Author’s Note: This story was originally based on the Original Series episode called “Wink of an Eye,” in which Kirk’s metabolism becomes accelerated after drinking water from a local planet. Having never seen the episode, my storyline is probably nothing like it, and it has taken a life of it’s own. At nine pages, it is also the longest Trek Coronary yet by two pages. Enjoy! ☺
There is nothing more peaceful than sitting down and scanning a nearby meteor cluster. Or, to some officers, nothing more stupid.
“Pardon me, Captain, but might I inquire what you are doing?” Spock asked quietly.
“You might.” Kirk responded, flicking another switch on the console.
Spock waited a reasonable amount of time. “What are you doing, you idiot?”
Kirk turned to him. “What does it look like I’m doing? I am scanning the nearby meteor cluster! We are in the middle of traveling, I don’t want to sit in my seat and do nothing the entire time. What makes you think that you can call your captain an idiot?!”
“That is the helm.” Spock explained tactfully. “There is no way to scan the meteor cluster from there.”
Kirk paused for a moment. “The helm, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Spock agreed.
“I thought it was taking us a long time to get results. What a waste of three hours!” Kirk said softly.
“Now if you could graciously give the helm back to Mr. Sulu without a fuss...” Spock prodded.
“What do I do on this ship, Spock?” Kirk demanded. “When the Klingons attack, I slay the Klingons. When the Romulans attack the ship, I slay the Romulans. When the Admirals inspect the ship I... I...”
“Slay the Admirals?” Spock provided.
“Right, I slay the Admirals!” Kirk agreed. “And when the babes board the ships I...”
“Ultimately fail.” Spock stated.
“Exactly!” Kirk exclaimed. “Kirk is useful for many things. But what about in between missions? What good is Kirk when we are going from one place to another?”
Spock paused for a long moment. “For once you have a point.”
“Thank you!” Kirk said. “I’ve entered my captain’s log, I’ve paraded around the ship twice without my shirt hoping for some kind of reaction besides being called a... a...”
“A mendicant? A pervert?” Spock suggested.
“That too!” Kirk agreed. “So what am I supposed to do now?!”
Spock thought for a moment. “Perhaps there is something else on the ship you would be more suited to doing than assisting in the science department.”
Kirk glared at Spock as he stalked off the bridge. “How dare that mendicant call me a... uh... what did he call me? Oh, I remember, he called me an idiot! Actually, I am good at many things!”
“I am a good eater, I am a good carrier of things on my head, I am a good seducer of women, I am a good deliverer, I am a good... what are you doing?!” Kirk asked, grabbing a passing Ensign.
“Delivering a report.” The Ensign answered quickly in fright.
“I am a good delivering-a-report person!” Kirk exclaimed. “Do you have a job for me?”
“Can you beat time limits?” The Ensign asked nervously.
“I can beat anyone!” Kirk agreed, pulling out his baseball bat and thumping a nearby unfortunate crewmember. “Do you have a job for me?”
The Ensign gulped. “Uhhh... you don’t want to work with me. You want to work in engineering!”
Kirk strolled off in the direction of sickbay. “I don’t want to work with you, I want to work in engineering! I do?”
The doors to engineering chimed as they opened. “Fat Scotty, just the... err... man? I wanted to see!”
Fat Scotty wobbled over from a nearby console. “Look capten, I know ye demanded the warp core analysis by yesterday afternoon, but if ye don’t stop complaining an’ prodding an’ not letting me do mae work, then ye’ll find yeself with a warp core shoved up your own analysis!”
Kirk blinked in slight surprise. “Analysis? What warp core analysis?”
Fat Scotty quickly changed the subject. “What can I do for ye, captain? If ye are indeed here for a reason?”
“Actually, I do have a reason!” Kirk remembered. “I was bored on the bridge, and I wanted something to do!”
“Do ye now?” Fat Scotty asked. “Now do ye seem to remember the last time ye were in engineering, what did ye replace the dilithium crystals with?”
Kirk looked ashamed. “The spare packet of crispies from your office, I know, I know.”
“Well if ye do know so well how every crispie is sacred, I think ye will understand why I wouldn’t let ye anywhere near engineering if it was shoved up ye ass 24 hours a day.” Fat Scotty said in a patronizing manner.
“You’re just going to send me away?” Kirk asked, feeling tears well up in his eyes.
“Nae, Sonny Jim.” Fat Scotty said, patting the captain on the back. He offered the captain an empty cup. “I have a job that even you cannot botch up! Go and fetch me a drink of water!”
Kirk grinned. “This is very easy!” He said, snatching the cup. “Kirk is a very good water-fetcher!”
Two hours later...
“Fat Scotty, I have your glass of water!” Kirk yelled, running into engineering and waving the cup around proudly. “Here is your water! What do I do next?!”
Fat Scotty silently took the cup and took a long gulp.
“I am very smart!” Kirk continued. “There was a long line to get anything from the replicators so I beamed down to a nearby planet and got it from the pond!”
Fat Scotty spat out the water in disgust. “Would that be the planet Scalos?! Where one drink of the water can hyperaccelerate ye metabolism!?”
“But there was no line...” Kirk said meekly. “You want another glass of water from there?”
“That water is poison!” Fat Scotty yelled, throwing the cup at Kirk. “Get me a clean cup of water!”
He is so fussy!“ Kirk muttered as he walked into the mess hall and up to the replicator. ”So the water hyperaccumulates your medicine, so what? Does that mean it is unfit for drinking?”
“Hey!” An Ensign yelled, elbowing Kirk out of the way. “There is a two-hour wait to use the replicators. Go to the end of the line!”
“But I only want a glass of water.” Kirk replied.
“That is all any of these people want.” The Ensign replied.
Kirk looked around. “The line is so long. Why are there so few replicators?”
“There are so few replicators because of the resource allocation department at Starfleet Headquarters.” The Ensign continued to complain. “They took most of our replicators and gave them to others.”
Kirk crossed his arms defiantly. “I am not going to wait for two hours for a glass of water! My time is too valuable!”
“Then why are you performing a menial task like fetching a glass of water?” The Ensign asked.
“I have never been to Starfleet Headquarters but I am mad at them for taking away so many replicators!” Kirk continued. “Do they not know that there are thirsty people on the Enterprise!? I will show them!”
Two weeks later...
Kirk glared as he walked into the resource allocation department. “Imagine, causing people to wait for hours, to get water! Well, I am showing them!”
He walked straight up to a replicator. “One glass of water, please.”
Kirk grabbed the glass of water and turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute!” Kirk exclaimed. “The resource allocation department needs a lesson!” He walked up to the reception desk. “Hey, resource allocation person! You replicator users! The crew of the Enterprise do not have enough replicators!”
“That is their problem!” One of the snooty receptionists replied. “What are you going to do about it, mendicant?”
Kirk pulled out his baseball bat in anger and began thumping the receptionist in the head. “I am going to do this about it! Any questions!?”
I have no questions!“ The receptionist yelled. ”No questions here! Stop it! The replicators are needed elsewhere! There are places that have more people, they are not wasted! They are used for galactic provisions!”
“You should use them instead for providing food!” Kirk glared.
“We do, you ignoramus! You mendicant!” The receptionist yelled. “It’s the people who make the decisions that don’t know its value!”
Kirk casually put away his bat. “Did I err?”
“You certainly did!” The receptionist yelled. “People have complained about the replicator allocations, but without results!”
“But you are not Kirk!” Kirk said with determination. “And Kirk gets results!”
“If you want to try, be my guest.” The receptionist said.
“Fine then!” Kirk said. “In that case, I demand you stop wasting so many replicators!”
“You want the department of resource allocation, right down the hall.” The receptionist replied calmly, handing Kirk a form.
“I knew that!” Said Kirk, snatching the form and stalking off. “I was just practising on you!”
Department of Resource Allocation...
Kirk slammed his form on the desk. “I demand that you stop wasting ...”
“You want the Replicator Planning Commission.” The lady said, stamping Kirk’s form. “Upstairs.”
Replicator Planning Commission...
Kirk slammed his form on the desk again. “I demand that you stop...”
“Go into that room and wait until your name is called.” The man said, stamping Kirk’s form.
“Kirk does not let anyone call him names!” Kirk stated defiantly, thumbing himself in the chest. He walked through to the main door.
“Hey you!” One of the waiting people yelled.
“Wait your turn!” Another demanded.
“We were all ahead of you!” A third chimed in.
“You are all ahead of me, you say?” Kirk said angrily, reaching for his baseball bat. “Let me ask about it my way...”
He pulled out the bat and swung it around. “Who is ahead of me!?”
“No one! You are next! Boy, are you next!”
Kirk barged through the door. “I am next, no matter how many are ahead of me, I am next! And since I am next, I have a complaint about replicators!”
“Replicator matters are handled by the Office of Utility Regulation!” The man said calmly. “Down two flights, make a left, up one flight, turn right, and knock on the big oak door.”
Some time later...
“Down a flight... no, down two flights... make a left... or was it a right? No, I knock down a big oak door...”
Kirk looked at the nearest oak door with a determined look on his face and kicked it in. “Is this the Office of Utility Regulation!?” He demanded.
“Yes.” The man behind the desk said in a worried voice.
“How did that happen?” Kirk wondered aloud. “I have a complaint about wasted replicators.”
“Waster replicator demands are handled by the Department of Complaints.” The man said, handing back Kirk his form.
Kirk stormed up the stairs and handed his form to the lady in the Department of Complaints.
“In order to petition to the Department of Complaints, you need a permit from the Federation Council.” He was told curtly.
Kirk wandered through all the other bemused and lost people.
“Is this where I get a permit from the Federation Council?” He asked.
“This is the correct office.” The man told him. “But for this complaint, you need to go to the Department of Really Serious Complaints.”
Kirk fumed in frustration, and pulled out his baseball bat.
Two minutes later, after the dust and the paper had settled...
“Uh... in light of the urgency of your complaint, we will dispense with the paperwork!” One of the men submitted.
“What do you want!?” Another man asked.
“Water!” Kirk said, waving his bat around. “I want water! This all started when I went out to get a glass of water! That was all I wanted... a simple glass of water... they made me go from office to office... upstairs, downstairs, from place to place, this city has so many replicators, while the Enterprise...”
“Here is your glass of water.” A lady said hurriedly, thrusting it into his hands.
“Yes!” Kirk said, letting a smile go across his face. “This is what I went out to get! I shall take it back to Fat Scotty! Since I have been gone for nearly three weeks he must be really thirsty and... HEY!”
Kirk ran back into the offices. “Kirk needs no one to confuse him! I am sick of going from office to office! What do I do now!?”
“You go to the Bureau of Complaints about Bureaucracy!” One lady said. “Take a left, go down three flights...”
Kirk stormed out of the office. “I am going to the top!”
Some time later...
Kirk arrived in front of the Council brandishing his bat and dragging four security officers. “You are the President!? I have a complaint about replicators being wasted!” He said in a furious tone.
The President jumped back. “Fear not, man! I will see that it is handled!! You need to go to the Department of Resource Allocation!”
“Save your President!” The President yelled, running from the building with Kirk chasing him. “Somebody, come and save your President!”
“I just wanted to complain about the replicator wasting!” Kirk yelled as he chased him. “If you don’t do anything I’ll rip my shirt! Don’t make me do that!!”
“Oh, that is simple!” The President assured him. “I will take you to the Department of Resource Allocation myself and show you!”
The President strolled into the reception. “This man has a complaint about our replicator allocation!” The President said, pointing at Kirk.
“That can be easily handled, Mr. President.” The receptionist assured him nervously. He handed him a form. “Go to the Department of Resource Allocation, they will send you to the Replicator Planning Commission...”
“I am the President!” The President fumed. “I do not have to go through such silly channels!”
“The President’s complaints must be handled by the Board of Regents.” One of the receptionists said.
“But first, the Department of Civic Priorities has to approve it.” Another agreed.
“Then you go to the Decree Council and they issue you a yellow form...” A third added.
“We have to simplify the matter!” The President urged.
“You could petition the Department of Government Simplification.” One man suggested.
“At one of their 47 offices.” Another chimed in.
“Enough!!” Kirk yelled in frustration. “Kirk can fight Klingons! Kirk can fight Romulans! But Kirk cannot fight this!”
“You really do all those things?” One of the receptionists asked in disbelief. “You need a permit to fight Klingons, a license to fight Romulans...”
“Arrrrgggghhhh!!!” Kirk yelled. “I have been all over this building and not even found where they control the replicators!”
“Is that all you want!?” The man asked. “I can show you! Follow me!”
“I do not need a following permit?” Kirk asked skeptically.
“Not on Thursdays.” The man assured him.
Some time later...
The man led Kirk into a large warehouse. “This is where we load the replicators into cargo ships to be delivered to wherever they are needed.”
“I am in need, and I shall deliver!” Kirk said in a determined manner.
“Hey!” A worker yelled out, running up and stopping Kirk. “If you want to be in here, you will have show me a permit!”
Kirk hit him with his baseball bat.
“Or that...” the worker continued. “That is just as good as a permit, maybe better!”
“I shall load up a transport with replicators and take them back to the Enterprise!” Kirk said, grabbing a replicator box. “You, worker, assist me!”
“No!” The worker disagreed. You cannot do that without a permit!”
Kirk brandished his baseball bat.
“Or that!” The worker quickly agreed, loading up the transport. “I forgot you had that!”
Kirk jumped in the full transport and blasted out the main doors.
“You need a blue form for this!” The worker yelled after him.
“Well, look who’s back!” Fat Scotty said, as Kirk parked the transport in the shuttlebay and stepped out. "After 5 weeks, look who’s here, good ol’ Sonny Jim. And without my water, of course. Jimmy, ye are the most incompetent oaf I have ever seen. Where the water I sent ye to fetch!?
“Well you see...” Kirk began.
“Speak up, ye mendicant!” Fat Scotty said, opening up the back of the transport. “Where is the water!?”
A huge pile of replicators fell out of the transport onto Fat Scotty, burying part of him at least. Kirk walked up to them and pressed a few buttons.
“Here is your water.” Kirk said with a smile. “You wanted water, I got you water. You didn’t say in five minutes...”
Kirk’s Final Thought: Once I returned back to the bridge, Spock informed me that widespread famine had broken out on three different planets, due to insufficient replicators. I remained tactfully silent on the entire matter. The moral? The surest path to chaos is too much organization.