Note: Crack!fic, ftw? lol Scotty's my favorite, so I couldn't pass up writing this. It was written for a st_xi_kink_meme prompt over at LJ. Hope you all enjoy!
FYI: I don't own Star Trek or anything associated, so don't sue, kthnx.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott of the U.S.S. Enterprise stared at his surroundings in shocked confusion. It was almost the tribble incident all over again…
…Only much worse.
There were about fifteen fluffy creatures, akin to Terran sheep, with wool that was mottled black in random areas of their bodies and short, black legs. They were foaming at the mouth and had large, sharp-looking fangs. Their eyes, a deep red color with an eerie golden glow around the iris, shifted back and forth constantly. It made the Scot a little less than comfortable.
"Scott to Bridge," he was saying into his communicator, his accent thicker than normal. "Cap'n Kirk!"
"Kirk here," the Captain's voice floated from the hand-held device, "What is it, Scotty?"
"Cap'n, I 'ave a situation in the Transporter Room," he replied urgently, yet calmly.
The other end of the line was silent for long moments and he finally heard the loud "Baa!" of the zombie sheep echoing from the Bridge. The sheep in the Transporter Room responded with their own "Baa!"'s; that's when Scotty decided that he'd have to take matters into his own hands.
"I cannae let a bunch of zombie sheep take o'er mah ship!" he exclaimed. He reached underneath the console and pulled out a bat. He looked at it puzzlingly, wondering where it came from, as he had been reaching for a phaser. But brushing his disappointment aside, he decided it would just have to do.
He moved out from behind the console and rounded on the first zombie sheep, taking a swing at it with the slugger. It connected with the sheep's front legs, and he heard the satisfying crack! of breaking bones. He swung again and hit the creature in the head, effectively knocking it unconscious (he couldn't be sure if it was dead or not).
After one of their brothers had been taken out, the other sheep banded together and moved to attack the engineer. Scotty backed up until he reached the Transporter Room doors and they opened to reveal a hallway full of zombie sheep. He cursed under his breath and fought his way through the Transporter Room back to the console, where he grabbed his bagpipes.
He started to play "Scotland the Brave" and was floored when the sheep started to sway back and forth in their spots. As the song went on, their behavior turned even more suspicious; they lay down on the floor and folded in on themselves, their movements halted.
More than just a tad confused, Scotty lowered the bagpipes, and when the sheep did nothing, he whooped for joy. "Ha!" he shouted triumphantly. "Take tha' ye foul creatures! I rid this ship of thee!"
Just then, all the sheep disappeared in a puff of black smoke, filling the Transporter Room to the brim. The Scot coughed and waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air so he could breathe.
When the smoke finally dissipated, there were no sheep left in sight; instead, littering the floor were hundreds of sandwiches, in all varieties. His face lit up as he leaned down and picked up one that appeared to be roast beef. He took a bite, never one to shy away from a sandwich (even if it had just moments ago been a zombie sheep ready to attack him), his taste buds exploding. It was heavenly.
He grabbed as many as he could in his arms and ran out of the room, jumping over even more of them in the hall outside. The Turbolift at the end of the hall was overflowing with them, and they all poured out. He squeezed it, trying not to squish any of the precious sandwiches, and proceeded to the Bridge.
He stepped out of the lift, while taking another bite of sandwich, to assess the damage: there were no zombie sheep to be found, just beautifully crafted sandwiches all over the place. Captain Kirk, who was standing in his chair with a phaser, looked up at Scotty's arrival.
"Scotty, what happened in the Transporter Room?" he asked, not bothering to comment on the sandwiches piled in the engineer's arms.
"Well, Cap'n," he said, mouth full of sandwich, "it appearrrs there was a malfunction with the transporter." He swallowed his mouthful. "Or tha' planet's creature somehow found its way onto the ship."
"Yeah…" Kirk said, pondering it all. Spock was at his station and looked as confused as the Captain. "But how did they all turn into sandwiches?"
"I do nae know, but I'm nae complainin'," he responded, taking another large bite of the sandwich.
Kirk laughed heartily. "I can see that. And I can also see that we probably won't need extra food supplies for at least a month."
"Actually, Captain, given the fact that one sheep produces three sandwiches and there are-"
"Spock, I'm not interested in specifics."
"-the sandwiches should last for approximately one point oh three seven months."
"Approximately," Kirk repeated, shaking his head. "Well, Scotty," he said, jumping from his chair and picking up a sandwich for himself, "I think you'd better show me your best scotch. We've got a lot of sandwiches to eat."
Scotty positively beamed. "Aye, sir. I cannae believe mah luck."
"Me neither, Scotty," Kirk replied, still confused about the whole thing. "Me neither…"