Commodore Decker’s Ophidian


Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “The Expanse.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 21 May 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “The Xindi.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 10 September 2003. Television. Retrieved: h

Black, Chris. Friedman, Brent V. “The Shipment.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 29 October 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Strong, Phyllis. “Exile.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 15 October 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “Zero Hour.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 26 May 2004. Television. Retrieved:


Spinrad, Norman. “The Doomsday Machine.” Star Trek. National Broadcasting Company. 20 October 1967. Television. Retrieved:

Neutral Zone

Finally, made it to Risa for some much needed R&R. The planet is lovely: blue skies, green grass, crystal-clear waters. Very Earth-like. Will be here for as long as STB allows me. Don’t hate.

Trainer 367


Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth

the xindi probe

Required reading 

The Xindi probe catastrophe. Yes, we all picture large chunks of Florida and Venezuela twirling helplessly in space accompanied by the stardust of 7 million people. We also bemoan the fact that this heinous species is alive today talking about it. 

There is only one reason for this egregious historical error never corrected by the discretion of glorious temporal mechanisms. The assignment of one Captain Jonathan Archer to the only mission that was supposed to annihilate them!

It began with Archer’s insipid address to his crew. “There’s been an attack on the Sol system. A probe. They don’t know where it came from. There may have been a billion gazillion casualties so we’ve been ordered back to Earth.”

“Why?!” Ensign Travis Mayweather asked incredulously.

Equally annoyed, Archer replied, “Maybe they expect us to do something about it.”

The crew exploded in violent protests. Fortuitously, Commander Charles Tucker yelled, “Captain! We’ve got eight Suliban ships approaching at warp speed!”

“Just what we need! Tactical alert! Hail them.”

Communications Officer Hoshi Sato whined hopelessly, “They’re not responding.”

“Try again!” Archer said, desperately trying to forestall yet another round of Sato’s incessant depression.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Archer was nabbed and whisked away to the Suliban vessel.  The crew prayed fervently that he would never return as Sato wept forlornly.

The Suliban Cabal took Archer to their spectral temporal meddler, “the man from the future,” who informed him of the existence of the Xindi. The homicidal lunatics who launched the preemptive strike on Earth. They were convinced by another meddling faction from the future that earthlings would destroy their world in four hundred years. Unlike saner lifeforms, they actually believed this crap and having no problem killing millions from a species they’d never heard of, were busily building another weapon to finish us off.

Their aimless wanderings in the Alpha Quadrant now undoubtedly in jeopardy, Archer and crew immediately returned to Starfleet Command. There, Archer attempted to convince Admiral Maxwell Forrest and the Vulcan Ambassador, Soval, that the previously traitorous masochists were telling the truth. By quantum dating highly selective pieces of the Xindi probe wreckage and finding evidence of temporal improbabilities, his mission was almost derailed.

Sensing a paradigm shift in his reality, Ambassador Soval screeched, “The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible!”

But Admiral Forrest ignored him and ordered the Enterprise NX-01 into the Delphic Expanse. An immense unexplored region of space known for anatomically inverting Klingons and causing Vulcans to scream maniacally whilst killing one another with reckless abandon. Prompting the Vulcan High Command to conclude that exploring said region of space was also an impossibility and commanded sane Vulcans everywhere to refrain from going with them.

Commander T’Pol, of course, did not fit this description.

Undeterred by the sight of Vulcans dying en masse, T’Pol stood by her man to find the Xindi spawn who made Trip cry.

Unfortunately, they were blessed with luck, serendipitous timing and real Military Assault Command Operators (MACOs), acquired as “additional muscle” for “beat down” communications. Six weeks into the Expanse, they coerced with prejudice the coordinates of the Xindi homeworld from the only Xindi they’d encountered, a vicious and ornery nine-fingered rat named Kessick, enslaved for this reason by unscrupulous miners.

However, spitefully, Kessick, with his dying breath, withheld the only useful piece of information he possessed. That his planet had been mercifully destroyed a hundred and twenty years before, leaving behind alloy saturated rubble and Xindi-dust.

Archer and his MACOs were flabbergasted. “The son of a Xindi lied to us!”

He then realized the only intel gleaned from this mean creature was truly an irrelevant one. That five Xindi species evolved on the same treacherous planet.

“Highly unlikely,” the Vulcan Science Directorate later surmised,” an impossibility!” And, like the existence of time travel, in the face of irrefutable evidence, they refused to revise their position.

In any event, having wasted precious time messing around with this idiot the crew gratuitously found themselves in the grips of a 400-year-old, admittedly hideous telepath, Tarquin. Who, after many machinations and Hoshi-lust, supplied the whereabouts of a Xindi colony, yet again involved in nefarious mining activities.

There they found a smarter Xindi, Gralik, who also inexplicably insisted on divulging further facts about the Xindi species. Studiously listing them on his big furry fingers. “Xindi-Aquatics, Xindi-Arboreals, Xindi-Insectoids, Xindi-Primates and Xindi-Reptilians.”

“I don’t care!” Archer screamed in exasperation.

Nevertheless, Gralik helped them considerably by sabotaging yet another Xindi test probe. And, fortunately, through considerable effort and complimentary soul searching, they gradually made their way to the Xindi Council hideout.

Now was their chance to kill every last one of those miscreant villains and dine languishing afterward.

However, Archer misinterpreted this mission immensely. He instead tried to convince the council psychos that the Vulcan High Command had determined Terrans, unlike Vulcans, were incapable of the bloodlust that could precipitate such an event.


Archer then resorted to name-calling. Ridiculing their revered gods, the Guardians, as mere bingo-playing old ladies with delusions of grandeur. But the grannies retaliated by racing the Xindi-Reptilians and Insectoids toward Earth to prevent humans from inflicting further comedic harm.

Archer and the less bloodthirsty Xindi pursued them. But first, they had to disable that weapon.

Sato, shaken out of her self-pitying stupor (still longing for Tarquin) supplied the weapon’s schematics. Then, along with Archer and Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed, boarded the orb of death to see if it had suicidal tendencies.

After losing a MACO, of the red shirt persuasion to a Xindi-Reptilian, all they could do was deactivate it. So, Archer decided to set much-needed charges and sent Reed and the mourner back to the ship.

For reasons, unfathomable even to the lowest sentient life, the Xindi-Reptilian, Commander Dolim, left his ship and materialized aboard. Enthusiastically, he beat Archer into the scaffolds as the weapon entered Earth’s atmosphere to repeat its little brother’s hellish performance.

Though trampled senselessly, Archer managed to wrestle Dolim to the platform and sprung to his feet. An ominous smile graced his lips, alerting the reptilian that something was amiss.

Archer held up a detonator. Frantically, Dolim searched his body for the tricky grenade. Too late! Archer blew the Xindi into itty bitty Dolim bits.

Not as satisfying as the destruction of his entire species would have been but the only outcome our savage pro-genocidal hearts could expect from a starship captain with a well-known tendency to bungle “kill-all-the-bastards” escapades.

Archer then ignited another series of explosions that blew the weapon to Gre’Thor and saved the screaming hoards on the surface below. But unfortunately, the pyrokinetics from such an enormously fiendish device sent him and the Enterprise NX-01 back in time. Proving the axiom that pursuing circular objects into Earth’s orbit will always hurl one’s crew deep into the powerless past. Powerless for the simple fact that it could not correct the Xindi probe’s earth-shattering event. So, if at all possible, when saving the planet from certain obliteration, avoid blasts that could result in time-tipping turbulence of null effect in the Sol system.

This module is about one of the most dangerous creatures known to Starfleet Command; a starship officer run amok. Only incidentally does this instruction regard the subject matter of the latest series: The scourge of alien technology.

We begin with the amok time manic depressive, Commodore Matt Decker, who before this incident was known as a stable, highly capable individual, the crème de la crème of Starfleet’s finest. Until his nemesis appeared. A foe so formidable, so horrific, that his staid and tidy mental abilities proved incapable of withstanding the onslaught.

Members of the starship, Enterprise, encountered Decker’s nemesis, aka the “Planet Killer,” after receiving a distress signal from Decker’s doomed, crew-depleted starship, the USS Constellation.

Upon arriving in system L-374, they discovered a solar system totally devoid of habitable planets. Where once there were seven planetary lovelies amicable to human life, only two planets remained. One, a molten mess of searing lava, the other, a gluttonous gas giant waiting to choke the life out of any alien being foolish enough to disregard his sensor readings.

And not far from these orbital fiends floated the Constellation’s dead hulk. A starship in this hideous condition is not pretty. Like a Ferengi with no assets. 

Captain James T. Kirk, Dr. Leonard McCoy, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and other irrelevant crew members promptly beamed aboard, only to find a now superfluous Decker mercifully unconscious in an equally redundant part of the ship, the auxiliary control room. Unfortunately, Dr. McCoy was in possession of his every ready hypospray. The mad physician took it upon himself to inject Decker with it and revived the crazed and demented lifeform.

“They say there's no devil, Jim, but there is! Right out of hell! I saw it!!” Dazzlingly intense madness illuminated Decker’s face.

Its radiance inspired Kirk to ask suspiciously, “Matt, what happened to your crew?”

“On the third planet!”

“There is no third planet!!”

“Don’t you think I know that!” Decker’s eyes were now luminous orbs of psychotic intent. “There was, but not anymore!!”

Kirk backed away in horror. The ship’s logs were then beamed to Spock, posthaste, to discover what the devil Decker’s demon had done.

Subsequently, Spock communicated that Decker’s diabolical adversary was, in fact, “a robot, an automated weapon of immense size and power.” Whose mission was “to smash planets to rubble and then digest the debris for fuel.” Damn.

Between Decker and his demon, Kirk’s mind was reeling. “Bones,” he asked in an astonished whisper. “Did you ever hear of a doomsday machine?”

“No. I'm a doctor, not a mechanic.”

Kirk’s eyes watered at the doctor’s unfeeling response. “It's a weapon built primarily as a bluff,” he continued, “Something like the old H-Bomb was supposed to be. A doomsday machine used in a war uncounted years ago….  the machine is still destroying.”

Bone’s eyes shone in admiration. Fortunately, Kirk dispatched Decker to the confines of Dr. McCoy’s devilish sick bay, rivaled only by Earth’s ancient tortures of the Inquisitions.

Unaware of his impending doom, Decker accompanied McCoy to the Enterprise. But instead of the richly-deserved embrace of the infirmary, he was summoned to the bridge by the compelling siren of “Red alert!” Where Spock, correctly deducing Decker’s mad-hatter temperament, tried to retrieve Kirk and crew to no avail. Decker and the planet licker were ready for him, both having long ago grown too wily and insane for sensible retreat.

Commodore Decker’s planet killer stared at them from the viewscreen. A miles-long ravenous serpentine creature glazed with pure neutronium.

It turned its maw that could devour a dozen starships towards the Enterprise. It’s appearance as insane and demented as Decker’s. With an equally evil intent.

The deranged mechanism fired! A pure, absolutely pure, antiproton beam smashed into the Enterprise’s hull. The crew fell to the various decks more from embarrassment than the effects of the beam. A rust-bucketed technology had bested their most advanced systems.

And of those advanced systems, of course, the transporters were the first to go.

Decker promptly took command of the Enterprise using Spock’s freakish proclivity for adhering to Starfleet regulations. Not to be outdone in pure undiluted lunacy, he shrieked, “Fire!”

A few phaser blasts proved, of course, ineffective against the indestructible psychotic entity. A fact Decker undoubtedly erased from the memory of his own madness.

Jaws turned on them. Ready for its space pebble snack. It was drawing the Enterprise to their embarrassingly ignoble end. When...

The Constellation fired! Good ole Scotty!

After tag-teaming the mighty Goliath both ships safely maneuvered out of harm’s way.

Kirk frantically contacted the Enterprise. Decker answered. “You mean you're the lunatic who's responsible for almost destroying my ship?!!!” And having never held Starfleet regulations in high regard, bellowed, “Mister Spock! I order you to assume command on my personal authority as Captain of the Enterprise!”

Decker fixed Spock with a maniacal glare. “You wouldn't dare. You're bluffing.”

“Vulcans never bluff.”

Decker immediately relinquished command. But once again evaded the exquisite agonies of sickbay by escaping in a shuttlecraft.

Then, at long last, his murderous intent turned inward and he mercifully sought to throw his life away. "I've been prepared for death ever since I killed my crew," he informed the bridge crew from the viewscreen. (Thank you!)

Tepidly, Spock offered a wilted lifeline. “You cannot succeed, Commodore.”

But Kirk, still aboard the Constellation and monitoring Decker’s crazy communications, tried harder. For reasons still unfathomable to this day.

“Matt, we're stronger with you than without you!” Foolishness.

The world-gobbling ophidian swallowed the shuttlecraft whole as Decker’s maniacal screams echoed throughout the ship.

Fantastically, the ship’s sensors detected a minute drop in the robot’s power emanations. Did the shuttlecraft cause indigestion? 

Determining that a starship’s fusion explosion of 97.835 megatons may cause enough of a belly-burn to make a difference, Kirk once again turned the Constellation towards it.

Surmising Kirk’s plans, Spock came to the logical conclusion. “Jim, you'll be killed. Just like Decker.”

But Kirk was adamant. Just like Decker.

Scotty summed up the thoughts of every sane individual aboard both ships. “A cranky transporter's a mighty finicky piece of machinery to be gambling your life on, captain.”

And little did they know that the transporters were in collusion with the globe guzzler. Phssss! The transporters fizzled when it came time for the captain’s transmutation.

“Gentlemen, beam me aboard! Beam me aboard!” Kirk shouted repeatedly, sounding much like Decker after he’d managed to wriggle the Constellation within the planet eater’s chewing distance.

Spock, fed up with Kirk’s illogical cluelessness of the inevitable, tepidly threw out a suggestion. “Scott. Mr. Scott. Try reverse phasing.” Sulu was fed up too and taunted, “One thousand miles and closing. Five hundred miles and closing.”

The robot’s consumption neurosis drew steadily closer to the Constellation. “Beam me aboard!!!!”


Darn. Mr. Scott.

Later, Spock, studiously playing down his prior indifference, said, “I can't help wondering if there are any more of those weapons wandering around the universe.” Yes, Commodore Decker did prove to be formidable. As well as that onerous alien technology. More psychotic starship commanders yet to be discovered wandering around the cosmos? We certainly hope not. We found one quite sufficient. 

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