Redemption, Part One

Captain's Log: We're on our way to Qo'noS so I can officially install Gowron as Chancellor. I tried this once before, but had to stop when Worf performed an illegal operation.

Picard: Is it safe to come in, Worf? I'd like to talk to you, but....
Worf: Relax. I disarmed the deathtraps weeks ago, and we all miss Ensign Westing, but it's time to move on.
Picard: Lieutenant, I think it's time you regained your family honour. Nobody wins when you get frustrated about it and devise deadly security measures to compensate.
Worf: Sir! Watch your step. I cannot remember if the automatic mek'leth cannon is still --
Picard: ARRRRGH!
Worf: I remember now.

Data: There is a Klingon ship decloaking off the... Captain, why is your torso heavily bandaged?
Picard: I'll explain later. Hail the Klingons.
Gowron: (over the comm) Greetings, Federation scum. FEAR MY CREEPY EYES.
Picard: Hello, Gowron. Have you come to escort us to Qo'noS?
Gowron: Yes -- and we must hurry, or risk a civil war!
Riker: Oo, let's not hurry. I like civil wars.

Gowron: Duras's sisters are preparing to challenge my ascent. They're running on a cleavage-for-all platform.
Picard: Surely they'll never be able to pull it off.
Gowron: Oh, believe me, Captain... they do have enough for all.

Worf: Before I beam you back, you must hear this. Duras's father, not mine, was the traitor.
Gowron: You mean the guy you happened to be the son of didn't commit a crime you couldn't have prevented? This changes everything!
Worf: Will you consider restoring my honour?
Gowron: I cannot.
Worf: Will you consider that I control where your molecules go?
Gowron: Okay, I can, just not yet.

Worf: Arrrrgh! I must have my honour back!
Guinan: If bad aim is dishonourable, you don't have a chance.
Worf: Shut up. What are you doing in phaser practice, anyway?
Guinan: I'm warming up for the next St. Patrick's Day party. I always end up having to shoot a couple of crewmen off the ceiling.

Worf: Captain, I request a leave of --
Picard: Granted. Please, please get off my ship.

Kurn: Worf! If I'd known you were coming I'd have baked a poison cake and eaten it.
Worf: I come with good news. If we back Gowron, he may restore our honour.
Kurn: And if we don't?
Worf: Then I'm so killing you.
Kurn: Jerk. I wish I were the older brother and therefore in command.
Worf: Yeah, you do.

Picard: I hereby declare Gowron the Chancellor. If anyone has a reason this should not be so, state it before signing the user license this time.
B'Etor: Wait! We have a new candidate for the succession: Duras's illegitimate son Toral!
Picard: A Klingon bastard? I'm glad I never had kids.

Captain's Log: The Council has stuck me with the difficult decision of whether to acknowledge Toral. Sometimes I wish K'Mpec had never made me Klingon installation wizard.

Movar: How is the plan proceeding?
Lursa: Perfectly. They have no idea we're getting help from the Romulans.
Movar: Just don't screw up or I'll remove one of your genetic enhancements.
B'Etor: Not the enhanced cleavage! We need it for our platform!

Picard: You seem awfully on my ship for a man on a leave of absence, Worf.
Worf: Yeah, about that... I'm kinda trying to use Federation resources to further my personal cause.
Picard: You can't do that! Well, okay, you can do it a little, but no more. Well --
Worf: No, that'll do, thanks.

Lursa: We're glad you accepted our invitation to visit. Have some tea, Earl Grey, hot, just the way you like it.
Picard: Thank you. Now, you must understand the position I'm THPTTTTHHH!
Lursa: Oops, I put in too much blood and not enough brain juice, didn't I?

Picard: Having weighed the evidence, I hereby declare Gowron Chancellor, seriously this time.
Gowron: Thank you. Council, as your new leader, I first command you to FEAR MY CREEPY EYES.
Council: This sucks! We're rebelling with Toral!
Picard: That was an impressive display of synchronized speech.

Worf: You need help now, Gowron. I offer mine.
Gowron: Pfft. You're a pansy.
Worf: Mine and my brother Kurn's.
Gowron: Who?
Worf: He commands four squadrons.
Gowron: Oh yeah! That Kurn!

Data: Two Klingon vessels are firing on Gowron's ship.
Picard: I'm not getting busted for interference. Take us out of range.
Riker: But... but....
Picard: Weapons range, Will, not visual range.
Riker: Whew! I don't wanna miss this.

Worf: The attackers have been destroyed thanks to my cunning tactics and Kurn's arrival.
Gowron: Brilliant! My leadership has saved our lives.
Kurn: (over the comm) I can't believe you're making us side with him.
Worf: Suck it up, younger brother.

Gowron: Now that I am in a civil war I will probably lose, rendering my decrees irrelevant, I decree that Worf shall have his honour back.
Worf: Woohoo!
Kurn: Ahem....
Gowron: Oh yes. Kurn can have Worf's honour back too.
Kurn: Woohoo!

Picard: Gowron, I simply cannot choose sides in a Klingon civil war, no matter how cool my first officer thinks it would be.
Gowron: Look into my eyes and say that.
Picard: All right, but -- whoa. Creepy. Still no, though.
Worf: Captain, we must do something to help Gowron!
Picard: We could provide him with contact lenses.
Worf: That's it, I quit.

Picard: If you must go, Worf, at least share a nostalgia trip with me. (sigh) I remember the day you first came aboard....
Worf: Sir, I really wouldn't enter the quarters.
Picard: ...you were so young and red-shir--
(WO-PANG)
Worf: Ouch. You're lucky that bounced off your artificial heart.

Data: Farewell, Lieutenant. I hope you are honoured by our lineup of crew standing at attention.
Worf: Pfft. You'd do this for the cook.
Riker: Good luck, Mr. Worf. Do me proud. Score cool victories. Don't come back because I want Troi to myself.
Worf: I understand. Ener-- wait, isn't Captain Picard going to say anything?
Crusher: He's still in far too much pain to speak. I'm propping him up, actually.
Worf: I'm going to miss this ship.

Movar: The Enterprise has sailed away from Qo'noS. We need fear no Federation interference.
Toral: Wicked!
Sela: Don't celebrate just yet. They'll be back. But we'll whup 'em.
B'Etor: Why did you step out of the shadows to say that?
Sela: I dunno, seemed the thing to do.

Worf: The enemy ships are closing!
Kurn: It's okay, I have a plan. We go in towards that sun... and when they follow us, we hit them with it!
Worf: What? How?
Kurn: I dunno, gravity or something. I'll leave the technical stuff to you.

Picard: Now that we've been careful not to take sides in the civil war, let's take sides. First we send lots of ships to the Klingon/Romulan border....
Admiral: (over the comm) How are we possibly going to explain to either side what we're doing at the Klingon/Romulan border? And isn't it way too big to monitor completely?
Picard: Well, I haven't really thought those parts out yet.
Admiral: Then I've heard enough. Plan approved.

Picard: Send orders to the following 23 ships to meet us at the border.
Riker: Sir, it's my duty to advise you that that would violate General Order 17, requiring that the Enterprise be the only ship in whatever sector it's in.
Picard: I'm aware. By the way, you'll be commanding one of the ships.
Riker: Woohoo! My own role in the civil war! Thank you SO much, sir!
Picard: Put me down!

Worf: We're at a bar, we're surrounded by members of the opposing faction, and we're Klingons. If this doesn't scream bar fight I don't know what does.
Kurn: Ohhh no you don't. We're leaving.
Worf: Not yet. That chick in the corner is totally checking me out.
Kurn: That's B'Etor, idiot!
Worf: Really? I haven't looked higher than her cleavage.

Data: Sir, I notice that you have assigned a starship to Commander Riker but not to me. I would like to --
Picard: Granted. Get off my ship.
(Data leaves)
Picard: Three down. Just 1008 more and I'll have the place to myself.

B'Etor: Whazza--! A Federation fleet is flying to the frontier!
Sela: Toldja. Movar, send some warbirds out there -- and for Pete's sake, remind them to cloak this time. That last "secret" mission was so embarrassing.

Data: Greetings, Sutherland crew. I am your new captain, and --
(THWUP THWUP THWUP)
Data: Would the owner of the Nerf dart gun please cease to fire it at me?
Hobson: This kind of inflexibility is why robots don't deserve to be in command!

Gowron: Thank you all for your support. Let me begin this strategy meeting by suggesting that you FEAR MY --
Klingon: Yeah, yeah, the eyes, we know. You suck.
Gowron: What? How dare you defy me?
Worf: Okay, everyone just calm down.
Klingon: You're right, Worf. I'm sorry I -- GAK!
Worf: You shot him in the back!
Gowron: That'll teach him to question my honour.

Helmsman: Tachyon net deployed.
Picard: Thank you, Ensign. It's so nice having no one on the bridge whose name I know.
Helmsman: Sir, a warbird just decloaked right in front of us!
Picard: Mon Dieu! Signal our surrender immediately!
Sela: (over the comm) Yeesh, Mom never told me how much you suck.

Picard: It's impossible. Troi tells me Sela isn't lying about being Tasha Yar's daughter.
Guinan: Well, I don't know how, but I can feel that it is possible. I remember something about another timeline....
Picard: I meant that it's impossible for Troi to know something non-obvious, but go on.
Guinan: Well, I think there were no children on the ship and no Betazoid counsellor.
Picard: Good Lord, how horrible!

Worf: Stupid Gowron. I'm starting to regret supporting him.
Kurn: NOW you regret it!
Worf: Well, I could hardly regret it before I did it.
Kurn: I hate you! I hate you so much I'm going to leave you alone in the room to get kidnapped!
Worf: Open a window on your way out.

Picard: Explain your Tashaness.
Sela: Well, I am the child of a Romulan commander and the version of Tasha Yar he captured from the Enterprise-C.
Picard: Yeah, yeah, I didn't ask for your life story. No, wait....
Sela: If you're going to be that way, I'm leaving. Give Data a wink from me.
Picard: I don't think I'll do that.

Lursa: Wakey wakey, Worfy.
Worf: Ewwww. Where do you get your nicknames from, Lwaxana Troi?
B'Etor: We have an offer to make you. It involves our cleavage. All you have to do is be a father figure for Toral.
Worf: Ha! I wouldn't get involved with that brat for the Sword of Kahless.
Lursa: Then you can spend the rest of your subplot in jail, jerk.

Picard: We have to trick the Romulans into crossing the border. Let's pretend to open a hole in our tachyon net.
Riker: (over the comm) Should we come up with an ostensible reason for doing that, in case they suspect us?
Picard: Nah. Romulans are pretty dumb.

Romulan: Hey, a hole just opened in the tachyon net. That can't possibly be anything but good.
Sela: Shut up. Let's just blast one of the ships secretly and make our own hole.
Romulan: But there's one right there.
Sela: You're so fired.

Sutherland: OW!
Romulan Tachyon Pulse: Ha ha.

Data: We have lost power to multiple systems. Now appears to be as good a time to break orders as any.
Hobson: Monster! Where's my gun?
Picard: (over the comm) Data? What are you doing, Data?
Data: Locating Romulan ships with a silly technobabble trick and a photon torpedo. Observe.
(FOOM)
Data: Do you see the warbirds?
Picard: Those can't be warbirds. They're hot pink.
Data: Indeed. My silly technobabble trick turned the torpedo into a paint bomb.

Romulan: Oh no! The Federation's hot pink machinations have revealed us!
Sela: Rats. Full retreat. Hey, didn't I fire you?
Romulan: Different guy, same speaker credit.
Sela: Ah.

Lursa: So much for that plan. But we'll escape to plot again.
B'Etor: Next time let's try a huge massive death ship.
Lursa: We can afford a really old Bird of Prey, maybe.
B'Etor: It'll do.

Captain's Log: The Klingon civil war is over. I've given Number One a leave of absence to deal with the loss.

Data: Farewell, Sutherland crew. I believe we all learned a lesson today.
Hobson: Indeed we did, Mr. Data. Indeed we did.
(THWONG THWONG THWONG)
Hobson: It involves using duranium Nerf darts.

Gowron: Thank you for your help, Worf. In return, you may kill this miserable whelp Toral.
Worf: I refuse. And so does Kurn.
Kurn: I hate you!
Toral: The line of Duras will rise again to kill you all!
Worf: Somehow I think that any further Durasses will be even more pathetic than you.

Worf: May I return to duty, Captain?
Picard: Yes, on one condition.
Worf: Name it.
Picard: Go to your quarters. Disarm the explosives on the door. Empty the vats of liquid nitrogen. Dismantle the flaming bat'telh wheel. Release the Klingon alligators into the wild. And for God's sake, turn the country music down.
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)

THE END