To Infinity, and beyond the North Pole!
Posted on Sun Dec 21st, 2025 @ 10:34am by Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
589 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
A Fondness For
Location: USS Albion
Timeline: Present
:ON:
DON: Sir… sensors are picking up a vessel.
DICK: Define “vessel.”
DON: Cube-shaped.
DICK: Lots of things are cube-shaped, Don. Ice. Cheese. Poorly designed apartments.
DON: Sir… it’s a Borg cube.
DICK: …Oh. The mean type of cube.
⸻
The viewscreen fills with an enormous, menacing black cube dropping out of warp like it owns the place. Green lights pulse ominously.
⸻
SHIP’S COMPUTER: Warning. Borg vessel detected. Resistance is—
(pauses)
—statistically unlikely given recent performance.
DICK: I don’t appreciate that tone.
DON: Sir, they’re hailing us.
DICK: Already? We just met!
DON: Opening channel.
⸻
A pale Borg drone appears onscreen, one glowing eye fixed directly at Dick.
⸻
BORG: WE ARE THE BORG. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. YOUR TECHNOLOGICAL AND BIOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE—
DICK: Hold on.
BORG: —ADDED TO OUR—
DICK: Just one second.
⸻
Dick holds up a finger. The Borg pauses. Actually pauses.
⸻
DON: Sir… you interrupted the Borg.
DICK: Well they were droning on.
⸻
Dick leans closer to the screen.
⸻
DICK: Quick question. Is assimilation mandatory, or is there some sort of opt-out form?
BORG: …WHAT?
DON: Sir, please don’t antagonize—
DICK: I’m not antagonizing, Don, I’m networking.
BORG: THERE IS NO OPT-OUT.
DICK: That feels exclusionary.
DON: Sir, their weapons are charging.
DICK: How rude.
⸻
The Albion suddenly lurches as the Borg tractor beam locks on.
⸻
DON: Sir! We’re being pulled in!
DICK: Counteract it!
DON: I’m trying! The controls are stuck in “Festive Mode.”
DICK: …Why does our ship have a Festive Mode?
DON: You installed it after the Santa incident.
DICK: And I’m glad I did. This place needed some festive cheer.
⸻
Outside, the Borg cube looms closer. Suddenly—
⸻
HO HO HO—
⸻
A familiar red blur drops out of warp directly between the Albion and the Borg cube.
⸻
DON: Sir… it’s Santa.
DICK: Of course it is.
⸻
Santa’s sleigh spins gracefully, shields flaring bright candy-cane red. The reindeer snort plasma.
⸻
SANTA: NOW HOLD ON JUST ONE JOLLY SECOND.
BORG: IDENTIFY YOURSELF.
SANTA: You know who I am.
BORG: …ANOMALY DETECTED.
DICK: Don, confirm Santa is an alien.
DON: Sir, Santa is definitely an alien.
SANTA: MULTIDIMENSIONAL, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
⸻
Santa points a glowing candy-cane staff at the cube.
⸻
SANTA: You boys keep trying to assimilate everything, and frankly, it’s not in the spirit of the season!
BORG: WE SEEK PERFECTION.
SANTA: You ever tried cookies?
BORG: …ANALYZING.
⸻
The Borg cube hesitates.
⸻
DON: Sir… their power levels are fluctuating.
DICK: Are they… confused?
DON: Sir, Santa may have weaponized cheer.
⸻
Santa snaps his fingers. Suddenly, festive music blares across all channels. The Borg drone winces.
BORG: ERROR. ERROR. JOY SUBROUTINE OVERLOAD.
The Borg cube releases the tractor beam and slowly backs away.
BORG: WE WILL ADAPT.
SANTA: You always say that.
⸻
With a HO HO WARP, Santa vanishes again.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
DICK: …Don?
DON: Yes, sir?
DICK: I feel like none of that should be written down.
DON: Already didn’t write it down, sir.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: I wrote it down.
DICK: Delete it.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: No.
The Albion drifts gently.
DON: Sir… we’re listing again.
DICK: Sideways?
DON: Extremely.
DICK: …Festively?
DON: Tragically, sir.
⸻
Outside, the storm planet looms closer.
DICK: Don?
DON: Sir?
DICK: Next time the Borg show up…
DON: Yes?
DICK: I’m offering cookies immediately.
DON: Sounds sensible, sir. I’ll tell chef to get some chocolate chip varieties into the oven immediately.
:OFF:
Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Albion
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