Well, crap. Just when you think you've annihilated one alien warship, it turns out the entire thing is a trap and that warp in space that ran their engines is playing merry hell with the impulse drive. Which is to say: the Enterprise is going down.
We crash-land on a snow-blasted landscape. Between this and the battle, 60% survive. And, in the distance, a valley, IR, and chlorophyll. We're here for the long haul, so we descend.
The deeper you go into this green gouge in a frozen iceball, the warmer it gets. Deeper down, the people who have lived her for centuries have adapted, settled. Which means a complex series of humanoid-sized tubes running down into the lake-sized spring. It's... a waterslide.
Some of the crew, tired, a little freaked out, and now giddy, and want to hop in.
"Speaking as your cultural officer, I'd advise against that. One: Prime directive. They have waterslides, but do they have warp? Two: Warp or no, these are obviously really important to them. Like, they're the only above-ground structure. They may be signif-"
The round of whoops and splashes goes to prove that you can lead a group of shell-shocked Ensigns to water but you can't make them stay out of it.
A few mornings later, Kirk knocks and enters the buried titanium wreckage turned bunker, in which my bedroom lies. I'm groggy. Since no one is listening to their cultural officer, I've been catching up on sleep.
Kirk gives me the bad news. They've been crucified.
"Okay. How can I help?"
Often, when a sci-fi movie comes out, my dreams will generate a version of it.
Like The Maxx says: "The shows in my head are always so much better."