Star Trek: Border Patrol | Flash Fiction

November 16, 2017

 

 

I'm participating in NYCmidnight.com's Flash Fiction Contest. I had actually been dreading the day I had to write a political satire. For this challenge, in addition to Political Satire, our group was assigned a border crossing as the location, and a power drill for the object. My first thoughts went to Trump's Mexican border wall and then all the people who fled the US for Canada after the election. I was worried those two ideas wouldn't be unique enough, so I stretched a bit further. Hubby and I had just watched Star Trek Beyond the night before, so the thought struck me: what would happen if Donald Trump was a Starship captain?

 

Political satire is not my thing. I tried to poke fun of all parties equally. If you're easily offended, you might wish to try a different story. 

Communications Officer Clinton glanced up from her blinking console. “Captain, we’re being hailed.”

 

“On screen.”

 

A cube several times the size of their ship filled the deck’s screen. Nearly as dark as space, it hovered across the Milky Way Galaxy’s Border from the USS Starship Apprentice.

 

The captain pursed his lips. “This is Captain Donald J. Trump, the best starship captain in the history of the United Federation of Planets. Everyone says so.”

 

“I don’t,” murmured Clinton and Lieutenant Obama.

 

A gray figure wearing a half-mask took the place of the cube onscreen. “We are the Bored. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. Resistance is futile.”

 

Captain Trump leaned toward his first officer, a Vulcan, and lowered his voice. “Mr. Pence, what do we know about the Bored?”

 

“They are a collective, a hive mind.” Pence’s expression remained dour. “They reassign identities of entire cultures. There is no gender, religion, or species. Only the Bored.”

 

Drawing himself to his full height, Trump addressed his opponent. “We don’t surrender to terrorists. Leave now or we will assimilate you.”

 

A beam shot from the cube and engulfed the Apprentice in its green glow.

 

“We’re caught in their tractor beam, Captain,” Obama reported.

 

“Ensign Putin, reverse, full impulse.”

 

Putin adjusted his console. The ship groaned, but the Apprentice didn’t budge.

 

“Maybe engineering can divert power to the engines,” Pence suggested.

 

Trump activated the comm. “Jobby, more power to the thrusters. Huge power. All the power we have.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Chief Engineer Steve Jobs replied from the engine room.

 

As the roar of the thrusters increased, the ship began to shake.

 

“That’s all she’s got, Captain,” Jobby yelled over the engine’s protests. “If I give her any more, she’ll break apart.”

 

Trump scowled. “That’s what I said. Divert all excess power to weapons.”

 

The shaking subsided.

 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Obama’s voice filled the newfound silence. “Perhaps assimilation isn’t bad. It’s their culture, their way of life. As representatives of the United Federation, we should welcome all species.”

 

“They lobotomize beings with power drills,” Pence countered.

 

“I’m sure only the fanatics do that.” Clinton’s blond hair and fair skin shifted into a Klingon’s ridged brow and darker features.

 

“Species fluidity is not the same as being part of a collective, Clinton. It is illogical to believe some have independent thought.”

 

Klingon Clinton waved her hand dismissively. “You’re not logical, you’re intolerant, Pence.”

 

“Captain!” Jobby’s voice boomed over the comm. “Bored in the transport bay.”

 

“It’s boring here, too.” Trump scowled at his officers

 

“I’m not bored, sir. A Bored just transported into our bay.”

 

“Well transport it back! And close the border before any more come through.”

 

“The system’s inoperable. It shorted the ship’s operating system with its mechanical arm.”

 

“All consoles show the blue screen of death,” Putin confirmed.

 

“This is what happens when you don’t use iStarship,” Jobby said. “Rebooting might work, but we’ll be without power while everything restarts.”

 

“Make it so.”

 

The command deck’s doors slid open to admit a Bored to the ship’s helm. “Prepare to be assimilated.”

 

Obama advanced with arms outstretched in welcome. “Why don’t you tell us more about assimilation.”

 

When Obama was within reach, the Bored lunged. It pulled the lieutenant into a headlock, and raised its mechanical arm. With a snap, a power drill popped out of the end where its hand should be.

Instead of struggling, Obama waited. The Bored pressed the drill tip to Obama’s temple. A whirring and sickening thunk followed, and Obama dropped to the floor.

 

“He is assimilated.”

 

Trump and Pence drew their blasters and fired. Crouched behind their consoles, Clinton and Putin fired their weapons as well. Shots careened off the Bored without damage.

 

“Set blasters to kill,” Trump commanded.

 

As the Bored advanced, the ship’s power died, dropping the helm into darkness. The crew continued to fire, each shot briefly illuminating the deck. One of the shots hit the Bored squarely in the eyepiece, and blue electricity flared over the circuitry in the Bored’s suit. It crumpled to the ground and lay unmoving.

 

With a flicker, the lights in the command deck powered on. Clinton crawled to where Obama lay in a heap on the floor. Metallic fluid leaked from his temple wound, forming into a mask of complicated circuits.

 

Clinton placed a hand on his head, careful to avoid any of the biomechanical fluid. “We need to get him to medical.”

 

Trump and Pence exchanged a glance.

 

Trump cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what medical can do for him. Ever since we replaced our medical personnel with Bare Bones Universal Healthcare, we’ve lost the ability to treat new conditions.”

 

Clinton’s eyes flashed. “There’s got to be something we can do, Tribble-head.”

 

Putin bristled. “That’s no way to address the Captain.”

 

“The only reason why he’s Captain is because you interfered with my promotion, Ensign.”

 

“Enough. I’m captain because everyone in the Federation wanted me as captain. Me, not you.”

 

Obama’s eyes fluttered and opened. With a grunt, he lurched to his feet. Other than the mechanical mask encasing his features, he seemed unscathed.

 

Trump’s eyebrows raised and his lips puckered. “How do you feel, Lieutenant?”

 

“No different, Captain.”

 

Outside the ship, the glow from the tractor beam vanished. A blinding light flared toward the ship, bursting into a conflagration at the Milky Way’s border. Then the cube retreated, becoming smaller before vanishing entirely.

 

“Strange,” Pence said. “Their prime directive is assimilating all higher life forms.”

 

Lieutenant Obama stilled, expression slack. In a voice nothing like his own, he said, “The Bored were mistaken. You have nothing to offer us. Please stay away.”

 

“Ha! My border policy worked. I have single-handedly saved the Milky Way. I’m a hero.” Trump strutted around the helm. “This is our chance to eliminate them. Pursue, full impulse.”

 

The Apprentice surged forward then slammed to a stop.

 

“Why are we stopping?”

 

“They’ve closed the border, Captain,” Clinton said. “We can’t leave our galaxy.”

The greatest gift you can give an author is

to recommend their stories to someone who will enjoy them.

The second greatest gift is a comment. ;)

 

 

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