The Daily Isotope was able to obtain a partial draft of the script of the latest installment of the Star Trek franchise, Star Trek: The Umpteenth Iteration. We publish here what we obtained.

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La Forge: Captain, the enemy ship is about to fire on us.

Picard: Raise shields.

Worf: Sir, this will require more power than we can spend right now.

Picard: Divert power from the toilets.

Worf: The toilets? But…

Picard: I know very well that shit will back up into the ship, but we have no other choice.

Worf: Aye, aye, Captain! Diverting power from the toilets.

O’Brien [Through a communicator:] What are you doing up there? I was shitting!

Riker: [Testily:] The captain is keeping you alive so that you can shit another day.

O’Brien: Oh. Fair enough. O’Brien out.

[Hours later.]

Picard: Worf, status report.

Worf: The enemy has retreated. The ship is still intact, but all the decks are now enshittified.

Riker: Well, that explains the smell.

All: Ha ha ha ha ha ha…

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Troy: Worf, I find your stubbornness so alluring.

Worf: Among Klingons, such declaration amounts to a marriage proposal.

Troy: This is it, then. We are married. Let’s make a baby.

Worf: This does not seem advisable.

Troy: But I want it.

Worf: Among Klingons, mating involves spanking each other.

Troy: Spank me, Worf!

Worf: Very well. I am indeed stubborn, but your desire for a spanking convinced me that we should mate.

All: Ha ha ha ha ha ha…

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Dr. Crusher: Congratulations on your beautiful baby.

Troy: A baby would seriously eat into my ability to be on deck. What should I do?

Dr. Crusher: Don’t worry. I’m about to hit the reset button and that baby of yours will disappear. You will have never been married to Worf.

Troy: Must you?

Dr. Crusher: Yes, I must. Thus, have the writers decreed.

Riker: [Popping out from behind the couch:] Well, that explains the smell.

All: Ha ha ha ha ha ha…