AUSTEN TREK: or, if Jane Austen wrote Star Trek…

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single captain in possession of a starship, must be in want of a tribble.

However little known the feelings or views of a captain may be on his first entering a space station, this truth is so well fixed in the mind of a con-artist like Cyrano Jones, that the captain is considered the rightful property of some one or other of the tribbles.

“My dear Captain Kirk,” said Cyrano Jones to him during his first day on Deep Space Station K7, “have you heard that I possess a miraculous cure for high blood pressure?”

Kirk replied that he had not.

“But it is true,” returned the trader; “for Doctor McCoy’s tricorder has just been here, and confirmed it beyond all doubt.”

Captain Kirk made no answer.

“Do you not want to know how I cure it?” cried Cyrano Jones impatiently.

“YOU want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

This was invitation enough.

“Why, my dear captain, you must know, I have in my possession a rare and invaluable creature, the like of which none but the wise ancients of Organia have ever before possessed.”

“What is it called?”

“Tribble.”

“Is this tribble a group, or a single creature?”

“Oh! Single, my dear Captain Kirk, to be sure! A single tribble, but with a large capacity for reproduction: it will yield four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for your crew of four-hundred and thirty!”

“How so? How can it affect them?”

“My dear James Kirk,” replied the trader, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of you purchasing a tribble for them.”

“Is that your design in speaking to me?”

“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that you MAY fall in love with one of them, and therefore you should look over my stock carefully.”

“I see no occasion for that. You may send the tribbles away, or you may choose to accompany them, which perhaps will be still better, for inasmuch as you are as annoying as they are silly and ignorant, I am less likely to end by striking you if your face is not in the same room as my fist.”

And the question for today is: Do you like Austen Trek? Hate it? Do you want to see variations on it (e.g. Bronte Trek, Heyer Trek, Austen of the Lost Ark, etc)?

And if you want to read previous installments of Austen Trek, just click on the words “Austen Trek” at the bottom of this post!

Cara
Cara King, going where no Regency writer has gone before…

Or, if Jane Austen wrote Star Trek…

As had happened before, Mr. Data attempted to amuse his fellow officers on the bridge with what he took to be a well-timed joke.

And, as had also happened before, and too many times to count (unless one has a positronic brain), Commander Riker grinned in a way which seemed to say, he was not so much amused by Mr. Data’s wit, as he was by his epigrammatic clumsiness.

“I see what you think of me,” Data told Riker gravely–“I shall make but a poor figure in your log to-morrow. I know exactly what you will say: Commander’s Log, Star Date 47457.1; Mr. Data embarked upon another jocular assay, to little effect.”

“Indeed I shall say no such thing.”

“My dear sir,” said Data, “I am not so ignorant of the ways of human beings as you wish to believe me; it is the human habit of recording such unimportant and clearly biased information in Starfleet logs which accounts for the easy style of speaking for which your species are so generally celebrated.”

Mr. Riker shrugged his shoulders with a modest grin. “I should not think the superiority was always on our side.”

“As far as I have had the opportunity of judging, Mr. Riker, it appears to me that your own style of speech is faultless, except in three areas.”

“And what are they?”

“A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to sense, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar.”

“Upon my word! I need not have been afraid of disclaiming the compliment. You do not think too highly of me in that way. Very well, now that you are in a mood to tell me my flaws, do not hold yourself back: how do you feel about my appearance?” And his grin seemed to say that, whatever faults Mr. Data might find in his speech, in the matter of comeliness, even the most emotionless android must concede William Riker’s superiority.

“It is very clear to me,” said Data, gravely examining Mr. Riker’s face, upon which a beard had abruptly appeared the day before, “that I am but a poor judge of such quintessentially human matters. Else I might declare that your chin resembles nothing so much as a well-used breeding ground for tribbles.”

For earlier installments of Austen Trek (which NBC would have cancelled after season two, had they known of it), just click on the link below which says “austen trek”…

And be sure to join us next Tuesday, December 4, when our Jane Austen Movie Club discusses the most recent version of Pride and Prejudice, a.k.a. the one with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen.

Cara
Cara King, who finds Data’s inability to use contractions to be as baffling as Catherine Tilney’s complete cluelessness

Or, if Jane Austen wrote Star Trek…

Hidden in the Federation Archives is this never-before-seen account of Yeoman Rand’s first days on the Enterprise:

Every stardate now brought its regular duties;–Captain Kirk’s orders were to be recorded; some new part of the ship to be discovered; and the Bridge to be attended, where officers spent hours staring at whirling lights and, on occasion, falling out of their chairs.

Yeoman Rand, however, knew no one and, consequently, spoke to no one, and no one spoke to her. The wish of a numerous acquaintance on the ship was uppermost on her mind, and her heart wished it anew after every fresh proof, which every stardate brought, of her knowing nobody at all.

She made her appearance in the Rec Room; and here fortune was more favourable to our heroine. Captain Kirk, the only inhabitant of the ship with whom she had as yet exchanged more than half-a-dozen words, was present; he, with infinite condescension, engaged her in conversation.

The captain seemed to be about four or five and thirty, was of middling height, had a pleasing countenace, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. He talked with fluency and spirit–and there was an archness and pleasantry in his manner which interested, though it was hardly understood by her–or, if truth be told, by himself.

Forming his features into a set smile, and affectedly softening his voice, he said, with a simpering air, “Have you been long on the Enterprise, Yeoman?”

“About a week, sir,” replied Rand, trying not to laugh.

“Really!” with affected astonishment.

“Why should you be surprized, Captain?”

“Why, indeed!” said he, in his natural tone. “Were you never here before, Yeoman?”

“Never, sir.”

“Indeed! Have you yet honoured the Sick Bay?”

“Yes, sir, I was there last Monday.”

“Have you climbed in a Jeffries tube?”

“Yes, sir, I was in a Jeffries tube on Tuesday.”

“In engineering?”

“Yes, sir, on Wednesday.”

“And are you altogether pleased with the ship?”

“Yes–I like it very well.”

“Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again.”

Rand turned away her head, not knowing whether she might venture to laugh.

“I see what you must think of me,” said he gravely– “I shall make but a poor figure in your log tomorrow.”

“My log!”

“Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Rec Room; wore my red dress with the three-inch skirt–long black boots–appeared to much advantage, particularly in the gap between the aforesaid items; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me talk with him, and distressed me by noticing my legs.”

“Indeed I shall say no such thing. I had much rather you notice my legs now, on the ship, than wait until we are on a planet, when there are certain to be bizarre blue growths on them.”

And don’t forget — on the first Tuesday of November, we’ll be discussing the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle Pride and Prejudice!

Cara
Cara King, who would far rather climb in a Jeffries Tube than wear a miniskirt

AUSTEN TREK: or, If Jane Austen Wrote Star Trek…

“I must,” said Captain Picard, “tender my apology, with great sincerity, for telling you (during that time in which I was a member of the Borg Collective) that you would be assimilated.”

“On the contrary, it taught me to hope,” said Commander Riker, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you absolutely, irrevocably decided to assimilate me, you would not have spent nearly so much time boasting of the fact.”

Captain Picard coloured and laughed as he replied, “I see you know me very well.”

“And I, too,” continued Riker, “wish to apologize, for my vigorous and whole-hearted attempt to end your life at that time.”

“What did you say or do, that I did not deserve? For, though your arguments that my humanity was irrecoverable were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour to you at the time, had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”

“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that stardate,” said Riker. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility, if not humanity.”

“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself!” exclaimed Picard. “The recollection of what I then said,–‘I am Locutus of Borg. Resistance is futile. Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service us.’–of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘Mr. Worf, fire.’ Those were your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;–though it was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”

“I was certainly very far from expecting my order to fire to make so strong an impression.”

“I can easily believe it,” said Picard. “You thought me then devoid of every human feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said ‘Then take your best shot, Locutus, because we are about to intervene.'”

“Oh! do not repeat what I then said. And think no more of any unfortunate utterances which you made whilst you were Borg. The feelings of you as Locutus, and you now, are so widely different from each other, that every unpleasant circumstance attending your erstwhile collectiveness, ought to be forgotten.”

And remember: next Tuesday, October 2, our Jane Austen Movie Club will be discussing the Patricia Rozema version of MANSFIELD PARK! So bring your opinions, and get ready for a hot debate!

Cara
Cara King, author of MY LADY GAMESTER, and fan of Tea, Earl Grey, Hot