Created by Twoflower.

This part by Mr. Fluffypants

Please don't hurt me.

        "Are we there yet?", whined Dave.

        "Shut the hell up newbie, I've heard your whining enough. We all want to get there just as much as you do.", replied Vixen as she checked Sherman's GPS readouts. Two more days, in good weather. And those clouds on the horizon looked anything but good.

        Supplies weren't in the best shape, either. Sure, they had enough big macs to last them the rest of the trip, but would Starfleet be able to afford them more supplies afterwards? Sherman's shells were dangerously low after the battle, and bullets don't grow on trees. Phreakachu was down to 10 joints and two bottles of Jack Daniels, which although plenty to any normal being, was nothing more than a drop in the bucket of the purple haze that was the pokemon's habit.

        At least spirits weren't changed much. Aside from Dave whining like a four year old, and Vixen worrying about supplies, everything was fine. Biff had managed to sleep ninety percent of the trip. Rachel was so depressed that she wasn't getting any worse. Tanks don't get road sick (hopefully), and Phreakachu was too stoned to realize his stash was low.

        All in all, it was a dark future for the Last of the Otaku. They needed help, and fast, and things with Starfleet seemed almost too good to be true...

        A circular table, candles, and darkness adorn this room. No, this isn't Rachel's bedroom, it is the previously mentioned (See episode 4) chamber of evil where plans for world domination are being laid.

        A voice spoke from one end of the table, "The otaku appear to have allied with the Trekkies."

        "What of it? They are nothing but a bunch of misfits. What care we for them?", spoke a second voice.

        "Even misfits can topple a masterful scheme. Haven't you ever watched Flash Gordon?"

        "Who on Earth would watch that trash?", spoke yet a third voice.

        The original voice began yelling, "Trash! That is quality entertainment. Better than your Jerry Lewis vid.."

        "ENOUGH BICKERING." The cold metal voice rang throughout the darkend chamber. "IF WE ARE TO CONTINE THE PLANS FOR WORLD CONQUEST I STARTED SO LONG AGO, THEN NOTHING MUST STAND IN MY WAY. OUR AGENT WITH THE TREKKIES WILL DEAL WITH THESE FOOLS, AND ALL WILL BE WELL. NOW LEAVE, I HAVE BU....I MEAN SOFTWARE TO DEVELOP."

        "Aye, Excellency, Lord of the Chips, Master of the Wares!" One chorused. Or came close, for all the shadowed figures had nasal voices and were completely tone deaf. They swiftly left the room, much easier this time with their shortened robes.

        The Last of the Otaku had finally arrived at Starfleet command. Tired, weary, and in Phreakachu's case, sober, they were looking forward to some rest after what had been 4 days since we last saw them.

        I thing the Rolling Stones said it best with, "You can't always get what you want." Although their ideal was a shining society of gleaming polymers and glistening chrome, most of Starfleet Command was made of rusty car doors and rotting wood. You really would wonder where people would find so many car doors, but in a post-apocalyptic world, things don't always make sense.

        As the otaku pulled Sherman up to the gate, they were heralded down from above with a, "Stop and state your name or we will place a photon torpedo squarely up your tail pipe.".

        "Nothing like a warm welcome", Vixen sighed.

        Before anyone could react, Dave jumped up and began moving for Sherman's hatch, "I'll go tell them why we're here!"

        "Get back here!", screamed Vixen. She quickly overtook him. "I'm going out there myself, sit." She briefly wondered to herself why she would stop the newbie from getting killed, but rationalized that it was because he had just been hurt. Yeah, that's it.

        As soon as Vixen's head left the hatch, she suddenly found not one, not two, not even three, but four machine guns with metal welded to them and painted in such a way to look like phaser rifles pointed at her. "In the name of Starfleet, I order you state your name and business here."

        "I am Vixen Hiroshima, from Otakuland, sent by Captain De La Cruz here to seek help."

        "Planet Otakuland was destroyed."

        "We are the last survivors."

        "A moment.", answered what was probably the leader of the group, considering his lack of a red shirt. He disappeared down a ladder, to confer with a superior.

        Eventually they were lead inside by the red shirt and taken down a long hallway. More car doors, some sheet metal, and at one point a fossilized cat filling in a hole. Strangely enough, that gave Phreakachu a moment of happiness. He probably figured he was tripping again.

        The people they saw were pretty uniform. Red, blue, or red uniforms on, although they weren't very uniform. Some were clearly officially licensed merchandise from way back when, some t-shirts and slacks, and a very, very few were paint. And yes, they forgot the underwear. Every now and then they would pass a door that would "glide" up a la Star Trek, except it took a full three minutes and you could hear the grinding of the motor from a mile away.

        After a time, they were escorted into the main chamber. It resembled the council from Star Trek IV, except that the council seats were school desks, and mostly empty. At the head, in front of a giant projector screen with a hole in it, sat a man in robes.

        As the party came to a stop, the man spoke, "Ahhh, welcome brave survivors of Otakuland. Never has such a cataclysm occurred since the Borg. How may we aid you?"

        Vixen took voice for the party, "We need supplies. And a place to stay for while. Plus any assistance you can in finding those responsible for Otakuland."

        "Of course, of course. We will discuss these matters tomorrow, for it is late. My advisor Kares will show you to your rooms, and provide you with whatever you need."

        Kares showed each of them to their rooms with the exact same phrase, "I hope you find your rooms to your liking. Food is in the replicators, and there are sonic showers to your side, have a pleasant stay."

        As Kares left, a chill ran up Dave's spine. "I sure don't trust that guy. Real creepy, like the soul has been sucked out of him.... Oh well, it's food and shower time!"

        Dave practically ran to the panel marked replicator, which was about the size of a bread box, and oddly enough, looked like a bread box. He opened it up, and inside was a stale big max, french fries, and a form to requisition more food. It also allowed him to do his taxes, file for divorce, and take out a 19% Apr mortgage. He sat it aside for now.

        After devouring the meal, which was extremely stale, he next headed for the sonic shower. "Sure will feel great to be clean after a long trip on the road.", he said as he stretched. He stripped down and blindly stepped into the shower, and pushed a button. And found these people's idea of a 'sonic shower' was two wet-dry vacumns mounted in the wall.

        Dave left the shower unsatisfied, but not dressing yet, as this was some of the most privacy he'd ever had. He had walked a full half distance to the bed in his boxers before he noticed Rachel standing there.

        Diving quickly for cover behind a threadbare laz-e-boy with springs poking out, Dave yelled in a panic, "Wha-wha-wha are you doing here?!"

        Rachel began to giggle before she caught herself, and put on her best evil grin instead, which was about as frightening as SD Dan. She did her best impression of a cat as she lazily strolled over to Dave's hiding place, where he was frantically putting his clothes on. "Not happy to see me?", she pouted. "But I came here to give you a present, one that requires you to be out of your clothes..."

        "Nonono! Er, um, no, thank you..now's not a good time. So, just leave, ok?", Dave said in a panic as he lead Rachel out the door. Even if she was rubbing against him like a dog in heat.

        "Aww...I'll come back later, I promise...".

        "Whew, a close one..."

        Vixen awoke just in time to see the blackjack that hit her. After that, all she saw was stars.

        When she awoke again the first thing Vixen noticed were the bonds behind her back, and the gag in her mouth. She also noticed Biff, Rachel, and Dave around her. Oh yeah, Kares standing over the President's corpse.

        "Mmmmph!", or as Vixen intended to say, "What the [explitive deleted]!!!"

        "Ahhh, welcome to wakefullness. Perhaps you'd like to know my plan. You see, I intend to rule the Trekkies for my Master. To do this, I'll kill the President, and blame it on you, while capturing you at the same time. Genius, no? I take care of two birds with one stone, my rise to power, the end of a thorn in my Master's side."

        Despite the repeated cries of, "MMPH!" Kares began reaching for his communicator....

[TO BE CONTINUED]
Author's Notes: I'm not paticularly proud of this. Grammar is bad, dialog is terrible. However, my part perfectly fit in finals week, and even an extention wouldn't help seeing as I have no time during the days of the extention. Seeing how it is now 1 am, and I have a 8 am final, I have no time to correct grammar.

I really wanted to right up until our heroes leave Starfleet command, but time got me. I actually had ideas for once. Wow. Anyways, errata. Kares is Sarek backwards, that RL Trekkies will recognize as Spock's father. My name inspiration. [explitive deleted]: See Richard Nixon and Executive Privlage. You'll get a laugh.

I sleep now, send comments and criticisms to here. Have a nice evening.