Star Trek Monologue — Tara Meddaugh

Okay, trekkie fans out there--so I admit--I'm one of you. By the time I was 11, I'd seen all of the old Star Trek episodes, movies to date, and Next Generation episodes. In fact, when I was 10, my older brothers and I had a "trekathon" over our Spring Break--watching Star Trek episodes nonstop for I don't remember how many days straight. We took pledges and raised money for childhood leukimia, and to prove our devotion to star trek watching, once an hour, someone had to log into a computer program my dad or brother had created, proving we were awake (these were days long before iphone apps that could have done that for you). The local newspaper took pictures and wrote an article about us, my mom brought meals to us on the couch, we lost a whole lot of sleep and probably dreamed a whole lot about Mr. Spock and Bones. We were hardcore. So yeah, after my initial fear of Star Trek (I saw Star Trek II and that terrible scene of bugs in the ear scared and scarred me for a few years), I loved the humor of Star Trek IV, which won me over to explore all the old ones, and brought me to that Spring Break Trekathon.

I like sci-fi. I always have been drawn to the "what-ifs" of the genre, the suspense, the joys, the impossible becoming possible, the stretch of the imagination, the hope and fears of the pending realities. I'm not a sci-fi writer, but if you look at some of my work, you might see some influence, in certain plays and short stories.

So, I'm vacationing at my childhood home right now, soaking up the summer days in this small beach town on Lake Ontario, playing games with my family, sorting through old toys and showing my little guys things I used to do and see as a kid. And I came across that fabulous geeked-out article about our trekathon, framed in the 2nd floor hallway. And while our whole house has remnants of Star Trek here and there (flying Bird of Preys over my parents' bed, Star Fleet window decal on the Chevy Impala, the Enterprise pizza cutter I used the other night on our "Big Mac pizza," Star Trek mug my husband drinks his caramel coffee out of every morning)--I guess it took re-reading this article to get my mind in Star Trek writing gear. Why it took me this long to write a simple ode to my family's obsession, I don't know. But here's one I wrote the other day, with a little name shout-out to my dad, the first trekkie of our family, and a forever sci-fi lover, always gazing into the possibility of "What If..."

Oh--and yes, I've been to a Star Trek Convention.

A KLINGON IN LOVE

By Tara Meddaugh

ARLEN, a man, teen to 60s, is dressed up as a Klingon, head to toe, at a Star Trek Convention. He speaks to Trish, a woman who is wearing a Star Fleet officer uniform.

_____________________

ARLEN

I know it seems crazy that a Klingon would fall for a star fleet commander, but…crazier things have happened on the Enterprise, right? We’re not talking DS9 or Voyager here. We’re talking Gene Roddenberry, old school, Jim and Picard. You remember Kirk and the green alien? Data searching for human emotions? You know what I’m saying. You get it. Who cares if our blood’s different colors? Who cares what the rest of them think. We’re in love. I wanna…I wanna tell Mr. Sulu selling $50 pictures over there—tell him about how you switched your phaser from Kill to Stun when you saw me. I wanna interrupt Dr. Crusher’s speech to tell the world how your hair smelled like apples when you leaned down to fix my mask. I wanna kiss you in a pile of tribbles for the whole convention to see! We’re different—I know, I know. You’re a communications officer with blonde hair and legs to your neck. I’m a 24rd century ogre with a bad temper and breath to match. But we’re a plot line, baby. Don’t you see? Klingons used to be enemies with you but now we’re on Star Fleet—doesn’t that give you hope? For all races? For you and me? Come on, baby…Meet me after the Charity Auction for a drink at Ten Forward. Will you do it? For love?