the corridors of deck five. The commodore and the chief of security quickly walked down the hallway until they located Lieutenant Smalley. He was standing in front of Doctor Bozo McDonalds' quarters, phaser drawn and ready to break down the door!

"Report!" snapped Scot.

"Sir, the good doctor has sealed himself up in his quarters and refuses to come out!"

It was at this point that Scot noticed the horrible sounds emerging from the door into the hallway... the sounds of things being flung across the room and shattering echoed throughout the deck. A steady, wailing scream could be heard from within.

"Doctor McDonalds, open the door!" ordered Scot. The destructive sounds ceased for moment as Bozo yelled a reply.

"WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT?"

"Doctor, open the door or we'll break it down!" shouted Playodoh, but to no effect. The crashing sounds continued.

"Break down the door at once!" ordered Scot.

Across the known galaxy, it is generally considered very rude for one to break their way into another's room, especially when the room in question has been locked by its occupant to prevent entrance. A major exception to this rule is the mating ritual of the Oortag Doorknob Leeches of the Swamps of Alfdebar on Oortag IX, which involves the practice of "chamber-bursting." Another exception involves the Zantian Air Dragons, who own no locks, doors, or rooms to break into. Interviews with the Zantians reveal, however, that it is widely accepted among members of their species that had they owned locks, doors, and rooms, they would consider such an infraction punishable only by death.

Finally, the door flew open under the insistent pounding of Smalley and Commander Playodoh, and Commodore Scot cautiously entered the room. He found it in shambles, everything smashed to pieces on the floor, and with various items of McDonalds carryout stuck to the walls and ceiling. In the corner, Bozo sat weeping, his nose a brilliant shade of purple.

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