It can't be easy for Star Trek. No matter how many iterations and reboots it goes through, it never quite seems to capture the popular imagination in the way that Star Wars does. Even with the whiff of brown-ness that's been about the latter since the prequels tainted their legacy. Ironically, it was the relative rarity of Star Wars outings compared with Star Trek that added to its mystique - but with Disney now pumping out one a year like an engorged annus birthuss, space opera fans are experiencing the same deflated feeling as the Gene Rodenberry crowd. But you know what? That's not going to stop the slew of Kirkstons a-comin', as Digi bring us a sneak preview of the next films in the franchise:
INT. USS ENTERPRISE
SPOCK: Captain, I'm picking up something on the monitor.
KIRK: What... is it... Spock?
SPOCK: It's some kind of grey, greasy residue, smeared across the screen.
KIRK: Don't... touch... it!
SPOCK: It's all right, Captain. I'm using a tissue.
KIRK: That... is... all... right!
INT. USS ENTERPRISE
KIRK: Mr... Spock. I... need... a... sens... or... read... ing.
SPOCK: Sensors show that the ship is under attack from some kind of sentient space doughnut. Captain? Why are you dancing like that?
KIRK: I... just... want to... disco.
SPOCK: That is illogical, Captain.
KIRK: I... just... want to... disco. To hell... with... orders.
INT. ALIEN PLANET
KIRK: Mr... Spock. What... can... you tell me... about this... place?
SPOCK: My tricorder reading shows that this is the planet of the space monsters, Captain. We'll probably see one in a minute. Oh look!
SPACE MONSTER: Hello, everyone.
KIRK: Hell... o... space... monster.
SPACE MONSTER: Heh. He speak so funny!
EXT. CAVE - ALIEN PLANET
SPOCK: Captain, I do not wish to alarm you unduly, but there is something on your face.
KIRK: My god... Spock... what is... it? What is... it?!? Get it... off... before... it... kills... me...
SPOCK: That is unlikely, Captain. I believe it is nothing more than some toothpaste resulting from your careless brushing this morning.
KIRK: I... hate... you... so... much.
ON THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf. Status report.
WORF: I'm feelin' fine, Captain.
PICARD: What?
WORF: The sun is shinin' and I'm feelin' fine!
PICARD: That sun is about to go supernova! We have to stop it!
WORF: Don't you worry about that. Do you want one of my Scotch eggs?
INT. THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf, fire a warning salvo across their bow.
WORF: Who do the what now?
PICARD: Fire photon torpedoes!
WORF: Right... remind me again which button does that.
PICARD: I don't have time for this!
WORF: Don't you talk to me in that tone, you baldy posh captain.
INT. THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf, how many photon torpedoes do we have remaining?
WORF: What's the magic word?
PICARD: What?
WORF: A "please" wouldn't go amiss.
PICARD: Please.
WORF: What was the question again?
PICARD: I hate you, Mister Worf.
INT. THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf, what is the status of the transporter room?
WORF: It's in a terrible mess.
PICARD: Did it take a direct hit?
WORF: It's not so much that. There's just mess all over the carpet, crisp bags, chewing gum...
PICARD: DID IT TAKE A DIRECT HIT?!?
WORF: Ooh - get him!
INT. THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf, open hailing frequencies to the Romulan vessel.
WORF: Which button does that again?
PICARD: Just do as I say!
WORF: Um... right... it's this one!
PICARD: Mister Worf! You've just destroyed the Romulan ship!
WORF: I thought that's what you told me to do.
INT. THE BRIDGE OF THE USS ENTERPRISE
PICARD: Mister Worf, contact the surface and tell them to prepare for my arrival.
WORF: What shall I tell them you'll be wearing?
PICARD: What?
WORF: Will you be wearing a wig, sir?
PICARD: How dare you!
WORF: Oop. Touched a nerve there...
Do you know of any important moments from the annals of Digi history that have been omitted? If so, then mail me (superpage58@gmail.com) right now, man. Credit will be duly given for anything that gets put up.
