Welcome to a cross-fiction of Star Trek and the Kansas Jayhawks Men's Basketball team. It seemed like a natural progression. Is it weird? Yeah, probably. But you love Captain Picard and Bill Self. You love Spock and Jeff Withey. You love Quark and Brady Morningstar. And so consider this a home. Without further ado, I present the first episode...
Marcus Smart turned the last screw the long-range antenna assembly. It had been acting up during routine transmissions back to Earth, and he had been on a two-hour spacewalk to repair it. The loud crackle of an incoming local transmission interrupted his thoughts.
"Charlie-Bravo-33, this is Charlie-Bravo-13. Vitals check, over."
"Phil, you don’t need to follow radio protocol. We’ve been in space together for a long time," responded Marcus, as he chuckled to himself. This was classic Phil Forte, a real stickler when it came to protocol.
"Just because we can’t talk to Earth right now doesn’t mean we can abandon our standards, Marcus."
"Ah, but you just called me ‘Marcus’! And on a side note, I just fixed our long-range communications equipment…" responded Marcus, now fully giggling. He simultaneously fired the boosters on his space-pack and pushed back towards the air-lock. Phil laughed and looked over to see what the third crewman thought of Marcus and his conversation, but Markel Brown was sound asleep in his space-bed. Phil keyed in the Earth frequencies on his radio.
"Mission Control, this is Charlie-Bravo-13. Comms check, over." After the requisite travel time of his transmission, he heard a voice respond.
"Charlie-Bravo-13, this is Mission Control. We read you loud and clear, over." Marcus had done it. Phil looked out his space-window. Marcus was a larger than life astronaut. He watched him as he floated towards the air-lock. There was a twinkle of light behind him.
Whatever criteria humanity’s eyesight had developed for sending a signal to the brain that "something is wrong" began to flash in Phil Forte’s mind. Eventually his brain caught up and he keyed his local comms radio.
"Marcus, there’s a bright light behind you. Do you have visual contact?" Marcus could immediately tell that there was something wrong based on the tone of his voice. He fired his boosters to adjust his vision, but it was too late. The bright light sped past him and blasted into the window of the main corridor of the space station. Marcus screamed.
"Noooooooooooo!" He immediately fired his boosters towards the airlock. He was going to save Markel Brown and Phil Forte if he could. The entry door would usually be released by the local commander, but Marcus wasn’t going to take any chances: he immediately pulled the manual release lever to open the door. Because there was no preparatory command from the central computer, it took thirty seconds for the inside door to lock for compression. It was an eternity for Marcus Smart.
As he waited, he tried to communicate with his crew-mates.
"Charlie-Bravo-13, are you there?"
"Charlie-Bravo-13, answer me!"
"Phil, I need you to answer me now!"
The compression finally completed. Marcus swung himself into the air-lock, slammed the outside door shut, and furiously swung the locking wheel. He jerked his space-helmet off and pushed off towards the communications panel next to the door. He punched a few commands into it and hit the send button.
"Mission Control, this is Charlie-Bravo-33, respond!"
"Charlie-Bravo-33, what the hell is going on up there? We’ve lost contact with Phil and Markel!"
"Coach, I’m not sure. There was a bright light, and it crashed into the main corridor! After that, I couldn’t get any traffic from Phil or Markel!"
"Roger that, 33. We need you to stay calm. Proceed to the main corridor and update us with what’s happening."
"Got it, Coach. I’ll let you know when I find out what’s going on."
Marcus wheeled the inside air-lock door and opened it. There was total darkness in the small, tight corridor. He flipped a space-switch on his space-helmet and looked at his space-surroundings. Incidental items floated past his head as he peeked out into the space station hallway. A slight moment of selfishness overtook him as he looked towards the fuel cell room. It could wait. He needed to save his friends. Marcus jumped and pushed towards the command room. He opened the door expecting the worst. But he saw his brothers, Phil and Markel standing away from him, their faces turned out towards the space-window.
"Phil! Markel! Thank God you’re okay! I thought you were both dead!" Marcus shouted to his comrades. They both turned slowly. There was strange, complicated computer equipment attached to their heads. Phil stepped forward.
"You are the one called Marcus Smart. We have many questions. You will respond to them in kind."
"Phil… What’s wrong with you? What is the weird thing on your head?" Then Markel stepped up next to Phil.
"There is no wrong or right. There is no alive or dead. We are… Borg. Resistance is futile," Markel intoned. Marcus stepped back. He realized that his emotions had taken over. He had not properly cleared the room. He looked into a dark corner. There was a presence there. Marcus moved slowly towards it. He checked his hip pocket for his phaser. He quickly remember that they were not typically carried during spacewalks, and so he tensed up. The shadow stepped into the light. He was a 7-foot tall, 250-pound Center.
"I am Jocutus of Borg."
"What… What are you?" Marcus Smart asked, not quite sure if he would get a response.
"I am Jocutus of Borg. You will respond to my questions. You will soon be assimilated into The Jayhawk Collective," the giant said. "We have conquered many systems, and we will conquer your system soon."
"Never. There must be someone who can stand up to you… And that person is me!" shouted Marcus Smart, as he did a back-flip in zero-gravity, which was not that impressive, let's be real.. He then turned to Markel Brown. "I know there’s something still inside you, Markel! You have to dig deep and throw me your phaser so I can defeat Jocutus of Borg!"
Markel, despite the computer equipment on his head, appeared to be visibly struggling with his new-found Borgness. He pulled a phaser out of his pocket and threw it through the air. It’s trajectory would have gone directly into Marcus Smart’s hands, but Jocutus of Borg lifted his hands and blocked it so hard that it smashed through the station’s hull. Marcus frowned. He knew it was all over. Jocutus approached him and stared into his eyes. It was a lifeless stare. He drew him close and whispered.
"Resistance is futile."