From: cth002@acad.drake.edu (THE TREKNOLOGIST)
Newsgroups: alt.ensign.wesley.die.die.die
Subject: WEASEL SAGA SEVEN
Date: 30 Aug 95 19:29:50 CST

Here goes my latest revision. Enjoy!
I know it's not my funniest nor my best put it is a necessary chapter in
the unending and ever uncompleted...

HISTORIAN'S NOTE:

The Weasel Saga takes place on the following premise: Almost a year
after Wesley left Starfleet to become the apprentice to the Traveler,
he became disillusioned due to the domestic abuse. After preparing a
series of doctoral level theses based on what he had learned during his
travels, the Academy accepted him back in time to graduate with the
class of 2372.

"In space, there is no beginning and no end. But in one uncharted
corner of our galaxy is a corridor in another world, all my children,
and the bold and the beautiful -- a nexxus where time and space
collide, past and future connect, retro and vogue clash and two
generations will meet to join forces in a battle to save their hair...
or hides (whichever the case may be.)"

EPISODE SEVEN
T e r m i n a t i o n s

PROLOGUE
(Stardate 48732.5)

A month had passed since the fateful destruction of the Enterprise-D.
The crew gathered at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards orbiting Mars. Wesley
Crusher had returned from his frolics with the Traveler to join them for the
christening. They looked out at their new vessel through a thin forcefield
that separated them from the vacuum of dry dock and the Enterprise-E
therein.

A wooden crate was brought forward by Utopia Planitia staff and opened
with a crowbar. The salon commander withdrew a bottle of Dom Paringon 2365,
read the label, and handed it to Captain Riker to do the honors.

Data reached in for another bottle, but had his hand slapped by a
salon security guard. He eyed the guard carefully waiting for the right
moment to seize the bottle without getting caught. Data reached into his
pocket for a hypospray of 99% pure adrenalex, which he knew from frequent
experiments had adverse effects on Spot. He held his cat still in his arms
while he injected it with the hypo. Spot let out a cry and started shaking
violently in Data's hands, so he quickly tossed her claws
extended at the guard. The guard whipped out his phaser and stunned Spot in
mid-air causing her to stop in the air and fall straight down.

Data was nonplused. Then he spied Wesley. He went over to him and
injected the hypo into his neck. Wes began quietly twitching, which
developed into thousands of nervous ticks. He began having a fit not unlike
an epileptic seizure. The guard was quite amused. Eventually Wesley's fit
became so violent that the guard became so distracted, and Data was able to
grab himself a bottle.

Riker weighed the bottle given him in his hand and looked over at
Admiral Picard who had recently miraculously sprouted thick light gray
stylized hair over the entire top of his head. Riker deferred to Picard
handing him the bottle.

"Thank you, Number... Captain. But I feel there is no one here who
would be more honored than Mister Crusher," Picard said startling everyone.

Wes, who had been quiet this whole time, suddenly stopped shaking.
"M-me, sir?"

"No, Wes. I was having another delusion about Jack Crusher! About
how much I wish he could be here to see how weaselly his son turned out!"

Wesley stepped forward and reached out for the bottle as Picard nearly
handed it to him, but quickly jerked it away out of reach. "Ha! Gotcha!"
Picard paused. "I'm sorry. Here you go. Gotcha again!"

Wes finally got the bottle. "I christen thee, Enterprise - E!" he
said tossing the bottle at the front end of saucer section. The bottle flew
through the forcefield and turned end over end as it headed for the ship. The
bottle sailed straight and true and made contract with one of the windows on
deck seven, shattering both itself and the window. Data spit out in a spray
the swig of champagne he had in his mouth. Bits of glass flew out from the
explosion of air from the window. But the breached cabin apparently did not
repressurize as the walls of the neighboring cabins above, below, and to the
sides exploded into it. This caused a cascade failure of every bulkhead
throughout the ship which eventually affected the warp core. Within a few
seconds, the crew watched their new ship go down in a blaze of glory.

"Wes, you've done it again!" shouted Picard.

Montgomery Scott was reached on subspace and told what had happened.
He flew there immediately. Another ship of the same class was quickly
brought in and had its registry changed to the Enterprise's. Scotty wore
his plaid kilt for the ceremony. This time, Mister Scott picked up Wes and
tossed him like a caber, the famous sport of Scotland, at the new ship
setting off the same reaction as before.

"Oh, darn," said Worf and Riker to each other.

Wes was blasted out of the explosion with quite some speed. He was
picked up later as a third ship was maneuvered into dry dock. Wes found
himself strapped to the hull and a third bottle aimed at his head supposedly
to soften the blow. Third time was the charm. Everyone gave a huge
applause especially the media and fashion journalists present. The
Enterprise-E was ready for her maiden voyage.

The crew entered their new bridge and took to their stations. Wesley
saw the new science station and zipped right over to the officer who manned
it and started annoying her. She soon left her station, though, to get away
from him and mingle. Last out of the turbolift were a group of journalists
who had surrounded Picard and were hounding him with questions and
photographs.

"How does it feel to be back on the Enterprise bridge?"

"Reassured... That it is not I who will be responsible for the deaths
of many innocent and unfortunate Ferengi we may encounter," he said briefly
posing for another picture and showing of his new found hair which looked
unbelievably fake.

"So, Captain this is the first starship Enterprise in eight years
without Jean-Luc Picard in command. How do you feel about that?"

"Lucky... That I won't be the one with a lawsuit on my hands every
time some guy claims I broke the prime directive. Ha!" he replied flashing
a wink and a grin for another photographer.

"Who have you been doing since you retired?"

"I've been getting busy. Let me assure you," he said again posing for
a shot with his hand resting on his cheek.

"Excuse me, excuse me. There will be plenty of time for questions
later," Riker told the journalists out of jealousy. They retracted and
allowed Picard to sit in a chair off to the side. Riker addressed the crowd
on his bridge. "I'm Captain William Riker, and I would like to welcome you
all aboard _my_ beautiful ship."

Troi saw someone in the background and called out to her. "Digit!"
Troi approached the young, mid-twenties, attractive, almond-shaped yellow-
eyed, fair-skinned female ensign. After an awkward embrace, she took her by
the hand and brought her over to Picard. "Excuse me, Captain. I'd like you
to meet the science officer of the Enterprise-E. Ensign Digit Soong -
Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. My father has told me some
interesting stories about you."

Picard was shocked. For a long moment, every dirty joke he ever told
Data, every single juicy tidbit of lovemaking he had demonstrated for him,
that one time (actually those two times) Data had caught him in the ready
room. His face turned bright red. He stared at her in amazement. "Your
father? Data is your father? Data, the inventor of the positronic condom?
I guess your presents here means it's back to ol' drawing board for him."

"That's quasitronic. And yes, sir it does."

"You met her once before, but she was..." Troi held out her hands a
decimeter apart about the size of a isolinear chip board.

Picard protested. "But that wasn't so long ago. It couldn't have been
more than a year..."

"It was last Friday, sir."

"Yes, well. You've grown pretty fast, pretty, and fast," Picard
replied feeling very awkward and his face redden again.

"Thank you, sir," she said leaving Picard to sign autographs and more
photos. Digit and Troi moved off, but Picard to glance after them as the
cameras continued to flash. The expression on his face changed from shock
to sadness. Something clearly bothered him.

Geordi moved over to Picard with a smile on his face. "Bitchin' ship
if you ask me," Geordi told him.

Picard's mind was still on Digit. He watched her as she moved to the
helmsman's position. Picard imagined her in many other positions. "You
know, Geordi, it amazes me."

"And what would that be, sir?"

Picard leaned over to Geordi. "Digit. How flexible and fully
functional she must be... and Data. When did he find the time for a
family?"

"It's like you always said -- if something's important enough, you
make the time. That wasn't his first daughter, you know? Remember Lal?"
Picard nodded absently. Geordi realized something. "So, that's why you've
been running around the galaxy with an eighteen-year-old. Found retirement
a little lonely, huh?"

Picard gave him a look. "With that kind of tact, I'm glad you're an
engineer and not a gossip columnist."

Riker interrupted them. "Prepare to leave spacedock. Aft thrusters
ahead one quarter, port and starboard at station keeping... Captain Picard,
I'd be honored if you would give the order to get underway."

"No, no. Thank you."

"Please, I insist."

All eyes were on Picard. He had little choice. He stood uncomfortably
for a moment of anticipation. "En-gage!" Everyone broke into applause.
Picard sat down in acute embarrassment and annoyance.

"Brought a tear to my VISOR," Geordi told him sarcastically.

The great ship majestically had left the dock and headed out into open
space. A short time later, Riker returned to his guests. "Well, we've just
cleared the asteroid belt..."

Picard leaned over to Geordi. "I'm surprised we made it farther that
his own belt!"

"...Our course will take us out to Jupiter and then back to spacedock.
If we have time, we'll conduct a few tests of the food dispen..."

Suddenly the communications console beeped. Worf hit a few random
commands in response. "We're picking up a distress call, Captain."

That grabbed everyone's attention.

"On speakers."

The panicked and urgent voice of a crewmember crackled, "This is the
transport ship Fazool. We're caught in some kind of... angel hair pasta or
spaghetti. We can't break free... need immediate help... it's tearing us..."
The voice was drowned out by static and an explosion.

Data looked at his OPS readout. "The Fazool was one of two ships
transporting Weasarian refugees to Earth. The Fazool has often complained to
Starfleet about space spaghetti, but until now there has never been any
evidence to support such nonsense; and thus, no one has ever taken them
seriously."

Riker blinked a couple of times, surprised at this unexpected turn of
events. Picard watched him intently. Riker cleared his throat and then
turned to his science officer, Digit, whom Wesley was still annoying by
hanging all over her. "Can you locate them?"

"I have them on sensors, sir."

"Signal the closest starship. We're in no condition to mount a
rescue. We don't even have a full catering staff on board."

"We're the only one in range, sir," noted Data.

"Of course! This wouldn't be the Enterprise if we weren't." Riker
shifted in his seat, hesitant to take the plunge. Picard drummed his
fingers impatiently on his leg. Finally, Riker took a breath, hiked up his
pants and badly imitated the Picard maneuver. "Helm, lay in an intercept
course and engage at maximum warp."

Picard was irate. He fidgeted in his chair, itching to get in on the
action. His instincts were taking over. He had to show everyone how the
Picard maneuver was really done.

Geordi shot him a side-long glance. "Is there something wrong with
your shirt, Captain?"

Picard gave him a look as the ship entered warp. "Now, I'll probably
miss my manicure appointment! Pardon me." He left for the restroom.

Digit read from the scans. "We're within visual range of the energy
distortion, Captain."

"On screen." A enormous lock of beautiful healthy shiny long blonde
hair rippled and waved directly ahead of them. Everyone reacted to the
bizarre sight. It had to be at least a mile long!

"What the hell is that?" asked Troi who began subconsciously messing
with her hair along with everyone else.

Wesley strode over to the viewscreen, stood in front of the viewscreen
and faced the image with his arms spread. "Behold the Nexxus!"

"Don't you mean the Nexus, Weasel? Ha! Thought you'd never make a
spelling error, huh? Guess I showed you!" Riker corrected the weasel.

"Sorry. This is the Nexxus. You wanna get sued?" Wesley replied
snippily.

"I thought it was only in salons!" exclaimed Troi.

"I've found the remaining transport ship," reported Digit. The
viewscreen showed the ship trapped like a fly in a, in a, in a flytrap. It
was being buffeted and thrown about by large ringlets of hair. "Their hulls
are starting to buckle under the stress. They won't survive much longer."

The Enterprise suddenly shook. The Data worked the OPS controls.
"We're encountering severe static distortions from the luxurious, sensuous,
curvaceous..." Data's was unable to finish due to excess drool.

"We'll have to keep our distance. We don't want to get pulled in
too... Or do we?" Riker added for effect. He frowned at the screen,
trying to figure out what or who to do.

Picard walked back onto the bridge, took one look at the viewscreen
and shouted urgently, "Conditioner!"

Geordi quickly elbowed him in the side. This wasn't his ship.

Picard shut his mouth.

Riker sneered at Picard. "We don't have any conditioner."

"You left spacedock without conditioner? Oh, great! Now, it's 5 past
one! Now when am I supposed to get my manicure?"

"I think you can be worked in on Tuesday," Mot the Barber told him
checking his date book. He too was on the bridge enjoying the maiden
voyage.

Riker paid no mind to Picard's troubles. "Data, try generating a
subspace field around the ship. That might break it free."

"Aye, sir."

When Picard heard this order, he shook his head slightly and mouthed
the word "no" under his breath. He knew that won't work and that this utter
madness had to stop.

"There's too much static interference, Captain," reported Digit whom
Weasley had draped himself over again.

Riker frowned again, trying to come up with another solution, but it
wasn't easy. It was his first day in command; his ship was under-manned and
ill-prepared. It was a nightmare come true: He was out of Columbian coffee
and conditioner.

Picard was itching to get in on this, his fingers dug into the arms of
his chair, but he restrained himself.

"What about venting plasma from the warp nacelles? That might act as
conditioner and disrupt the ringlets' hold on the ship," suggested Riker.

"Aye, sir. Releasing drive plasma," complied Data.

Riker glanced over at the journalists, then glanced over at Picard.
Picard gave him a pained smile, trying to be encouraging even though he knew
this was not the right course of action. In fact, it was downright
foolhearty.

"It's not having any effect, sir," replied Data. Riker was
overwhelmed now; at a genuine loss as to what to do next. "The Pasta's hull
integrity is now down to twelve percent, sir."

Riker looked over at Picard, who had remained quiet during this entire
sequence only through great effort and out of deference to his former number
one. It was a delicate moment. Riker didn't want to look incapable, but
sometimes he couldn't help it. "Captain Picard, I would appreciate any
suggestions you might have."

Picard was out of his chair like a cork out of a bottle. He moved
down to stand next to Riker. "First, move us within transporter range and
beam those people to the Enterprise."

Riker looked at him with surprise. "What about the electrostatic
distortions? They'll tear us apart."

"Risk was part of the game if you want to sit in that chair." Picard
gave him a supportive look.

Riker buckled down and grimly looked at the image on the screen.
"Helm, close to within transporter range."

Picard spotted at a journalist with a holographic recorder who was not
using it. "And second, why the hell aren't you getting this on film?" The
journalist snapped into action.

The ship edged in even closer to the flowing hair. The ringlets from
the Nexxus lashed out at the ship, just missing it.

"We're within range, sir," reported Digit.

"Beam them directly to Sickbay," ordered Riker.

"How big's your staff?" asked Troi sincerely concerned.

"Is that all you can think of at a time like this. The size of my
staff? Crusher should be on duty."

Picard was pissed. "You know, I was supposed to have a mud bath after
the manicure..."

"You could schedule that in on Tuesday too, Captain," chimed Mot.
Picard smiled at Mot thanking him.

Troi turned to two journalists. "You and you. You've just become wet
nurses. Let's go." Troi and the journalists exited to the turbolift.

"Hey, hey, hey!! Where do you think you're going?" Picard called to
the journalists unable to stop them from leaving the bridge.

One journalist answered him with, "There could be some cool injuries!"

"Main Engineering reports fluctuations in the warp plasma relays."

"Aw dang, man! I knew I was forgetting something," answered Geordi
getting up from his chair and running over to his station.

Worf was having problems. "Sir, I'm having trouble locking onto them.
They appear to be in Aeon Flux."

Picard looked to Geordi.

Geordi quickly moved to look at Worf's read-out. "What the hell..."

Picard moved over to him and looked at it too. "Hell, I dunno.
Data?"

Data looked at it. "Their life signs are phasing in and out of our
fashion plane."

"Phasing? To where?" asked Picard.

Geordi began to work.

Worf shouted, "Sir! Their hull's collapsing!"

The screen showed the ship being destroyed by an blonde tendril.

All eyes were on Data. "I got forty-seven of them out of one
hundred thousand and three hundred fifty-two."

Suddenly the Enterprise rocked violently. Klaxons and alarms started
to wail and the lights flickered on and off. Digit turned to Weasel Boy and
finally offered him her seat. The science station exploded just then which
sent white hot metal fragments screaming across the bridge and lodged in
Wes's head which would have hit Digit otherwise. Digit pushed Wes out of
her chair and sat down. Unfortunately, the bulkhead exploded again. Digit
took the brunt of the blow this time and was literally shredded.

Data shrugged. "I guess it's back to the positronic drawing board.
Hell, I only wanted to make plastic companions anyways."

"We're caught in a static field," replied Geordi. He turned to look
at the rest of the crew to see that their hair was all standing on end due
to the static. Geordi's fro was, of course, unaffected.

"All engines, full reverse!" shouted Riker.

The ship began to turn sideways into the wake of the Nexxus, but could
not break away. It was clearly being pulled along, out of control. Blonde
tendrils lept up from the Nexxus, lashing against the ship.

Sickbay was filled with the survivors of the Pasta. They were all
members of the Weasarian race, all humanoid and dressed in distinctive
clothing -- gray jumpsuits with a rainbow stripe across the top. The
survivors were in various states of shock. Many sat on the floor, staring
into middle distance. Some laid on tables, unconscious. Others mumbled
incoherently to themselves. Crusher and the journalists moved from person
to person trying to get control of the situation as the ship was rocked and
flung about.

"The colors are touching me. I'm caught in the glass. Help me...I
can see the seconds..."

"It will be all right. We're going to take care of you," comforted
Crusher. She looked at her tricorder. "Only minor injuries so far. But it
looks like they're all suffering from some kind of culture shock. Most of
them need a hydrating creme -- Alpha Hydroxy based preferably."

One journalist moved past a man sitting on a biobed with a dazed look
on his face. He had a nasty looking tatoo on one side of his face, but an
uncanny taste in fashion and hairstyle. The journalist was about to turn
away when suddenly he was grabbed and roughly pulled close by him. His eyes
were suddenly wild, crazed.

"Why, why?" he asked.

"It's all right. You're safe. You're on the Enterprise."

"No, I have to go... I have to get back. You don't understand! Let
me go!" He began to attack the journalist. But before he could do any real
damage, Crusher injected the man with a hypo of alpha-hydroxy and he fell
unconscious.

The blonde Nexxus continued to threaten them on the viewscreen.

"Inertial dampness is causing all styled hair to fail. Perms are
becoming nullified... Engines not responding!" shouted Geordi.

Riker gripped the arms of his chair with one hand. His face paled.
"I didn't expect to mess my hair my first day on the job."

Picard tried to buck up the young captain. "The first thing you learn
as captain was how to cheat bad hair days. Take me, for example. I was
bald for all seven seasons! Geordi?"

"There's just no way to disrupt a static field of this magnitude!!!
Hull integrity failing!"

Picard looked at Geordi expectantly for a moment. "But I do have a
theory..."

"I thought you might."

"A pro-vitamin discharge directly ahead might disrupt the field long
enough for us to break away.

"A pro-vitamin torpedo?"

"Yeah!" shouted Worf.

"Load torpedo bays, prepare to fire on my command," Picard ordered.

Worf looked at the controls in disbelief. "Captain, we don't have any
torpedoes."

Picard glanced at Riker. "Don't tell me... Tuesday."

"Wednesday, actually."

"Captain, it may be possible to simulate a torpedo blast using a burst
of Finesse from the main deflector dish," suggested Data.

"Where are the deflector relays?" Picard asked him.

"Deck 30, section 11-alpha," replied Geordi.

Riker stopped Picard from leaving the Bridge. "I'll go. You have the
bridge." Riker headed for the turbolift, and there was a moment as Picard
was sorely tempted to take command of the ship and sit in the Captain's
chair one more time. But he pulled himself back before Riker could exit.

"No. A captain's place was on the Bridge of his ship. I'll take care
of it." Riker nodded in acknowledgment. Picard headed for the turbolift.
"Keep her together until I get back, Geordi!"

"I always do," Geordi lipped back.

"If that's so, Geordi, then where the hell is the Enterprise-D?"

Geordi shut up. Picard smiled as the turbolift doors slid shut.

Picard entered the deflector relay control room. He rushed in and
ripped off one of the large wall panels. He quickly began to re-route
cabling and circuitry.

"Sixty seconds to structural collapse!" yelled Geordi working the
consoles frantically. "Bridge to Captain Picard."

"Picard here."

"Captain, I don't know how much longer I can hold her together!"

Picard finished working and slammed the wall panel closed. "That's
it! Go!"

Riker gave the order in a calm steady voice. "Activate main
deflector: Mr. Worf... Fire."

Worf hit the one button whose function he had memorized.

A large burst of energy lept out of the main deflector dish and
exploded in front of the ship. There was an immediate reaction within the
hair, which roiled and fluctuated in response.

"We're breaking free!"

The ship began to turn away from the crackling hair. But just as it
turned, one final tendril of hair suddenly lept out and hit the ship. The
Enterprise was rocked so hard that everyone was knocked off their feet.
Gradually, the shaking stopped.

Geordi scrambled back into position. "We're clear."

Everyone reacted with relief.

Riker hit his communicator. "You did it, Picard! Damage report,
Geordi."

"There's some buckling on the starboard nacelle. We've also got a
hull breach in the Engineering section. It took out the beauty parlor on
28..."

"Damn!" shouted Mot.

"Emergency forcefields are in place and holding... Sections 3 through
12 on decks 28, 29... and 30." Everyone turned to look at Geordi. "Bridge
to Captain Picard. Captain Picard, please respond." There was no response.
Geordi's face fell.

Riker couldn't stop a shit-eating grin from spreading across his face.
"I guess my fears of Picard getting his job back were unfounded afterall!
He thought he could make a fool out of me. Well, I guess I showed him."
Riker, excited at the possibility, got up and followed Geordi.

On deck 30, Riker and Geordi found the corridor ahead of them was
gone. A jagged hole had been ripped in the ship and open space could be
seen beyond the twisted metal. A forcefield flickered on and off, holding
the vacuum of space at bay. They looked at the awesome sight for a moment.
Then some small motion caught their attention. A piece of tubing was
moving. A hand came into view that was grasping the tubing and pulling up
its owner... Jean-Luc Picard. He pulled himself back up onto the deck where
Riker and Geordi were standing and laid at their feet out of breath. His
communicator and hair were missing. He was dirty, tattered, and bald again.
Apparently, his hairpiece was sucked into space.

Wesley came running up the corridor behind them and stopped. "My
God... Was anyone in there?" He whiningly asked. Riker and Picard both
suddenly got nauseous. Involuntarily, Picard swept his leg out knocking Wes
off his feet while Riker simultaneously and just as involuntarily gave him a
shove through the forcefield and into space.

Astonished, they all watched him float away slowly turning end over
end.

ACT I
CELEBRATIONS
78 weeks later... Stardate 50227.9

The crew had gathered again in full naval dress in celebration of
Weasley's conviction of the attempted insemination of the President of the
Federation. They had the holodeck running the nineteenth-century three-
masted version of the Enterprise where they were about to conduct a ceremony
in holographic effigy. They all stood at attention while a shackled
holographic Weasley was marched in with a drum roll. Troi and La Forge held
him by either arm and shoved him toward Picard and Riker. The drum roll
stopped. Picard moved to Weasley and peered at him closely.

"Mr. Crusher. I always knew this day would come. Are you prepared to
face the charges?"

Weasley didn't answer and Troi jabbed him in the side.

"Answer him!" she ordered.

Weasley whined, "I beg you! Please reconsider! Please!"

Picard looked to Riker, who pulled out a large, rolled piece of
parchment. He opened the scroll and began to read from it.

"We, the officers and crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise, being of sound
mind and judgment, hereby make the following charges against Weasley
'Weazboy the Weasel' Crusher: One. That he did knowingly and willfully
perform above and beyond the call of duty on countless occasions. Two. That
on all of those occasions the ship was put into dire jeopardy by none other
than the acused. And three. Most seriously that he has lost the respect and
admiration of the entire crew, if he even had it in the first place." Riker
put away the scroll.

"There can be only one punishment for such crimes. I hereby condemn
you to the level of a weasel, with all the rights and privileges thereto."

"Aren't you going to say 'And may God have mercy on your soul'?" he
whined.

"Hell no."

Everyone roared in approval. Picard smiled at Weasley, then Riker
stepped in. "Extend the plank!!"

Weasley's face registered surprise as everyone grabbed him and hauled
him toward the side, where a long plank had been pushed out over the water.

"Into the acid sea with him," various crewmembers shouted.

Picard gave Riker a questioning look. "Don't you think you're taking
this a little too far, Number One?"

"No. Computer, create sharks."

Weasley was hustled to the rail where his mother was waiting patiently
by the plank, holding a long pike. He was put on the plank and his mother
prodded him with the pike until Weasley is nearly at the end. Weasley
finally stopped and turned around. "WAIT!"

Everyone fell silent a moment. Weasley looked over the side at the
acid below. "I can't swim."

Everyone roared with laughter again. This was too funny.

Geordi reassured him, "The Holodeck safety program is engaged. The
computer won't let you drown."

"You'll probably be dissolved beforehand, anyway," added Data.

"Or eaten alive," added Beverly, prodding him with the pike.

Data realized it was time. "Wait. Allow me. I have finally figured
out why this is so funny. I must confess I was once uncertain as to why
pushing someone into an acidic, shark-infested solution is amusing. And I
know now it is all done in good fun. To get in the spirit of things.
Computer: remove plank."

As the plank dematerialized, Weasley dropped straight down in slow
motion into the holographic hydrochloric sea. Everyone laughed at sight of
Weasley dissolving away, but Data mysteriously remained silent.

"Bridge to Captain Picard," a voice from Picard's combadge sounded.

"Picard here."

"There is a personal message for you from Earth."

Picard was annoyed. "Put it through down here." Picard walked toward
the bow. "Computer, arch." Picard went to the arch and activated one of
the monitors and waited for the transmission to appear. A text message
appeared and he started to read it. After a moment, he reacted with shock
and dismay to something on the screen.

Troi went to Picard whose face was ashen with shock. Clearly he had
just read something on the screen which was very disturbing. "Captain, are
you all right?"

"Yes. Fine. If you'll excuse me." He turned off the screen.

"Well, okay then," Troi replied flitting off again in a rather
nymph-like fashion.

Picard rolled his eyes. "Computer, exit." Picard was clearly
distracted as he left the holodeck.

Riker took a couple of steps toward Worf. "How's our weasel doing,
Mr. Worf?"

"There are still some bone fragments left..."

"Bridge to Commander Riker."

"Riker here."

"We're picking up a distress call from the Ambrosia salon, sir. They
say they're under attack."

"Red Alert! All hands to battle stations! Captain Picard to the
Bridge!!"

Picard and company arrived on the bridge. The viewscreen showed a
small solar salon with a large yellow star in the background. The salon bore
scorch marks and other signs of recent battle.

"It looks like we're too late," reported Riker.

"There are no other ships in the system," reported Worf.

"Sensors show five life signs aboard the salon, Captain," said Data.

"The salon staff was nineteen."

Picard got up and started heading for the Ready Room. His attitude
was dismissive and flippant, almost irritated that this has interrupted some
deeper concern of his. "Secure from Red Alert. Number One, begin an
investigation. I'll be in my ready room."

Troi and Riker exchanged a surprised look. "Sir?"

"MAKE... IT... SO," he told them firmly.

Riker knew he meant business and scurried away with Worf.

The solar space salon was a smoking ruin. Consoles flickered, lights
dimmed, damage was everywhere. Riker, Worf, Crusher and two security guards
materialized in a cramped room among large fallen padded chairs and smashed
wash basins. The debris made it difficult to get a clear view of the room.

Worf sniffed something small he picked up off the floor. "These hairs
are consistent with type III follicles," Worf told Riker.

"Well, that narrows it to Klingon, Breen or Ziggy Marley."

Crusher followed her tricorder readings. "I'm picking up live
follicles... about twenty meters ahead.

"That rules out Klingons," said Worf. Riker gave him a look. "They
would have scalped everyone."

"Over here," Crusher pointed. They picked their way carefully through
the carnage of the salon and came to the body of a Starfleet science
officer. He had taken a disruptor blast to the back of his head. Crusher
immediately took some devices out of her medical kit and began to treat his
new cowlick.

Riker started bossing people around. "Worf, you're with me. Pascal,
you and Fortran search the upper deck."

Riker stopped at two bodies in the hall, and checked them over, but
they were dead. There was a sudden banging from the far corner of the room.
Worf and Riker quickly moved to a collapsed bulkhead.

"Under here."

They both grabbed hold of a large metal plate, pulled it aside and
began to dig through the debris. Finally, a hand can be seen grasping about
from within the pile of rubble. Riker and Worf worked faster. Worf grabbed
the man's hand.

"It's all right. Do not struggle." Worf held the man's hand as Riker
shoved away a final console. The man was one of the Weasarian survivors of
the Nexxus. He blinked a few times and seemed a little dazed.

"I'm Commander William Riker of the starship Enterprise."

"Sassoon, Doctor Vidal Sassoon, of the Ponds Institute," he spoke in a
distinct French accent. Sassoon put a hand to his head. "How's my hair?"

"Wanna borrow my comb?" offered Worf.

Sassoon looked at Worf's dripping petroleum soaked comb and quickly
looked away while putting his hand to his mouth. His shivered head.

"Who attacked you, Doctor?"

"I'm not sure, it happened so fast."

"Commander- you'd better take a look at this!" called Pascal.

Riker and Worf went to Pascal as Crusher began to scan Sassoon.
Pascal was kneeling over some dead guy.

"Ferengi," said Worf in disgust.

Data sat, petting Spot, in his quarters with Geordi. "...I was
attempting to get in the spirit of things. I thought it would be humorous.
But somehow, dropping Weasley into the ocean has lost its... pleasure."
Data frowned, troubled by this recent experience. He put Spot down and
moved to the wall. He activated a control panel and a small compartment
slid open, revealing a small nacho cheese Dorito chip suspended in a glass
and metal framework. Data looked at the chip.

La Forge moved to him in concern. "Data, you're not thinking about
eating that thing are you? It's over 400 years old!"

"It has occurred to me on several occasions. But I believe this may
be the appropriate time. 'Crunch all you want. We'll replicate more.' Or
was it 'Chips. They're what's fur dinner!'?"

"Wait a minute. I thought you've always been afraid it would overload
your tastebuds."

"You're thinking of those Starbursts, Geordi. Or were they Jolly
Ranchers? Nevermind, I believe my growth as an artificial lifeform has
reached yet another impasse. For nearly thirty-six years I have endeavored
to become more "human," to grow beyond my original programming. And yet I
am still unable to grasp such simple concepts as taste and vanity. This
Dorito chip is the only answer."

La Forge considered a moment, looked at the chip, and reluctantly had
to agree. "All right."

Riker stood next to Picard, who had his eyes closed and his back
turned to the window holding a large paper reflecting mirror up to his face
and neck. His mind was clearly elsewhere as Riker finished his report.

"We found two dead Ferengi aboard the salon. We're analyzing their
equipment to see if we can determine what ship they came from.

Picard nodded absently. "There's still no indication of why they
attacked the salon?"

"We think they were looking for something."

Picard rolled his eyes under his eyelids at the idiocy. "Inform
Starfleet Command that the Ferengi were looking for something, then. This
could indicate a new Ferengi threat."

"You want me to contact Starfleet?"

"Are you deaf?"

"No, sir."

"Dismissed, then." Picard keeps his back turned. Riker hesitated
awkwardly.

"There is something else, Captain. One of the stylists, a Doctor
Sassoon, has insisted on speaking with you. I told him you were busy, sir,
but he said it was absolutely imperative that he speak with you right away.

"Understood. Dismissed!"

"Sir, is there anything wrong?"

"DISMISSED!"

Ten Forward was bustling with patrons and activity. Data entered
wearing an Italian suit and an odd look on his face. The opening licks of
"Stayin' Alive" sounded over the speakers. The people cleared a path for him
as he stepped toward the bar. His body language was radically altered.
La Forge followed him closely, watching his every move.

They arrived at the bar and Guinan came over. She had recently been
discharged from the Betty Ford clinic where she spent the last year and a
half, and it looked like she was up to old tricks again, working at Ten
Forward. She set down an exotic-looking bottle full of a dark liquid.

"You two just volunteered to be my first victims. This is a new
concoction I picked up on planet M.F. Trust me, you're going to love it."

"Oh, no! We've been through this before," Data warned her.

Guinan was relentless. "C'mon, Data. Where's you sense of
adventure?" She poured two glasses of the liquid. Data gingerly took one,
sniffed it and took a drink. La Forge watched him closely. Data frowned.

"Well?" asked La Forge.

"What is this shit?" he retorted looking at the liquid remaining in
the glass disgustedly.

"I don't think he likes it," Guinan told La Forge. "Another round?"
she asked Data.

Data looked at her like she was the stupidest woman alive, and spoke
to her in firm distinct syllables. "Listen, bitch. I _hate_ this stuff. I
do not want another glass."

"Data, you always say you hate my drinks, so you don't have to pay.
We all know this, so I was just playing along."

"Can you believe her?" Data asked Geordi. "Man, somebody oughta teach
this ho a lesson." Data jumped behind the bar and began to slap her around.
She reached for the bottle whose contents Data had drank from, but La Forge
got it before she did. He held the bottle high in the air about to bring it
down on either Data or Guinan's head. He wasn't sure.

Just then, Picard walked in, saw what Geordi was about to do, and
grabbed the bottle away from him. He read the label. "Guinan, were trying
to serve hair tonic?" He splashed some into his palm, sniffed it, then
rubbed his hands together, and applied them to his scalp.

"Dr. Sassoon gave it to me as a promotion. I had no idea."

Picard's suspicions about Guinan's illiteracy had finally become
justified. I'm going to have to get my hands on as much of this hair tonic
as I can get, he thought. He walked over to Sassoon who was sitting at a
table, staring out at the stars, lost in thought. His hair stylists uniform
was distinctive, and set him apart from everyone else in the room.

"Doctor Sassoon?"

"Yes, yes, Captain. Thank you for coming."

They shook hands and Picard sat down. Sassoon was an imposing
physical presence that continually made Picard reconsider his sexuality, but
at the moment he seemed very much the eccentric stylist consumed with his
work.

"I understand there's something urgent you need to discuss with me. I
also understand that you broke into Doctor Crusher's room and assaulted her
with a giant porcelain penis."

"The penis was hers!"

"Yes, well. Try not to make a habit of it in the future."

"Yes. Now, I need to return to my salon immediately. I must continue
a critical experiment I was running on the Ambrosia star."

"Doctor, we're uhh..." Picard made up the best excuse he could off
the cuff. He had to get more hair tonic. "...still conducting an...
investigation into the attack. Yeah, yeah, that's it. Once we've completed
our work, we'll be happy to allow you and your fellow stylists back aboard
the salon. Until then..."

"Timing is very important in my experiment. If it is not completed
within the next twelve hours, it will over-perm and years of research will
be for naught."

"We're doing the best we can. Now if you'll excuse me..." Picard
began to stand, but Sassoon reached out and gently but firmly grabbed him by
the arm. The unexpected physical contact and the change of intensity in
Sassoon's face stopped Picard in his tracks.

"They say time is a weasel that whines in your ear until you go mad,
and right now, Captain, my time is running out. We are unable to finish so
many things in our lives. I'm sure you can understand."

Sassoon's words struck a deep chord within Picard. Somehow, Sassoon
knew Picard's soft spot, exactly. He looked away from Sassoon's compelling
gaze and thought for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was
barely above a whisper. "I'll see what I can do."

A short time later in engineering, a Ferengi tricorder was connected
to some diagnostic equipment near a console. Worf activated a monitor which
showed a complex diagram of sensor information. "One of the dead Ferengi
had a tricorder. We analyzed its sensor logs and found they were scanning
for signature particles of a compound called Gold-pressed Latinum."

"Gold-pressed Latinum? Money?"

"Not just money, an experimental currency the Ferengi have been
dealing in for some time. In theory, a Gold-pressed Latinum-based economy
would be thousands of times more powerful than any other capitalist system.
But they never found a way to stabilize it."

"Why were they looking for it on a Federation salon? It doesn't make
any sense. Have Geordi and Data go over with the next Away Team. Tell them
to scan the salon for Gold-pressed Latinum."

"Aye, sir."

La Forge and Data scanned a wrecked room of the salon with tricorders.

La Forge leaned up against a wall. "There's no sign of any Gold-
pressed Latinum in here. Wait a minute, there's a hidden doorway here. I
can see the joint of the metal with my VISOR." La Forge ran his finger in a
vertical line along what appeared to be a smooth wall.

"There appears to be a dampening field in operation. I cannot scan
beyond the bulkhead just like at that... other... station..." Data stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"Geordi, I have been experiencing 'husker du.' 'Do you remember' that
other station with that cache of probes hidden behind a wall in a very
similar manner?"

"Huh?"

"You know. In the movie 'Generations?'"

"What?"

"Forget it. Forget it."

"I don't see a control panel, or an access port."

"Of course not. It's magnetically sealed like the trash compactor in
'Star Wars'." Data stepped forward and opened a small panel on wrist and
makes a quick adjustment to the circuitry within. "I can reverse the
polarity, though, by attenuating my axial servo."

"I don't even want to know what that means."

Data faced the wall turning his back to Geordi and unzipped his fly.
"Open sesame." There was a humming sound followed by a loud click, and the
door slid open. "You could say I have a magnetic personality. But don't!"

"My lips are sealed! Say, what is it with you and contractions?"

"Geordi, it is Spot who is having the contractions. I failed to spay
her since her last litter."

They entered the door into a large room with lined with stacks of
golden colored ingots along with late 20th century automobiles at the other
end. It was obviously Sassoon's secret vault.

La Forge scanned. "I'm still not picking up anything. Someone went
to a lot of trouble to shield this room."

Data slapped his forehead at Geordi's apparent lack of mental capacity
and then remembered that his friend was colorblind.

La Forge began inspecting some Ford Probes at the far end of the
showroom. He finally stopped at one Probe which had several odd devices
attached to the side. "Data, take a look at this. You ever seen a Ford
Probe with this kind of configuration?"

Perhaps, I can communicate with Geordi better through puppet theater,
Data thought. Data whipped out his tricorder and used it like a puppet.
"Wow, Geordi! What a roomy interior!" Data gasped. "Is that a passenger
airbag, I spy?"

"Just help me get this damn panel open."

Data helped La Forge as they tried to open the hood of the Ford Probe.
Data managed to rip it open while La Forge took a look inside.

"Whoa, my VISOR's picking up something in the theta band. It could be
a Gold-pressed Latinum signature. Maybe that's what the head is made of."

Data suddenly started laughing. "Try scanning on the stupid band."

La Forge turned in irritation. "Data, this isn't the time."

"I am sorry, but I cannot stop myself. But you are being so dumb! I
think something must be wrong with your brain." Data's laughter escalated
into hysteria. He began to jerk and shake as he went into a bizarre
seizure. A rush of expressions race across his face: anger, passion, shock.
A kaleidoscopic blur of reactions contort his features. Then it stopped and
he fell to the ground.

"Data!" La Forge rushed to him. Data had a look of surprise on his
face as he blinked a few times. He sat up. "Data, are you all right?"

"I believe the Dorito chip overloaded my positronic relays."

"We better get you back to the ship." He hit is combadge. "La Forge
to Enterprise." There was no response. He frowned.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" said Sassoon from the vault's
entrance.

"Oh, Doctor. Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. There's a damping
field in here making my fro wilt. Could you give us a hand?"

Sassoon glanced over at the Ford Probe La Forge was inspecting. He
noted the open hood and a disturbed look crossed his face. Sassoon looked
back at La Forge. "I'd be happy to." He moved toward them, and then
without warning, he punched La Forge in the face, knocking the VISOR across
the room. He whirled around and pointed a handheld hairdryer at Data, who
suddenly looked strangely weaselish.

"Please don't hurt me."

Picard stood at his replicator. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot." The cup of
tea appeared in the replicator and at the same moment, the door chimed.
"Come."

"No problem," said Troi as she entered.

Picard would rather not have been bothered right then, but didn't mind
it if he was hot as well.

"Counselor. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I'm here to see if there's anything I can do for you."

"Well, I appreciate your offer, but I'd rather not discuss that right
now. Thank you."

Troi wasn't brushed away so easily. "I'm afraid I can't just leave it
at that. The commanding officer of this ship is clearly distraught about
something. As ship's counselor, it's my duty to..."

Picard raised his voice. "As ship's counselor, it's your duty..."

"You can't fool an empath, Captain. You were like this a year and a
half ago when your brother died. I know exactly when I'm needed."

"All right, all right. You've made your point."

Troi took a seat and patiently waited.

Picard got up, moved around the room for a moment, and stopped. He
spoke in a flat, unemotional tone of voice. "The message I received... My
son, Wesley, was cornholed to death his first day in prison."

Troi reacted genuinely surprised. "Captain, I'm sorry. I knew there
were a lot of unresolved conflicts between you and Weasley..."

"Wesley. What I can't get out of my mind is the image of Wesley -- my
son. I just can't believe he's gone." He trailed off.

"It's only natural to feel a heightened sense of tragedy when a child
dies, and a heightened sense of triumph when a weasel dies. But it goes
deeper than that, doesn't it? I can sense that Weasley meant a great deal
to you."

"In a way, he was as close as I ever came to having a son of my own."

Troi understood. She eyed his photo album on the table. She
reached over and flipped through the pages for a moment. There were many
photos inside, from many periods in time, including one of the Weasboy.

"Your family history really is very important to you, isn't it?"

Picard nodded. "Ever since I was a little boy, I remember hearing
about the family line. The Picard that advised President Kennedy to go to
Dallas, the Picard who stabbed Monica Sellus, the Picard who commanded the
original U2 mission, the Picard who was the executive officer at DienBienPhu...
Then my brother and nephew died, and the family line became my
responsibility. And now, Weasley is no more. I was very happy at first.
But then I realized what it meant -- I was deprived of the greatest pleasure
I could possibly have in life. Killing him myself..." Picard hesitated.
It was difficult for him.

Troi comforted Picard as he sat in his chair next to the window and
began sunbathing again with the mirror. "You know, Counselor, I'm not
getting any younger. For some time now, I've been hoping that there were
fewer days ahead for Wesley than there were behind. And I always took
comfort in the fact that when he was gone, I would continue. I've had
brushes with death... more than I care to contemplate. I always accepted
it as a calculated risk that goes along with wearing this uniform. But now,
the idea of death has a terrible sense of finality to it. I'm the last
Picard."

"Captain, perhaps we..."

"Dammit, Counselor! Don't stand in front of my sun."

"I'm over here, Captain."

Picard opened his eyes and saw that the Ambrosia star had faded!
Suddenly, a blinding burst of light from outside the windows washed into the
room. Troi and Picard shielded their eyes against the glare.

"Red Alert!" shouted Riker over the comm system.

They went to the bridge where the star on the viewscreen began to dim
again as flaming debris continued to be ejected into space.

"Report."

"A quantum implosion has occurred within the Ambrosia star. All
nuclear fusion has broken down."

"How is that possible?"

"Sensor records show a 1996 Ford Probe was launched from the salon a
few moments ago."

"Ford Probes don't usually cause that kind of nuclear reaction. What
the hell was in it?"

"Apparently, it was fueled with some of Sassoon's hairspray."

Something beeped on Worf's console. "Sir, the implosion has produced
a level thirteen shock wave."

"Transporter room to Bridge. I can't locate Commander La Forge or
Commander Data, sir."

"Did they return to the ship?"

"No, sir. They are not aboard."

"How long until the shock wave hits the salon?"

"Four minutes, forty-four seconds."

Picard looked to Riker, who then quickly headed for the turbolift.
"Mr. Worf." They left for the transporter room, or so one is left to
believe.

The star was entirely dark. Radiating out from where the star was a
huge shock wave, a rapidly growing sphere of energy. Sassoon stood at a
console watching a graphic depiction of the star's collapse on a monitor
when the door suddenly opened. Sassoon whirled around and fired his
hairdryer at Riker and Worf. They dove for cover just outside the room as
the drier blew any small object in the room that wasn't fixed down out at
them.

"What the hell's he doing?"

Worf dodged a chuck of metal and saw La Forge lying unconscious on the
deck. Data was nowhere to be seen.

"Enterprise to Commander Riker, you have two minutes left."

"Sassoon, did you hear that? There's a level thirteen shock wave
coming. We've got to get out of here!"

Sassoon only answered with another blast from his hairdryer this time
set to typhoon.

An alarm suddenly beeped on the tactical console. "Sir, A Bastard
Bean of Prey is decloaking off the port bow," said the ensign at the post as
an old-style Bastard Bean of Prey decloaked near the salon.

Sassoon continued to shoot at Riker and Worf. Data was huddled in a
corner of the room, cowering in weaseliness.

"Data! See if you can get to Geordi!" Riker shouted to him.

Data looked up at him with a terrified look on his face. "I...cannot,
sir. I believe I am... a weasel."

Suddenly Sassoon's communicator beeped. He reached down and grabbed
the unconscious La Forge by the collar and the two of them dematerialized.
Sassoon had the VISOR in his hand.

The Bean of Prey cloaked and vanished off the viewscreen.

"Transporter room to Bridge. I have the Away Team aboard, sir."

"Helm, warp one, engage... NOOO!! AWAY from the wave! AWAY! BRING
US ABOUT!"

The Enterprise warped away in the right direction just as the shock
wave reached the salon and vaporized it in a fiery explosion.

ACT II
ALTERCATIONS

A monitor on the bridge of the Bean of Prey had a graphic depiction of
the darkened star and shock wave. The ship's interior, beaten up and
patched in several places, was obviously worn by years of use. Malted and
Kork, two powerful-looking bastard sons of Kirk who had stuck together
through it all, watched the viewscreen. They stared at the image of the
destroyed sun in awe.

"Kick Ass!!"

"A great power."

Sassoon entered the Bridge. His expression was dark and angry. He
was clearly not a prisoner there and strode up to the friends.

"You've done it, Vidal!"

Without warning, Sassoon hit Kork squarely in the jaw, knocking him
back over a console. Several Bastards lept to their feet, drawing their
weapons.

Kork held up a hand as he got to one knee. "Wait!" He dabbed a
trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His expression was angry and
threatening. "I hope for your sake that you are initiating a mating
ritual..."

"I have no time now for the old in-out. And call me Sassoon! I told
you I hate the name Vidal." Sassoon looked at the Ambrosia star one last
time. (He was able to since the Bastard ship was traveling faster than
light and had caught up to prior light emissions.) "Oh, my beloved salon.
I shall miss thee."

"But they didn't find the latinum and now we have hair products of
unlimited power."

"I have the salon style hair products, Malted. And if you ever want
me to give them to you, you'll have to do as I wish."

A few minutes later...

"Course setting?" asked Malted.

A horse standing next the helm whinnied loudly.

"What the hell did he say?" Malted asked Sassoon.

Sassoon walked over to Malted and slapped him across the face. "How
dare you talk to my horse in such a manner?! He outranks you and commands
the respect he deserves! Now carry out the order."

"Where are we going?"

Sassoon hit him over the head. "Are you questioning his authority?
Set course for the Vermiculite system. Maximum warp."

The horse approved of the reprimand by whinnying again.

A Bastard entered dragging the unconscious La Forge. "What shall I do
with this?"

Sassoon moved toward La Forge with a grim look on his face. "Bring
him with me. I need some answers from Mr. La Forge, and later some
questions in case we decide to play Jeopardy."

Riker and Worf were on the move down a corridor. "Malted and Kork.
This doesn't make any sense. A renowned hair stylist somehow uses a Ford
Probe with a tank full of hairspray to destroy a star, kidnaps Geordi and
escapes with a pair of Bastard renegades. Why? What the hell's going on?"

They entered sickbay. Crusher was closing a panel on the back of
Data's head. He was sitting on a biobed, scanning himself with a tricorder.

"How is he?" asked Riker.

"See for yourself."

Data continued to scan himself vigorously.

Riker looked into Data's eyes. "Looks like you're gonna be stuck with
bad taste for a while. How do you feel?"

"I am quite... preoccupied with this tricorder."

Crusher pulled Riker aside. "Will, I checked into Doctor Sassoon's
background." She activated the wall monitor and a picture of Doctor Sassoon
along with some biographical information appeared. "He's a Weasarian, over
three hundred years old. He lost his entire family when a dandruff accident
destroyed his world. Sassoon escaped with a handful of other refugees
aboard the ship called the Pasta."

"The ship that was destroyed by the Nexxus that I single-handedly saved
them from a year and a half ago," realized Riker.

"I checked the passenger manifest of the Pasta. Guess who else was on
board?"

Guinan was surprised. "Sassoon? That's a name I haven't heard in a
long, long time."

"You're six hundred years old, Guinan. A year and a half is a long
time?" Picard stood before Guinan, who sat cross-legged on the floor. They
talked to each other with an uneasy familiarity. They were two old friends
who know each other well, maybe too well. "So... do you remember him?"

"Oh yeah. I remember everyone who was on the Pasta, every face. Even
the ones who didn't make it. What'd you say your name was, sugar?"

"Guinan..."

"Well, isn't that something? We got the same name. I'm pleased to
meet you."

"It's important that you tell me what you know. We think Sassoon's
developed a weapon...a terrible weapon. It might give him enough power
to..."

"Sassoon don't care 'bout no power or weapons. All he care 'bout is
ge'in' back to his Nexxus."

"Oh, yeah... the 'Nexxus,'" he said giving her a couple of winks.

"I've tried the hardest to forget it but... That lock isn't just some
random hair growth traveling through space. It's a portal that leads to
another place... the Nexxus. It doesn't exist in our universe and it
doesn't play by the same rules either."

Picard continued to patronize her. "And what exactly happened to you
in this 'Nexxus?'"

"I can't remember very much - what it looked like or how long I was
there. But I do remember how it felt." She turned to him and her face was
filled with some kind of awe at the memory. "It felt like nothing at all."

"But then you were beamed away..."

Guinan showed a rare burst of anger. "I was pulled away. I didn't
want to leave and have to face my little pathetic life problems. I left a
part of myself behind, though."

"I guess that's why your not all here..."

Guinan just stared out her window blankly at empty space. "All I
could think about was getting back. I didn't care what I had to do. It took
a long time at the Betty Ford clinic, but eventually I learned to live with
it. And I began to realize that my experience in the Nexxus had changed me.
I started to forget things about people, about events, about time. About
having faith. Sorry, wrong film."

"Your sixth sense... I've always wondered where it came from. And
why it suddenly disappeared. And what about Sassoon?"

"Sassoon is still be obsessed with getting back. He'll do anything to
find that doorway again."

"Well, Thank you for your time, Guinan." He left her room. "Boy, she
was a lot of help," he said under his breath with just a hint of sarcasm.

In a dimly-lit room somewhere in the bowels of the Bastard ship,
Sassoon sat behind a table, holding Geordi's VISOR. A disposable razor and
some aftershave sat on the table. La Forge sat in a chair across from him.
His shirt was removed. He looked very tense.

"How about a little of Lugwig Van?" Sassoon turned to a stereo behind
him and hit "play." The second movement of Beethoven's Ninth began to play.

Sassoon looked at the VISOR. "A remarkable piece of equipment, but a
little inelegant, wouldn't you say? Have you ever considered having hair a
little less... nappy?"

"What's nappy?"

"Nappy was what your hair is, and what everyone else's is not."

"What do you want?"

Sassoon took a moment. "As you may or may not be aware, I am a
Weasarian. Some people call us a race of "whiners." We whine. Right now,
Mr. La Forge, you have my undivided whining. I want to whine to you about
Gold-Pressed Latinum... and my lack of it... and my pathetic life in general."

La Forge thought. "Gold-pressed Latinum was an experimental currency
developed by the Ferengi. I think it's a derivative of the all mighty
dollar."

Sassoon picked up the disposable razor from the desk and pressed a
button on the end of it. Suddenly something small with sharp edges could be
seen moving just underneath La Forge's scalp. La Forge moved his hand to
the spot, but then the protrusion was suddenly gone. "I don't want a
science lecture. You were on my salon looking for Gold-pressed Latinum.
Why?"

"I was ordered to by the Captain."

"Let's try to move beyond the usual client-barber banter, shall we?
You have information and I need it." He held up the razor and aftershave
for La Forge to see. "What's it going to be? Razor or aftershave? Did the
Captain explain his orders to you? Did he say why you were searching for
Gold-pressed Latinum?"

"No."

"What about Guinan? What has she told you about me?"

"Who's Guinan?"

"My instincts tell me you're lying. And I know that can't be easy for
you." Sassoon tapped a control on the disposable razor.

Suddenly, La Forge grabbed his head in humiliation as his hairs
started to fall out. Sassoon watched La Forge for a few seconds, then
tapped the disposable razor again. La Forge gasped and started to breathe
again.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. While you were unconscious, I injected a
nano-probe under your scalp. I just cut ten square centimeters of your hair
in five seconds. It felt like an eternity, didn't it? Did you know that
plucking human hairs can cause brain damage?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"See, the damage has already set in. Now. Maybe I didn't make myself
clear. It is very important that you tell me exactly what Captain Picard
knows."

"I told you everything. You might as well just shave me right now."

Sassoon's features softened as he smiled slightly. For a moment, he
looked genuinely compassionate, and it was a disturbing contrast to his
usual dark intensity. "I'm not a scalper, Mr. La Forge. Let's try thirty
square centimeters." Sassoon tapped a control on the disposable razor. La
Forge gasped and strained against an unimaginable humiliation. Sassoon
picked up his aftershave and unscrewed the cover. He sat back and sniffed
the fumes.

Picard met with Data in Stellar Cartography.

"Well, Data here we are again... alone in Stellar Cartography."

"According to our information, the lock is a conflux of quantum
protein filaments which travels through our galaxy every 39.1 weeks."

"When was it expected back?" Data didn't answer right away. "Data?"

"Sorry, Captain. It will pass through this sector in approximately
thirty-one hours."

Picard moved about the room. He was frustrated, tired, but determined
to find out what was going on. "Guinan said Sassoon was trying to get back
to the lock. If that's true, then there must be some connection with the no
longer flaming Ambrosia star."

"The star's destruction has had numerous meta-physical effects within
this sector. However, none of them appear to have a connection to the
energy lock."

"Give me a list of those effects. I want to know every single thing
which has been altered or changed, no matter how insignificant."

"It will take a few moments for the computer to compile the
information." Data sighed, His expression became downcast and gloomy. He
sat down and put his head in his hands.

Picard finally had to say something. "Data, are you all right?"

"No, sir. I am finding it difficult to concentrate. I believe I am
overwhelmed with feelings of remorse and regret concerning my actions on the
salon."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to save Geordi. I tried. But I experienced something I did
not expect. I believe it was weaseliness."

Picard regarded him sympathetically. "Weaseliness is something we all
have to learn to deal with... and put an end to."

"But I did not put an end to it, sir. I let it prevent me from helping
my friend. Does that make me a weasel?"

"No. And what you must try to avoid is becoming consumed by another
weaselly feeling which I believe you're beginning to experience: guilt.
Only weasels feel guilty over something they could not control."

"Guilt. It is a most unpleasant feeling."

The computer finished its calculations and the console beeped and
information appeared on screen. "According to our current information, the
destruction of the Ambrosia star has had the following effects in this
sector: incidences of free thought decreased by .05 percent, the starship
Bozoman was forced to make a stop over at Risa: Planet of the Rapes, a
research project on ZORK IV was halted due to increased neutrino particles
spinning counter-clockwise, ambient magnetic fields have increased by..."

"Wait. The Bozoman, why did it change course?"

"The destruction of the Ambrosia star has altered the gravitational
forces throughout the sector. The captain was also horny. In his report,
he concluded that any ship passing through this region should make a minor
course correction."

Picard started to get an idea. He was onto something here. "A minor
course correction. That doesn't sound too bad. Where's the lock now?"

Data moved to the console to work. An elaborate map of the galaxy
sprung up on the walls and ceiling of the room. A blinking dot showed the
position of the lock.

"This is its current position."

"Can you project its course?"

"I believe so."

A red line moved to form an arc through the starfield.

Picard examined the display for a moment and nodded. He got excited
thinking about a course correction to Risa. "Enhance grid K-9."

"Yes, Master," Data joked as he zoomed in on a single sector. The red
line cut through the sector.

"Where was the Ambrosia star?" A star was highlighted near the red line.

"Now, you said the gravitational forces in this sector have been
altered, could that also affect the course of the lock?"

"I believe so. Locks get horny too," Data chuckled.

The holographic display changed again. The red line representing the
course of the lock now shifted away from the Ambrosia star's position.

Picard began to realize what was going on. "That's what he's doing,
he's changing its course. But why? Why try to alter its path? Why not
simply fly into it with a ship?"

Data thought for a moment. "Our records show that every ship which
has approached the lock has either been destroyed or severely damaged."

Picard had a rare flash of insight. "He can't go to the lock, so he's
trying to make the lock come to him. Data, is it going to pass near any
M-Class planets?"

"No, sir."

"What about M and M planets?"

"Uhhh, okay." Data looked at the display. "Well, what do you know?
There are two in the Vermiculite system: one green and one... rrred," Data
said rolling the "r." The display zoomed in on a star very close to the
lock of hair's path to a solar system with a single star and four planets.
The red line moved directly through the system, passing very close to the
red planet. Picard eyed that planet and pointed to it.

"It's very close to Vermiculite III, but not close enough." Picard's
mind was going a mile a minute. He suddenly had a horrible realization.
"Data, what would happen to the ribbon's path if he destroyed the
Vermiculite star itself?"

On the display, the Vermiculite star suddenly darkened and went out.
The red line shifted slightly until it made an exact intersection with the
red planet.

"Now, superimpose Weasley's face on the red planet."

Weasley's smirking little double-chinned weaselance replaced the
planet. The red path passed right through the Weasel's head!

Picard smiled big. "That's where that Weasarian's going."

"It should be noted, sir, that the collapse of the Vermiculite star
would produce a shock wave similar to the one we observed at Amargosa..."

"And destroy every planet in the system. Yes, yes! Run the
simulation!!" Picard eyed the graphic with intense excitement.

Data hit the execute button, and Weasley's head exploded into a
million pieces as the simulated shockwave passed through it.

"Are any of them inhabited?"

"Vermiculite III is uninhabited, but Vermiculite IV supports a pre-
industrial humanoid society."

"Population?"

"Approximately two hundred thirty million."

Picard hit his combadge. "Red Alert, Mr. Worf. Set a course for the
Vermiculite system, maximum warp."

"Did you get anything from the human?" Malted asked Sassoon."

"He cried like a baby... Enterprise is probably on her way."

"We have entered orbit of Vermiculite III," reported the bastard
helmsman.

"Prepare to transport me to the surface," Sassoon told him.

"Wait. When do we get our payment?" asked Kork.

Sassoon handed Kork a small computer chip. "This contains all the
information you'll need to make my patented hair coloring formula. It's
been coded. Once I'm safely to the surface, I'll transmit the patent to
your name and not a moment before."

"Captain! The Enterprise is coming out of warp!"

"What? On viewer."

"They are hailing us."

"On speakers."

Picard's voice boomed over the speakers. "Bastard vessel. We know

what you're doing, and we will destroy any Ford Probe launched toward the
Vermiculite star."

"What do we do? That is a Fallacy class starship. We are no match
for them."

Sassoon thought for a moment, then got an idea. He pulled La Forge's
VISOR out of his pocket and eyed it with intent. "I think it's time I gave
Mr. La Forge his hair back."

Picard paced his bridge.

An alarm went off on Worf's console. "Captain, Bastard vessel
decloaking directly ahead... They are hailing."

"On screen."

Malted smiled at Picard on the viewscreen. "Captain. What an
unexpected pleasure."

"Malted, I wish to speak with Sassoon. I have this hair condition,
see?"

"The good doctor is no longer aboard our ship."

"Then I'll beam down to his location. Just give us his coordinates."

Kork stepped in. "The Doctor values his privacy. He would be quite
upset if you interrupted him."

"Very well. I'll beam to your ship and you can transport me to
Sassoon."

Riker wasn't sure about that. "Sir, you can't trust them with what
little hair you have. They'll shave you, just like they shaved Geordi."

Malted and Kork exchanged a glance. "We did not shave your Engineer.
He's been our guest," Malted said innocently.

"Then return him with a full head of hair."

"In exchange for what?"

Picard stepped forward. "How about some free passes to Risa?"

"Throw in yourself and you've got a deal."

"Okay, but only if you let me speak to Sassoon."

"Agreed."

The transmission ended and Picard headed for the turbolift. "Number
One, you have the Bridge. Doctor Crusher, report to the bridge. Standby...
Energize," he ordered.

Picard dematerialized and at the same instant, La Forge materialized
before everyone on the bridge. When they all got a look at his new haircut
they couldn't contain the laughter. He had a huge afro.

Data did his Mr. T. impression. "I pity the Engineer who got a barber
like that."

That egged everyone onto more boisterous wails.

Crusher and Ogawa rushed to his aide, pulled out their tricorders and
scanned his hair. Crusher hit her combadge. "Mr. Mot, report to the
bridge. Hair emergency!"

Data turned to Crusher. "I will gladly donate some of my hair if it
is needed," Data kidded and let out a big laugh himself.

Picard materialized without his combadge on an arid part planet's
surface Against a large nearby rockface, a scaffolding had been erected --
planks and beams formed a complex structure. Ladders connected each level.
It led to a narrow ledge a dozen meters above. He turned and saw Sassoon
standing nearby.

"You must think I'm quite the madman," Picard told him.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"But if the possibility of hair exists..."

Sassoon turned his back on Picard and walked away disgusted. Picard
took a step to follow him and was jolted backward by a large forcefield which
briefly flashed into view. The field completely surrounded the plateau,
enclosing Sassoon and the scaffolding, with Picard on the outside.

"I am receiving a signal from the camera Sassoon placed in La Forge's
hair!" exclaimed Malted.

"Put it through over here," ordered Kork. Malted and Kork moved to
one of the consoles with a large monitor. The screen showed static for a
few seconds, then cleared to a distorted view of a ceiling on the
Enterprise. "Where is he?"

Mr. Mot's face loomed large in the picture, as if he was leaning over
La Forge. He smiled and started talking without any sound.

Malted and Kork pulled back in surprise at the image. "Bolians are so
dorky looking," Kork told Malted.

Mot leaned over La Forge, who was in his barber chair. "My
instruments are have no effect on your hair. I want to run more tests, but
I think you're condition is temporary."

Picard walked the perimeter of the invisible forcefield, looking for
some way in.

Sassoon concentrated on some calculations as Picard tried to engage
him on some level. "You don't need to do this, Picard. I'm sure we could
find some other way for you to get some of my hair products." Sassoon got
up after pressing a key button on his computer. A 1996 Ford Probe mounted
to a sophisticated looking catapult that pointed up at a 60 degree angle
decloaked in the middle of the plateau. Sassoon went to the launcher,
stepped onto it and began working its control panel. "I've spent a year and
a half looking for another way, Captain. I think this is the only one...
You should come with me. You fancy yourself an explorer. Here's a chance
to explore something no human has ever experienced: hair after baldness!"

"Not if it means killing over two hundred million people. I wonder,
did your lover Alberto V.O. the Fifth know that he loved a man who was
capable of mass murder?"

That touched a nerve in Sassoon. Something dark and ugly flickered
across his face. "When you tucked each other into bed, do you suppose he
ever suspected that you would one day kill millions as casually as you kissed
him goodnight?"

"Nice try."

La Forge was taking a bubble bath. His legs and feet stuck out of the
water in front of him. He submerged his whole self for a final rinse. The
afro-cam shorted out making static on Malted's monitor. Malted pounded on
the monitor until the camera came back on line.

"I thought he was the Chief Engineer," said Kork.

"He is," Malted told him.

"Then when why doesn't he get any? I wanna see some action!"

Sassoon worked intently on the launcher's control panel.

Picard continued to walk the perimeter of the forcefield. He was also
still trying to engage Sassoon and find some way to get to him to give him
what he wanted. "What you're about to do is no different from when dandruff
destroyed your world."

Sassoon continued to work, keeping his voice calm and conversational.
"You're right. And there was a time when I wouldn't have hurt anyone. Then
dandruff showed me that if there is one constant in this universe, it's
aging and the loss of one's beauty. Afterwards, I began to realize that
none of it mattered. We're all going to become unfashionable one day. It's
only a question of how and when. You will too, Captain. You've already
gone bald; you might get wrinkles." Sassoon turned and fixed on Picard with
a penetrating look. "Or be cornholed to death in a prison."

Picard froze at that.

Sassoon stepped off the launcher with a confident look. He moved
closer to where Picard was standing. "You looked surprised. But you
shouldn't be. I've seen the Nexxus, Captain. I know things about weasels.

"You of all people should know the truth about your son Wesley.
Wesley is the embodiment of an ancient evil. His death means the release of
this evil to roam freely about bringing weaseliness to anyone. Already your
android is beginning to feel its effects. My government attempted to
prevent his death and the release of this evil, but Starfleet was able to
subvert our cause."

That struck home with Picard's own recent concerns. He struggled for
a moment. "Then I must battle Wesley one last time. But how?"

"What if I told you I found a way?"

"The Nexxus," Picard said with the volume of a whisper.

"Time has no meaning there. The weasel has no teeth." Sassoon
glanced up at the sky expectantly, then turned away from Picard and went
back to work on the launcher.

Kork watched the monitor impatiently. La Forge was walking down a
corridor.

Malted walked over to join him. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. He bathed, now he is roaming the ship. He must be the
only Engineer in Starfleet who does get any!"

"Perhaps, he's looking for some female ensigns," Malted assured him.

Picard saw something on the ground: an electrical cord sticking out of
the ground. Picard's mind began to race. He glanced at Sassoon and then
grasped the wire and tugged on it. The forcefield crackled briefly and
Picard could see that the cord traveled just under the ground to a large
rock a hundred meters away. Sassoon turned and glanced up at the sound of
the crackling field.

"Careful, Captain. That's a fifty jiga-watt forcefield. I wouldn't
want to see your hair curled."

"Thank you."

Sassoon returned to working on the launcher, but Picard looked back
down at the cord, then walked away, planning his next move.

Malted and Kork watched the monitor of La Forge with irritated
expressions. On the monitor, La Forge rounded a corner and entered
Engineering. A balding egg-headed looking guy offered La Forge a burrito,
but he refused it flat. La Forge went over to an attractive female.

"Finally!" Kork and Malted said in unison.

La Forge faced Lieutenant Robin Lefler who was biting her lip as hard
as she could to keep from laughing. She addressed him. "Commander, I'd
like to run a..." She snorted a laugh. "A... a Level Three diagnostic on
the port plasma relays. I think one of the generators is fluctuating."

"Uh-Okay, let's do it!" La Forge put a hand on her shoulder and lead
her away.

"Now, we're getting somewhere!" shouted Malted.

Kork suddenly reacted to something on the screen. "That's it! Bag
her, Geordi!"

Malted hit the record button and nervously adjusted the picture
controls for optimal reception. An unexpected noise bar appeared. "Dammit,
where's the tracking?" Malted started going through all the buttons on the
various consoles, hitting them one by one. When Malted punched one of them,
there was a loud mechanical whoosh from below decks. Malted froze in
disbelief.

"You idiot! You fired a torpedo directly at Enterprise!"

"Well, Ra-Ra-Robin, I suppose if we take all of the relays off line
and restart them..." Geordi took the relays down to 0% output inadvertently
bringing ship power to a minimum as well.

"Geordi, you just killed the shields! We got to get them back."

Geordi couldn't believe what he had just done. He quickly tried to
fix the problem by bringing power back up, but he brought it up too quickly
and blew out the relays.

Kork was ecstatic. "Don't you realize what'll happen if Picard finds
out what we did? He'll kick me where it counts again for sure! Okay, okay.
Don't panic. Raise the shields. Prepare another torpedo spread."

Data reported something to Riker. "Sir, I am detecting a total power
loss in Main Engineering. It may be..."

The bridge went black and the ship suddenly rocked violently. Alarms
went off.

Four more torpedoes exploded directly on the hull.

"Emergency systems!" ordered Riker.

"Emergency systems coming on-line, slowly, sir," relayed Geordi from
Engineering.

"All power to weapons, lock phasers and return fire!" ordered Riker.

The phaser shots were easily stopped by the Bastard shields. The Bean
of Prey returned fire. The shot carved a jagged tear in the Enterprise's
hull.

The helm exploded blasting the helmsman out of his chair. "Deanna,
take the helm, whatever's left of it, and get us out of orbit. You remember
from last time you had to do this?" Riker order. Troi jumped over the helm
chair and sat in it. The Enterprise turned and left orbit, but the Bastard
ship was right on top of them, firing at the defenseless starship.

"Worf, that's an old Bastard ship. What are its weaknesses?"

The ship is jolted. They all held on.

"It is a Training Class Bean of Prey. They were retired from service
because of defective plumbing."

"Plumbing... is there any way we can use that to our advantage?"

"I do not see how. The plumbing is part of their septic systems,"
Worf replied.

Riker suddenly got an inspiration as the Bridge is rocked. "Could we
access the defective pumps and flush their systems?"

"Perhaps," answered Data suddenly enthusiastic. "Yes! If we sent a
torpedo with a low-level amount of Ridex."

"As their systems begin to flush, their shields will drop to allow for
the evacuation," continued Worf.

"No kidding, microbrain. And they'll be vulnerable for at least a
couple of seconds. Data, lock onto the main pump."

"No problemo," said Data going to work.

"Worf, prepare a spread of photon torpedoes. We'll have to hit them
the instant they begin to flush. We're only going to get one shot at this.
Target their primary reactor. With any luck, their warp core should
implode."

The Enterprise rolled and turned back toward the planet trying to get
away from the Bastard ship. But the Bean of Prey followed its every move.

"I have accessed their pump frequency, initiating Ridex pulse."

Malted and Kork in command savored their imminent victory. "Target
their Bridge..." ordered Malted.

"Full disruptors," confirmed Kork.

The Navigator suddenly reacted to something on his console. "Every
toilet is flushing!" Screams could be heard coming from every shower on
board.

"What?" asked Kork.

"Son of a bitch, our shields are down!"

"Mister Worf..." Riker took the order in stride. "Fire!"

Malted and Kork reacted in weaseliness to the sight on the viewscreen
as the spread of torpedoes headed directly for them. The two bastards
exchanged a look and clutched hands.

"I've always loved you," Malted told Kork who could only grimace.

The ship imploded and was completely destroyed. Pieces of the
shattered vessel floated past the viewscreen.

"BITCHIN'!" shouted Data.

Picard made his way back to the insulated electrical cord. He stood a
few feet away. He glanced at Sassoon, who was absorbed with his work on the
launcher. Picard then surreptitiously tossed a pebble at the forcefield
which crackled a bit.

Sassoon looked over his shoulder at Picard, who sat down on another
rock. Sassoon returned to his work.

Picard tossed another pebble causing the forcefield to crackle again.

Sassoon turned with a vaguely irritated look. "You're starting to
piss me off, Picard. Do I have to get ultraviolent with you?"

Picard didn't respond.

Sassoon went back to work.

Picard waited a moment, then grasped the cable and pulled with all his
might. This time, the forcefield crackled and shut off. He had
successfully unplugged the power source. Picard kept his expression
neutral, but now he could get in.

Geordi started to clean up Engineering. He checked the integrity of
the warp core. He was damn lucky it was okay but it would have to remain
off-line. He checked the sub-systems diagnostic board. "La Forge to
Bridge. There's a problem with the salsa section. We could be looking at a
meltdown!"

White-hot gas started spewing from nowhere and a klaxon went off.

"Oh, great," Geordi said sniffing the air to confirm. "We gotta gas
leak down here! Must have been that last burrito Barclay ate."

The emergency isolation door started coming down and people rushed out
of Engineering. La Forge shook his head at Barclay who shrugged.

Riker was faced with a Kobayashi Maru. He made the decision. "Begin
evacuation of all personnel from the salsa section. Data, make sure no
other sections are facing the same possibility."

Riker reflected. "Oh, my beloved salsa section. I shall miss
thee..." Riker moved to the Captain's chair and pressed a button on the
armchair console which sounded an alarm to the tune of La Chucaracha
throughout the ship.

Sassoon finished his work on the launcher and turned off the control
panel. He stepped down and looked over at Picard, who was standing near
where the forcefield would have been.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain, I have an appointment with
Eternity by Calvin Klein and I don't want to be late." Sassoon turned and
began to climb up the scaffolding toward the top of the rockface. Picard
quickly sprang into action as soon as he was out of Sassoon's sight.

Worf oversaw the salsa section evacuation. He was the last man
through the hatch which was slowly closing. He turned and grabbed one last
taco before the hatch would have closed on his hand. "That's it, Bridge:
they're all out!" he said before sinking his teeth into the taco.

"One minute to salsa meltdown," said Data.

"Begin ejection sequence. Full impulse power once we're clear."

Data engaged ejection. From the dorsal side of the saucer section, a
small Mexican restaurant flew up, out, and away from the rest of Enterprise.

"Salsa section clear."

"Engaging impulse engines," said Troi.

The salsa section glided away, but before the ship could completely
escape, the salsa section exploded. The force of the explosion hit the
ship, knocking it out of control toward the planet and everyone to their
knees. They all looked at the viewscreen as the Vermiculite III rushed
toward them.

Troi thought of all the varieties of chocolate even she had never
tasted. Geordi started kicking himself for never having the eye operations.
Worf thought of all the cool guys he wished he had a second shot at killing.
Beverly just wanted a chance to have a normal son. All Riker could think of
was what new restaurant they were going to get on the new starship if he
survived. The names went through his head: Taco Bell, Taco John, El Pollo
Loco...

Data closed his eyes. "Ohhhhhhh... shoot, I think I left some muffins
in the oven."

Picard crept along the rockside just behind Sassoon. He slipped on a
loose rock. Sassoon turned at the sound, saw Picard, and then drew his hair
dryer. Sassoon quickly fired at Picard creating a cloud of dirt and smoke,
obscuring Picard and the whole area momentarily. Sassoon jumped down one level
on the scaffolding. He attached his diffuser to his weapon; so, just in case
Picard somehow survived, he wouldn't next time. Sassoon peered through the
cloud of dust and debris. Sassoon peered through the cloud of dust and
debris. The cloud finally cleared, but Picard was gone along with several
feet of the ground where he was. Sassoon glanced up at the sky and saw the
distant Nexxus just coming into view.

The Enterprise neared the planet's surface. "I have rerouted
auxiliary power to out own septic system," reported Data. "Attempting to
level our descent by using the flush vents as navigational thrusters."

The ship began correcting itself as its descent was slowed. It neared
a mountain range. The port nacelle stuck one peak and both broke off. The
starboard nacelle hit another peak and broke off as well. The ship hit a
third mountain and broke the aft section off of the ship. Bodies as well as
everything not secured were strewn out through the vast opening leaving a
trail of seemingly particulate debris from the comet better known as
Enterprise. More and more pieces fell off one by one: a panel here, a
window there. Unmanned shuttles fell out when shuttlebay doors were ripped
off. Soon, all that was left of Enterprise was the bridge module gilding
across a patch of crisp new-fallen snow along a mountainside.

She came to an abrupt stop causing Riker to fly into the viewscreen;
thus, crashing his head into it. When the air cleared, only his backside
remained visible protruding from the screen.

Sassoon had nearly climbed to the top of his scaffolding when suddenly
Picard's boot kicked him in the face. A quick fight ensued, during which
Picard was knocked to the bottom of the scaffolding. He landed hard and
happened to look up into the sky where saw the Nexxus approaching. Picard
avoided a vicious kick from Sassoon, glanced down at the Ford Probe, and
realized had one chance. He rolled to his feet and ran toward the launcher.

There was a thunderous roar as the launcher fired the Ford Probe into
the sky. The plateau got suddenly quiet as the Ford Probe streaked toward
the distant sun and disappeared from view. Picard got to his knees and
stared after the Ford Probe, shocked. He failed. They gazed the sun for a
silent moment, not caring that they may soon go blind.

Sassoon, with a look of profound elation on his face, made his way to
the top of the scaffolding and looked into the sky.

Picard got to his feet and stared at the onrushing lock of hair, and
the way the wind whipped it about. He backed away at the sight, coming to a
stop with his back against the scaffolding. There was no where to run. He
had to face the hair.

The Nexxus tore across the scene in a terrifying torrent of light and
sound. Then suddenly the Nexxus was gone and so was Picard and Sassoon.

Riker pulled himself out of the wreckage along with the rest of the
crew and surveyed the horrendous damage. He turned to his crew. "Well,
thank God, we're all alive..." Just then, a huge shockwave from the
destroyed star hit the planet and it exploded in a blast of fiery debris.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

ACT III
WES CRUSHER'S NEW NIGHTMARE

Picard found himself wearing a blindfold and struggling to walk down a
darkened corridor. Small rat-like animals at his feet covered the floor and
rushed past his feet. They rustled and squeaked as he waded through them,
sometimes having to kick them out of the way to take another step. He was
lost and confused, unsure where he was or what was going on. He was finally
came out into a larger bright room. He realized he was wearing a blindfold
and tore it off.

"What's going on? Where am I?" All he could see was a blurry
kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. He blinked and tried to focus. The
first thing he saw was an enormous, gaily (as in faggishly) decorated
Christmas tree sparkling with hundreds of lights and other trimmings.
Brightly wrapped presents were clustered in piles beneath and around the
tree. A smorgasbord of food lay at the edge of the room. Picard then
noticed that among the presents sat Beverly Crusher tied and gagged who
become elated at his presence. He moved to help her but stopped at the
fascination with the furry animals at his feet.

The animals were actually white minks who ran in front of the tree,
stood in a pile on top of each other and appeared to merge into a full-size
ghostly-white humanoid form. After the angelic form had slowly solidified,
it wasn't a mink at all, although deceptively mink-like. Picard stood face
to face with the Weasel.

Picard moved toward Beverly.

"Picard... Papa," the Weasel said holding out his arms for an embrace.

"I am hardly your father, nor are you my son. You are not Wesley,"
Picard said as firm and assertive as he could and then went toward Beverly.

The weaselly being stopped him. "Oh, just look at yourself, Papa,"
the Weasel coaxed Picard to stand next to and face one of the walls.

Picard realized for the first time that the room was lined with
mirrors. He took one good look at himself and could not stop gazing. He
looked perfect. He was his optimal self. He had a full head of hair, a
nice smell, a firm butt, nice set of pecs and various other muscles. He was
twenty-two again.

Must resist... This isn't real... He told himself, but he continued
to stare for an amount of time indiscernible to him.

"En Garde, Picard!" yelled the Weasel startling him just enough to
break away from the stare and dodge the being's attack with a fencing sword
from behind.

Picard turned about to face his opponent, instinctively reach down for
a weapon and felt a sword at his own side. He drew it and took up a
defensive posture. The greatest fencing match Picard had ever been involved
in ensued. Blow by blow was blocked, but Picard's perfect form was
tireless. The Weasel faltered.

Picard purposely let his guard down at one point, letting the Weasel
take a swing at him. After Picard safely missed the slash, the Weasel was
in a compromising position. With a back thrust, Picard swept at the
Weasel's exposed throat and slit it. The Weasel gasped, walked about
aimlessly, and dropped to his knees. The thick red blood on the Weasel's
stark white garb was such a beautiful contrast.

Picard stood over him. "Merry Christmas, Weasel!" He told him before
running him through. At the moment of death, the being lost its
cohesiveness and its component weasels departed.

He raced to Beverly's side and untied her. She kissed him on the
cheek while he gave her an embrace. Picard noticed an axe by the door.
"Woman, I'm going out to chop wood. I'll be back within an hour. Have my
dinner ready." Picard grabbed a coat, picked up the axe and headed out the
door. Several of the weasels followed him. The weasels each mutated into a
slightly different form of Wesley Crusher, representing different qualities
of weaselness.

With axe in hand he began placing each one of their necks on the
chopping block in turn, effectively beheading them. After he separated a
head he set the head upright so that he could split it down the middle. Picard
began to feel an immense sense of satisfaction and happiness. It was like a
drug -- an overwhelming feeling of joy and contentment filled Picard. It was a
wondrous experience. A smile spread across his face. For reasons he could
not name and did not even want to understand at the moment, he was very,
very happy.

"Wasn't the tree beautiful, Papa?" one little Wesley asked him.

Picard answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Oh yes. Yes, it's astonishingly beautiful. Especially this part," he said
with a single swift chop that bisected him.

After a long time of just slaughtering, the weasels and Wesleys
dwindled. He looked around at the carnage that lay about, utterly happy,
utterly content. He went back inside for his supper.

Picard's eye fell on the glorious Christmas tree. He couldn't help
but smile as he looked over the ornaments and decorations. His eye was
caught by an ornament hanging near the top of the tree. It was a large and
beautiful glass ball with a tiny light in the center. As Picard watched,
the point expanded into Wesley's head which filled the ornamental ball, and
exploded. The image of the ornament touched a nerve within him somewhere.
It reminded him of something he'd nearly forgotten -- a discordant note in
an otherwise wondrous and magical scene. He frowned, the reverie
momentarily disrupted. But he tried to push it aside, not wanting the spell
to be broken.

He turned away to look at himself in the mirror again. "No, this
isn't right. This can't be real."

"In the mood for a little of the old ultra-violent? It's as real as
you want it to be," said Sassoon who suddenly stood before him.

"What's going on? Where am I?"

"You're in the Nexxus."

Picard looked around. "This is the Nexxus?"

"For you. This is where you wanted to be. Enjoy it, Jean-Luc."

One little Wesley that looked about ten years old held out a sword to
Picard. "Please, papa... Please kill me..." he pleaded pathetically.

Picard looked down into the face of his child. His heart swelled, the
temptation to slay was profound. Almost in a trance, he grasped the sword
and raised it. His eye was caught again by the unusual ornament on the tree
for a moment; he was torn between the two images. And then, in one of the
most difficult moments of his life, he bent down to the child.

"Suffer... the little children onto me," he said giving the sword
back. The child whimpered away crying.

"Picard, you must leave the Nexxus."

"Why would I want to leave?"

"To stop the travesty I have committed. I suddenly realized that my
personal greed in no way justified the deaths of millions. It was also not
very politically correct."

"This is the greatest place in the free universe. Wine... Women...
and Weasel is all provided for my disposal."

"Time has no meaning here. If you leave, you can go anywhere, any
time."

"Hey, Sassoon... aren't you listening to me?"

"You have to go back to that mountaintop on Vermiculite III, before I
put out the star. You must stop me."

"What makes you think things will be any different this time?"

"You're right. You'll need help. Take this," he said handing him his
curling iron. "I could also come back with you, but hey! Why give this up?"
Picard raised his fist as a warning. Sassoon gave him an enigmatic smile.

"But won't you disappear from the Nexxus?"

"I told you, time has no meaning here. Instead of myself, I know just
the guy who'd be interested in going."

"Okay. Now, Sassoon, before I go, I'd be honored if you did my hair."

"Sure."

Picard sat in the chair. Sassoon draped his cloak around him, picked
up his water spray bottle and found it empty. He looked around for some
water. "Little boy, come here." One of the Wesleys responded to the call.
Sassoon picked up another instrument with multiple needles in one end and
jabbed it into the Wesley's shoulder killing him. The instrument
efficiently siphoned purified water from the body through a tube into
the spray bottle.

He was bald once again after Picard had Sassoon style and dye his hair
exactly as he had worn it all seven years on the show. He found himself
walking what looked like the familiar rolling streets of San Francisco. He
came to a salon and entered. It was sparkling clean and quite empty. Rows
of chairs and basins sent a chill through his spine. The place reeked of
barbacide.

Picard realized he heard someone humming a little work tune somewhere.
He moved to look around one chair and saw a little gray toupee, the same
toupee he wore at the christening of the Enterprise-E, looking exactly as it
did the last time he saw it. It was vigorously cleaning and polishing a
sink with itself. It was lost in the sheer pleasure of the manual labor.
It never felt so good in its life.

"Toupee," Picard called to it.

The little gray toupee paused and looked up at the strange man before
him. Its expression was wondrous, almost child-like. Like in Picard's
Carnage and Slaughter sequence, the little gray toupee was immersed in the
sensual feeling of the Nexxus. It was like a dream that has overpowered it.

"So," it answered. "You expect a toupee to talk back?"

"Yes, yes, I do."

The little gray toupee pointed to a nearby cleanser on a counter. "Do
you mind?"

It took Picard a moment before he realized that The little gray toupee
wanted him get the canister of Comet for him. "Oh." Picard sprinkled the
Comet around the sink for him.

"You are supposed to put it on the cleaning instrument. Not the
surface to be cleaned."

"I'm sorry. Toupee, don't you recognize..."

The little gray toupee interrupted as he noticed something. "Wait a
second. I think something's burning." Picard followed its look to see
smoke billowing out of the door in the rear. The little gray toupee rushed
into the back room, and Picard followed.

They both entered what appeared to be the little gray toupee's kitchen.
The little gray toupee yanked a burning frying pan of food off the stove.
It was very hot, and so the little gray toupee quickly set it down near the
sink and waved the smoke away with some of its hair.

"Looks like someone was makin' bacon," it told Picard. "This is my
hair salon. Or at least it used to be. I sold it years ago."

"Remember the starship Enterprise..."

Before the little gray toupee could react to his remark, someone
yelled from upstairs. "Come on, little toupee, I'm starving. How long are
you going to be rattling around that kitchen?"

"That's Captain Kirk!" The little gray toupee looked at the food on
the stove and began to realize something. "Wait a minute." The little gray
toupee glanced at Picard. "The future. What are you talking about?" Went
to look at itself in a mirror at which time the toupee turned from gray to
dark brown. "This is the past. This is a hundred years ago, the day I told
Kirk I would go back to Starfleet with him to make STAR TREK: THE MOTION
PICTURE. I think I'll pass this time."

"I know how real this must seem to you, but it's not even Loreal.
This isn't really your hair salon. We've both been caught up in some sort
of Nexxus of vanity!"

The little dark brown toupee's mind was clearly elsewhere. It was
being swept away by the emotion of the moment, realizing the opportunity it
suddenly had. "Dill weed."

"Well, screw you, toupee! You look like bird shit."

The little dark brown toupee indicated a shelf, to clear up the
misunderstanding. "There's a bottle of dill weed on the second shelf to the
left, right behind the nutmeg." The little dark brown toupee moved to the
stove and tossed out the ruined eggs. He cracked open two new eggs on the
skillet and began preparing a breakfast.

Picard waited for a moment, then went to the shelf, grabbed the dill
weed and handed it to the little dark brown toupee. "How long have you been
here?"

The little dark brown toupee took the bottle and used it to season the
eggs. "I don't know. I was on the Enterprise-E, on your head, in the
deflector control room... keep stirring these, will you?" The little dark
brown toupee moved to a cabinet and began putting plates on a breakfast
tray.

Picard was getting a little impatient, but stirred the eggs anyway.

"The bulkhead in front of us disappeared... Then I was out there
cleaning. Thanks." The little dark brown toupee took the pan of eggs back
from Picard.

"History records that you were lost when I was saving the Enterprise-E
from a giant lock of hair a year and a half ago."

"When you were saving!? So you take all the credit, huh? Bastard."

"Actually, the Bastards are a part of it." Picard's words meant
almost nothing to The little dark brown toupee. It was thoroughly enjoying
itself and Picard was almost a distraction. The little dark brown toupee
began serving the eggs onto the plates and grabbed a small vase of flowers
to put on the tray.

"So you're telling me this is the year 2373, and I'm lost?"

"Not exactly. As I said, this is some kind of..."

"Nexxus, yeah, I heard you." The little dark brown toupee picked up
the tray and headed for the door.

"Toupee, I need your help. I want you to leave the Nexxus with me."
The little dark brown toupee headed for the staircase and Picard followed.
"We have to go back to a planet called Vermiculite III and stop a man from
destroying a star. There are millions of lives at stake."

The little dark brown toupee tried to keep it light, hoping this man
will go away. "You said history considers me lost. Who am I to argue with
history?"

"You are the hairpiece of a Starfleet officer and you have a sworn
duty..."

"I don't need to be lectured by you. I was worn by the greatest
explorer of the galaxy even before you grandfather had pubes. And frankly,
I think the galaxy owes me a cold one. You know I don't have a mouth with
which to enjoy smooth and frosty Bud Light. I was like you once: so worried
about fashion, new trends and fads that I couldn't see anything past my own
wardrobe. And in the end, what did it get me? Nothing. Not this time.
Commander Galakeiwicz, pop me one."

"Yes, I will," said the commander suddenly appearing and tossing a can
to it.

The toupee caught it and placed it on the tray. It brushed past
Picard's feet and stopped at the foot of the stairs. "I'm going to walk up
these stairs, march into that apartment and tell Kirk he's gonna be bald in
his next film!" He went through a door with a neon sign over it that read
"Chick Palace" and closed it behind him.

Picard marched up the stairs after The little dark brown toupee,
grasped the doorknob, opened it and stepped through the door into Kirk's
apartment. The wall's were adorned with his collection of antique weapons.
There was even a fireplace. The toupee sat at Kirk's side who was sitting
up in his hide-away bed just starting to dig into his breakfast.

Kirk swallowed his first bite of egg and pet the toupee
affectionately.

The toupee shuddered. "Uh... Jim?"

"Yes, my... hairpiece?" Kirk smiled at his toupee.

The toupee knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Jim, I don't know
about doing a movie."

"Oh, C...mon, You know... I bet if you rode on me one last time, you
could get back in the saddle again."

"Oh, very well," said the toupee crawling up onto Kirk's head.

It took a deep breath and let out a sigh as it sat down. It sat
motionless for about a minute while Kirk continued to eat his breakfast
before starting to crawl off. As it got up though, it suddenly stopped and
appeared to consider something. It seated itself back down. It looked up
at Picard who had been standing at the door watching in total disbelief. It
crawled off and over to Picard.

There was a long, quiet moment as the two sat on the foot of the bed
side by side while Kirk silently finished his bacon and eggs. The little
toupee was introspective as he sorted through his feelings.

"I must have sat on his head fifty times, and every time it scared the
hell out of me. But not this time. Because it's not real. Nothing here is
real. Nothing here matters."

All euphoria left the little toupee in a moment of self-revelation.
The little dark brown toupee then looked at Picard. And in a way, he's
truly seeing him for the first time. "Captain of the Enterprise, huh?"

"That's right."

"Close to retirement?"

"I hadn't planned on it."

"Ever plan on getting a rug?"

"After witnessing what I just did... There ain't no way in hell."

"Good man. And Don't let them promote you either. Don't let them
transfer you. Don't let anything take you off the bridge of that ship.
Because while you're there, you don't get fat sitting behind a desk. I've
seen that happen to the best captain in the fleet. Besides, social security
don't pay squat!"

Man and legend faced each other for a moment.

"Toupee, help me stop Sassoon."

The little dark brown toupee contemplated Picard's request. "What
was the name of that planet? Vermiculite III?"

"That's right."

"I take it the odds are against us and the situation is grim?"

"Uh-huh."

"Of course, if the Tribbles were here, they'd say I was being an
irrational, illogical piece of fluff for wanting to go on a mission like
that." For the first time, one could tell that Jim's little dark brown
toupee was back. "Groovy."

The toupee rose up and mounted itself on Picard's head as the two
vanished in a binding white light.

Sassoon stood in front of the forcefield, facing Picard. "Now, if
you'll excuse me, Captain, I have a one o'clock hair appointment and I don't
want to be late."

Sassoon turned and began to climb up the scaffolding toward the top of
the rockface. Picard began to wriggle the cord out of the socket,
accidentally sparking out the field. Sassoon turned at the sound of the
field, saw Picard, and drew his hairdryer. Sassoon quickly fired at Picard,
spewing up a cloud of dirt and smoke, obscuring Picard and the whole area
momentarily.

Sassoon jumped down one level on the scaffolding. He attached his
diffuser to his weapon; so, just in case Picard somehow survived, he wouldn't
next time. Sassoon peered through the cloud of dust and debris.

The dust from the explosion finally cleared but Picard was gone.
Sassoon glanced up at the sky and saw the distant giant piece of hair just
coming into view. There was no time to look for Picard. Sassoon began to
climb the scaffolding. Suddenly, the toupee flew out of nowhere and hit him
the face sticking there. Sassoon let out a girlish scream while he
struggled to rip it off.

Picard rushed to the launcher and stepped up onto the
control platform and desperately began trying to shut down the
launcher.

The little dark brown toupee continued to fight with Sassoon,
brutally. Sassoon made a grab for his diffuser to try to blow off the
toupee, but the little dark brown toupee was far too quick for Sassoon and
had already gotten ahold of the device and tossed it away.

Picard looked helplessly at the control panel. Nothing he did had any
effect. He keeps hitting buttons, looking for other control panels,
anything to affect the launcher. Suddenly, the launcher cloaked. Picard
reacted at his mistake. Picard was left standing on an invisible platform
three feet in the air. He wasn't sure what to do. He could feel the
console, but he couldn't see any of the controls.

The little dark brown toupee had nearly suffocated Sassoon. He
eventually landed heavily on the ground, unconscious. The little dark brown
toupee stood on a nearby rock over him, breathing heavily.

"Not bad!" Picard shouted over to it.

The toupee smiled. "I saw it in 'Alien'."

Without warning, the little dark brown toupee was blasted of the rock,
shot from behind. Sassoon on the ground with the diffuser in his hand got
up, whirled around, and pointed his weapon at Picard.

The Ford Probe suddenly rocketed upward in a roar of flame. Their
eyes followed the Probe as it disappeared into the sky. After leaving the
atmosphere, the Ford Probe made a U-turn and headed back down toward the
planet.

Riker pulled himself out of the wreckage along with the rest of the
crew and surveyed the horrendous damage. He turned to his crew. "Well,
thank God, we're all alive..." Just then, a blue fully-loaded 1996 Ford Probe
fell from the sky and destroyed what was left of the Bridge.

Sassoon couldn't believe his dreams had been shattered. He looked
into the sky and saw the distant lock streaking overhead. The diffuser
fell from his hand as he rushed to the top of the scaffolding.

Picard moved to the little dark brown toupee and checked its hairs.
Every single end was split. The Toupee was completely fried. When he
touched it several hairs fell out and others simply crumbled away. It had
bit the big one.

Sassoon stood on his rock ledge. He reached up toward the sky as if
trying to grab the lock with his bare hands. But the lock passed by and
disappeared. "No!" His look of shock turned to fury and madness. He
turned to Picard. "YOU!!" He jumped down a few levels and then dove off
the scaffolding at Picard.

Picard put up his fists ready to fight, but he didn't need too. When
he arrived at Picard, Sassoon collapsed in his arms sobbing. Picard
comforted the big baby.

"Guys? Hey, guys! I'm still alive over here," yelled the toupee. A
few of it hairs continued to twitch.

Picard and Sassoon turned went to its side. Picard cradled the little
toupee in his lap.

It took a ragged breath. "Planet... out of danger?"

"Yes, Toupee. You saved the... Huh?"

"Least I could do for a captain of the Enterprise," the little dark
brown toupee coughed again. "It was groovy... Oh crap..."

Picard placed the final few rocks on the little dark brown toupee's
grave. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a little bottle of styling
gel. He carefully placed it on the grave, and stood there silently for a
few moments.

He heard a distant whine of engines overhead that reminded him of his
last encounter with Weasley. Picard looked up into the sky to see an
Enterprise shuttlecraft flying toward the mountaintop. The shuttle landed
and Worf, La Forge and non-descript security guards jumped out to meet him.

"Captain, are you all right?" asked Worf.

"Yes. But my poor little toupee died," he answered with a tear.

"Get doctor Crusher immediately! He's gone completely out of his
mind," Worf ordered the other security officers.

"What about Doctor Sassoon?" asked Geordi.

"You needn't worry about the Doctor anymore," Picard said with a
psychotic giggle that made him sound completely insane.

"Captain, what the hell happened to the Doctor?"

"You could say... He lost his hair," Picard said smiling like Norman
Bates. "By the way, your hyperkarytosis looks so much better of late,
Mr. Worf." He was sorry he couldn't say the same for La Forge.

"Uh... Thank you, sir. I've been using Nutragena T-gel."

Sassoon was just over the adjunct hill tied up and mourning over the
loss of his hair. Picard had shaved it off and buried it with the toupee to
give it company in the here after.

Captain's log, stardate 50240.1. The starship Ferret Guts has arrived in
orbit and has begun to beam up the Enterprise survivors for transport back
to Earth. Our casualties were light, but unfortunately the Enterprise bridge
module cannot be salvaged. Fortunately, every other part can be
reassembled. I've also decided to retire to write ADVENTURES OF THE LITTLE
TOUPEE children's books.

The Enterprise's corridors were a hive of activity. Crewmembers moved
about, carrying personal effects, and equipment. Crusher was helping an
injured crewmember into the arms of a waiting medical officer.

Ogawa walked up to her. "That should be the last of the injured,
Doctor."

Crusher nodded. She looked exhausted. "Two hundred thirty-two
patients in under two days."

Two medical officers walked past, carrying a large case of medical
supplies.

Crusher glanced at them. "I'll take that morphine!"

"Is there another patient?"

"No -- it's for me." Crusher grabbed a couple of hyposprays and
injected their entire contents into her arm. "Ah! That's the stuff," she said
before passing out.

Ogawa stared at Crusher in disbelief. Then she looked at the medical
officers. "Got any nitrous in there?"

Data and Troi were looking through rubble with tricorders. "Over
here, Data! I think I've found something."

Data moved to her, with a hopeful and excited look. "One life sign,
very faint," he confirmed. Data handed his tricorder to Troi and then began
to pull debris aside with android strength. As Data pulled aside a large
piece of plating he revealed a soiled and somewhat disoriented Spot. She
looked at Data and gave a plaintive meow.

"Spot. I had a feeling I was going to find you here." He picked he
up and began licking her dirty fur. The cat purred contented. "I am 'ery
happy 'o thind 'ou, thbot."

Troi smiled. "Another family reunited."

Data's eyes began to tear. Troi was surprised, yet touched at the
sight. "Data, are you all right?"

"I am not sure, Counselor. I think I am allergic to cats." He then
sneezed.

Picard and Wesley sifted through the rubble of the Ready Room.

"What a waste," Wesley said with disdain.

"Starfleet has plenty of Fallacy class bridge modules in stock,
Wesley."

"I was talking about the 1996 Ford Probe. Teal green exterior, black
vinyl interior. Four on the floor. 4.2 liter engine. Turbo charged. She
was a classic." Wesley saw something in the rubble. "Is this it?" Wesley
held up what was left of the Picard family photo album.

"Take your paws off of that, weasel!" Picard took the album, brushed
off the dust and flipped through the pages for a moment. Picard had been
rejuvenated by his experience and had been given a new perspective on the
issues of life and death. "Someone once told me that time is a predator
that stalks us all our lives. But maybe time is also a companion who goes
with us on our journey, and reminds us to cherish the moments of our lives
because they will never come again. We are, after all, only mortal."

"Speak for yourself, sir. I kinda planned on living forever."

Picard smiled back at him and shook his head. "Computer, end program."
The holographic generator shut off the hologram of Wesley.

Picard walked around his wrecked bridge. He stared at the center
chair. A voice spoke to him from behind.

"I always thought I'd have a crack at that chair one day."

"You may still..." He turned around to see that not Riker but Wesley
had spoken those words. "What the...?"

Wes hit his combadge. "Weasel to Ferret Guts. Two to beam up."

Picard, flabbergasted, put a hand to his head in extreme shock as the
two dematerialized.

THE END
(for now....)

