Monday, February 24, 2014

Leave it to the Fans: My thoughts on Star Trek Continues and the Star Trek Phenomenon.

Title: Leave it to the Fans: My thoughts on Star Trek Continues and the Star Trek Phenomenon.

Author: ProvidenceMine.

So, you’re one of those fans who think that Star Trek is dead, or broken. 

With every fiber of your being, you honestly believe that J.J. Abrams has led Star Trek into the slaughterhouse and butchered it beyond recognition.

Personally speaking, I’ve always found J.J. Abrams’ version of Star Trek to be deeply unsatisfying.  Sitting in that darkened theater watching the 2008 reboot (or was it 2009?), I felt as if I was watching a Michael Bay movie with all the smugness and cartoonish sensibility that seem to characterize his works.  The twisting of canon was particularly unfortunate; between the destruction of Vulcan and the unexplained appearance of an Orion woman in Starfleet (Orions are not a part of the Federation), I left the movie house pretty disgusted, vowing never to see another J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek film again.

And I’ve kept that vow.

I just continued to kick back and enjoy the various forms of Star Trek fan works out there.

A few years later, while I was still wasting time on Twitter, I was searching for Star Trek fan artists (writers, artists, crafters, filmmakers, etc.) that I could follow.  I spotted the Twitter icon of Star Trek Continues and was struck by both the physical similarities of the actors to their characters and the painstaking detail in recapturing  the famous photograph of Kirk and Spock looking up into the camera.

I read the caption, went to their website and was intrigued.  Star Trek Continues is a webseries that takes place during the last two years of the Enterprise’s five-year mission.  I checked out their works on Vimeo, which consisted of three vignettes and (at the time) one full episode. 

Simply put, I was blown away!

Seriously blown away!

Talk about studying your subject matter! 

Watching Star Trek Continues was, literally, like watching The Original Series!  The sets, cinematography, music, and direction are so faithful in their detail it’s astonishing!  The stories are beautifully written and true to the human drama that Star Trek was renowned for. 

However, what impressed me most of all was the cast.  These supremely talented actors not only play their roles to utter perfection, they even fit their characters physically, which was astounding to me, considering that none of the actors resemble anyone from the original cast. 

Star Trek Continues is the crown jewel of fan production!  It’s as if The Original Series never ended after its third season!  And unlike some other fan productions that look like they’re fan productions, Star Trek Continues looks as professional as Star Trek did back in the day.  Even a fan production like Of Gods and Men, as well done as it is, simply doesn’t have the polish that Star Trek Continues does.  And, the best thing about this webseries is that they’re just getting started, with only two full episodes under their belt.  More stories to write and produce mean more episodes to look forward to.  So, if there is any doubt in your mind that Star Trek lives, then you really need to check out these webisodes!

Since the time J.J. Abrams first took a shot at The Original Series, I’ve heard many fans lament the death of Star Trek, or the destruction of it.  Now, as much as I have a real distaste for the reboot( more like giving it the boot), I can’t say that I share the pessimistic view of many of my fellow Trek fans. 

How is Star Trek broken?  When did it die?

I truly don’t understand what these people are talking about.

While it may be true that Star Trek is not at the height of its popularity as it was in the 70s and 80s, that is not to say that Star Trek is dead, broken, or on life support.  After all, nothing stays at the peak of its popularity forever.

That’s simply a fact of life. 

All you need to do is think about a certain group of sparkly little blood suckers and of how things have quieted down considerably in their neck of the woods.

Star Trek, even past its prime of popularity, is still going strong! All you have to do is go on Amazon to look at all of the new novels and merchandise that come out each year that are based on the series.

And, let’s be honest here.  Many fans might not like the J.J. Abrams reboot, but there probably never would have been one had it not been for Star Trek’s continuing impact.  The mega box office for both reboots is yet another testament to the series’ endurance.

Star Trek is not, nor has it ever been, dead. 

The problem lies with Hollywood.  In the case of Star Trek, the mainstream film industry simply can’t deliver the goods anymore.  This is not only the case with The Original Series, but with the whole franchise. 

The last television show, Enterprise, didn’t receive bad ratings because Star Trek went out of style, it received bad ratings because it was a poorly executed show.

The last film before J.J. Abrams version, Nemesis, didn’t fail at the box office because Star Trek was no longer viable, it failed at the box office because it was a miserable movie.

Those two spills and messes were brought to you by Hollywood.  Period.

From where I stand, I think that the problem has been we’re always looking to Hollywood to ‘bring Star Trek back to life,’ if you will.  Considering that Star Trek is indeed a product of Hollywood, that’s understandable. 

As it goes, Star Trek is no longer something that Hollywood, in its less than infinite wisdom, can work with anymore.  It will not find new life in that town of tinsel the way it did back in the 70s and 80s.

The present and future life of the Star Trek phenomenon belongs to its fans.

I had written earlier about the new books and merchandise that continually show up on Amazon.

What about the abundance of fan fiction, fan productions, fan clubs and fan artwork that are out there, online and offline?  It was the fans that continued to breath new life to Star Trek.  They did it after Star Trek went off the air back in 1969, and they continued to do so after Enterprise went off the air back in 2005.  Do you know how many years that is?

And, during all those years, there were some incredible fan works that were produced, right?

The writings of Wildcat and Jean Lorrah, websites like My Star Trek Scrapbook…

…and fan productions like Star Trek Continues.

Talk about paying homage! 

Hey, as long as you believe that only the studio heads in those stucco casted and palm tree shrouded luxury buildings are the only people who can bring back Star Trek in all its glory, then, yes, Star Trek is truly dead, broken, or on life support.

However, if you leave it to the fans, then Star Trek is not dead.

It’s alive and kicking!



Thursday, February 13, 2014

Man-Hating Wing Nut Bitch

Title: Man-Hating Wing Nut Bitch
Author: ProvidenceMine
Parts: One
Rating: R for violence
Codes: Rand, Kirk, Spock
Summary: A different take on the attempted rape scene from The Enemy Within.
Disclaimer: Paramount Pictures owns all of Star Trek and its characters.  This is a work of fan fiction, and I will not, in any way, profit from this.

Blondes make the best victims.  They’re like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints.

--Alfred Hitchock

Janice Rand stepped through the doors of her quarters and sighed emphatically.  Oh, Thank God that’s over, she thought as she hastily removed the strap of the recorder case from her shoulder.   She walked over to the counter at the other side of her room and dropped the recorder there.  She rotated her shoulder and then her neck, taking deep breaths throughout.  She didn’t think that anything so small could make her feel like she was lugging around bars of lead, but a double shift had a tendency to do that.

Rand was looking forward to spending some time with Nyota and Warren Kyle, who had just started seeing each other a few weeks ago.  They would meet in the rec room to play a few rounds of pool.  She smiled, thinking how cute a couple they made, and how happy she was for her best friend.

Rand patted the back of her head and cringed at the thought of how her hair must look after a long, arduous day.  She walked over to the dresser unit and touched the hatch gently, waiting for the rotating walls to reveal the dresser with all it provided for her.  Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Rand got to work on her hair, angling her head while she repositioned pins and tucked in straying strands of flaxen back in place. 

Straightening herself for a final appraisal, she noticed movement in the shadows right over her bedchamber behind her.

“What the…”

Alarmed, she turned to see what it was.

It was The Captain.

“Oh Captain!  You startled me!  I didn’t know what…”

The Captain raised a carafe of alcohol to his lips and took a swig of the amber liquid, taking it down in audible gulps.  Rand looked at him, and was struck by this gesture, and of how he wiped the dribble from the corners of his mouth and his chin.  It seemed so alien, so ugly, like something that a pirate, or a hobo, would do.  It struck with a particular unease because The Captain was behaving this way in her quarters.

And he had been hiding in a corner of her room.

Waiting for her.

Talk about not following protocol.

The captain always called on his starship personnel either through intercom, computer, or a messenger sent to one’s door.  It was only his two chief officers whose rooms he entered, and that was rare. 

Not only was this not protocol, it was an affront.

What exactly was going on? 

He stood right in front of Rand.  There was something about the way he carried himself here; smug, almost surly.  The typically hurried, distracted, clipped demeanor was gone. 

“Captain?  Is there any reason at all why you’re in my room?  Is this an emergency, or something?”

The Captain didn’t answer, but swept his eyes over her body in an intrusive and calculating manner.  In the past, Rand had loved it when the captain took notice of her, stealing some glances along the way.  Hell, there were even times when she encouraged it.  A cross of the legs here, an arch of the neck there.  But not this.  This attention she didn’t like.  She didn’t like the cold, clammy way he made her feel.

The Captain’s lips curled obscenely into a leering, pompous imitation of a smile.

“Jim will do here, Janice.”

“Oh,” she replied uneasily. 

Calm yourself, she thought.  After all, you could be overreacting.  Maybe you’re being a bit of an alarmist.  Her gut, however, was telling her otherwise, tugging at her like an irritating, impatient brat on a mother’s skirt hem.

God, this wasn’t right at all!

“You’re too beautiful to ignore.  Too much woman,” he said, putting down the carafe on the counter bordering the bedchamber from the rest of the room.  “We’ve been …pretending too long, Janice.”

He moved towards her, and she instinctively backed away.  The Captain took notice, mockingly tilting his head as he continued towards her.  “You’re backing away from me, Janice.   Is…this…a …little…teeaassssse?”

What Rand needed right now were eyes in the back of her head, big bug eyes that could pop out and through her thick blond coiffure and guide her the fuck out of there!  As it was, she was aiming blindly for the door, trying to pick up the pace without falling over, or ending up against a wall.

“Stop pretending, Janice!” 

Rand was suddenly disoriented.  She couldn’t recall exactly when The Captain had closed in on her, but there he was, his hands like talons on her shoulders, digging into her so hard that the pain was almost numbing.  She yelped and tried to pull away. 

“Let’s stop pretending.”

The Captain pulled her to him and leaned in for a kiss.  Rand pushed against The Captain’s chest and turned her face away, the smell of alcohol and stale saliva that seeped from his lips revolting to her.   She took the heel of one of her hands and pressed it under his jaw, trying to push his face, his mouth, away from her, but his strength overpowered her.  Her arms trembled as The Captain pushed against her hand and drew in closer, his hot breath dank on her cheeks.  She struggled valiantly until her arms finally gave way under his physical power.  The vapors of his breath engulfed her nostrils, making her gag while his lips laved her cheeks and jaw, leaving them wet and cold with a repugnant, reptilian slime.  His kiss was abrasive, sloppy, like a damp, caked up, oily rag. 

Rand managed to jerk and turn her head away, his residue still sickening fresh on her mouth.  She twisted violently in his arms and tried to pull herself away, trying to break his hold on her body.  She fought back tears that stung her eyes, tried to hold back the tremors that coursed through her.  She’d be damned if she’d show this animal her fear, confusion and hurt!  She would only show him her rage, would fight with it, fight her way out of this nightmare!  

Rand suddenly felt her legs hit and tumble against something.  

It whipped underneath her, making her legs buckle and lose her balance.

The foot of The Captain, no doubt.

She was falling, still caught in The Captain’s grip.  She flayed her arms and legs, trying to recover her balance, the ground underneath her.  She couldn’t, and in her crumbling resolve the sobs racked their way out, choking her, the tears thick and blinding.

Not like this!  Please, not like this!

Her back hit the floor, causing her arms to throw themselves over her head.  Rand let out a groan from the pain that coursed through her shoulder blades, her spine, the back of her head.  She felt like she was submerged in water as her body throbbed numbly.

Hovering over her was the face of The Captain, emerging from the cloud of her tears.  Rand could feel The Captain pin her arms over her head, piling one wrist on top of the other and pushing them down, while his free hand slithered under her uniform skirt, grabbed hold of the waist of her shorts, and pulled at them roughly, the fabric digging into the flesh of her hip.  The Captain’s nails scraped Rand’s pantyhose right below the hip, creating a tear and leaving a scratch on her skin, wet from her blood.  She yelped and shut her eyes tightly, her whole body tensing up as if doing would make it all stop.

NO! NO!No!No!Nononononon……………The word ebbed inside her, simultaneously expanding and contracting in her head and body. 

Suddenly, there was a stillness, a centering. 

Rand stopped crying, stopped tensing her muscles.  She was able to release herself from her imprisoning fear.  She opened her eyes and looked directly into The Captain’s and smiled.  She arched her back, giggling.

“Ooh, honey.  Why so rough?” she cooed.

The Captain stopped, cocking his head sideways like a confused dog.  He even made a stupid little dog sound. 

Rand scanned The Captain’s body and bit her lip, tugging it softly.

“No need for you to work so hard, Jim.  Why don’t you just let me take off my uniform?  I am a big girl, you know.”  To emphasize her point, she grounded her butt into the carpeted floor.   “Pleeeesssse?”

The Captain smiled at this welcome change, and grunted his approval. 

“I knew you’d come around and stop teasing me.  That’s a good little girl.”

The Captain released her and positioned his arms on either side of her.

“Let me look at you first,” she said.

She ran her hands up the sides of his upper body, sweeping them up his shoulders, his neck, and ending on his face.  Rand traced his cheekbones and temples delicately with her fingertips.

“God, I’ve always thought you were soo handsome.  The most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

The Captain was like a cat under her strokes, making low, throaty sounds as he leaned into her fingers, her touch. 

Rand continued to trace her fingers along the lines of his face until they settled onto his cheeks, cradling his face.  The Captain rubbed his cheeks against her palms, and she applied more pressure at his urging.  She pressed her palms into his skin, slowly kneading her fingertips into his cheeks and temples until her nails latched onto their target.


Rand took her sweet time, reveling in the sensation of The Captain’s flesh ripping and curling under her nails the way the skin of a fruit gives way under the blade of a peeler.  Of course, she had the added bonus of his blood collecting under her nails as well, moistening the skin behind them.

Desperately tearing himself away from her attack, The Captain bolted upright and howled to the ceiling, raising his hands to his shredded, bloody face.  Rand scrambled out from under him and got up.   

Rand stood over him, staring at him with a kind of hatred she didn’t know was humanly possible. 

“I’ll bet that hurt,” she said in a low -pitched tremor.

In one swift movement she kicked him under the chin, sending The Captain reeling and slamming head on into the dresser. 

Rand watched him quietly, waiting for him to untangle himself from his twisted limbs.  When he finally recovered, The Captain’s expression betrayed a mixture of surprise and….

Something else.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slack. 

Was it fear?

Rand walked over until she was directly over him again, her body shaking in uncontrollable rage.

“Get up,” she said.

The Captain was now crouched, readying himself, his eyes no longer the round saucers they had been earlier, his mouth no longer slack.  He had the look of a predator now, narrowed gaze and tight drawn lips on a face red with fury.

“You’ll pay for that, you little whore!” he snarled.

He leaped from his spot and charged, his arms reaching out with hands and fingers curled inward like claws.  He let out a roar, a roar meant to frighten her, but Rand was unfazed as she leaned sideways and stuck out her foot when he was close enough to make contact.  She whipped it underneath him, making him tumble into the counter where she had placed her recorder earlier.  His head met the edge of the counter and he spilled onto the floor, where he rolled around, holding his head with both hands and braying like a jackass.


“Oh, it’s Yeoman now, huh.  What happened to the first name basis thing?”

Rand stood triumphant, exuding a smugness that further grated on The Captain as he looked up at her from his hands and knees.

An appropriate position for him, she thought.

“Would you prefer being called ‘cunt,’” he taunted.

 “It won’t matter one way or the another, asshole, because you might not even survive this mess you put yourself in!”

The Captain snickered, and Rand laughed in response.

“Are you kidding me, bitch!  By the time I get finished with you, you’ll either wish you were never born or you’ll be begging for more!  You’ll be the pet of all pets!”

“Wish I was never born?  Begging for more?  Pet of all pets?  God, you’re just full of clich├ęs, aren’t you.”

Oh, how his words infuriated her, made her taste blood, his blood!  She wanted to destroy him, rending him impotent, hollow him out! 

This man--whom she thought she loved.

Hell.  Who the fuck did he think he was?! 

Or she was, for that matter?

Did he think he was some CEO in some 20th Century office with a docile, pencil-skirted secretary? 

Rand watched The Captain like a bird of prey.  He was crouched on the floor like the animal that he clearly was.  When he made a move, she mirrored it, her body language making it clear that she would make good on her threat.  The Captain smiled in a nasty teeth- baring grimace, and she responded by doing the same.

“You must be some kind of dyke, the way you hold you head up and ignore the men when you pass them by.  I’m gonna take you down a notch!”

“Go for it, Cupcake,” she sneered.  Rand reached for a long, intricately carved sculpture that sat on a small, round table, placed just off-center in her room. 

That slight turn away from The Captain cost her.

Like a blink of an eye he was on her, his fingers tightening around her throat.  His grip may have been like steel, but her will was much stronger.  She locked her hands on his and tried to tear them off her while she gasped for air.  The Captain leaned in and pressed his mouth on hers, forcing it open.  The slimy, coated tongue of The Captain snaked its way in.  Rand bit down into his tissue and tasted the blood of The Captain now flooding her mouth.  He let out a screeching cry like a jackal and stumbled back.  He was livid, crazed, rabid, his face crimson, his eyes wild, blood streaking down his chin.  He lowered his eyes on her, stretching his quivering lips to bare clenched, bloodstained teeth.


Rand was able to grab the sculpture and, gripping it with both hands, slam the instrument squarely into his kidneys.  

The Captain’s body bent, like a stem, into the blow.  His extremities contracted into their joints, making him look like a collapsing marionette.  His face was like a red mask of horror; eyes glazed and bulging, contorted, quivering mouth.  The sound that came out of him was wordless, distorted, warped.


A ripping, gurgling sound, long and loud, followed, coupled with a foul stench that wafted through the quarters, assaulting Rand’s nostrils.  She placed two fingers to her nostrils to block the offending odor.

Don’t tell me…

The pant area, in between his crotch and his buttocks, glistened at the seams, and then expanded, but not smoothly, like a balloon filling up with air or water.  It rose in heavy, ungainly chunks, like wet sand.  The Captain’s legs twisted together and he crumpled to the floor. 

He lay there on his back, his limbs tossed about like a discarded scarecrow.

A straw captain.

Rand stood over him, noting how pathetic he looked.  She snorted in disgust as she removed her fingers from her nostrils and gripped the blunt object with both hands.

“You bring alcohol into my room, try to rape me, and then you take a dump on my carpet?”

 She raised the sculpture over her head and positioned herself, so that she would be able to get in a good aim right above The Captain’s forehead, to give him a good braining.  Rand took a deep breath.  She could just about taste her revenge as surely as she could smell the unmistakable stink emanating from The Captain.  She watched him writhing on the floor, teeth gritted, his eyes wide with terror as they zeroed in on the weapon of choice that she held over her head. 

Hell, she thought.  This was gonna be easy.

The Captain shook his head, whimpering dismally.


Rand stopped for a moment and blinked, as if she was waking up for the first time.   She looked down at The Captain, and suddenly found herself a lot less eager to hold up her weapon.  She started to hesitate, looking at The Captain’s face full of fear, helpless.

“What the hell am I doing?  Am I actually trying to kill this clown?”

Feeling defeated, she lowered her weapon, but she didn’t let it leave her hand.

“I can’t do this.  I need to called security.”

It was like Rand was on autopilot.  She went over to her desk where her computer was situated and pressed the com.  She knew what she had to do.  She knew she’d have to turn herself in. 

However, Rand also knew that she had the truth on her side, that she was defending herself against a man who had been taking advantage of his position of power in the most repugnant way, a way that saw its way out back in the late 21st Century.  The Captain was not living in a time where he’d be able to fall back on that “knowing people in high places” bullshit and use the System to bully a yeoman.  The Captain was finished, his reputation in ruins.  He would be sent to a Federation penal colony and be a target for other inmates who loathed sex offenders as much as anyone else on the outside.  He’d have to watch his back, all right.

And she didn’t give a good goddamn shit.   



It still hurt to get dressed, even after all those cortisone shots she’d been subjected to in sickbay.  Rand had no way of seeing the bruises without a strategically positioned mirror, but she could sure as hell feel them.  She pulled out the top draw to her dresser and reached for a pair of pantyhose.   From her mirror she could see the corner where she had first spotted The Captain’s face, staring back at her. 

Rand stopped what she was doing and simply stood there, staring at the counter and remembering the carafe of alcohol he had placed there.  She still couldn’t quite understand the physics behind it all, of how a malfunction in the transporter room could split an individual in two to create a ‘good’ captain and an evil’ one. 

There were two things she did understand, though.  It was the ‘evil’ captain that invaded her room, and it was the ‘evil’ captain that tried to rape her. 

There was something else. 

A few more things, actually. 

Things that nagged at her as she continued staring at that counter behind her. 
It was certainly true that the situation was highly unusual, and that the captain needed to be fused together in order to become a whole man again.  It was certainly true that the ‘evil’ captain was an intruder on board the ship.  But it was also, most certainly true that this ‘evil’ intruder was, in fact, the captain himself.  It was just another part of him. 

His evil part.

There was never any intruder on board at all, just the same damn man split in two. 

So, as this whole situation was deemed unusual, the captain was able to get away with his crime.  After all, it was the ‘intruder’ who attempted the rape, right? 


 In the mirror’s reflection, Rand had noticed a shiny half-moon ring on that counter.  Funny, this was the first time she’d noticed it, what with all the feces and urine that had to be shampooed to death out of her carpet. 

How fucking sloppy can you get?

She’d be sure to call cleaning and maintenance before heading for work this morning.


Calling it an awkward moment was putting it mildly. 

Captain Kirk was heading for the turbolift right at the time that Rand was stepping off of it. 

The two of them stopped and looked at each other among the usual bustle on the bridge, though it wasn’t exactly a ‘time stood still’ moment.   Rand looked at Kirk, whose smile was tepid, even hesitant.  He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if searching for some kind of sign from her.

Forgiveness, perhaps?

Rand returned his smile, equally as wan and hesitant.  But, unlike Kirk, who seemed to be looking for some kind of assurance that things were square between them again, her smile came from a place of uncertainty, of not knowing whether she’d remain on the Enterprise under the command of this man, or whether she’d put in for a transfer to another ship. 

“Yeoman, I just want to say…”

“No, no, sir.  Nothing needs to be said.”

“Is there any chance that we can talk about what happened?”

Rand sighed.  “I think I’ll need more time before that could happen, sir.”

Kirk looked sad.  “I understand.  I won’t press the issue.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said rather flatly.

Without another word, they went their separate ways. 

There was something that Rand noticed as Kirk was walking away from her.

He was limping.  How about that!

Rand couldn’t help but smile to herself. 

Talk about leaving her mark.

Rand spotted Mr. Spock across the way and walked over.  She handed him a report that needed his attention, and he took the PADD, looking it over before approving it with his signature.

“The intruder had some interesting qualities, would you not say?”

Rand, who hadn’t been paying much attention to Spock, suddenly turned to him and blinked. 

Did he really say that?

What, was that his poor attempt at flirting? 

What was that, exactly?

She didn’t know what bothered her more, the comment, or the leering quality that dripped from his voice?

Or was slimy the more appropriate word.

“Would you please specify exactly what it is that you mean by ‘interesting qualities’, Mr. Spock?” she asked levelly, trying with every inch of her being from taking this alien by the ears and wrapping them around his throat like an ill-fitting bowtie.  She was surprised how calm she sounded, considering.

The smirk on Spock’s face faded.  He cocked his head, looking somewhat confused.

“Specify?  I don’t understand,” he said.

Rand was the one with the smirk on her face, now.  “It’s not too hard, Mr. Spock.  You simply need to specify what qualities a would-be rapist would have that I might find ‘interesting.’  Is that so difficult?”

Spock didn’t say anything, he just stood there with a blank slate for a face, holding the PADD dumbly in his hands.

Rand nodded.  “Ah, I thought so.” 

She leaned in, half whispering in the Vulcan’s ear.  “May I suggest, Mr. Spock, that since you’re living among humans, that you learn to know the difference between statements and questions that are okay, and those that are not okay.  Maybe then, you’ll manage to be less offensive than you all ready are.” 

And with that, smiling sweetly, Rand snatched the PADD from the hands of a stunned Mr. Spock and sauntered off towards the turbolift.

                                        THE END

 Outline: started 11/21/13    finished 12/2/13
Draft Zero: started 12/2/13 finished 12/17/13
Draft One: started 12/18/13 finished 2/10/14
Finished Draft: started 2/11/14 finished 2/13/14