Star Trek 11: What happened to Wesley Crusher

[Don Coyote]

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO MR WORF!!!?!?!?!?!! IT'S NOT HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Cainad (dec.)]

Star Trek 11:  What happened to Wesley Crusher

At first I was all at the bolded bits

and then I read the posts ITT and I became instead.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO MR WORF!!!?!?!?!?!! IT'S NOT HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course not. But Worf is a very complex character. Really it's Alexander's fault for being foolish. He always said as a child that he didn't want to be a warrior, much to Worf's disappointment. Alexander naturally picked up on this, and being a moody fellow himself wished to make his father proud. Worf would have been just as happy if Alexander became a transporter chief on a starbase, but he never would have told Alexander that. And Alexander never bothered to ask.

[Triple Zero]

Shit yeah.

I always wanted that little bastard to get the axe.

So did the actor who has to play him Apparently he got a lot of hate at Star Trek cons.

[Richter]

"Fire photon torpedoes!"

The Enterprise was rocked with another disruptor blast from the Romulan Bird of Prey. And again.

"MR. WORF!!! FIRE PHOTON TORPEDOES!!!"

Worf snapped out of his daze and and fired the torpedoes. Normally a Klingon would be alert and maybe a bit gleeful in a time like this. Worf silently chided himself for getting caught up in his thoughts instead of focusing on the battle. The Romulan vessel eventually cloaked and scampered back across the neutral zone. Picard asked him what happened. Worf made some excuse about hitting his head in a sensitive spot on his ridges which temporarily stunned him. He brushed off suggestions of going to sick bay.

After his shift he returned to his quarters. I'm slipping, he thought and then proceeded to do some baatleth katas until he ended up smashing a lot of stuff in a fit of rage, including his statue of Kahless and Molor striving against each other. He sat down and pulled from his stash of vodka, and chased it with prune juice.

There were a lot of empty vodka bottles under his bed lately.

He thought about how the other Klingons looked down on him. Not because he was a p'takh, but because he was actually a Belarussian pretending to be a Klingon. It had been difficult for him growing up in the reconstituted Soviet Union, going to school in Minsk surrounded by a bunch of utopian commies concerned with science and exploration. A yearning for Qo'Nos pumped in his veins. So he embraced what it meant to be a Klingon, and became as much of a Klingon warrior as he could--from a Federation perspective tied in with the times, of course. Stoic, loyal, honorable, ready to fight at a moment's notice. But he knew deep down that it was all fake, that he was aping the customs, just like Lt. Riley's fake Irishness when he took over engineering on the original Enterprise. Klingons weren't actually stoic in the slightest. They took a psychotic glee in everything, including dying. The problem was the Worf just wasn't crazy enough. He'd never been brought up that way. So instead, when he was taken with one of his frequent violent fits totally unacceptable in a Starfleet officer, it was always a moody, frustrated sort. Even when he bragged that Federation women wouldn't be able to handle his sexual prowess, he ended up dating them anyway, and they didn't seem to have any injuries after.

Worf just wanted to be a Klingon. And deep down, he knew he'd always be a Terran. He would try to do better with Alexander. He was an annoying kid, but he shows potential.

Worf woke up from this dream in his lonely house outside of Minsk in a sweat. He puked into a bucked and then slugged down some more vodka to stop his shaking. He was older than he thought he was and had retired from Starfleet. Alexander had died 5 years ago in some sort of duel over honor. Worf pretended to be proud that his son died in combat, kept telling himself that he was now in Sto-Vo-Kor. But he didn't really believe it. He felt guilt, he was the one who pressured Alexander into thinking that a father's love and pride came out of some allegiance to a culture that they never quite fit in. He never said it outright, but that's what Alexander was lead to believe. It was his fault that Alexander never got some worthwhile job on Earth and instead went looking for action, and eventually, death.

Worf was never quite the same after that.

This.  Horrible, depressing, and less than he deserved.  Perfect.

[Triple Zero]

Wow.

Hey maybe we should repost this on a Star Trek fanfiction forum? Especially the Worf story

Question, as I'm not big enough of a ST fan to know these details, I knew Worf was raised by human parents, but is the part of him having grown up in Belarus true/canon as well? Just wondering.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Wow.

Hey maybe we should repost this on a Star Trek fanfiction forum? Especially the Worf story

Question, as I'm not big enough of a ST fan to know these details, I knew Worf was raised by human parents, but is the part of him having grown up in Belarus true/canon as well? Just wondering.

Yes-

His parents' last name was Rozhenko, he was mentioned as having grown up in Belarus, and in one episode he recommended to someone while the Enterprise was at Earth for maintenance that someone should visit Minsk, as it was his favorite city.

The Soviet Union bit is also canon, as no one expected the USSR to collapse, and a Russian vessel was said to have been built in the USSR.

[BadBeast]

Wow.

Hey maybe we should repost this on a Star Trek fanfiction forum? Especially the Worf story

Question, as I'm not big enough of a ST fan to know these details, I knew Worf was raised by human parents, but is the part of him having grown up in Belarus true/canon as well? Just wondering.

Yes. He was adopted by couple of Belarussian Peasants. So his real name should be Commander Chernenkov, not Worf.  If the abomination that is his forehead was put down to Chernobyl radiation, he need never have even known that he was a Klingon. Just an ugly bastard.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

 


Ah, Trip, here's the official entry at nerdpedia:

http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Worf

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Floating. Floating. Floatingfloatingfloating MOTHERFUCKING FLOATING.

Q was bored. He'd been bored for.... well, fuck. He couldn't rightly remember. Didn't matter as time was essentially meaningless now, in any sense or measurement.

A long time ago his kind got a little too intrigued with this weird species known as humans. Not the Federation. No, not Vulcans, those cold and logical pointy eared fucks, or those goddamn Andorians and their silly antennae, nor those pig-like Tellarites. Nope. None of those other Johnny-come-latelies that entered the Federation a bit late either.

A bit late was a long time ago. A very long time ago.

See, humanity for some..... inexplicable and counterintuitive reason was some how special. More special than the rest. And the Q never quite put their finger on it. Only that they had the potential to be the Q also, somewhere down the line.

Did they end up doing it? Did they make it?

Q couldn't remember. He had trouble even recalling what he was called, or even language. None of his thoughts are coherent words. Just... Images... He strained. Peeeeeeeecaaaaaaaaard. Picard.... He was.... special.... special among the special ones....

None of that mattered. Picard died long ago. The Federation, practically a wink after that, but not from their reckoning of time. Their star long ago destroyed their homeworld, the unlikely heart of the Federation. Their galaxy, long ago merged with another.

And then the stars.... they winked out. Time passed and after a while, it was all just red dwarves, white dwarves, and black holes. Then even those burned out and died. Even the Continuum was gone. Q helped strip ever last one of them of their immortality and let them die as mortals. There was nothing left for them. Only problem was that there had to be one left. A Captain to go down with the ship. It made his own old incarnation, a mock Starfleet Captain, all the more ironic. In fact, Q was wearing his 24th Century Starfleet uniform with 4 neat pips at the neck right now. Couldn't bear to change it. Seemed to torture him in all the satisfying ways. And he was all that was left in the universe, save for  scattered particles that almost never interacted with each other. Well, maybe an odd black hole here or there.

And here's that worst part. He was immortal, but somehow all of his power left him. Maybe he just didn't have the will anymore to make anything happen. He, who had been a god in all but worship, floated through trillions of what used to be years in the void. He wished he could die like every last motherfucking thing had.

But wait.... he felt something.... a strong, very strong pull. Ah, he thought, one of those rare black holes that will also eventually disintegrate into nothing. Here is my chance. Maybe now even I can die.

He fell into the event horizon. He stretched, and stretched, and ssssssstttttrrrreeeeeeeettttttttcccccccchhhhhhhhheeeeeeeedddddddd, a scene that would have made..... what was his name..... Neil...... DeGrasse....... Tyson.... laugh at the spaghettification. Time slowed. No matter. He'd be dead blessedly sooner even with the weird time warping than he had experienced. Maybe even Picard's scattered quarks are lost in here.

After what seemed liked eons, what was eons in the stretching of time in the black hole, a new horror came upon Q, and everything was put into a perspective he didn't really consider before. And he knew he was fucked for good.

When he hit the singularity, he didn't die. Oh no. He disrupted it, and in one Planck time, the whole fucking thing burst into something else. It burst outward with the force of trillions of suns. Burst forth in a space that was a new universe. And he remained intact. He set off another Big Bang, perhaps much in the same way that whatever god created the one he was born into.

Except this time, there was no LET THERE BE LIGHT!

No.



In this new Universe, with its own for real full fledged Creator God with a capital G, began with the lament, "Oh, not fucking again!"

[Cainad (dec.)]

  That was great.

[navkat]

I used to fatasize about Wil Wheaton. Then I thought he was gay and I was like 
Then, I found out the gay thing was a rumour and he was straight the whole time and is now married and I was really like  because that meant I might've had a chance but missed it thinking he was teh ghey.

[LMNO]

Floating. Floating. Floatingfloatingfloating MOTHERFUCKING FLOATING.

Q was bored. He'd been bored for.... well, fuck. He couldn't rightly remember. Didn't matter as time was essentially meaningless now, in any sense or measurement.

A long time ago his kind got a little too intrigued with this weird species known as humans. Not the Federation. No, not Vulcans, those cold and logical pointy eared fucks, or those goddamn Andorians and their silly antennae, nor those pig-like Tellarites. Nope. None of those other Johnny-come-latelies that entered the Federation a bit late either.

A bit late was a long time ago. A very long time ago.

See, humanity for some..... inexplicable and counterintuitive reason was some how special. More special than the rest. And the Q never quite put their finger on it. Only that they had the potential to be the Q also, somewhere down the line.

Did they end up doing it? Did they make it?

Q couldn't remember. He had trouble even recalling what he was called, or even language. None of his thoughts are coherent words. Just... Images... He strained. Peeeeeeeecaaaaaaaaard. Picard.... He was.... special.... special among the special ones....

None of that mattered. Picard died long ago. The Federation, practically a wink after that, but not from their reckoning of time. Their star long ago destroyed their homeworld, the unlikely heart of the Federation. Their galaxy, long ago merged with another.

And then the stars.... they winked out. Time passed and after a while, it was all just red dwarves, white dwarves, and black holes. Then even those burned out and died. Even the Continuum was gone. Q helped strip ever last one of them of their immortality and let them die as mortals. There was nothing left for them. Only problem was that there had to be one left. A Captain to go down with the ship. It made his own old incarnation, a mock Starfleet Captain, all the more ironic. In fact, Q was wearing his 24th Century Starfleet uniform with 4 neat pips at the neck right now. Couldn't bear to change it. Seemed to torture him in all the satisfying ways. And he was all that was left in the universe, save for  scattered particles that almost never interacted with each other. Well, maybe an odd black hole here or there.

And here's that worst part. He was immortal, but somehow all of his power left him. Maybe he just didn't have the will anymore to make anything happen. He, who had been a god in all but worship, floated through trillions of what used to be years in the void. He wished he could die like every last motherfucking thing had.

But wait.... he felt something.... a strong, very strong pull. Ah, he thought, one of those rare black holes that will also eventually disintegrate into nothing. Here is my chance. Maybe now even I can die.

He fell into the event horizon. He stretched, and stretched, and ssssssstttttrrrreeeeeeeettttttttcccccccchhhhhhhhheeeeeeeedddddddd, a scene that would have made..... what was his name..... Neil...... DeGrasse....... Tyson.... laugh at the spaghettification. Time slowed. No matter. He'd be dead blessedly sooner even with the weird time warping than he had experienced. Maybe even Picard's scattered quarks are lost in here.

After what seemed liked eons, what was eons in the stretching of time in the black hole, a new horror came upon Q, and everything was put into a perspective he didn't really consider before. And he knew he was fucked for good.

When he hit the singularity, he didn't die. Oh no. He disrupted it, and in one Planck time, the whole fucking thing burst into something else. It burst outward with the force of trillions of suns. Burst forth in a space that was a new universe. And he remained intact. He set off another Big Bang, perhaps much in the same way that whatever god created the one he was born into.

Except this time, there was no LET THERE BE LIGHT!

No.



In this new Universe, with its own for real full fledged Creator God with a capital G, began with the lament, "Oh, not fucking again!"

Niiiice.  Always liked Q.  Thought his spiel in the series finale was crap, though.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Worf hated Star Fleet.  He wanted to be a medical officer, but it seems that the fleet had two uses for Klingons...Security and Weapons Officers.  How's THAT for the enlightened federation, right?  He's a Klingon, so all he can be trusted with is violence.  It's all they're good for.  Never mind that he aced his pre-med schooling, or that he had recommendations from 5 top surgeons.  Nope.  You can be a thug.  Because you people aren't good for anything else.

He tried telling Diana about it, but she sat there rigid, worried Worf supposed, that he was just waiting for the right moment to rape her or some shit.  Hell, he didn't even view her as "female"...She was a DIFFERENT SPECIES, for Chrissakes.  Not EVERYONE is like that famous pervert Kirk, who wasn't picky about what species he was schtupping.

Yeah, Worf hated Star Fleet, but who else would hire him in the first place?

[Triple Zero]

Ooooohhh damnit. We're really going to tear this one to shreds aren't we? Beautiful stuff!