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RETURN TO THE PLANET OF THE SOCKS!

Sisko was tired. He wanted to go home. He missed his baseball. He missed those whiny Bajoran kais. He missed the depressing architecture, the confusing political entanglements, the bad food, the wormhole, the Cardassian spies and the cranky aliens.

"So, Benjy, what’s the story with your baldness?" Q asked, dropping the Austrian accent.

Sisko sighed impatiently and pointed to his head. "I did this on purpose, you idiot!"

"Who are you calling an idiot, you...you...you human!" Q jeered.

The next thing Sisko knew, he was sitting in Worf’s lap in Ops, back on DS9.

The unflappable Klingon merely growled and said, "Why, Captain, I didn’t know you cared."

Sisko sighed. "I think I need some shore leave."

Dax sauntered up with a padd, scrolling through screens full of the latest atrocities. "I wouldn’t count your time off before it’s spent, Ben. We’ve got a few...matters...that need your attention."

"Hasn’t Major Kira been handling them while I’ve been gone?"

"Kira hasn’t been...herself, lately."

Just then, Kira came skipping off the turbolift in a frilly pink dress, throwing flower petals everywhere and humming a cheery tune.

Sisko’s eyes widened. "Uh huh."

"Have you seen the doctor around?" Kira asked with a teenage giggle, cocking her head to one side perkily.

Dax put an arm around the Bajoran’s shoulders. "Why, yes, actually, I have, Kira. Let’s go pay him a visit."

"That would be swell!  He's so dreamy!" Kira said with delight.

Dax gave Sisko an arch look. "See what I mean?" she said under her breath.

"Er...yes."

Dax led Kira back onto the turbolift. No sooner were they gone than O’Brien arrived. "Captain, the weather all over the station is going crazy! It’s been raining in the Promenade ever since you left, and now we’re being hailed!"

"By whom?"

"No, I mean, we’re really being hailed! See?" He held up an icy ball.

An ensign handed the Captain a pair of bright yellow galoshes. "Here, sir, you’re going to be needing these."

"Q!" Sisko screamed.

ESCAPE FROM THE PLANET OF THE SOCKS!

Picard leaned over and whispered to Kirk, "Do you feel like we’re in a really bad movie?"

"Yes. I...do. A...horror...movie."

Picard seized that opportunity to snatch his toupee back off Kirk’s head, then ran off through the socks, waggling his fingers in his ears and sticking out his tongue. "Nyah, nyah! I’ve got your hair! And you don’t!"

"Give that...back!" Kirk took off running after Picard, frantically trying to snatch the toupee away.

"Kids, don’t fight," Q scolded, bringing them back to their seats with a snap of his fingers.

"He...started it!" Kirk whined, pointing accusingly at Picard.

"Never mind who started it! Now. Picard. Your baldness. Discuss."

"Well, I didn’t really have a problem being bald until a week or so ago. In fact, some ladies think it’s sexy."

"Really?" Kirk said with interest.

"Yes, but your facial structure is all wrong, and you don’t have an accent like me."

"Damn."

Picard suddenly turned to Q. "In fact, I didn’t have any problems with my hair allocation until you showed up, Q!"

"Me? Moi? Why, Jean-Luc, I’m shocked! I’m horrified that you would even suggest such a thing! Of course, you’re right, but... Still, I’m shocked that you had the mental capacity to put two and two together. Or, two and Q together, as it were."

"Turn me back to normal this instant! Or...or..."

"Or what? You’re threatening an omnipotent being, remember. Tsk. Humans."

"Or I’ll tell Guinan!"

Q sprang up. "You wouldn’t!"

"I would indeed."

"Fine, fine, if you’re going to play dirty pool..."

"Just giving you a taste of your own medicine, Q."

"You know, there’s hope for you humans yet. Well, all right. I suppose I can change you back," Q said reluctantly.

"It’s about bloody time," Picard grumbled.

"What? A British curse word? Not a French one? You’re slipping. Okay, I’ll turn you back. But are you sure? You won’t need this fuzzy fellow any more..." Spot suddenly appeared on Picard’s head, meowing and clawing.

Picard jumped around frantically, swatting at the irate feline. "Out, out, damn Spot!"

"Always with the Shakespeare references, aren’t you, Jean-Luc?"

"Just send me back, already!"

"Adieu, mon capitaine," Q said, grandly dismissing him with a burst of light.

Picard materialized on the bridge of the Enterprise-D, which was good.  However, he was in Lieutenant Barclay's lap, which was bad.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" screeched Barclay, throwing off the Captain and running to the turbolift.

Deanna raised her eyes and put a hand to her forehead.   "I just cured him of his lemming phobia, and now I'm going to have to deal with this!  Thanks a lot, Captain!"

Picard stood up shakily and looked around in a daze.   "But...Q...  It was Q...  I..."

Deanna gave a disgusted sigh.

Kirk turned to Q. "Send...me back...too!"

"What about your baldness?"

"I’m...not bald!"

"Yes you are."

"No...I’m not."

"Yes you are."

"No...I’m not. Look...I have...hair!" He patted his now-mangled toupee fondly.

"Now, now, Jimmy, if that were real hair, could Jean-Luc have stolen it like that?"

"Yes."

Q shook his head. "There’s really no hope for you, is there?"

"I...have hair. Really. I’m...not bald. Not...bald. Nope. Not...bald."

Trelane looked up from the piles of unwashed socks he was sorting. "I think he’s in denial."

"Stunning powers of observation, Trelane," Q said, rolling his eyes. "Very well, then. Home, James."

Kirk appeared in the lap of a triple-breasted cat woman in some sleazy Orion bar. "Hey...thanks, Q!"

A disembodied voice came from overhead. "Just kidding!"

In a flash of light, Kirk rematerialized in the lap of...Benjuh Effinchuk.

"Kirk! You dumbass! Where did you come from? Why aren’t you dead? And what are you doing in my lap, you perv!"

Kirk scrambled free and captured the Spatulite in a headlock. "Noogie noogie noogie!"

"Ah! Ow! Stop that, you buttmunch! Mama! Uncle! Let go, already!"

Security officers ran over and captured Benjuh, dragging him off toward the brig. Seeing their leader so easily defeated, the fight went out of the other Spatulites, who laid down their fleebs and surrendered.

McCoy came up, dragging a sack of dead tribbles. "The ol’ Noogie Defense, eh, Jim?"

"First...in my class...at the academy. Works...every time," Kirk said with a proud grin.

Spock approached. "Captain, may I point out that noogies are highly illogical?" He cocked his head in thought. "But effective."

In the days and weeks that followed, the Spatulite Empire collapsed due to lack of leadership., making it no longer a military threat. Benjuh Effinchuck was sentenced to thirty years of intense tickling for his war crimes. The galaxy was saved from disaster...at least until next week.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat back in his chair at the head of the table in his ready room and frowned. He found himself frowning a lot these days. Such as usually the case when Q was afoot.

Captain Letterman, Riker, and their fellow officers (sans Bob) were watching him attentively. Picard took his time responding, however. So much had happened since Q kidnapped him. It seemed like the plot always moved forward the most during his all-too-frequent kidnappings. He hated that.

Finally, Picard leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, and spoke. "This is indeed a quandary. The Borg are bad enough when they’re behaving normally...or at least, what passes as normal for them. But these ‘new’ Borg...we’re in completely new territory again." He sighed. And frowned some more. "It seems we must--" He cringed. "--ask Q to change them back."

"But sir," Riker said, "do you really expect that madman to do what we ask?"

"Well...no. But it can’t hurt to ask."

"With Q, anything can end up hurting," Geordi mumbled.

A metallic chirp came from Letterman’s comm badge. She looked annoyed at the interruption but answered the hail anyway. "Letterman here. Can this wait?"

"Uh, Lieutenant Gingrich here, Captain. There’s been a bit of an emergency with Commander Lloyd Webber."

"What is it this time, Lenny?"

"He’s running amok, ma’am. He escaped from sick bay--"

"Not again!" Letterman moaned.

"He's running through the ship, knocking people over and stealing their socks!"  Even as Gingrich spoke, there was the sound of a scuffle in the background, and a scream. "Hey! Get off! Stop it! Help! My socks! Stop that man!"

"Lenny? Lenny? What’s going on?"

A voice said jubilantly, "Yay! More socks! Thanks, Lenny!"

"Come back here with those!"

"What is going on?!" Letterman yelled.

"I’ve think I’ve been mugged, Captain!"

"Mugged?"

"Bob just took my socks!" he wailed. "Come back here!"

"Aren’t you on the bridge?"

"Can’t talk now, Cap’n...I’ve gotta catch Bob! No! Hold that turbolift! Stop!"

The transmission ended.

"That was odd," Data said.

Picard gave Letterman a weird look. "Socks? What’s all this about socks?"

"Oh, er, uh... I left that out of my report but..."

She proceeded to explain the situation with Bob and his sock obsession, not sure why Picard was so interested.

"A sock bandit. Now I’ve heard of everything," Geordi said, shaking his head in disgust.

"How many socks do you think your first officer has?" Picard asked.

"Last time I saw, his whole quarters were knee-deep in the things. But now that he’s ransacking the ship for more...who knows?"

Picard stood in excitement, unconsciously performing the "Picard maneuver." "That’s it! Those socks may just save us all!"

Dr. Crusher looked concerned. "Uh, Captain, are you feeling all right?"

"Never better, Beverly." He strode purposefully around the table. "You see, Captain Letterman, I just learned that Q has an obsession with socks, not unlike your first officer. He has an entire planet covered with piles and piles of socks!"

Letterman looked confused. "Why?"

"I don’t have the slightest idea. But don’t you see? If we can get your first officer to cooperate, we can bargain with Q. Peace with the Borg in exchange for socks! Of course, first we have to catch him... But I’m sure he would be willing to give up some old socks in exchange for lasting peace and harmony in the galaxy, wouldn’t he?"

Everyone looked at each other for moment, then shook their heads vigorously and simultaneously said, "NAAAAH!!!"

"Bob is obsessed, Picard. He’d never give up his socks willingly. But if Starfleet were to, say, confiscate them for the greater good... It’s got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard! But...considering the bizzareness of everything else that’s happened lately... It’s so crazy, it just might work!"

Worf growled in anticipation. "I will assemble a security team ready to go over to the Pegasus and apprehend this...sock bandit."

Troi stifled a laugh.

"Let’s go!" Riker said, eagerly heading for the door. He hadn’t been too pleased when Picard showed up to squelch his fun...er, command, of the mission. But this...this sounded like fun.

Riker, Worf and a slew of gold-shirted extras materialized on the transporter pad aboard the U.S.S. Pegasus-B. As they proceeded down the corridor, they spotted an ensign unconscious on the floor, her bare feet sticking out from her uniform pants. She soon recovered from her faint, and Riker’s bearded face was the first thing she saw.

"What h-happened? Where are my socks? Where’s Commander Lloyd Webber! Oh, the horror!" she wailed.

"Which way did he go?" Riker asked.

"I...don’t remember," said the dazed ensign.

Suddenly, there was a scream from further down the corridor.

"Never mind!" Riker and the others ran toward the sound.

Commander Bob Lloyd Webber aimed his phaser at a Bajoran security officer and fired. She crumpled to the ground, and he rushed over to see...bare feet?

"Nooooooo!" he howled in dismay. "No socks? What good are you, you barbarian!" He kicked the hapless officer, then continued on his way, dragging a heavy laundry sack overflowing with socks.

"Commander, look!" Worf called out, pointing. "He left a trail!"

Riker looked, and yes, sure enough, there was a trail of rumpled socks leading down the hall, around the corner. "Perfect! Phasers on sock...er...stun." They hurried in pursuit.

Seconds later, Captain Letterman’s voice came over the commlink to everyone on board the ship. "Bob, if you can hear me, please, lay down your phaser and be sensible for once! You’ve only got two feet, for heaven’s sake! How many socks do you need?"

"How many socks are there?" Bob yelled into the air, firing at a Vulcan crewmember. He eagerly peeled off his socks and added them to the bag.

Letterman continued. "Bob, we need your socks for a higher purpose. With them, we can stop the Borg and save millions of people from death and destruction!"

"Who cares? I want my socks!" Bob shouted, nuzzling one to his cheek. "Wait a minute...you want my socks? You’re going to take away my socks? Over my dead body!"

"Please don’t let them take us away, Bob!" wailed a sock puppet.

"Don’t worry, Kenny Jr. I won’t let anyone hurt you!"

"Thanks, Bob! You’re a swell guy!"

"Quick! Let’s go get the others!"

Riker stopped. The trail of socks abruptly ended. "What now?" he asked aloud. "No more socks to follow. I hate it when that happens."

"Commander," Worf said, studying his tricorder, "I’m picking up a large concentration of wool and polyester moving toward the transporter room."

"Either there’s a herd of synthetic sheep on the loose, or that’s our socks!"

Bob rubbed his hand together in glee and began manipulating the controls on the transporter. The transporter chief lay stunned in the corner...barefoot.

"We just beam the socks from my quarters..." he said, his brow knotted in concentration, "...to cargo bay three! Perfect! Plenty of room for my socks to frolic! Now for me!" He set the controls and quickly dragged his laundry bag to the transporter pad. "Ready for a ride, Kenny Jr.?"

"Yes, Bob!" said the sock puppet as they dissolved into sparkles. "Ooh, sparkles!"

They appeared in the middle of cargo bay three, amidst the mountains of socks he had just beamed from his quarters. "Hooray! Look, Kenny Jr., all your friends are here!"

"Yay!"

"Oh, almost forgot. Computer, lock all doors and passageways leading into cargo bay three. Authorization Sigma Omega Chi Kappa Sigma!"

"Lock confirmed," said the computer.

Bob stood on the top of the highest mound of socks and held one high. "I hereby name this cargo bay Sockland! Land of the brave socks and home of the free footwear! Hip hip--"

"HOORAY!" finished Kenny Jr.

There was a banging at the door. "Open up, Commander!" barked a security officer.

"Never! You want to take my socks away! You may take my freedom, but you’ll never take my socks!  So there!" Bob burrowed down into the piles of sock and hid.

"Bob, this is Captain Letterman. Come on out of there and start acting like a normal person!"

"No!" came a muffled voice from within the socks.

Letterman leaned against the door and tried to talk some sense into her first officer on the other side. "Bob, please. You’re just embarassing yourself, and all of Starfleet, frankly."

"No! Give me socks, or give me death!"

"That can be arranged," Riker grumbled from outside the door.

"I regret that I have but one life to give for my socks!"

"Note to self..." Letterman sighed. "Talk to Starfleet Academy about their screening process! All right, Bob. We’ll do this the hard way."

"Do your worst! Sock it to me! I don’t care!"

"Good one, Bob!" giggled Kenny Jr.

"Shut up, Kenny!"

Kenny looked hurt.

"There, there, Kenny. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings." Bob stroked the downcast sock lovingly. "Forgive me?"

"I guess so..."

Letterman’s voice rang out. "Nigel, beam him out of there. Now!"

"Damn!" Bob yelled. "I knew I forgot something!" The golden sparkles descended, and he soon found himself in the brig, trapped behind a force field in a cell that was, by now, familiar. He looked around frantically for his socks, but only one remained. "Oh, this is terrible! All my socks, gone! At least I still have you, Kenny Jr."

"I love you, Bob! You’re the best friend a sock could have!" Kenny Jr. said.

"I love you, too, Little Kenny!"

The doors swished open, and Riker, Letterman, Worf, Lieutenant Banderas, and a number of other security officers hurried in. "I hate to interrupt this touching scene, but Bob...we need to talk."

"You took me away from my socks, Captain! You...you...mean person, you! But you’ll never take away Kenny Jr! Never! Never, ever, ever!"

"Don’t let them get me, Bob!" Kenny Jr. pleaded.

Worf turned to Riker. "May I, Commander?"

"Be my guest."

Worf lowered the force field and lunged at Bob, wrestling him to the floor in pursuit of his sock puppet. "Nooooooooo! You leave Little Kenny alone, you nasty man with the ugly forehead! Ow! Ow! Stop that! No!"

Strength won out over mania, and Worf soon emerged triumphantly, holding the sock high with a toothy Klingonesque grin. "Aha! Now I’ve got you!" He jumped back and reinstated the forcefield. "I--" A stricken look came over him, and he put a hand to his forehead in utter self-contempt. "I’m talking to a sock," he said in a strangled voice.

Riker was about to suggest that he see Counselor Troi, but decided that the less she saw of him, the better. She was his Imzadi, dammit!

Bob threw himself against the force field, screaming bloody murder. "No! Kenny! Give back Kenny, you bastard! I want my socks, NOW!"

Then, Dr. Fox arrived with a sedative.

Later that day, Picard and Letterman stood aboard the bridge of the Enterprise, surrounded by socks. It reminded him of the tribble infestation an earlier Enterprise had had to deal with. Except socks didn’t coo, move or multiply.

"What makes you think he’ll show up?" Letterman asked.

"He’ll be here." Picard cleared his throat. "Q!!!" he bellowed.

Right on Q...er, cue...Q appeared, floating in midair in front of Picard. "No need to shout, mon capitaine. I’m omnipotent, not deaf! And why don’t you just leave a message on my answering machine like everybody else? You humans are so disgustingly primitive sometimes!"

Trelane appeared next to him. "Sometimes?"

"Are you done washing those socks, my boy?" Q asked.

Trelane had a sudden coughing fit. "Er, yeah, sure, Q! I’m done!"

"Don’t lie to an omniscient being, Trelane."

"Aw...nuts." He disappeared in a flash of light.

Q assumed a normal standing position, allowing himself to be ruled by the laws of gravity for the moment. He walked around the bridge, surveying the drifts of socks. "For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have!"

"We didn’t. Q, we have an...an offer to make."

"What? Did my ears decieve me, or did you just say you wanted to make a deal with me?"

Riker scowled. "Like dealing with the devil."

"No, no, you met the devil in another episode. You remember, that chick with the weird forehead? Of course, most of you have weird foreheads, but... Anyway, you were saying, Jean-Luc?"

"It’s simple, Q. All these socks for your collection if you agree to make everything normal again."

"Normal is a very relative term, Jean-Luc."

"You know what I mean, Q! Make things the way they used to be!"

"Specify a time period."

"Before you tampered with the Borg!"

"Oh, that." He shrugged.

"Yes. That. Fix them!"

"Isn’t that a job for a veterinarian?"

"Q!" Picard roared in exasperation.

"All right, all right, fine! Don’t be so gosh darn touchy! And, hey, what’s this I hear about some guy named Bob with a sock obsession?"

Letterman stepped forward. "My first officer has gone off the deep end."

"Hmm... I could use a caretaker for my collection. Trelane is pretty useless in that regard..." Q thought silently for a moment, then snapped his fingers. In a blaze of white light, he and all the socks disappeared.

The communications officer said, "We’re being hailed by the Pegasus, Captain."

"On screen," Picard ordered.

Gingrich appeared on the huge viewscreen. "Captain, uh, I mean, Captains, Commander Lloyd Webber just disappeared from the brig! Our sensors say he’s not on the ship, but he wasn’t beamed off... He just vanished!"

"But are the Borg back to normal?" Picard asked.

A new channel to the Borg cube was opened. Inside, the Borg appeared to be having a Tupperware party. Sensing the communication, Hugh dashed over to say hello. "Check out these darling little juice pitchers, Captain!" he said with girlish delight.

"I think that answers your question, sir," Riker said out of the side of his mouth.

"Indeed, Commander." Picard sighed. "Hugh--"

"Please. Call me by my full title, Captain. Chairman of the Borg!"

"Lieutenant, end communication." The screen was filled with a silent image of a Rubix cube floating in space. Picard whirled around and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Q!!!"

Q popped back into view. "What IS it? I’m busy training my new Grand High Sock Guardian! Oh, by the way, gap-toothed lady, whatsyername, Sally, Commander Bob says he quits. He likes my job much better. Who wants to boldly go when you can play with socks all day instead?"

"Note to self. Soundly throttle whoever is in charge of Starfleet Academy’s screening process," Letterman grumbled.

"Q," Picard said shortly, "you promised to turn the Borg back to the way they were!"

"No I didn’t. I just took your socks."

"Q, stop being such a--"

"Q!" came a new voice. They all turned to see the female Q (who reminded Worf an awful lot of K’Eylar) standing in front of the viewscreen. "I was expecting you home three millenia ago! There’s a stack of dishes the size of Saturn waiting to be washed, and q has been a holy terror all day! I had to take an entire planet out of his mouth! You know how kids are when they’re teething. Anyway, I want you back home in the Continuum right now!" she screamed angrily.

"But honeybear, I’m sort of busy right now. Jean-Luc and I were discussing--"

"I don’t care what you were ‘discussing’ with that pathetic mortal! March!" She pointed off in a seemingly random direction.

"Yes, dear," Q said, rolling his eyes.

"And don’t roll your eyes at me!" Suddenly, she was brandishing a rolling pin.

"Wait!" Picard interrupted. "Someone has to change the Borg back!"

"What?" Mrs. Q said.

"Q scrambled the Borg’s programming, and now they’re all...well, see for yourself!"

The viewscreen was suddenly filled with a roomful of Borg playing Twister. "Right hand red!"

"But I don’t have a right hand! Just this funky rotor thing!"

"Then you lose!"

"No fair!" whined the handless Borg.

The screen went back to a view of the Rubix cube.

"I see." Mrs. Q smirked. "Rather clever, dear."

"Thank you, honeywumpus," said Q, taking credit for Trelane's handiwork.

"But I’d still rather have you home, doing the dishes!"

"Hey, throw me a frickin’ bone here! I’ve gotta have a little fun, too, y’know!"

"Oh, puh-leeze."

"Now who’s rolling their eyes?"

"Bite me."

Q was on his way to do so, when Picard interrupted again. "STOP IT THIS INSTANT! I will not have my bridge turned into a battle ground for a domestic squabble! Just fufill your end of the bargain and get out, Q!"

"What bargain?" Mrs. Q asked. "You weren’t playing with these mortals again, were you?"

"Not exactly. I just sort of... uh... promisedtochangetheBorgbackinexchangeforsomesocks," he said quickly.

"What? More socks?" She slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh for Pete’s sake! What is it with you and socks, anyway? In the entire Continuum, I have to pick the obsessive-compulsive sock collector!"

"Hey, you’ve got a planet full of little glass kittens!"

"Well...yeah, but that’s different! They’re so cuuuuute!" she said with a dreamy smile. Then, in another abrupt mood change, she snapped, "Now just uphold your end of the bargain, and let’s get out of here! NOW!"

Q sighed. "Yes, dear."

"Good. And if you’re not home in the next five seconds, I’m going to come back here and hurt you. A lot."

"Yes, dear."

Mrs. Q disappeared.

Q turned to Picard and shrugged. "That time of the millenium again. You know how it is. Anyway, here’s your stupid old Borg back. All those stupid people have been un-assimilated, and everything is just hunky-dorey, okay? B’bye."

"Q!" came a disembodied female voice.

"Coming, sweetums!" He waved to Picard. "Until next time, Jean-Luc!" He snapped his fingers...and was gone.

"Ensign, Borg cube, on screen!"

This time it was a perfectly normal...relatively speaking...Borg who appeared on screen. "We - are - the - Borg. Resistance - is -futile. Prepare - to - be - assimilated."

"Ah, yes, business as usual. Uh...Q, do you suppose you could move them back a quadrant or two?" Picard called.

Surprisingly, Q complied. Or perhaps Mrs. Q did. It was hard to tell, and frankly Picard didn’t care. All that mattered was it was over. He flopped backward into his chair with a sigh of relief.

Letterman frowned. "I guess I’m short one first officer, though... I guess Lenny will be getting that promotion sooner than I thought. Oh well, Captain, it’s been a pleasure working with you...although I can’t say much for that rude first officer of yours."

Riker gave Picard an innocent look. "Later, Commander," Picard said under his breath.

"Hopefully next time we meet, it will be under less...unusual circumstances." Captain Letterman hit her comm badge. "Pegasus, one to beam over." She dematerialized.

"Well, I guess our business here is concluded," Picard said.

"Uh, Captain, you might want to apologize to President Zilleox. He was a bit peeved when last we met," Riker suggested.

Data chimed in. "And I believe we will need new orders from Starfleet Command."

Troi added, "And I wish to speak to you regarding Lieutenant Barclay, Captain. He’s been a bit...unsettled...by this experience. First it was lemmings, and then you in his lap.  He won't even leave his quarters now."

Worf looked up from his console. "And I’m picking up a strange subspace anomaly off the port bow, Captain."

Picard nodded wearily. "Yes, everything is back to normal, all right..."

Trelane was bored.

 THE END!

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