Holy crap, I'm not nerd enough to follow all of this (and I mean "nerd" in a very loving and awe-filled way). And I haven't read this entire thread (23 pages !)
BUT, what about the ship given to the Fleet from a friendly alien species? You know, the one that is completely bio-engineered? Has someone already got dibs on that one?
If so, I call the crappy, younger brother of the Fleet. The one that used to be a rogue pirating vessel, but was finally caught by the Fleet, and was bullied into joining. What it lacks in equipment, it makes up for in the spunk and unorthodox tactics found in the crew.
Aus der Dunkelheit
Originally Posted by LostInThought7
The Flemster, rather confused, shook his head clear and settled into his chair as the Battleship Galacticock entered the upper atmosphere of Earth, leaving a really long fire trail behind it. It soon broke through into the clear blue skies over the Atlantic Ocean and began heading for New York.
The Flemster, wondering just what timeframe this whole thing is set in, hesitated before ordering the computer to show him the fast-approaching city...
The computer bleeped to life. "Radar contact established. Bearing zero zero two, constant heading."
"On screen." The Flemster ordered.
The giant screen switched to a view of what was, unmistakably, Santa Claus in his sled, heading towards New York to spread Xmas joy and stuff.
"Arm forward batteries. Destroy that target."
The computer chimed it's acknowledgment. There was a muted thud as the forward facing gun batteries fired a salvo. The sled erupted in a fireball, raining bits of reindeer, fat man and presents down over the Lower Hudson Bay area.
"Target destroyed. 100% success." the computer reported.
"Sweet. Carry on original course. And hurry up. I need a shit." The Flemster ordered.
Master of the Dark Arts
Free of hyperspace, Exile's windows transitioned back to their transparent state and the ship's sensors swept the surrounding space. Within moments every star and every gravity well was matched against a series of onboard databanks.
Sirius did not need the ship to tell him where he was; Jupiter was difficult, no, impossible to miss. He let his eyes rest briefly on the slowly growing disc. A braking maneuver to enter orbit here would likely kill anyone on board, but Jupiter was not his destination.
"News," Sirius stated more than ordered as he reached for a drink. For purely psychological reasons, hyperspace jumps always made him thirsty. As he sipped the red sugary concoction, he burst into laughter at the first headline to skim across the holographic display.
'RUDOLPH'S LIGHT GOES OUT' read the headline. 'Santa's sleigh shot down over the Lower Hudson Bay area.'
"Merry Christmas Exile, Merry Christmas," chuckled Sirius.
"Merry Christmas Sir," replied Exile's AI.
Sirius always appreciated the human tone of Exile's AI but was also now happy he had kept most of the emotion chip's features switched off. He imagined his ship would be quite pissed with him otherwise: A Centauri pirate vessel had gutted the outer plating of the starboard sublight engine and disabled one of the laser batteries before being disseminated by Exile's pulse blasters. It probably didn't help that even before the attack the hyperdrive was long overdue for servicing, taking almost twice as long to charge before making a jump.
Through a combination of hand gestures and thoughts, Sirius plugged in orders for the ship to brake into Earth orbit and put in at a SciForums space dock. Aside from a New Year's servicing, he would take the opportunity to look around: He had not been to these parts in several years.
As the vast, sprawling metropolis of New York began to fill his viewscreen, The Flemster experienced one of his rare 'sixth sense' moments. A strange, sub-cockle, gut-bubbling feeling that wasn't, for once, the result of a dodgy takeaway.
"Computer," he shouted, "Check the surrounding area for ships."
There was the briefest of pauses before, "There are currently seven thousand four hundred and sixty nine vessels in my scanner range."
"Discount surface ships and recalculate." The Flemster said, leaning back, Kirk-style, feeling he was on to something.
"There are currently one hundred and two vessels in my scanner range."
"Computer, discount anything without orbital or deep space capabilities and recalculate."
A slight pause again before; "There is one vessel currently in my scanner range."
"What is it and where is it now?" The Flemster asked.
"The SSS Exile is currently docking at Sciforums SpaceDock in La Grange orbit."
"Noinch!" The Flemster exclaimed, "Another ship! Sweet!"
He lept to his feet, scratching his arse without even realising it. "Computer! Set course for Sciforums SpaceDock, maximum speed!"
The mighty Battleship Galacticock roared about in a long arc, barely 100 feet above the waters of Hudson Bay, a massive plume of filthy water being shot up in it's wake. The nose of the massive ship pointed skywards and the huge and fucking noisy engines exploded into life, shattering every window in New York, as the formidable ship lept towards the clouds.
On the bridge, The Flemster settled into his jumpchair, unused to the acceleration.
"Computer, open a comms channel to the Exile!" he shouted above the roar.
The computer chimed. "Communication channel open, Captain."
"Sciforums Space Ship Exile, this is the Battleship Galacticock, do you read? Over."
Last edited by The Flemster; 12-27-09 at 03:52 AM.
Reason: spelling mittake
Master of the Dark Arts
Sirius stared out of a rear portal as his needle-nosed starship backed into the spacedock on autopilot. He was taking a second look at the shredded armor plating of the starboard sublight, and made a note to Exile to ensure the repair bots saw to that as a matter of priority. Beyond the ship, glowing blue and beautiful against the black of space, was the Earth.
"Sir," said Exile's AI, "Incoming transmission from Battleship Galacticock."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. Entering spacedock was usually a matter of computers swapping credentials and slipping into a docking station without human intervention. "Patch it through," he said.
Without delay he heard the crystal clear transmission of another voice and an image of the approaching vessel materialized inside the viewport with some basic stats. "This is Sirius of the starship Exile," he said, "To whom am I speaking?"
Last edited by Sirius83; 12-28-09 at 05:26 PM.
Aus der Dunkelheit
With the SSS Aggressor built I can finally take command. Captain Omega reads todays New York Times and is happy to find Santa Claus' Sled sunk in the Hudson. "Captain The Flemster must not have Christmas spirit" Omega said jokingly. "Let's take this thing out for a test drive" the Captain ordered. The Pilot at the helm said nervously "Yes Sir". And with that the Aggressor took off for Mars.
The Flemster was just about to give up trying to hail the Exile when suddenly, the computer pinged.
"Captain, incoming transmition from the SSS Exile." the computer said in it's dulcet tones.
"Patch it through." he ordered.
There was a momentary delay, then; "This is Sirius of the starship Exile," he said, "To whom am I speaking?"
To whom am I speaking??? thought The Flemster. Just how long had he been in hypersleep anyway? How could this Sirius bloke not have heard of the only survivor of the massacre of 3004?
The Flemster pressed the button on his armrest that had a little phone handset logo on it, assuming it was the comms switch.
"This is Space Admiral The Flemster, bsc., ssc., captain of the Battleship Galacticock. I am aproaching SpaceDock and will shortly be docking. I demand you deactivate all your offensive weapons, as I do not have hostile intentions. Do you understand?"
There was a pause. Then a slightly croaky and obviously very nervous Indian voice came over the speakers.
"Er, hello? This is Microsoft Customer Support. What operating system are you to be having problems with please thankyou?"
The Flemster was baffled. "Computer!" he shouted.
"Yes yes sir," the voice over the speakers replied, "your computer system is what? Yes?"
"Shut up." The Flemster said. "MY computer! What is this and who is this womble?"
"Hello sir? Sir?" the voice said again.
"Captain," the ship's computer finally answered, "you have activated tech support for the ship's media library. Is there a problem?"
As The Flemster tried to get his still-groggy head around this, the speakers spoke again with the tinny voice from Mumbai. "You have problem with Media Player?"
"No, look just shut up and--" The Flemster began.
"Have you tried switching it off and on again sir? Hello?"
The Flemster stabbed at the little button over and over but this did nothing.
"Hello sir? Sir? Can you hear me sir?" the voice repeated.
For some reason, The Flemster went from confused to furious in a mere second. "Computer! Track the source of that voice. Then I want you to"
"Hello sir? Please to be saying hello sir?"
"SHUT FUCKING UP!!!" The Flemster screamed, jumping up and down.
"Please to be can you hearing me please sir?" the voice insisted.
The Flemster actually broke into a sweat, despite the cool surroundings of the bridge. His still-dirty arse was really itching now and this galvanised his mind to focus.
"Galacticock computer. Fire a really big missile at the source of that phone call. How copy?" he ordered.
"Captain, I have-" the computer began.
"Hello sir? Excuse me sir?"
"-ten CityBuster missiles in the lower silo."
"Yep, that's fine. Fire em all." The Flemster replied, digging at his spacetrousers, trying to relieve the itching around his bottom.
"Captain, one missile will destroy the location the telephone call is eminating from 100%." the computer said, in it's neutral tone.
"Understood. Fire em all anyway. Just in case." he said.
"Captain, ten CityBuster missiles will destroy the city of Mumbai and irradiate the surrounding countryside for approximately 50 miles in every direction, allowing for prevailing local weather patt--"
"JUST FUCKING DO IT!" The Flemster exploded.
There was a pause, almost silent save for the tinny voice over the speakers, "Hello sir please?".
Underneath the mighty warship, a section about the size of a football field lowered and spun around, revealing ten red-nosed, glistening missiles, each the size of a grain silo. They seemed to tremble for a moment before they all roared away from the ship in quick succession. In moments, they were entering the Earth's upper atmosphere.
Up on the bridge, The Flemster turned his attention to the speakers. "Are you there?"
"Yes sir hello please? What operating system are you using please thankyou." the voice insisted.
Calmly, The Flemster responded; "I'm sending you something. You should get it in about..."
The Flemster turned his attention to the viewscreen, where the computer had switched to a camera showing the Indian subcontinent. A series of blinding flashes erupted in close succession, just as the speakers emmited a little squeak and died.
"Target destroyed captain. Civillian casualties estimated at over four hundered million."
"Small price to pay." The Flemster muttered, settling back into his command chair. "Computer, you best do it this time. Open a hailing frequency to the SSS Exile, would you?"
"Yes captain." BEEP! "Hailing frequency open, captain."
The Flemster sighed to calm himself.
"SSS Exile, this is Space Admiral The Flemster aboard the Battleship Galacticock. My intentions are not hostile. Unless you work for Microsoft Customer Support. I am just about to begin docking procedures at SpaceDock. Would you care to join me in the Star Bar on level 69 of the main hub? I'll buy you a beer. Oh, and for some reason, the whole station is deserted."
He was about to give the order to sign off when he rememebered something else.
"Oh, and I'd stay out of the hypersleep chamber if I were you! The Flemster out."
The Flemster's gaze turned to the main screen, now showing the massive bulk of SpaceDock. There was a thin, pointy and sleek looking ship docked at one of the docking arms.
"Not a bad looking ship..." The Flemster mused.
Just then, the computer piped up again. "Captain, I'm reading a ship launch from Earth."
"Identify." he ordered.
There was the customary pause while the computer did it's thing. Then, "Captain, the ship is designated SSS Aggressor. Current heading Mars."
The Flemster rubbed his forehead as he thought of his options.
"Computer, send them this: SSS Aggressor, this is Space Admiral The Flemster aboard the Battleship Galacticock, currently docked at SpaceDock Earth. It's up to you but a few of us are going for a beer here and you're welcome to come with."
"Message sent, captain." the computer replied.
"Good. Take us in then." he ordered.
The mighty and fearsome ship slowed it's progress and began manouvering under thrusters as it began it's final approach to the fucking huge space dock.
Last edited by The Flemster; 12-29-09 at 05:43 AM.
Master of the Dark Arts
"Admiral The Flemster," said Sirius. He knew the name sounded familiar. "My weapons are already deactivated; they are for defense only." He watched the projection within the viewport as a set of weapons launched toward the Earth.
"Sir -" said the computer, but Sirius cut it off.
"I saw it. What was the target Exile?"
"Microsoft Tech Support in Mumbai," was the response.
Sirius scratched his chin. "I never liked those guys anyway. Reopen a channel to the Galacticock." There was a momentary delay before he spoke again. "Captain The Flemster, I will be happy to join you."
As he began to head toward the exit, Sirius gave Exile one more instruction: "Take care of things. Get those repair bots moving on the armor plating...and make sure they service the hyperdrive!"
Then Ralph said "Why is all this happening to me? I just wanted to be left alone."
Alec said "When you stepped on that boat you guaranteed your impending doom with a garlic fork"
Ralph said "What the hell is a garlic fork"
- "It's an italian thing"
- "I'm Irish"
Ruth came in all flustered and bothered
"Both of you shut up about the damn fork"
The scene fades out to the entrance music to The Bold and the Beautiful while Ruth is clapping.
On the vast and deserted bridge of the Galacticock, The Flemster listened, confused, as the computer relayed the latest message recieved.
"Computer, what the fuck was that all about?" The Flemster asked.
"Captain, I am a 9th generation Self-Absorbing A.I., with a quantum memory equal to 300 populations. But I haven't a sodding clue."
The Flemster mused this over for a moment. He then shook his head clear of this obscure distraction. "Computer, let the Exile's computer know we'll be docked in, how long?"
"39 seconds, captain."
"39 seconds. I'll be in the bar on level 69 of the main hub, if you need me." he ordered, standing up.
The Flemster strode towards the doors that led out onto the main corridor.
"Plot me a route that takes me past some bogs, would you? My nipsy is killing me! Send it to my phone."
Ten minutes later, The Flemster was marching down yet another non-descript walkway that made up the maze that is SpaceDock Earth. He was looking at his phone, a Nokia Fandango XP5000, trying to follow the map route his computer had sent him. He could see the pub off in the distance but, as per his instructions, the route was taking him towards the medical deck and the large collection of toilets there.
It had been quite some time since he'd had his anal accident in the Hypersleep Chambers and his arse must be red raw by now. He daren't look, as he was rather squeamish. Instead, he hurried along, trying to ignore the growing discomfort caused by the chaffing around his gentleman's vegetables.
Another 20 minutes later and The Flemster arrived at the toilets. He rushed in and crashed in through the first cubicle.
"FUCK!" he shouted.
He was in one of them new fancy crappers. The ones with the three seashells, like in Demolition Man. He was old school and didn't really know how to use this set up, so he went along the row of bogs, kicking each door open until he finally found a 'classic' toilet.
He dropped trou and sat down, having a girl's piss, more out of exhaustion than anything else. He managed to squeeze a few turds out for good measure, each one landing with an echoing plip plip plop. Feeling he was empty at last, he grabbed a bunch of dusty bog roll and had a good wipe around his sore arse. The pain was quite excrutiating but, after checking each time, he could see he really needed the paperwork. After nearly a whole roll, each one slowly getting less and less brown, he was done. His arse was incredibly painfull now but it was clean. What he really needed now was some Space Babywipes to sooth his raw starfish.
Using the number his computer gave him, he called the ship and asked the computer to send him a route to get some arsewipes. A moment later and the phone chimed to say the route had been updated.
The Flemster left the fetid cubicle and washed his hands. He stared at the phone screen and, gathering his bearings, set off once more.
3 hours later, The Flemster arrived at, what the phone said, was his destination. He was quite desperate now to get his exhaust pipe cleaned, as the pain was reaching untollerable levels. He stood before some chrome doors. Then he read the sign above the door and his heart sunk.
"Oh fuck me..." he muttered.
He pulled the front of his space tunic up over his nose and went in.
There were piles of rancid, dried shit everywhere, as well as lakes of stagnant piss. The stench was overpowering, as was the sense of irony that this is where the Space Babywipes were kept. He soon spied a pack and staggered against the reek over towards them.
45 minutes later, a newly-fresh The Flemster strode with purpose towards the doors of the Star Bar. He burst through, only to find the place empty. Sirius must not have got here yet. Fair enough, he thought, I'll line em up.
He went behind the bar and turned on the RoboBarman. It came to life with a clunk and a click and began wiping the glass it was already holding.
"Greetings sir. Please select a personality for this unit."
"...for the love of fuck..." The Flemster muttered, wishing things were simpler, "Er, I dunno. what are the options?"
"Sir, I have five options: Factory standard, London barman, New York barman, Las Vegas waitress or gay Martian smoothiemaker."
"Um... let's go with London barman then." The Flemster decided.
There was a small beep from the robot. Then, "Alrite guv? Whatcha want?"
"Better. I'm expecting a mate in a bit, so give us some lagers and some whiskey chasers, would you?"
"Yeah orite," the robot replied, gliding off to get the drinks, "...fackin spacesuited nonce...".
The Flemster didn't hear the robots mutterings, which was lucky, given his famous short temper. Instead, he took the nearest table that afforded him a view of the doors. He settled down to wait for Captain Sirius, taking out a Space Benson and his lighter.
"OI!" the robot shouted, "No fackin smokin' in 'ere, you caaant! New laws, innit? I'll lose me fackin license!"
Feeling he really couldn't be bothered, The Flemster simply put the cigarette and lighter down and awaited the historic meeting he'd been yearning for for many years...
Last edited by The Flemster; 12-31-09 at 07:02 AM.
Reason: piss-awful spelling.
Aus der Dunkelheit
As the SSS Aggressor sped to Mars a message came on. "Patch it through." "Yes sir" said enseign Jack. Omega listened to the invitation to the Star Bar. "Well it's been a while since I had a good drink. I wonder if they have good Rum there". "Mr. Jack set a course for Earth." "Aye aye Captain!"
About an hour later Earth's upper atmosphere.
"We are entering the atmosphere, Sir". "Good, prepare to dock at the Space Port." The Aggresor begins decent over the nation of India. The crewman at the scanner picked up radioactive gas. "Strange, it seems that Microsoft Tech Support and the city of Mumbai are completely gone." "It's a dream come true; now if only the telemarketer headquarters could "Mysteriously" go away. They keep calling and trying to sell me a Snuggie. What is a Snuggie anyway?"Omega said. "Sir we are docking." "Thank you I can find my way to the bar." The enseign at comms reports that the telemarketers are calling to sell us a smoothie machine. "That may be good for casual Friday; Keep them on hold until I come back."
Inside the pub.
"You must be the legendary Captain The Flemster." "They are teaching about you at the academy." "I'm Captain Omega. It's an honor to meet you."
The Flemster stood up, a bit wobbly thanks to the 13 AstroGuinnesses he'd sunk, and took Omega's hand, shaking it vigourously.
"Welcome mate! I can't tell you how good it is to see people at last! I've been in hypersleep for so bloody long, I was starting to think I was the only one left!"
Omega smilled politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, captain." he replied.
"Right," The Flemster siad, "that's that out of the way. We're still waiting for the Exile's captain to get here, so I say we have a drink. What'll it be?"
Omega walked over to The Flemster's table, the only one occupied in the huge but empty bar, and sat down. The Flemster joined him.
"I'm quite partial to a nice rum." Omega said.
The Flemster seemed to explode into life. "Rum! Excellent! My favourite!"
The Flemster turned to face the RoboBarman. "Oi! Barkeep!"
The robot raised it's featureless head in his direction. "What?"
"What rum you got mate?" The Flemster asked.
"All of em pal." the robot replied.
"Sweeeeet..." The Flemster muttered. He mused for a second, trying to recall the best rum he'd ever had. Then it came to him. "Barman, bring us three glasses and a couple of bottles of Brugal Extra Viejo, would ya?"
"You have to come and get em, mate, I can't leave the bar." the robot replied.
Twenty minutes later, the two brave space captains were quite hammered, laughing and joking about all matters trivial. Omega had just finished telling The Flemster about his troubles with telemarketers and how he wished they could vanish like the Microsoft Tech Support people did.
"Ah!" The Flemster drunkenly exclaimed, "I can do something about that!"
"No, it's okay..." Omega began but The Flemster waved him away as he activated his phone.
"Computer, you there?" he slurred.
The computer aboard the Galacticock's voice came through the many hidden speakers in the bar, confusing both men. "Captain, I am patched into the station's internal communications systems. You no longer require your handset." the soothing voice said.
"That voice sounds familiar..." Omega mused.
"Does a bit, doesn't it?" The Flemster agreed, not having really noticed it before. "Computer, what voice are you using?" he asked.
"Captain, my current voice package is Joanna Lumley."
"Never heard of her." both men said in unison.
"Joanna Lumley, actress and political campaigner. Born 1946, India. Died 2023, London. Famous for--"
"Shut up." The Flemster ordered. "Computer, how many of them city fucker missiles have we got left?"
"CityBuster missile compliment: zero, captain." the disembodied voice replied.
"Bollocks." he muttered.
"Really, it's not that big a prob--" Omega began.
"No no no," The Flemster interrupted, "I've got it covered, trust me."
He walked over to the bar to get yet another bottle of Brugal from the RoboBarman, running options through his booze-soaked mind. "Computer, I want you to locate and target every telemarketing company on Earth. Then destroy them all. Armament at your discretion. Weapons free order is given. How copy?"
There was a pause, then "Solid copy, captain."
Both men stumbled over to the huge viewing window that afforded them a view of the immense Battleship Galacticock, as well as the crescent of the blue planet below. Hundereds of panels and hatches opened along the huge ship's flank, revealing a myriad of guns and missiles. Both men looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
"I know fuck all about my ship," The Flemster said, "I've only just got it!"
They returned their view to the window, just in time to see a wall of death unleashed from the ship. The station rocked and vibrated under the unleashed hell that was, erm, unleashed from the Galacticock. Contrails entered the atmosphere and dispersed in every direction, then disapeared from view. Nothing happened at first. Then small white flowers began to appear all over the world. Hundreds of them. Soon, they all died out and the computer's voice came over the speakers again.
"Captain, four thousand, nine hundred and sixty nine targets destroyed. Casualties estimated at over five hundred million."
Omega looked stunned. The Flemster slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "There you go! Problem solved! Now, lets get to that rum!"
The Flemster staggered back to the table, leaving Omega at the window, still in shock...
Last edited by The Flemster; 01-02-10 at 04:09 AM.
Reason: hungover spelling errors
Aus der Dunkelheit
Omega walked drunk as a sailor back to the table with a bottle of Rum in one hand and a bottle of Tequila in the other. Just as he sat down he grabbed the trashcan and threw up in it. "Sorry about that I forgot about the worm in the Tequila". "So when is Captain Sirius supposed to be getting here? He's missing one heckuva good time." "You know I haven't had this much fun in quite a while."
The Flemster finished pissing in what he thought was a urinal. It was actually the RoboBarman's pocket.
"Dun---dunnn--dunno..." he slurred, swaying badly as the booze invaded his brain, "He wasssh on hizzz way a while ag-g-go."
The RoboBarman, dripping with piss, called over to the two men. "Oi! That's yer lot. You've had too much and I'm covered in piss, so either sober up or fuck off!"
The Flemster frowned at Omega. "S-s-shober up? How the f-f-f-FUG are we shposed t' do that?"
The bar's speakers piped up again with the voice of the Galacticock's computer. "Captains, I have been monitoring your progress. You are both heavilly inebriated. The Star Bar has SobeAir technology. Would you like me to activate it?"
Omega fell off his stool, landing amongst the many empty rum bottles. "Sho bear?" he slurred.
"Cmmm pew," The Flemster said, clearly on his last legs, "...waa... fug you talkin bout?"
The Flemster violently threw up, the fetid shower of rum, Guinness and Galactic Pork Scratchings erupted over the RoboBarman, who immediately blew a fuse and shut down. The Flemster then collapsed in a heap on the floor. There was a loud and long trumpeting noise as he shat his pants.
Omega, giggling like a schoolgirl, pointed at The Flemster and passed out himself.
Silence descened on the bar, punctuated only bar the occaisional fart from The Flemster.
The computer on The Galacticock sighed. It opened a hailing frequency to the Aggressor. "Attention SSS Aggressor, this is the Battleship Galacticock, under computer command. Captain The Flemster and Captain Omega are unconcious due to massive alcohol intake. I am in sync with SpaceDock Earth's systems and I can remotely operate the Star Bar's SobeAir program. Do I have your authority to proceed?"
Aus der Dunkelheit
"This is acting Captain Jack(He's just an enseign when i'm there). You have my full authorization the code to the SobeAir lock is:12345. Do you copy?" "I copy the computer said." Just then inside the StarBar a rush of air came in. "Dang it all he ruined a good..uh...uh what's the word?.....drunkeness?" "Whooo I lost a few brain cells on that one."
As the exotic mix of chemicals and pure oxygen filled the bar, The Flemster climbed to his feet, feeling strangely sober. He saw Omega doing the same, slipping and sliding amongst the empty bottles.
"What happened?" Omega asked.
"Not sure. Last I recall was taking a piss then it all went black." The Flemster replied.
"And what IS that smell?" Omega said, wrinkling his nose.
The Flemster knew what it was. It was the all too familiar pong from his trousers that accompanied all his drinking missions. "Erm, dunno. Probably a side effect of that sober air thing. Never mind that anyway. What say we take our ships out for a spin?"
"Sounds good." Omega answered.
Both men wandered back towards the docking arms, The Flemster keeping a discrete distance behind Omega.
Omega reached his docking arm. Through the viewports, the men could see the Aggressor attached to the station, all sleek and speedy-looking. "This is me. Talk to in a minute, The Flemster." he said, turning down the long connecting tunnel.
The Flemster's arse was starting to itch already. "Yep, speak in a bit. Just gotta... you know, take care of something."
The Flemster headed for the toilets again, dialling the computer as he did.
"Computer, you there?"
"Yes captain." the voice said through the speakers that seemed to be everywhere.
The Flemster looked angrilly at his phone, shut it off and put it in his pocket. "Computer, I'm popping in the bogs to sort meself out. Get the ship ready to leave, would ya?"
"Affirmative captain." the voice replied. "Captain, when you are refreshed, would you care to make a stop at the resupply deck?"
The Flemster reached the toilet deck and walked in. "Where is it and why?"
"It is one deck above your current location. That is where it was placed during construction."
The Flemster mouthed the word 'what???' before realising. "No you donut, why do you want me to go there?"
"There is a system that I can't access, due to security protocols. It will allow the automated restocking of my weaponary."
The Flemster found the classic style cubicle and gingerly lowered his trousers. As he suspected, his Astrogusset was filled with shit. "Arse..." he wispered. He sat down on the pan and began climbing out of the ruined clothes.
"Captain?" the computer prompted.
"Uh, yeah, yeah. Restocking thing." he replied, absent-mindedly. "Do we need it then?"
"Yes captain," the voice purred, "I am down to just twenty five percent of my offensive weaponary ammunition."
"Yeah? Oh, all right. Better get some more then. Hey, computer?"
"Is there anywhere on here I can get some new clothes?"
A pause, then, "No captain. There are no facilities on SpaceDock Earth for resupply of clothing."
"Right..." he answered, kicking his trousers and pants under the partitioning wall and into the next cubicle. "What about on the Galacticock?"
"Yes captain. I have basic uniform stocks."
The Flemster wiped his arse clean and stood up, naked save for boots and a tunic top. "Brilliant! Sort me out some clothes then. I'll be there soon." he said, flushing the toilet.
"One last thing, run a scan and make SURE there's no one on this station will you?"
There was a slight pause. "Scan complete. Sensors show you are the only lifeform aboard SpaceDock Earth."
"Awesome..." The Flemster muttered.
He strode proudly out of the toilets and headed for the stairs that led up to the deck above, his tiny willy wobbling from side to side as he walked. He felt strangely okay with it.
Aus der Dunkelheit
Captain Omega returned to the bridge to see everyone staring at him. "Well? Carry on." "Sir we are preparing to break dock." "Very well, I'll be in my quarters changing my clothes." "Mr. Jack you have the bridge." Omega walked into his quarters to change his rum-stenched clothes. As he did the ship broke dock and headed for an orbit above Earth waiting for Captain The Flemster.
Master of the Dark Arts
(During the entire bar fiasco...)
Stepping clear of Exile's docking ring, Sirius inhaled the stale air of the dock. "Strange," he said to himself. Every step he took echoed through the empty hallways. He remembered what Captain The Flemster had said about the dock being empty but at the time did not expect it was meant literally.
"Exile old gal," said Sirius, tapping his collar button, "Send me a map of the dock on my communicator."
"One moment Sir," said Exile's AI. "Done."
Sirius flicked a finger over a device looking every bit like a watch and a hologram of the spacedock illuminated over his wrist. Following its directions, Sirius climbed onto the lower levels and began walking to the bar. He never made it. Distracted by the blue glow of the Earth out of the viewports, there was a dull thud and Sirius dropped to the floor, his head throbbing.
Some time later, Sirius sat up and looked around. His head was still dazed but he had no idea how much time had passed. "What kind of a Neptunian dimwit designed this place?!"
"Exile where am I?"
"Outside the weaponry Sir. Are you alright?"
Sirius sighed and decided not to even bother answering. The ship could track his biometrics and knew damned well that he was alright, and would be telling him if he wasn't. "How are the repairs going?"
"We still have valid credit at this dock. Raw material has been acquired and hull plating is being fabricated in-place right now. The hyperdrive is almost finished and I need a new charging mechanism for the damaged laser battery. You can get that where you are now. Dock protocols state that..."
"I know, I know, the captain has to authorize all weapons purchases, I'll handle it...soon as I go meet Captain The Flemster."
"Sir," said Exile matter of factly. "You were out long enough that Captain Omega of the SSS Aggressor docked and met with Captain The Flemster. They became intoxicated and are currently unconscious in the bar. You will not be missed at the present time."
Sirius grumbled under his breath and strode into the weaponry, keeping an eye peeled for any more awkwardly placed beams. "You," he said sharply. "Weapons droid. I need a laser battery charging unit. Starship Exile." He planted his palm on the reader and let the system retrieve all the required data.
"Affirmative." said the droid. "In Stock. Confirm transaction?"
"Transaction approved. Parts in transit to Starship Exile, Dock A23."
Deciding to check on the repairs while the other Captains recovered, Sirius made his way back aboard and ensured the dock's semi-intelligent repair monkeys did what they were supposed to.
Upon learning of the other captains' regaining consciousness and SSS Aggressor's departure, Sirius put through an apology transmission. "Sorry I couldn't make it. I was on the dock but let's just say there was a slight incident near the weaponry involving some piss poor construction. Where are you heading now? Perhaps I can rendezvous with you as soon as my repairs are completed. Couple more hours at most."