Ensign Lovelyjugs is alive!

The space horn glorped cheerfully as the ensign in charge of things on the bridge that went beep gave it a three finger salute for the fourth time on her shift. "Captain, sir. Incoming call from one of our ships."

"On screen," Captain Seymour DickLogic grunted manfully. If it was about those parking violations he was going to do some serious science on their planet.

Fortunately for whichever planet it was, it was not. "Ah, there you are Captain. We seem to have run into a spot of bother with those dastardly Uglies. They managed to bend our Mansplainer drive and we are stuck in normal space until we can effect repairs which is a trifle tricky with a metric boatload of Uglies sniffing our exhaust like we didn't wipe properly."

"Captain Horatio Limp-Trousersnake, may I remind you that we are on a peaceful science mission and are currently thrusting manfully in the general direction of the Panchira Nebula. I am sorry to say this, but your Uglies are your problem." Captain Seymour DickLogic managed to convey the morose attitude of a planetary commander. "Have you tried calling starfleet?"

"You want me to beg for help, don't you DickLogic."

"No, I want you to go away, limp trousersnake. I have Science to do. You have a battleship, a few Uglies shouldn't require-"

"Damnation DickLogic, this is a code Paisley." The man on the other end of the space horn was turning funny colours, possibly even Paisley.

"Is that so?" Captain Seymour DickLogic noted drolly, "Weapons, code Paisley is worth how much on the intertubes?"

"A week on the planet of skirts for all the crew," Weapons officer Tiffany Bangbangbangbangkaboom answered instantly, "or over nine thousand cat videos!" she added after checking a screen.

"You bounder! No chance!"

"We're on a Science mission, the peaceful application of science, not war. I'm so sorry I won't be able to help you out with your moist problem. Perhaps Admiral Thick Richard can send you a few horribly beweaponed star-schooners?"

"You know darned well that Admiral Thick Richard's entire fleet was wiped out in the battle for the Bigwang System when the enemy fled under the command of the evil child prodigy Manko Maramangler countered his Cocknowledge maneuver successfully without losing a single ship."

Captain Seymour DickLogic furrowed his brow and glanced at the Weapons officer with a flick of his steely eyes. She was leaning over her instruments of peace and it was entirely clear that she was not wearing the regulation nappies under her extra taught blue space onesie. The poor material strained to hold in her assets as she checked for facts. "Oh no, that's news to me. Long science mission this, no buttlescut at all. I'm missing my favourite soap too."

"A week on the planet of skirts." Captain Trousersnake hissed angrly, gritting his teeth at the thought of the dent to his credibility.

"For all the crew."

"For all the crew."

"And the red shirts." Captain Seymour DickLogic was one of those few captains who appreciated their selfless sacrifice and he knew to throw them a boner to two.

"You filthy rotten scoundrel!"

"I can't hear you." Captain Seymour DickLogic reached for the disconnect button.

"And the red shirts." It looked like the captain on the other end of the space horn was about to have a heart attack.

"Roger that. Sound the Science Alert!" Captain Seymour DickLogic stopped lounging in his captain's chair. They had Science to do. The uglies would never know what hit them. "Might want to see a doctor captain, you look really unwell." He pressed the disconnect button, then the shipwide blower. "My Gallant Crew, Captain Horatio Limp-Trousersnake has kindly offered to pay for a week on the planet of skirts for every single person on board, even the ship's cat if we save his pimply butt from a few uglies. Yes, my crew, it's time for some serious science!" He took his finger off the button, "Helm, lay in a course, maximal thrusting. First officer, anywhere we can pick up a few hundred red shirts? Weapons, how much Science have we got on board?"

The HMS Upskirt dived into the sub-aether, faster, harder and thrustier as they headed for trouble and prepared to science the hell out of it.