It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, it wasn’t really stormy, but that clichéd opening had to be used at some point.
A black nondescript van pulled up to an abandoned building. Several large and heavily-armed individuals (also clad entirely in black) exited the front of the van and made their way to the back. Opening it up, they dragged a poor disheveled man out of the back.
The man took one look at the abandoned building and cringed. It was indeed a sinister and foreboding structure; a place that looked like it had once been host to a thousand terrors.
There was little time to dwell on that, as the man was dragged into the building and down into its basement. He was dropped to the floor once they entered a particularly-rundown room.
A rather authoritative voice came from the opposite side of the room. “How good of you to join us this evening.”
The disheveled man stumbled to his feet. “It’s not like I had much of a choice, being kidnapped by your generic flunkies and all.”
At which point one of the heavily-armed generic flunkies responded, “We prefer the term nondescript mercenaries.”
The authoritative voice continued. “Enough. You are the author of Star Trek: Series ?, correct?”
The man, who was indeed the author of this very poorly-written fan fiction, stared coldly into the darkness at the man he could just barely see. “I’m not telling you anything until you tell me where I am, who you are, and what I’m doing here.”
“Fair enough. You are currently located in the ‘former’ home of the United Paramount Network.”
It took a moment for that statement to sink into the author’s mind. “United Para... Wait, UPN? That explains why this place looks like it was host to a thousand terrors.”
“Indeed, for we are, in fact...”
The lights came on, blinding the author momentarily.
“...THE SHADOWY BOARD OF UPN EXECUTIVES!”
The author squinted at the figures seated around a large boardroom table. “And clearly modeled after the Secret Board of Shadowy Figures from Clone High, apparently.”
The Shadowy Board of UPN Executives were indeed all dressed in pseudo-military garb. The executive sitting at the center of the table, who had been the one speaking previously, continued. “Good show. Pity it got cancelled.”
“But wait... UPN executives? How are you all UPN executives? UPN ceased to exist years ago.”
“THAT’S WHAT WE WANT YOU TO THINK! We orchestrated the ‘death’ of UPN years ago in preparation of our most insidious plan ever!”
“To lull the world into a false sense of security. Billions sleep soundly; comforted by the fact that the horrors of UPN programming have vanished from the face of the earth. But when we unleash a new UPN upon an unsuspecting populace, we will use the planet-wide chaos to seize control of the world!”
“That has got to be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of. So where exactly do I fit into this lunacy?”
“We need a new flagship program for our new UPN. A show so horrific that to look upon even a screencap is to invite madness! And the only show that could possibly fit the bill is another wretched Star Trek spin-off! And not just any spin-off... A Series ? SPINOFF!”
“You fiend! I’ll never write a spin-off for you!”
“You mean other than the fact that it would be part of an insidious world domination plot?”
“Yes, besides that.”
“You do realize that it’s taken me years just to write this very episode, right? I’m just not feeling very inspired lately.”
“We’ll pay you ten times what you’re making now, plus all the curry you can eat.”
“HELLO WORLD DOMINATION! Just point me towards the nearest computer!”
“We’ll want three proposals for possible spin-offs by the end of the week.”
“Three proposals for possible spin-offs... Say, aren’t we ripping off a Simpsons episode or something with that?”
“Yes. Yes we are.”
And with that, our intrepid author began working on three curry-fueled lunacies not fit for man nor beast...
Spin-Off Proposal #1: I Love Galvy
Galvatron slumped in his armchair, looking quite depressed. Suddenly, the room started shaking horribly.
The door to the quarters he shared with his wife suddenly exploded, with the two crumpled halves just narrowly avoiding Galvatron. The massive hulking form of Robo-Nechayev then stormed into the room. GALVY, I’M HOME!
Galvatron merely looked at the two chunks of twisted metal on the floor. “You do realize that there’s a button that opens that door, right?”
PRESSING THE BUTTON AND WAITING FOR THE DOORS TO OPEN WASTES TOO MUCH OF THE ROBO-NECHAYEV’S TIME.
Robo-Nechayev stomped into the room, noticing her husband’s lethargy. DID YOU EVEN DO ANYTHING TODAY?
Galvatron shook his head. “Why bother? I’ve lost the urge to laugh maniacally, and without that, I’m nothing.”
WHY DON’T YOU GO VISIT YOUR FRIEND PRIME?
Galvatron merely lowered his eyes.
YOU’RE NOT STILL LETTING REVENGE OF THE FALLEN GET TO YOU, ARE YOU?
“I can’t help it! Every time I see Prime, all I can think of is him screaming ‘GIVE ME YOUR FACE’!”
Robo-Nechayev hoisted Galvatron up and tossed him like a ragdoll through the wreckage of their front door. GO DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! SO COMMANDS THE ROBO-NECHAYEV!
Knowing that it would be unwise to disobey his wife, Galvatron began walking around the Master Temporal Observatory. He eventually found himself in front of Optimus Prime’s quarters, and after taking a deep breath, rang the door bell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. Prime leapt at Galvatron, screaming “GIVE ME YOUR FACE!”
Galvatron clutched his chest and fell backwards. His color of his metallic body went from purple to gray, indicating that he had actually died of fright.
Prime stepped out into the hallway. Concerned passers-by were already beginning to gather around the corpse. Knowing that he would get blasted to smithereens by Robo-Nechayev if he did nothing, he whipped out the Matrix of Leadership. Several seconds (and several verses of “The Touch”) later, Galvatron was alive again.
Galvatron stumbled to his feet and slapped Prime on the shoulder. “Good one!”
Prime rolled his optic sensors. “Hate to kill you, resurrect you, and run, but I’ve got a job to get to.”
“No, as much as I hate to admit it, without your maniacal laughter, Bwahahahaha.com doesn’t want us for commercials anymore. I had to get a job at the chocolate factory.”
“Aboard Starfleet’s Master Temporal Observatory?”
Galvatron sheepishly asked, “Mind if I tag along? I’d go home, but I have a strict policy against dying more than once per day.”
Taking pity on his obviously-depressed nemesis, Prime motioned for Galvatron to follow him to work...
A short time later, Prime took his place beside an assembly line. Galvatron looked about, with a look of mild confusion on his face.
Prime finally asked, “What?”
“You said this is a chocolate factory, right?”
“But... Where are the Oompa-Loompas?”
Prime hadn’t the time to respond to Galvatron’s latest rambling idiocy before the whistle blew that indicated the beginning of his shift. Little chocolates began moving down the conveyer belt, which Prime began wrapping individually.
Galvatron raised an eyebrow in typical Vulcan fashion. “This is your job? This is the 29th Century, you know. Surely they have robots that can do this sort of thing.”
Prime glared at Galvatron.
“Oh... Right. Sorry.”
Prime continued to wrap chocolates. Over time, the conveyer belt began to move faster and faster, but Prime’s machine reflexes managed to allow him to keep up. Unfortunately, the conveyer belt itself wasn’t so well-built, as it began to smoke and shake horribly.
Prime looked at the machinery in horror. “I think this thing’s about to blow! What idiot turned this thing up this high?”
Galvatron, who was obliviously leaning on a large button labeled “Go Faster”, merely shrugged.
Moments later, the chocolate factory blew up.
Well-built as they were, Prime and Galvatron managed to lift themselves out of the wreckage relatively unharmed... only to find themselves face-to-face with a very ticked-off Robo-Nechayev.
Prime quickly pointed to Galvatron, indicating blame.
Robo-Nechayev hoisted Galvatron off the floor. GALVY, YOU’VE GOT SOME ’SPLAININ TO DO!
Galvatron responded with his best Lucille Ball impression. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Spin-Off Proposal #2: CSI: Bajor
The gigantic floating head of the First Minister of Bajor was not pleased when one of his many nameless subordinates rushed into his chambers. “Why do you dare disturb the great and powerful First Minister?!”
The nameless subordinate threw himself at the floor once he approached the First Minister. “There has been a murder in the capital city!”
The First Minister raised an eyebrow in typical Vulcan fashion. “And you’re tell me this why...?”
“Uh, because we really haven’t established any other 29th Century Bajoran authority figures for me to bring this news to?”
“Point taken! Bring to me the greatest two detectives on all of Bajor!”
“You don’t mean...?”
“Yes... Bring me Elmo Dukat and the Mysterious Red Button!”
A short time later, Dukat entered the First Minister’s chambers, carrying the rather heavy console of the Mysterious Red Button.
The Button seemed to be quite peeved.
“Best I can figure it, we’re in a non-canon spin-off pilot. You and I are supposed to be really awesome detectives.”
“Would you rather be back in the bottomless pit?”
Dukat set the Button’s console down in front of the First Minister’s floating head, which glared down at the two. “There has been a murder here in the capital city. I want you two to solve it.”
After a long, awkward silence, the Mysterious Red Button asked,
“What do I look like, some kind of all-knowing floating head?”
The First Minister gave the duo the address of the murder scene, and Dukat carried the Mysterious Red Button there.
“What makes you think I have any idea? Odo always took care of that kind of thing back when I was in charge of Deep Space Nine.”
“I don’t think we have any chalk.”
“Chalk store? Is that even a thing?”
Eventually, Dukat managed to lug the Mysterious Red Button to a store that sold chalk and then back to the murder scene. Exhausted, Dukat collapsed on the ground. “Seriously, we need to install some wheels on that console; it weighs a ton!”
Dukat drew the outline. “Now what?”
The Button thought for a few seconds.
“Y’know, that seems like something we should have done first, instead of running around looking for chalk.”
A few minutes later, the scan was finished. Dukat asked, “Did you manage to find any clues?”
“We already knew that!”
Dukat and the Button stood around awkwardly, not knowing what to do next.
Eventually, the Mysterious Red Button sighed.
“Release the pah-wraiths and destroy the universe?”
Several hours later, Dukat and the Mysterious Red Button stood by the edge of the bottomless pit in the Fire Caves as untold scores of pah-wraiths flew out.
Watching the stream of writhing red energy, Dukat sighed. “So we’ve destroyed the universe in our pilot episode.”
The Mysterious Red Button merely replied,
“Think that’ll affect the chances of our series getting picked up for a full season?”
Spin-Off Proposal #3: EVIL EXCELSIOR CREW SUPER HAPPY FUN TIME VARIETY SHOW HOUR!
Live from the Federation Maximum Security Prison, it’s the Evil Excelsior Crew Super Happy Fun Time Variety Show Hour! Tonight’s special guest star is Maje Culluh!
The curtains pulled back from a makeshift stage, revealing the evil former crew of the evil blown-to-bits Excelsior wearing gaudy earthtone jumpsuits while performing a musical number.
However, it quickly became obvious to anyone paying attention that they were all lip-synching when Janeway turned to Valtane and asked, “How did I ever let you talk me into doing this ridiculous 70’s-style variety show?”
Valtane replied, “Because we’ve been stuck in prison this entire season so far, and therefore had very little screen time. On top of that, you’ve hogged what screen time we have had, with your whole bizarre Galvatron power swap subplot.”
“Yes, that is a bizarre subplot, isn’t it?”
The musical number eventually came to an end, at which point Janeway addressed the audience. “Thank you all and welcome to the pilot episode for the Evil Excelsior Crew Super Happy Fun Time Variety Show Hour! After this quick commercial break, we’ve got some great comedy skits for you, so stick around!”
All of a sudden, it dawned on Janeway what that meant. Her fake smile dropped, replaced by a look of horror. “A commercial?! Oh no, that means...”
*Black and white rotating swirl*
“Buy more beets... buy more beets... buy more beets...”
(Paid for by the Committee That’s Still Trying to Hypnotize Everyone in the Universe into Buying Beets)
After the commercial break, it was obvious that the evil former crew of the former Excelsior had set up for some sort of skit involving a hotel. Janeway was dressed as a hotel manager, while everyone else was the hotel staff.
Janeway began giving instructions. “You should all know that a very important guest will be arriving any moment now. It’s very important that we all make a good impression.”
At that moment, Maje Culluh walked onto the set. Obviously, he was supposed to be playing the role of the VIP guest, but instead, he ran over to the nearest replicator terminal and ripped it out of the wall. “Replicator mine! Replicator mine!”
After that, he ran off the set in a random direction, laughing maniacally all the way. Janeway frowned. “Stop laughing maniacally! That’s my bit! Sorta. Kinda.”
Zo’or made a few silly hand gestures while saying, “We could have seen that coming if we had actually had rehearsals.”
Rand sighed. “Well, we’ve lost our special guest star. Should we try to continue the show?”
Janeway shook her head. “Nah. I think we should all head down to the prison cafeteria instead. I’ve got this odd craving for beets...”
On the next episode of Star Trek: Series ? (whenever that is), it’s time to elect the new Federation President! But what happens when the election’s winner turns out to be the distinguished representative of Sigma Iotia II?