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CUSTOMARY INTRO SHOT. THE USS ENTERPRISE 1701-D IS DOING ITS FLY-Y THING THROUGH SPACE.
Picard (voiceover): Captain's log, stardate 45618.1. The Enterprise is on a routine survey mission, looking at space dust. Although it's hardly the most exciting assignment we've had, I, and I believe much of the crew, have been enjoying the break from the constant danger these past few weeks.
[cut to bridge]
[Q poofs into existence]
Q: Hello, Picard.
PICARD: Q! What are you doing here?
Q: Well, I heard there was nothing going on, so I thought I'd come and shake things up a bit. Give you some action, you know.
PICARD: We don't need any action right now, thank you very much. This ship hasn't needed to dock for system overhauls in three weeks, and that's almost a record.
Q: [mock indignation] Picard! You're not telling me you enjoy this peace and quiet, this utter simplicity!
PICARD: Yes, Q, I am.
Q: Oh, very well. I was going to give you something nice and exciting, but if it's a simple life you want...
PICARD: [growing slightly alarmed] Q, what's that supposed to—
[PICARD poofs out of existence]
[For a moment, everyone is stunned. RIKER is first to recover.]
RIKER: Where's the captain? What did you do to him?!
Q: Much as I would love to stay and chat, Riker, I actually wouldn't, you're boring. Ta ta!
[Q poofs out of existence]
RIKER: I can't believe it! The captain's gone!
TROI: Wait! I sense something!
RIKER: What is it?
TROI: There's a presence on the bridge. [walks over to wherever Picard was, kneels down to pick something up] It's...
WORF: [lip curls up in disgust] A tribble.
RIKER: But why would Q take Captain Picard and replace him with a tribble? It doesn't make sense.
TROI: No, you don't understand. The captain hasn't been replaced with a tribble. I sense... he IS the tribble!
[dramatic dun dun DUN plays]
[everyone looks at DATA]
DATA: Apologies. I have been studying the use of certain sound cues for dramatic effect, and it was my understanding that that would be an opportune moment for one.
RIKER: Well... if the captain's a tribble... what do we do?
WORF: Commander, permission to beam the tribble into space.
RIKER: What? No!
WORF: Of course. As the former captain, it deserves respect. A phaser blast would be more humane. [readies phaser]
RIKER: Lieutenant! No one is shooting the captain! That's an order!
[with extreme reluctance, WORF first lowers the phaser, then as RIKER continues to stare at him he even more reluctantly returns it to its holster]
RIKER: Good. [addresses PICARD, who is in TROI's hand and purring gently] Uh...captain... I suggest you go down to sickbay and get checked out.
TROI: I sense agreement. And...he wants both of us to come with him, Will.
RIKER: Alright. Mr. Data, you have the conn.
[TROI and RIKER go to the turbolift]
~INTRO THEME. PICARD'S MONOLOGUE IS REPLACED BY TRIBBLE NOISES. THE ENTERPRISE NYOOMS AROUND AS THE MUSIC PLAYS~
SICKBAY. SHOT OF TRIBBLE PICARD ON AN EXAMINATION TABLE THINGY. DR. CRUSHER HAS JUST CONCLUDED HER EXAMINATION.
CRUSHER: Well, he appears to be in perfect health.
RIKER: What about his mind? Is he alright?
CRUSHER: I've run a number of intelligence tests, and as far as I can tell, his faculties are completely intact. I'm not entirely sure about how this event will affect him emotionally, however...
TROI: I've mostly been sensing confusion and disorientation from him, although they have decreased considerably since earlier. I've also been sensing no small amount of hunger, although he's been doing his best to keep it in check.
CRUSHER: I've checked the computer's information on tribbles, and that's probably for the best. Apparently there's no known food source that won't trigger reproductive processes when consumed.
[RIKER looks vaguely uncomfortable at the thought of Picard having a litter of baby tribbles]
C (con't.): I'll see if the medlabs can't find something he can eat, though.
[Without realizing it, DR. CRUSHER picks up the tribble and begins stroking it. TRIBBLE PICARD purrs contentedly.]
CRUSHER: Can't help but wonder how this is going to affect ship operations, though. Being fully aware isn't going to help much if he can't communicate with anyone.
TROI: Actually, my empathic abilities allow me to understand his orders and communicate them to the rest of the crew, so that's not much of a problem.
RIKER: We've both sent reports to Starfleet on the situation, and I think that based on what you've said there's no reason the Captain shouldn't remain in charge, with Deanna as a translator. Stranger things have happened.
TROI: That's true. [thoughtfully] Didn't the original Enterprise's crew get turned into polyhedrons once?
CRUSHER: Well, I've already said the captain is mentally fit, and I trust your judgement of your abilities, Deanna. I'll put a note recommending the set-up when I send in my medical diagnosis.
[DR. CRUSHER reaches for a PADD, and suddenly realizes she has been holding TRIBBLE PICARD for the past two or three minutes. She self-consciously puts him down on the diagnostic table, where he nuzzles her fingers before scooting towards TROI and RIKER.]
RIKER: So we should go back to the bridge then?
TROI: I sense that the captain wants us to make that so, Will.
[RIKER picks up TRIBBLE PICARD and they exit Sickbay. About forty minutes later, WORF comes down from the bridge complaining of a headache and requesting sick leave. DR. CRUSHER examines him, tells him he's fine, and sends him back.]
ABOUT A WEEK PASSES. MIRACULOUSLY, FLUFFY LITTLE PICARD JUNIORS DO NOT MANAGE TO OVERRUN THE SHIP IN THIS TIME. WORF IS PICKING ALEXANDER UP FROM THE ENTERPRISE'S DAYCARE SCHOOL THING.
WORF: Alexander. How was your day?
ALEXANDER: It was great! It's Captain Picard Day—
WORF: [through gritted teeth] I am aware.
ALEXANDER: [oblivious to Worf's discomfort regarding the subject of Captain Picard] —and we made toy tribbles, and Counselor Troi actually brought the captain to class—
WORF: What? How could they do such a thing? I will never understand the human obsession with such disgusting creatures.
ALEXANDER: I thought he was really cute.
[WORF STARES AT ALEXANDER, DUMBFOUNDED]
A (con't.): Counselor Troi was surprised I liked him so much because she said Klingons and Tribbles don't usually get along, but she said maybe because Mother was half human she got the bit that's friendly to tribbles and I did too. I'm happy I did because they're the best. [WORF'S EYE BEGINS TWITCHING]
ALEXANDER: Look, I drew a picture too! [pulls out a child's drawing of a figure that is evidently Alexander petting a rather large tribble]
WORF'S QUARTERS. WORF IS SITTING IN FRONT OF A COMMS SCREEN LIT UP WITH THE STARFLEET COMMAND LOGO. ALEXANDER IS SNIFFLING IN THE BACKGROUND.
[The call connects, and the picture changes to some ADMIRAL STARFLEET DUDE sitting at a desk in what appears to be a fancy swivel chair.]
ADMIRAL DUDE: Ah, Lt. Commander Worf. I take it this is about your request that you be transferred off the Enterprise due to discrimination.
WORF: The situation has gotten worse. I need to leave the ship as soon as possible.
ADMIRAL DUDE: Look, Lieutenant Worf—
WORF: It is for the sake of my son. Alone I would be able to handle a few more weeks until the transfer was approved through traditional channels, but he is becoming sympathetic to the tribbles. The longer we remain here the greater the danger becomes.
ADMIRAL DUDE: Lieutenant—
WORF: He spent half an hour praising them earlier! This is not the way of an honorable Klingon!
ADMIRAL DUDE: Lieutenant, I'm denying your request.
WORF: ...What?
ADMIRAL DUDE: I realize you don't like tribbles—
WORF: That is an understatement—
ADMIRAL DUDE: But that hardly qualifies as discrimination. People like tribbles. Your son appears to like tribbles. It's not like anyone's shoving them in your face.
WORF: I have to work with one every single—
ADMIRAL DUDE: It's hardly Captain Picard's fault what happened to him. You have to make allowances. Drop this now and I won't tell him and Commander Riker that you tried to go over their heads over something this trivial. Dismissed. [comms unit shuts off. WORF sits there for a moment, staring ahead of him and doing one of his ANGRY FACES at the camera]
ALEXANDER: [from next room] Father?
[walks into room, holding a piece of paper]
A [con't]: I think it must have been an accident that you ripped up my last three drawings of me with the tribbles, so I made another one. It's me on the Tribble homeworld! There are lots and lots and we're all really happy and best friends. I also got the replicator to make me some tape so I'm trying to fix the other ones.
[WORF'S ANGRY FACE morphs into a OH GOD SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME FACE]
BRIDGE. PICARD IS ON HIS CHAIR, PURRING SOFTLY; TROI IS SITTING NEXT TO HIM. RIKER IS STANDING AND GESTURING AWKWARDLY AT HIS ATTIRE: EVERYONE ON THE BRIDGE IS WEARING THOSE WEIRD JUMPSUITS TROI SEEMS TO BE SO FOND OF. ALL THE STATIONS ARE MANNED BY THE USUAL EXCEPT TACTICAL, WHICH IS MANNED BY ENSIGN ALBERT 'REDDY' McREDSHIRT.
RIKER: Are you sure that this is what Picard wanted us to do, Deanna? It seems rather odd, and...well, I feel uncomfortable being out of uniform.
TROI: Yes, I'm positive. It was a very strong feeling. And you look gorgeous.
[Picard purrs]
RIKER: Well, if you say so, Deanna...
[They're interrupted by a comm chirping.]
La FORGE: La Forge to bridge.
RIKER: [punches chest badge] Riker here.
La FORGE: Sir, there appears to be some equipment missing in the docking bay. Someone's taken off with one of the shuttles.
RIKER: What? I didn't authorize that! Did the Captain, Deanna?
TROI: No, we're both just as confused as you are. When did the shuttle take off?
La FORGE: The logs say 2200 hours.
RIKER: But that's impossible! How could they have gotten the authorization? Barring emergency scenarios, only a few people have clearance—[comes to a sudden realization] Wait a minute, where's Worf?
DATA: Worf reported that he would be unable to attend this shift for personal reasons.
RIKER: Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Worf.
COMPUTER: Lieutenant Commander Worf is in his quarters.
TROI: Alright. [scoops up Picard] The captain wants to investigate. Will, you're with us. Data, you have the conn. [They exit through the turbolift. As the doors close, the tactical station suddenly explodes, causing ENSIGN McREDSHIRT to scream in agony.]
CORRIDOR OUTSIDE WORF'S QUARTERS. TROI KNOCKS ON THE DOOR, OR MAKES THE DOOR CHIME GO, OR WHATEVER.
TROI: Worf? [nothing happens] Computer, security override door to Lieutenant Commander Worf's quarters, authorization Picard Alpha A.
[the doors swoosh open, and TROI, RIKER and TRIBBLE PICARD enter WORF'S QUARTERS. All of WORF'S Klingon effects—his bat'leth, his trophies, his set of Klingon operas—are gone. This is not immediately obvious, however, as the floor and lower walls are covered with drawings, the ones on the walls held in place with tape: drawings of Alexander spending time with tribbles, drawings of Alexander as a tribble...There are even several tribble plushies, apparently produced from some long-lost replicator pattern. ALEXANDER is asleep in the middle of the floor, next to a set of crayons and a half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms.]
RIKER: [picks one up] Wow, these are really good. Worf should be proud.
[TROI scans the room, and notices a PADD seemingly discarded on a coffee table. She turns it on.]
TROI: It's a letter from Worf.
RIKER: [still looking at pictures. The one he's currently examining is of a giant tribble pouncing on a figure with angry eyebrows and what might be a bat'leth] What's it say?
TROI:
To the reader of this message,
As you have probably already determined, I have used my privileges as security officer to commandeer a shuttle. Ordinarily, I would never do such a thing, as it is incredibly dishonorable; however, of late Starfleet has treated me as if I were the lowest petaQ, and I consider all my vows to them null and void. I would rather eat fifteen-year-old gagh than stay on the ship with that thing the Captain has become a moment longer.
RIKER: What? What's that supposed to mean?
TROI: Shhh. There's more. [PICARD, currently perched on TROI'S shoulder, nibbles her hair as she continues]
Alexander may stay with Counselor Troi, unless he wishes otherwise. I thought there was hope for him, but recent events have shown me his heart is not Klingon, and it will be better for him if he remains with you.
I am returning to Klingon space. Once I tell the Council of how you have paraded a tribble around as a commanding officer there will be war, as the Empire seeks to finish off the species once and for all. And it will be glorious.
[TROI lowers the PADD, and she and RIKER slowly look at each other, stunned. PICARD might also be looking stunned, but since he's a tribble it's more or less impossible to tell. Finally, RIKER speaks.]
RIKER: I can't believe this. Why didn't he say something sooner? We could have done something.
~END CREDITS PLAY~