Logic demands we remember our history or be doomed to repeat it. Yet reviewing this history makes us want to defecate. Thus logic demands we shit ourselves

- Mr. Spock

It was an era in Federation history that should have been a gleaming lesson to future generations and perhaps it was. After the legendary peace accord between the Klingon Empire and the United Federation of Planets ended the state of cold war that had existed between the two super powers for decades, and before commissioning of the Enterprise D a generation later there was an era in galactic history we'd all like to forget but can't no matter how much we drink.

This is Mike Hunt and the whole mess left me sore to this day. This is the story of

" The Nipple Wars. "

The USS Copulation launched 6 months to the day after the death of James T. Kirk. Some argument was made to rename the ship in his honor, but then someone adjusted the Admirals translator and he got the joke. Her Captain was H. H. Potato's, the only red shirted Ensign to survive Kirk's original 5 year mission into the unknown, and it was seen as a passing of the torch between a generation bold and mighty that had changed the course of history, and their heirs apparent. No one that made that decision had actually met Captain Potato's, but all the paperwork made the man seem brilliant. He and that Vulcan harpy of his were always so damn good at paperwork. . . .

I was assigned to the Copulation after graduating from the Starfleet technical school's 18 month-long intro course on basic starship operations in the lower third of my class. I was given the rank of crewman fourth class on the janitorial night shift, and was glad to finally be leaving the drudgery of earth and her money-less controlled economy behind for the adventure and excitement of the final frontier. Life scrubbing toilets wasn't glamorous but it got me into space and out of my family's ancestral trade of cleaning the London sewer system.

At first everything was great, then 12 hours into our 5 year voyage to the edge of the Beta quadrant I went on shift for the very first time. Her name was Commander T'opnga, a tall raven haired beauty who's measurements were on every male crew members holo-deck hot list. I would soon learn she was the pathological enabler behind the greatest force of destruction in Federation history. It seems that she subscribed, or should I say, used to subscribe to a Vulcan belief structure that encouraged its followers to spread logic to other races . . telepathically if need be, and she'd mind-meld with Captain Potato's in effort to do just that. They in fact, melded every other day in multiple positions and with as many odd vegetables as the ship's stores had to offer after Potato's warped mind snapped hers like a straw man trying to lift the earth. I'll never forget the first time she spoke to me.

" My cunt! Front and center! "

Having lived with that horrible joke through all 6 years of high school I knew she was talking to me.

" Here ! . . and Umm its Hunt mam Mike HUNT. "

It was at that moment that I did the worst thing anyone on that ship could do I, stood out from the crowd. That meant she knew who I was, and as such, my life was about to get a whole lot more difficult. Her eyes cut through me like a fat man through a buffet.

"Crew man Miikke Huunnt. Forgive me, I do not believe in always using the universal translator. "

I shivered as I spoke to her.

" No problem Ma'am. "

If only I knew then, what I knew now, I'd not have taken that cat-like look in her eyes as a Vulcan babe making a list of potential mates if our mission stretched into Ponfar season and she needed to mate or die. Oh no, this was far worse . . .

" Crew man Hunt. The Captain, Potato's, believes from his time on Enterprise that a ship runs best if every one is as trained as possible. I know your duties, they will keep you occupied crew man Hunt, but if you volunteer for training there is the possibility of you being on away missions more often. "

Seeing as the only way I'd normally get off the ship for an away mission would be if they requested assistance with their toilets under section nine of the federation technology exchange act, I jumped at the chance.

" Umm Sure Ma'am! "

What I didn't know was that the "training" was a variation of what Admiral Archer used to give to spear wielding savages in our proxy wars with the Romulan's in the days before the prime directive. We learned to use replicated AK-47's against people with force fields, and that federation phasers were powered by the gods, thus making our war holy and just. The holo-deck was of course set to "my retarded nephew needs a babysitter" and we could have in fact slayed a dragon with a tribble sandwich.

Two weeks later, we where in orbit around Sigma Iotia II, a world with an interesting social structure based on the earth moffia of the 1920's. I am told the Captain has been here before during his time with the enterprise, and is familiar with the whatever violation of the prime directive caused the culture to turn out this way. I had spoken to my friend crewman Turner Brown who was chosen to come along on the away mission and serve as the Captain's body-guard. Seeing as Turner was a small man who told me he has never raised a fist in anger in his life I figured that the Captain is just being nice. Sixteen hours later I found Brown in a broom closet dressed like a 20's flapper smelling of bathtub gin swearing that Captain Potato's had given his anal virginity to an enforcer named Crack'o Jr. as proof that he was interested in making deals " the Federation Godfathers " didn't know about. At the time I thought that Brown just couldn't hack space, and that he'd snapped. I would later learn that in gratitude for the party they'd through him Potato's had left nearly four pounds of weapons grade uranium on the planet. In the mean time I was stuck with a crazy cross-dresser. The poor bastard kept chanting " turn around " with a hint of madness in his eyes as I walked him to sickbay.

Pushing the mad man through the door and jogging away to return to my duties as fast as possible I hoped to look back on this as the worst moment of the voyage. Yes this was before the anal leeches.

The next weeks passed uneventfully as the ships waste disposal system was new, and taco's only served once a week. Then we arrived in orbit around an unnamed world visited much like Sigma Iotia II by the crew of USS Enterprise years ago. It seems that an old friend of the captains named Harry Mudd had spent some time on this world, and it held some advanced technologies that could be of use to the federation.

No then I did not know who Harry Mudd was or that he was in prison for crimes against several federation worlds. No that any of this mattered to me I had been assigned to an away mission due to my in-valuable experience and technical skills.

Commander T'opnga was talking to my while I stared at her.

"Androids Miikke Hunt, do not defecate. The world below is populated with over two hundred thousand androids and one human. You will find his location by crawling naked though the disposal system to tell what areas are still active. This is necessary because we can not get a sensor lock from orbit. You will have only a communicator crew man Hunt, are you up to the task?"

"Yes Mam!"

No I wasn't really paying attention to what she was telling me to do.

Forty five minutes later I was stripped naked as a jay bird up greased like squeaky wheel and flushing myself down a space toilet and to afraid to ask what the "plan" was again. It was dark dank, and lit only by what I was hoping where tiny free-floating lights. As a blob of glowing maintenance lights fell on my head, I remembered that I was meant to find someone for the Captain and began free climbing up the poop shoot like only one born and bred in the Paris sewer system could hope to do! I poked my head out of the space crapper like a glowing shit demon out for vengeance! My eyes locked on a teenage human male scared out of his mind. He screamed.

"YEE ALL MIGHTY GODS YOU'VE COME FOR MY BOOBIES HAVENT YOU!"

Then he scuttled out of the room half falling over and half running as I dragged myself fully out of the toilet and followed. In a heart beat he was encircled by half a dozen porn star quality women, that didn't seem to keen on my force feeding their master glowing turds.

I hit my communicator. "Hunt to Copulation, BEGIN PENETRATION!"

In a flash The Captain, Commander T'opnga, and a security team made up of what looked like my fellow janitors armed with 20th century earth fire arms materialized around me. This was my first time actually seeing Captain Potato's, and it was a life changing experience. He looked like old Elvis two steps from being bloated and dead on the bathroom floor. Behind his eyes was a torrent of madness as he spoke.

"Glowing crap from Altarian venereal disease, I know it's itchy painful discharge well. You are Noonian Soon Juvenal delinquent, and cybernetics genesis are you not?"

"You can't have my android floozies! I paid that Mudd guy a lot for the location of this place!"

"OK then, my men here will blast them into atoms, and I'll let Hunt here have some alone time with you. After I tell him what a horrible infection you just gave him, or I could let you leave with as much information as you need to build your own androids."

The boy was afraid of me I could tell. That was the first time anyone was ever afraid of me and it made me feel important. . . even if I was poop covered. Soon spoke half crying.

"But their nipples are so perfect! But but OK, I'll do whatever you want."

"I want the controller you rigged up for this army of androids, but first have a few of them clean Hunt here up, maybe we can save his eyesight."

The next hour and a half I got scrubbed raw by two android girls with no orders to go easy on me. It was the greatest experience of my life up to that point.

Six weeks of intensive antibiotics, cloned blood changes, and some time spent in a coma later I was out of sic-bay and into a ship that had changed radically. I saw the chief engineer being dragged to the brig by a pair of cafeteria workers, and an android in a Starfleet uniform working in an engineering substation. Then in a corner I found Crewman Turner Brown.

"Turn around turn around. . . Hunt your alive? Oh man oh man turn around turn around . . you got to watch your ASS these days. Captains got the androids running everything along with those regular crewman he trained up. The officers got pissed after Potatos tried to replace them because of some half ASSed idea of his. I'm in the resistance you got to join us! .. . . turn around turn around . . "

I looked at Brown or the shrived husk that used to be a Starfleet crewman and shook my head.

"Your mad Brown, I'm going to find out whats going on around here from someone sane."

I would come to regret that choice.

Reaching my quarters I found a note on my terminal saying I had gotten a promoted to acting third officer in light of a mutiny, and was to report to the Captain when fit to return to duty. I was furthermore told I shouldn't mate with anyone ever again due to my new medical status.

I dressed in a uniform I never thought I'd wear and headed to the bridge, so full of pride, and hope I'd get an android of my own in lew of a girlfriend. The place was redecorated with a disco ball throw pillows, and large piles of what I can only assume was syntha-cane. The Captain looked up from snorting a line off the Commanders thighs and smiled an insane smile.

"There is my acting third officer! Hunt there was a mutiny while you where out. . . say by the way the Doctor turned rebel about half way though fixing you so the infection took root in your brain, I'm so sorry but ANYWAY! We managed to use the 'driods to coral the rebels. They are fantastic at any thing sure they have a tiny problem with logical paradox's but I've ordered them to differ to CREWMEN, MYSELF and COMMANDER T'OPNGA when they meet one. Now any crew of half-trained retards can run a starship! Oh you should have seen that Soon kid when I told him! Here is to hoping one day he finds some nice Irish girl with really kicked nipples and settles down to build androids some place quit."

I felt overwhelmed by it all in truth and he was my Captain after all.

"Sir how can I be of service, and what androids do I get during what hours?"

"Good man Hunt! Tonight we prove to Starfleet command that android crews with minimal low stress well sexed over sight is the wave of the future! We will do this by making first contact with the Bajorians! They are an ancient race with somewhat backward technology, but who fucking cares first contact is first contact you know what I'm saying!"

"Yes sir I see your point sir!"

No I had no idea what this raving loon was talking about.

I'll admit I was content to sit around all day and watch machines to my job better than I ever could while getting a back rub from a blond fem bot. Then we got to Bajor, and everything went so very wrong.

Bajorian's you see all remove one nipple to honor their gods.

When we beamed down I was with the Captain, the commander and several androids in Starfleet uniforms. We where greeted kindly by a people unafraid of strangers. It seems they had an odd primitive space fairing technology that used solar wind to move the ships and under certain circumstances move them at warp speed making them by the strictest literal interpretation of the prime directive eligible for diplomatic contact.

The celebration they threw for us was a thing of beauty. About an hour into it, everything end to hell. Potato's got one of the women alone and we all heard the screams. High pitched and shrill like a little girl . . . it was the Captain screaming.

"AAAAAAAA ! AAAAAAAA! YEEE IMMORTAL GODS THE NIPPLES THEY TAKE THEM! Potatos to away team EMERGANCY BEAM OUT NOW!"

The transporter came to life just as I had my androids uniform in my teeth and we all tripped over each other and fell into a pile of androids and confused men. Potatos barked orders.

"BATTLE STATIONS ARM ALL WEAPONS RAISE SHIELDS!"

Commander T'opnga spoke up.

"Captain the point of battle stations is to arm weapons and raise shields."

"WHATEVER! Assemble the command staff in the meeting room!"

He spent the next hour telling us that Bajor was a den of inhumanity where brother killed brother, and young women were mutilated at the later of some gods called "the profits". The commander of course explained the prime directive forbid us to intervene.

The next hour was spent explaining their treatment of nipples offended the Captain and we where damn well going to find a reason to kill some people.

I was starting to catch on that the captain my be crazy.

The next morning I searched every broom closet on the ship until I found crewmen Turner Brown.

"Turn around turn around . . . HUNT! Glad to see you . . . close the door TURN AROUND TURN AROUND! They might find me. . . "

"No one wants your ass Brown tell me about the resistance?"

His face lit up like I was the first ray of hope he could remember.

"The cargo hold . . . .turn around turn around. . . . they are all in the cargo hold. Captain sends a janitorial hit squad down with an android for back up to feed them twice a day. Between then theirs a window of twelve hours . . . turn around. . And the androids check in for new orders every six hours to make sure no one tampers with them. It leaves about half an hour TURNAROUND time for you get in talk to the officers and get out. "

At the appointed time and in the appointed place I make my way to the smallest cargo hold on the ship.

I crack the door and step inside to find four trained security men with improvised clubs waiting. I cover my head and beg to not be harmed on pure reflex as a Vulcan neck pinch knocks me cold. When I come around I see of all things a phasor in my face.

"But you got stuck in here with nothing?"

"We have limited computer access, and enough power to run one of those new replicators we cobbled together out of spare parts for the two the ship is testing. This is what trained Starfleet personnel can do, and toilet jockeys can not mister Hunt. "

I know I was in deep now it was ensign Demora Sulu ships helmswoman and all around girl genius.

"Crazy Potato's he gave me some kind of space glowing shit plague, and he's going to kill a bunch of primitives because of their nipples!"

She smacks me across the face.

"HUNT CONTROL YOURSELF! The crewman still loyal to us have told us what hes planning, and worse yet what he's done to every world that's crossed his path the past six weeks. He is pissing all over everything Starfleet stands for Hunt, and we are going to stop him. Now get this straight, as acting third officer, you have certain access codes, and sure as my mother was fooling around with Jim Kirk behind my fathers back you are going to use those access codes to help us. "

I didn't so much as answer and chirp out an agreement out of fear.

"Yes mama."

"Good boy Hunt, now you need to get into the engine room while the androids are all in their maintaince cycle every six hours. Once there in the 30 minute window transfer your command codes to

Lieutenant Commander Rachel Garrett. She will use them to shut down that andriods and let us retake the ship. Do you understand you walking defense of the eugenics movement?"

Once again I chirp out agreement.

"Yes mama engine room, give back codes."

They threw me out of the cargo bay like a sac of rice, and I wondered in a blur down the hallway as the androids returned to their stations.

"No more android boobies, back to the toilets for me."

Just then an android came to take me to the briefing room, The Captain had made his war plans. It seems a fringe sect called the cult of the Pah-wraths had contacted the Captain after hearing that he vaporized someone at the party.

Yes I do think it was whatever woman showed him her mutilated nipples.

Now the commander told us that under certain conditions the prime directive allows us to intervene in cases like this. It seems since the Bajorians can technical achieve low speed warp travel we are allowed more leniency. Furthermore our new friends in the Pah-wrath cult tell us Bajor's ruling party was controlled by alien energy beings. This was of course a lie and we all knew it. I mean really aliens so advanced they exist as pure energy ? Such things just don't happen!

Potato's freak mind had decided this world needed to pay for offending his bizarre sexual fetish and that meant if no one did anything about it people would DIE.

I ran from the meeting to my quarters and sought comfort in the arms of my fembots. Their ice cold emotionless demeanor reminded me of my mother you see. She left my father and I when I was very young for some asshole named Maurice Picard but anyway on or about six hours later I noticed my fembot began to leave for its normal check in. I knew what I had to do, and I did it. God help me I didn't want to, I wanted to wear my uniform and pretend to be important while getting waited on hand and foot. The thing is I was an acting STARFLEET OFFICER and I decided to act like one if only that once.

I made my way to the engine room found the right panel, and transferred my command codes back where they belonged.

What came next I hope god will forgive me for because I will never forgive myself. The officers exploded out from the cargo bay in all directions. Every android they met was shut down and all outher resistance slaughtered by the razor-sharp minds and iron wills of trained starfleet personnel. The force that beat back the Romulan star empire, and turned the Klingon surge into allies and maybe one day even friends. This great power that had been defeated and caged only by the deception of two it had sworn to obey lashed out with all its strength.

As for my fellow crewmen their android babysitters defeated didn't have a prayer. The foolish training and out dated weapons only made matters worse. I saw a crewman shoot off his own foot, and cover the stump in iodine while screaming for it to grow back. I saw a Janitor defend his fallen android with a broom handle not knowing he was blocking the entrance to a crucial turbo lift the officers needed only to be cut down by Ensign Sulu with a sword. Who the hell uses one of those at the turn of the 24th century?

When it was over they dragged the few of us that helped them up to the bridge, and showed us Bajor. In the time it had taken us to free the officers and topple Potatos and T'opnga the world had been sent spiraling into anarchy. Their was talk of helping them, but general consensus was we'd done enough, and we made for earth at high warp. Six weeks later after it was discovered the ship had visited Talos IV while I was unconscious in sic-bay Captain Hue Heffner Potatos was put to death on the orders of the federation counsel. In his defense he only stop on that forbidden world "to take a piss" and with me incapacitated there was no one to fix the toilet in his quarters. They didn't by it.

Commander T'opnga was sent home to Vulcan in disgrace and was given a ritual lobotomy after which she spent the remainder of her long life working retail.

"That is my story, I'm sorry I know its a harsh one but. . . are you listening?"

Deanna Troy aged 19 looked up from her datapad a picture of Will Riker on its display.

"Oh yes of course it looks like our hour is up. I'll see you next week mister Hunt."

She turned to leave, and I looked over the senior counselor in the room.

"You know shes not very good at this counseling thing."

The other counselor look over at my and said.

"Oh yea I know but her mothers holder or the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. That kid gets away with doing nothing all day and running off to screw some starfleet guy shame really. "

The end