(The U.S.S. Enterprise is soaring at impulse power through
the depths of space. The scene is on the bridge of the mighty
Commander William Riker (talking to an attractive woman): So, anyway, this Ferengi came up to me, and he said, "Hey! That's my girlfriend you're groping!" So I turned around to face him, and pulled out a carefully concealed phaser, and then I
Lieutenant Commander Data: I am sorry to interrupt your attempt to engage in sexual intercourse, Commander
(Riker's woman hears this, gasps, slaps Riker across the face, and storms off of the bridge.)
Riker (rubbing his face): It's okay Data. She'll come crawling back to me begging for me to give it to her. They always do
Data: Regardless, Sir, I feel I should warn you that a sensor scan has picked up an incoming ship.
Riker: Is it a threat?
Data: Unknown, sir. I am currently running it through our main computer to identify it. I suggest we call the Captain onto the bridge, however.
Riker: Agreed. (taps his communicator badge) Captain Picard to the bridge!
(Captain Jean-Luc Picard emerges from his Ready Room onto the bridge. As he walks out, he is busy fastening the button and fly on his trousers.)
Riker: Were you busy sir?
Picard: Ahem No, Number One. I was merely demonstrating to Counselor Troi the physics of two bodies colliding in space. (Counselor Deanna Troi emerges from the Captain's office as well, fastening the top button on her uniform collar as she walks.) Ah, Counselor! I do believe you'll agree that the collisions of the two heavenly bodies we just studied are most fascinating!
Troi: Yes, Captain, even though I think that real collisions in space would last a much longer time
Picard (whispering to Troi): So, I'll see you in my quarters later? We can study how one should prepare to brace for an impact!
Troi: I'll look forward to it, Jean-Luc.
Picard: I've told you; call me "Captain" in public!
Data: Captain Picard, I do believe I have identified the mysterious vessel that is rapidly approaching.
Picard: Yes, Data? What is it?
Data: After running a careful analysis of it through the computer, I have determined that the vessel is a product of the late-20th century. It is in our computer's database under "music videos," from a song called "Spice Up your Life."
Picard: I remember that video from when I was in the Cardassian prison. They used it constantly as a torture device. I still have such emotional scars from WAAAAHHH!!! WAAAHHH!!! (Picard begins to cry like a small baby, remembering the torture methods employed by his former captors.)
Riker (patting Picard on the back): There, there, Sir. Everything will be all right. Really.
Picard: Oh, Number One! The torture! It was so horrible! They made us watch these horrible videos, and every day it was "Wannabe" this, or "MMMBop" that! Oh! (Picard regains composure. He looks at Data.)
Data: Orders, Sir?
Picard: Scan for life signs.
Data (taps some buttons on his control panel): I am detecting five life forms. All female. Readings are sketchy, however, because the females are each covered in various forms of makeup, silicone, and sweat. Even so, our computer predicts a 99.48% probability that these life forms are the 20th century vigilantes known as "The Spice Girls."
Picard: Those evil bitches! They are responsible for single-handedly ruining late-20th century pop music! What are they doing in our century?
Data: Records indicate that several disgruntled Spice Girl haters formed a riot sometime in 1999 and froze all five women in a block of ice. Earlier this year, an evil scientist thawed them out in order to wreak havoc on the galaxy.
Picard: We must stop them! Data, plot an intercept course!
(Scene switches to the Spice Girls' ship. Ginger Spice and Scary Spice are clawing at each other on the floor. Both are covered in bruises and scratches.)
Ginger: I'll kill you, you tongue-pierced whore!
Scary: Go to hell, you slut!
Posh Spice: Stop it! Both of you! According to Baby Spice, there is a giant ice-cream cone flying towards us!
Baby: Tee hee hee! Duhhhhh
Scary (stopping her assault on Ginger): Baby said that? You'd better double-check!
Posh (leaning over Baby Spice's control panel): You're right! That blonde airhead didn't see an ice-cream cone! She saw a starship!
Baby: Hee hee! Duhhhhh
Sporty Spice: Oh! A starship! Don't they have women serving on starships now? I've always liked women in uniform Er not that I'm gay or anything I like them as friends you know non-sexual friends uh
Ginger (getting up from the floor): Whatever.
Sporty: No, seriously! I may look butch, but I'm really not-
All: Shut the hell up!
Sporty: Fine. (sits back in her chair and crosses her arms.)
Ginger: I say we show that starship what Girl Power really is!
Scary: There you go again with that Girl Power shit! What the hell are you talking about?
Ginger: You know! Girl Power!
Scary: Oh, Girl Power! I get it now!
(Back to the Enterprise bridge.)
Picard: Mr. Worf! Load all photon torpedo tubes, and ready all phasers!
Lieutenant Worf: But sir! Isn't it standard procedure to hail a ship before attacking it?
Picard: Damn it Mr. Worf! Are you refusing a direct order?!
Worf: Er No Sir! Powering all weapons!
Data: The ship is within range now, Sir.
Picard: Fire all weapons!
(The Enterprise lets out a mighty barrage of red phaser light and photon torpedoes. Each shot hits the tiny Spice Girls ship.)
Posh: Ah! Those bastards are firing on us!
Sporty: Oh my gosh! What should we do?
(Just then, a torpedo hits the hull of their ship. Baby Spice's console erupts in a blinding explosion, which kills her and sends her various body parts flying in every direction.)
Ginger: Oh my God! They killed Baby! You bastards!
Sporty (pulling things from her hair): Ewww her entrails are stuck in my hair!
Posh: That's nothing! You don't want to know where her bladder landed!
Scary: Let's fight them back!
Posh: But we have no offensive weapons!
Ginger: Yes we do! We have Girl Power! (The rest of the group looks at Ginger in skepticism.) Er and we have this damned powerful sound emitter, too!
Scary: Yes! We can use a sound emitter!
(A few minutes pass as the Spice Girls rig their sound projectors. Suddenly, a wave of sound shoots out of the Spice Girls' ship and heads straight for the Enterprise.)
Data: It appears they have sent a beam of sound to our ship.
(Instantly, the Enterprise's intercom system is filled with the sounds of the Spice Girls' music. The crew covers their ears in reaction.)
Picard (screaming in pain): No! Make it stop! I don't want to zig-a-zig-ah!
Riker (wincing in agony): Must resist! I don't care what they want what they really, really want
(Data, being an android, is unaffected by the horrid music. He quickly manipulates settings on his console.)
Data: The sound emissions have disabled all weapons. I must use the ship itself as a weapon.
(Under Data's control, the Enterprise turns to a collision course with the tiny ship.)
Ginger: What the hell are they doing now?
Scary: I think they're trying to ram us!
Posh: Well, get us out of here!
Sporty: I can't! These controls are mysteriously not working! It's as if a writer is using us to forward the plot of his story to a violent and bloody climax!
(Just then, the Enterprise flies into the Spice Girls' ship. Their corpses are sent into space, and collide with the outer hull of the Enterprise, forming unsightly red stains. Their ship is now nothing more than floating debris. The music stops, and Picard and his crew stop howling in pain.)
Picard: Mr. Data? Status report.
Data: I managed to steer the ship into our attackers, thereby causing the destruction of their vessel, and the splattering of their bodies against the hull of the Enterprise.
Picard: Good work, Mr. Data. We have eliminated the greatest threat to our galaxy yet! (Picard taps his badge.) Picard to La Forge.
Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge: La Forge here. Go ahead Captain.
Picard: I want you to take a custodial engineering detail to the outer hull of the ship, and scrape the bodies of the Spice Girls off of the Enterprise. Then, take the remains to Dr. Crusher for analysis. We have to make sure that such an evil never terrorizes the galaxy again
La Forge: Acknowledged, Sir.
(The Enterprise flies away.)
Trademark and Copyright 1998, CloudVader Productions. Do not reproduce without giving the author, Cloud Volpe, due credit.
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