Sulu frowned. “Captain … that weird space hand is back!”

Kirk stopped gropping Rand’s boobs and pushed her away. “It … couldn’t … have … waited … ten … minutes?” Rand snorted, “One would’ve done it.” Kirk shot her a nasty glance, then ordered Spock for a report.

“It has gripped the engineering hull, sir, and is bringing us into atmosphere.”

“Phasers!” (pause) “Torpedoes!” (pause) “Fire!” (pause) “Fire! … Sulu, full … reverse!”

“Ineffective, Keptin,” Chekov said from his targeting console, and Sulu reported engine strain and hull buckling.

“Cap’n, sair!” Scotty’s brogue came over the PA. “My poor bairns cannae take much more of this!”

“Uhura!” Kirk snapped. “What … the … hell … is … a … bairn?”

“I don’t actually know, sir. Maybe Scotty needs a helmet?” Uhura shrugged, and glanced at McCoy who stepped onto the bridge just as a particularly violent deck tremor threw him out of the turbolift and rolled him down the upper level. “Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a rag-doll!”

“Sir! On screen!” Sulu shouted.

Kirk squinted. “Is … that … a … beer … bottle?” And as a stage-whispered aside, “I’m … thirsty!”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock said, his eyes focused on the sensor scope on his station. “Domestic American beer.”

“Russian alcohol much better than American piss water,” Chekov confided to Sulu, who was forced to nod and replied, “You guys only drink vodka, right?”

“Contact in three … two …” Spock’s countdown drilled into the crews’ head. “Impact!”

There was a strange noise, like pressure being released, and the deck tilted back and forth a few times. “We’ve been released,” Spock continued. “Receiving telemetry from our probe, sir.”

“What … happened … to … us … Spock?” Kirk asked as Spock fed an image onto the monitor. He frowned, squinted, then admitted, “Well, hell … now … I … just … feel … used!”

Rock on Star Trek Bottle Opener! I feel like Apollo every time I open a beer.