Ballad Of The Red Shirts

We are part of the Away Team and we're on call to play just one scene.
It's for sure there'll be no encore, it's just not in the plot or scheme.
So, it's to the surface we must go; never to return, we know.
Non-essential, inconsequential...the ego takes quite a blow.

These five words are sure to bring gloom: "Report to the Transporter Room."
The future looks black and we're not coming back; they are sending us to our doom.
But it's to the surface we depart, albeit with a heavy heart.
Would be nice if just once or twice, they would give us a speaking part.

Kirk says, "Beam us down, Mr. Scott." Now you know we're going to get shot
Or blown away by some lethal ray, or get vaporized on the spot.
So, the surface holds no thrill for us; truth be known, it's perilous.
But they don't care that we don't have a prayer and refusal is mutinous.

It is sad but, nonethless, true that we're expendable in their view.
We all look the same and they don't know our names, we're just Team Members "One" and "Two."
Once we're on the surface, we can't win, but that's the way it's always been.
It's our fate to be alien bait just so Bones can say, "He's dead, Jim!"

Pity us for we're put upon and no one notices when we're gone.
We're never in luck...a sure sitting duck, 'cos our phasers are stuck on "stun."
On the surface we lay down our lives for the Starship Enterprise
And not once do they weep or lose any sleep or ask, "What happened to those guys?"

We can't help but feel we've been gypped; every week we get the same script.
Dare we surmise this one holds a surprise and our rear-ends will not get kicked?
How we wish the surface would explode, even for one episode,
With moments to spare before we got there, just so Spock would be buffaloed.

Maybe we're a touch paranoid, but would they do this to an android?
Bet they'd retrieve him, they wouldn't leave him to rust on some asteroid.
But upon the surface, we can rot...that bridge crew are a heartless lot.
No sad eulogy to our memory, no log entry 'cos Kirk forgot.

Guess that we don't have what it takes; fact is, we don't get any breaks.
We're diced, we're sliced and then sacrificed. No one else ever makes mistakes.
On the surface we are sure to be blasted to eternity,
But we've had enough, now it's time to get rough...time to dabble in treachery.

So, secretly we meet when we can to work on our takeover plan.
Revenge will be sweet but we must be discreet; bide our time and then play our hand.
To the surface we will beam....Guess Who? The major members of the crew.
Their shirts will be red and they'll soon be dead, while it's us who'll wear gold and blue.

Then, at warp speed out into space we'll engage with no time to waste.
Thrusters will thrust, you won't see us for dust, we will vanish without a trace.
To the surface of some hostile shore, we will have to beam no more
And we'll get the girls as the Enterprise hurls to where no man has gone before.

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