The Clash of the Stars

When a Star Wars convention happens and Star Trek fans gate crash, an all out battle of the stars breaks out. [Annabeth Shadownight's idea; She's writing Star Wars, Prodigy is writing Star Trek] *credit to River Summers for the cover*

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4. Star Trek

    Jake was the first out of the car, slamming the door and turning to face the convention center in awe.

    It was huge.

    It was glorious.

    It was swarming with Star Wars.

    A large sign in front of the building read:

 

STAR WARS EXCLUSIVE CONVENTION. 

FEATURING HARRISON FORD, JAMES EARL JONES. 

TICKETS $25 AT GATE.

 

    Jake growled. “Come on, landing party. Let’s show them how real sci-fi is done.” He cracked his knuckles.

    “Jake, are you sur-”

    “It’s Kirk now, Spock. And those are my orders. Let’s go, guys. We’ve got to find the other Trekkies,” Kirk/Jake said with obvious authority.

    “You mean those ones standing awkwardly in the corner while everyone’s walking by giving them death glares?” Uhura suggested.

    Kirk puffed up his chest. “Yes. Those ones indeed.”

    He led the way. With a sigh, the others followed. Well, Gary didn’t sigh because now that he was fully awake, he had embraced the role of Spock. His face was void of all emotion. One of his rubber pointed ears slipped off, but he put it back casually, not betraying a thing.

    He was good.

    They weaved through the Star Wars fans, who parted before them like the Red Sea. Several hissed, a few Chewbacca-things growled and a plastic lightsaber was drawn. Chekov drew his phaser prop and eyed them critically. If a fight came, he’d be ready. He was always up for a fight. Uhura hugged her tribble closer to her chest protectively.

    “Don’t vorry,” Chekov told her in a Russian accent. “Chekov vill take good care of ze lady.”

    She rolled her eyes but looked relieved. By the time they had broken through the crowd, the tension in the air was palpable. Several pairs of eyes followed them to their Trek companions. 

    “Hey,” Kirk said. “Good to see you, Bones,” he said to Brian.

    “You too, Jim,” Bones replied in character. “I’d like to introduce you to the new officers under your command. This is your helmsman George, but he likes to go by Lt. Sulu, and here’s Killian, your chief engineer, whose nickname is Mr. Scott, or sometimes Scotty.”

    “Pleased to meet you,” Kirk said diplomatically, shaking hands with them both. “Let’s get out of the sight of these people.”

    “Agreed,” Bones muttered. “They set my teeth on edge.”

    “Their mere presence would not be enough to physically move your teeth, doctor,” Spock said flatly. “Do try to think your statements through before they come out of your mouth.”

    “You green-blooded little-”

    “Gentlemen,” Kirk interrupted. “Enough. Around the corner,” he said, leading them away. 

    They stood in a dark area with two dumpsters pressed against a stone wall. Kirk turned to the rest.

    “Right, well, we’re going to crash their pathetic little Star Wars party,” he said with some relish. “I think I’ve got a pla-”

    With a girly scream, a woman with long, dark curly hair and a pale pretty face came barreling around the corner. She wore a gray non-standard issue uniform and looked terrified. 

    “Counselor Troi!” Scotty shouted. “Are you alright?”

    “My name’s not Counselor Troi,” she muttered, “It’s Marian.”

    “But you’re dressed like Counselor Troi, so ve’re going to call you Counselor Troi,” Chekov explained. “I’m really Richard, but you can call me Chekov.”

    “Whatever,” she said hurriedly. “Those Star Wars people are insane! They asked me where my Jabba the Hut was! What’s that even mean?” Troi cried.

    Before anyone could answer, two more guys came stumbling around the corner.

    “Oh, good, Marian, you’re alright,” the one said with obvious relief. 

    “Did you beat them up?” she asked with a slight pout.

    “Well we had a little talk. I tried to be diplomatic,” he said, glancing around the corner. “I’m not sure it worked. Who are these people?”

    Bones was surveying him. “Hmm...Bald, pale, slight French accent, next generation uniform... You must be Captain Picard.”

    “Well, Francis, but, yeah.”

    “It’s an honor, sir,” Chekov gushed. He looked at the other man, standing pale and stiff in a gold uniform. “Data?” he guessed.

    “That is the name I have been given, yes.”

    “Wonderful,” Kirk muttered with a grin.

    Spock eyed Data critically. Data simply inclined his head. Quickly, Kirk introduced everyone in their group.

    “Right, well, not that we’re all here,” Kirk said, “what do you guys say to ruining some galactic fun?”

 

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