NOTES: Well, I for one am completely and entirely nauseated that
someone like Angie Tallahassasee (gcqg@grove.iup.edu) should have the
nerve to force her opinions about s**********t on the rest of this
group.  Children read this group, Angie!!  Please think of that before
you post this kind of trash!

In any case, because I myself am a moderate, generous, fair person, I
have rewritten her story to remove all the gratuitous references to
s**********t.  As we all know, it is not necessary to refer to
s**********t in a story -- references to them can be easily taken out
so that the majority of people who dislike s**********t do not have to
hear about them.

Thus I give you the non-s**********t version of the craft.  (Alara,
please make sure this goes in the new non-s**********t version of the
archive that you're setting up.)


SUMMARY:  TOS, S/Su, PG, parody.  Spock and Sulu have an experience
which leads them into bed.  Revision of "The Craft" by Angie
(gcqg@grove.iup.edu).


The Cxxxt, Original story by the s*****e-porn-meister Angie
(gcqg@grove.iup.edu), Revision by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)

	Sulu cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at Spock.  The
Vulcan  had been behaving oddly ever since the captain had delivered
the news:  they had to go to the planet's surface.  Spock would be the
mission's leader, and Sulu do whatever was necessary.  Sulu noticed
that his superior officer seemed extremely edgy.
	The pilot (Author's Note:  Wait a minute..., shouldn't pilot
be a dirty word all by itself?) for that matter, wasn't feeling very
good himself.  Sulu longed to make a break for it, simply flee back to
his quarters.  He would have given anything to reclaim the 
days past, now relegated to lonely memory, but it obviously was not
meant to be.
	Sulu stepped bravely into the vast open space, struggling to 
keep his face a mask of composure.  It wouldn't do to let his guard
down, not in front of Spock; no, it wouldn't do at all.  He took a
deep breath.

*********
	Spock strode purposefully along behind the young pilot
(Author's Note:  Yes, this is definitely gratuitous.  From now on,
Sulu shall only be referred to as Sulu).  It took all his Vulcan
control to prevent his heartbeat from racing off at an 
insane pace.  The anticipation was too urgent.  His pulse quickened
imperceptibly. 
	The first officer laughed silently, without letting his facial

expression reveal his inner mirth. It was his Human blood that Spock
heeded now.
	Spock allowed himself a moment of embarrassment.  Jim ... the
poor captain didn't even suspect.  Spock imagined he would 
have to confess his feeling soon, or risk rumors the like of which 
Starfleet had never dreamed before.
	Then his merry Human side broke in and chided him softly.  It
was perfectly obvious, that half said; perfectly logical for a Vulcan
to fantasize.
	Suddenly he wanted to cry out, but he settled for a brief
inner protest.  "No!"  he thought.  "She is more than a simple
machine.  She has a soul."  At that moment he knew exactly what Jim
had meant, all those times he spoke of the Enterprise as of a lover.
The ships were fabulous creatures, worthy of utmost adoration.
(Author's Note: This is borderline, but I know that many people feel
that starships are almost s**********t themselves, but I bow to the
rest of the people that think starships are different.)

******

	Sulu hunched down in his chair.  He may not have asked for
this assignment, but, dammit, he was going to milk it for every last
drop of enjoyment he could get.  Still, a man could wish ...
	Sulu wrenched his thoughts away from his own misery.  He
wondered abstractly how Spock was getting on, there in the back; the
passenger area was unusually quiet for a trip with the Vulcan.  None
of the tricorder's familiar bleeps and squeals emanated from that
region.  Had it been any other officer, Sulu might have thought him to
be napping; but no, not Spock.  Vulcans didn't "nap."  Sulu didn't
need to be a physician to know that much.  
	He must be worried, Sulu concluded.  Must be about this
mission ... he strained his mind, but couldn't seem to remember any
specifics about the job to be done.  They were going to Feratyunin; he
could tell that much, at least.  Feratunyin was something of a
hellhole, he'd heard, all wracked by wild winds and a tendency toward
tornadoes -- he'd picked that tidbit up years ago, back at the Academy
when the experienced navigators had been inclined to share their
memories of adventure while having drinks with the brightest young
Starfleet prospects.  Sulu had listened well, always alert, and had
learned enough to land a position on the best ship in the Fleet --
always alert.
	There it was again, the thought that would never leave him, no

matter how he tried to ignore it.  He sighed; it was a heartwrenching
sound, torn from the depths of his being.  He was painfully aware.  He
gave himself over to the memories, slipping into that sweet realm
where the cold facts no longer mattered.  He would always have 
his imagination, his fantasies, and his memories.

*********
	Spock listened, enthralled.
	He had never before experienced such powerful emotion.  He had

never dreamed that any being could have such a profound effect on his 
mind -- not to mention his body.  All but forgotten, a tricorder hung
limply from his hand as his mind romped in spheres unknown to mere
Humans.  

******

	The abrasive crunch of Sulu's voice tore Spock away from his 
thoughts.  A wave of fury ripped through the Vulcan,  but he was able
to tamp it down quickly.  He suppressed his instinctive, murderous
thoughts, and gave a small offer of thanks to any and all Higher
Powers that they had allowed him to spare Sulu's life.
	"Mr. Spock," Sulu called again.  "Are you all right back
there?"
	"I am ... fine," Spock said, with some effort.  "Do you have a

report?"
	"We'll be there in just about five minutes, sir," the pilot 
said.  "You might want to tuck yourself in tight, now."
	"Thank you, Mr. Sulu; I will do that."  He carefully set his 
blinking tricorder on the floor, carefully controlling his breathing.

	The idea of separation jolted him back into reality.  Jim --
how did he fit into -- oh, of course.  Feratyunin, the barren
wasteland for which they was bound.  They would be there in ... Damn,
he thought.  Why must you Humans always give time in approximates?  He
estimated two minutes to have passed.  Only a short time remained to
prepare himself to meet with the Feratya.
	He reached down beside him and grabbed a 
padded black bag.  The satchel, he knew, contained a set of regal
jewels of a quality rarely seen in this end of the galaxy.  It was to
be returned to the Feratya after residing in Klingon hands for over
two hundred years -- a gesture of goodwill, to show that membership in
the Federation was an eminently desirable thing.  Captain Kirk had
recaptured the jewels himself, in a ridiculous plot that had seemed
destined for failure from the very beginning.  McCoy had provided a
mind-altering drug, similar to recreational chemicals that had had
their day on almost every planet in the quadrant; the Kirk had, in
effect, taken advantage of the deficient Klingons and literally won
the jewels away from them in a highly unsportsmanlike game of poker.
Spock often found himself in awe of his captain's ability to pull off
outrageous stunts and come out a hero; this was definitely one of
those times.
	For the moment, though, it was his lot to simply deliver the 
jewels to the Feratyan regent, mumble a few ceremonial words of
welcome, and scoot back to the Enterprise before the Klingons woke up
from their drug-induced haze.
	Spock resolved to put Sulu on report for reckless 
endangerment as soon as they returned to the ship.

*********
	Feratyunin's vicious winds whipped Sulu's hair into a tangled 
mess, watching Spock.  He noticed that the Vulcan did not seem the
least bit put off by the winds; it figured, he thought.  Perfectly
calm, while I'm a mass of green nerves ...
	Spock turned to Sulu, a strange look of hesitation on his
face.  "Perhaps, Mr. Sulu, you could perform this delivery.  I -- am
not feeling well."
	Fear shot through Sulu.  He had been counting on this time...
there was no way he would sacrifice these few moments with his love,
even if she wouldn't respond.  "I don't think it would be proper,
sir," he shouted over the whistling of the raging atmosphere.
	"It is a low-key diplomacy mission -- good training for a
future captain," Spock continued, not heeding Sulu's discomfort.  He
had to raise his voice slightly in order to be heard.
	The realization hit Sulu like a starship set to ramming speed.

He drew back his arm and slugged Spock's jaw with all his might.
	Immediately he knew he'd made a grave error.  The Vulcan's
face became a stone wall; he didn't even flinch at the blow.  A fire
lit spontaneously in the depths of Spock's eyes; Sulu quivered in fear
under the Vulcan's glare.
	"I will kill you," Spock growled.  Sulu never had time to
escape.  He felt the Vulcan's hot grip on his neck, saw edges of black
creeping in to obscure his vision; he knew he was about to die, and
attempted to whisper a prayer before his passing.
	Suddenly the grip was gone.  Sulu collapsed on the gray, stony

ground, gasping to pull in enough breath.  His vision fuzzed out and 
returned.  Slowly, painfully, he stood -- and he saw that Spock was
gone.  He murmured a prayer of thanks to whatever power had spared his
life.

*******

	After the delivery of the Feratyan regal jewels, Spock was on
the edge of his seat.  Had he been Human, he surely would have chewed
on his nails.
	The Vulcan was a mass of confused emotions -- not a familiar 
sensation for him.  The idea that he had almost killed Sulu would not
have fazed himHe lowered his head into his hands and tried to make
himself feel remorse, but it was incredibly hard for him, as a Vulcan,
to conjure emotions at will.
	His concentration was broken once again by Sulu's voice.
Before he could suppress it, a tiny stray thought bubbled up -- one
that wished he'd killed the man when he could, and now he wouldn't be
pestering incessantly.  Well, once.  But that was irrelevant.  The
thought floated away, and in a less-than-polite voice he asked the
pSulu what he wanted.
	"Would you come up here for a minute, sir?"  Nervousness was 
apparent in the young officer's voice.  Spock almost felt sorry for
him; he imagined the least he could do was speak with the man.  He
swiveled to face Sulu.
	"I won't beat around the bush, sir,"  Sulu said.  Spock forced
himself to remain calm and ... logical.
	"Please, do not dissemble," he encouraged roughly.
	Sulu looked pained.  "It's hard for me to let go -- but I
will.  I know when I'm not wanted.  I -- I'm sorry I interfered." 
	Spock was genuinely touched by the other man's honesty in a 
situation that must have been heartbreaking.  He nodded slowly.  "Your

actions were ... understandable," he said.  "All is forgiven.  And I
regret my over-hasty attack."
	The smile Sulu flashed at Spock was like a sudden gleam of 
starlight.  Spock, in turn, offered somewhat less of a scowl.
	"You'd better get back, sir," Sulu said urgently.
	He smiled fully now, knowing that all would be well.  And then
he blacked out, as a chunk of flying metal whapped into his head and
he pitched to the ground.

*********
	Sulu awoke in sickbay to see Dr. McCoy hovering over him, a 
concerned expression suddenly being replaced by a beaming smile.  "I
knew you'd make it," he proclaimed.  "You got a few nasty burns, but
now you're in pearly physical condition."  He beamed again -- he could
hardly help himself, Sulu thought.  Being a doctor must be an awfully
stressful job ...
	He decided to test out his vocal chords, since everything else

had apparently pulled through just fine.  "Wha -- what the hell
happened?  Er, sir?"
	McCoy chuckled.  "No need for that nervous look, son; I've
heard 'em all, plus a few you're too young to know."  His voice took
on a more serious note.  "You want to know what happened?  Klingons,
Mr. Sulu, Klingons.  They decloaked right in front of us and started
firing on you."  He grimaced.  "And I thought transporters were
dangerous!  Apparently, they just wanted the captain to know that they
wanted some payment for that little trinket he picked out of their
pockets.."
	Sulu felt the blood drain from his face, and knew he must look

ill, judging by the frown that creased McCoy's face.  "Doctor, d'you
mean..."
	(Author's Note:  Some gratuitous references coming up.  I have
done my best to reword them and summarize the offensive events,
substituting the female personalization with "it" as is proper, but --
why do people WRITE this smut in the first place??  Why can't they
write a version everyone can read?)  "They stole something, Sulu," the
doctor said gravely.  "I'm sorry -- I know how attached you were to
that."
	You don't know the beginning of it, Sulu thought.  "I'll be
all right, sir," he said, tamping down a spring of grief.
	McCoy smiled sadly and patted his patient's shoulder.  The
touch was soothing, and Sulu figured he would pull through -- after a
suitable period of mourning, life would have to go on.  "Rest
yourself, Sulu," McCoy said, and left the area.
	Sulu lay still, hardly able to believe that it was gone.
Gone.
	Then he had a telepathic contact with the thing that the
Klingons had stolen, and it died.
	Fighting a wave of nausea, Sulu sat up slowly to see Spock,
lying awake in the next biobed.  For the first time he noticed the
combined thrumming of the two beds; he wondered if the sound was
designed to be soothing.  It wasn't.  (Author's Note: Now what?
Smutty references to biobeds?  Is nothing sacred?)
	"Spock ..." he started.
	The Vulcan rolled over and looked at him with wide-open, 
anguished eyes.  "It is gone," he rasped.
	"No -- it is -- in me," he said carefully, not wanting to
upset Spock.  He needn't have worried; the Vulcan did not stir.  
	Carefully, he stood, and swung himself into a sitting position
on Spock's bed.  The thrumming became more rapid.  He took the 
semi-responsive Vulcan's hand and heard it speak to him.
	It spoke to Spock and told him that it had inhabited Sulu's
body so that they could have sex.  (Author's Note:  Even the *idea* is
icky!!!  Why can't this person just write straight Spock/Sulu?  Angie,
you're capable of *SO* much better than this.)
	Sulu unconsciously tightened his hand on Spock's; the Vulcan
sat up straight and gripped Sulu's arm with his other hand, as though
drawing strength from the man.  "I do not know if I can go on without
you," he said hoarsely.
	The two bodies were inches apart, but neither was quite aware
of the other; both were caught up in the voice of the thing.
	"I am afraid..."
	Sulu leaned forward just a tiny amount.  Sulu's lips found
Spock's.  The Vulcan's kiss was fierce and hot.
	It was Spock who broke the kiss off.  When he spoke, his voice

was rough.  "Good-bye, my one," he said.
	  Its voice faded into nothing
and disappeared, and then it was only Sulu and Spock sitting on a
plain, lonely bed in Sickbay.
	Spock looked at Sulu.  "Thank you," he said.  "That was very
-- unnecessary.  You have done us a great service."
	Sulu shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fuzziness of

being inhabited by another consciousness.  "I hardly know what I did,"
he said shakily.
	Spock hesitated.  "That is probably best, then."
	"She's gone, sir," Sulu said slowly.
	Spock nodded.  "I ... am certain 
I loved it."
	"As did I."
	"We shall continue with our lives, then," Spock said flatly.
	"Maybe someday we'll forget it," Sulu offered.
	Both men thought that possibility highly unlikely.

*********THE END.*********


Author's Note:  Let this revision be a lesson to you all.  Stories can
be rewritten in PERFECTLY understandable form with the s**********t
removed.  MAKE VERSIONS OF YOUR STORIES WITHOUT S**********T!!!  We
don't need to see that kind of filth, and if you *have* to be so
disgusting as to write it, have the common decency to write a version
everyone else can read.