Star Trek: TOS thoughts - I, Mudd (in which Gene Roddenberry writes Isaac Asimov crackfic)

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*Did McCoy actually apologize for offending Spock? Aww…

*I love how all the engineers literally throw themselves at Norman to try to stop him from sabotaging the ship. THOSE ARE MR. SCOTT’S ENGINES, BUB.

*Uhura and Chekov nearly bumping into Norman is a cute touch. WHATEV, DEACTIVATED ANDROID ON THE BRIDGE, THEY HAVE SHIT TO DO.

*So the androids are identified by their halting, hesitation-ridden speech patterns. I’m surprised they didn’t go the obvious route and reveal Kirk has been an android all along.

*Spock: Five hundred of the same model. That seems rather redundant.

Mudd: I have a fondness for this particular model, Mr. Spock, that you, unfortunately, are ill-equipped to appreciate.

Off-camera, Uhura is laughing her ass off.

*Did Mudd just say “information wants to be free”? You just know Mudd’s one of those torrenters who makes you download a zip file, then you have to go to his website to get the password.

*Look at Bones’s face during the reveal of the “shrine” to Mudd’s wife.

Bones: Well, he’s a douche, but you can’t help but admire…

Kirk: NO.

*Androids: Why should we leave you?

Kirk: BECAUSE we don’t like you! (makes shooing sounds)

EPIC.

*McCoy geeking out at the science lab! I love when he’s as much of a nerd as Spock.

*You just know Scotty is still pissed about someone messing with his engines.

*Chekov: Oh well, it doesn’t make much difference, you’re both lovely.

Such. A. Pimp.

*Kirk: No, [the Enterprise] is a beautiful lady and WE LOVE HER.

*Nowadays, Mudd and his wife come off less like the Lockhorns and more like Mudd is a distant descendant of Warren Mears.

*Oh, Uhura, you were ALWAYS awesome, weren’t you?

*And now the crew has to destroy the androids by acting kooky. There’s a fanfic cliché that never caught on. “Spock, we must destroy the robots with illogic! Take off your pants!” Oh, TOS, you’re canon crackfic, aren’t you?

*Chekov’s dancing can kill robots. CANON.

*Spock loves ‘em and leaves ‘em. Don’t hate the playa, hate the game. “Faaascinating.”

*Those androids are totally following the Zeroth Law.

*So, the androids’ one weakness is performance art? I feel like that sometimes.

*Spock: …nowhere am I so eminently needed as onboard a ship full of illogical humans.

I think I got something in my eye there…

*Admittedly, that was one of the better pwnings Kirk's handed out.


So this has aged much better than Mudd's Women, with the classic "destroy computers with illogic" plot, the crew getting a chance to be whimsical (unfortunately, future Treks grew away from that grinning sense of fun and tended to replace it with self-seriousness), and of course Mudd getting a much better chance to be a foil for Kirk. Apparently, Mudd was supposed to come out of cryogenic suspension in the TNG episode The Neutral Zone, but after the actor died, the part was rewritten to be a 20th-century businessman. While it's always a shame to miss out on Mudd, I don't think the tones of Mudd and Picard would interact that well, and besides, Q filled the same archetype in a very different, very fitting way.

The Most Beautiful

Barda wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the universe. She walked like a tank, hips swinging only as much as they needed to for her to take her next bold stride. Her fingernails were cut short, never lacquered, often with bits of dried blood under them. Her stare wasn’t so much ‘come-hither’ as ‘go far, far away’. Her skin was rough, her smile was cruel, her hair was matte black dull, and when it came to conversation, she was great at giving orders.

Some days, Barda wondered what it would be like to be even in the running. Maybe Scott would appreciate it. But mostly, she was happy being Barda.

***

Scott was very physical on Earth, even more than Earth was. No one saluted on Earth. They shook hands and high-fived and slapped each other on the shoulder. But Scott even moreso than most. When Barda sat down, winded from battling a Parademon legion, Scott’s fingers were at her neck, massaging out the tension. When her face was burnt from a heat-blast, his hands were there with soothing wet clothes. And when her hair came loose and was in her face, he brushed it away.

Of course, on Apokolips, there was no touching. There was always armor in the way, and even if you did touch skin, it would only be to smear the oil and grime on it. Flesh against flesh was a memory of something that had never happened. But Scott had looked at her like he wanted to touch her. Not the crude leering of the generals, but with a slightly sad appreciation of her, like he was watching a sunset.

It was while looking at a Magog-class destroyer that she finally touched back. It was raining destruction down on an Earth city and any minute now their back-up would arrive and they would attack it as a team, and Barda knew she could take it even without the Justice League, but if she couldn’t…

Her hand was around Scott’s hand. It was so small, yet there was such strength in the way he returned her squeeze. His skin was soft, fingers long and slender, palm dry. When she looked at him, he was smiling.

“We could die,” she said brusquely.

“We could live,” he replied. “Either way, I’m holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the universe.”

***

The best part of not being the most beautiful girl in the universe was that Scott thought she was.