Part 2: PAGE 02

Bugger this universe.

This crew is a bloody shambles. After our last away mission to Topanga III, the indigenous 48-hour life cycle population epidemically suffer from the “beard virus” (guess who couldn’t keep it in his spacepants again!). Lieutenant Commander Worf keeps "accidentally" missing the "friendly hail" button and hitting "fire all phaser banks", and Data has to cry on someone’s shoulder every five minutes because his emotion chip is on the fritz.

It’s days like this, all a man has to make it to the next decimal point is this confiscated bottle of illegal Bajoran “Prophet’s Snort”. 220% alcohol? That can’t be righ




Gwaaardj

Blub




Bloody space hell, is that the time? Head’s killing me.

Anyway, seems like we’ve got a distress call from some out-of-way solar observatory. Place is unstable and we’ve no idea if there’s hostile aliens present. I’ve decided to send an away team consisting of Commander Riker. If he doesn’t come back, I’m going to have Chief O’Brien grow out his beard. I doubt anyone'll notice the difference.





Cmdr. Riker at Amargosa - Blip // Viddler // Youtube



But what!

if.

Riker

_had

FAILED?

Blip // Viddler // Youtube