No missiles in negotiate... none at all.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic furrowed his brow, it improved his thinkulator and enabled him to engage in articulate speech. It also made the women swoon.

Doctor Firm Posterior was already swooned out, she hid behind the Captain's Podium and hastily brushed her hair. It was in disarray from too much swooning.

"We have to negotiate." Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted manfully. It was very hard to tell if this was a question, a statement or an ejaculation.

"In person, on a spacebase, with a chamberpot." The junior communications officer needed fresh space nappies, this was her first time meeting the legendary captain of the HMS UpSkirt and she was terrified. Her remote control sensor on her wrist was warning her that her space nappies were 83% full and would detonate in less than five minutes at this rate.

"How many missiles in negotiate?"

The first officer took pity on the poor redskirt communications officer "None, sir."

"None."

"We checked very thoroughly. No missiles in Negotiate at all. We call them torpedoes now-"

"How-"

"none sir. No torpedoes, turbo lasers or well, to be brutally honest, nothing that explodes at all."

"Pass. Send someone else. Captain Richard for example." Captain Seymour Dicklogic never negotiated, he scienced the hell of the enemy, and then if he was feeling magnanimous, scienced them again for good measure.

The first officer hastily gestured to the doctor, who was now presentable despite the embarrassing stain. They used universal sign language that went something like: help! help! I'll give you my chocolate ration!

Doctor Firm Posterior emerged from hiding, hoping that people weren't looking at the embarrassing stain in her spandex doctor's uniform of uniformity. She also had three degrees in History, Archeology and Xenobiology. "Admiral Pencil Richard posthumously retired almost eighty years ago at the Battle of Blunt Object."

"But he was my age. We were in the same class in academy, he was always negotiating with the babes." Captain Seymour Dicklogic frowned manfully. "Just how long was I frozen?"

"I believe almost a hundred and fifty years," the doctor sat carefully on the captain's knee. Such relationships were frowned on in the fleet. His knee and her firm posterior!

"Doctor Firm Posterior, sickbay called, they have a type puce emergency." The communications officer whimpered, 94% and less than two minutes to live. She was the one about to have type yellow emergency.

"Firm Posterior?" Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted, manfully raising a single massive brow as he ejaculated the question. "What sort of a name is that supposed to be?" Then again.

"I'm really not sure, sir." The communications officer beeped sadly. ninety seconds to a type yellow emergency on the bridge.

"What's your name."

"Communications officer third class Slime Dispenser."

Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted his approval. Looking at the forward screen and their course for a second. The first officer, the absolute saviour of the bridge waved a pair of space nappies in one hand and then tossed them behind the captains chair. He was treated to a surprising view of naked communications officer as she managed to get the dangerously full ones off with seconds to spare.

"Where's that communications officer?"

"Here sir!" she saluted frantically, wearing only space booties.

"We will negotiate, in person." He glanced at her briefly. "fix your space booties, they are on the wrong feet. That causes accidents." That was all the attention her nudity received. The captain had no use for women, they weren't manly enough. "Dismissed." She scampered behind the chair and grabbed her uniform, fleeing out the rear exit used exclusively for emergency escapes. "First officer, find the master-at-arms and have her prepared to negotiate. Oh, and get this woman a battlesuit." He indicated the doctor perched on his knee. "Woman, bring your medikit and remain on standby."

"Yes sir, would you like the special negotiating uniform? It has no less than three ceremonial swords."

"No-"

"No. They are only ceremonial laser swords. The batteries only last fifteen minutes then they go blunt." The first officer extemporised.

"Kya!" Doctor Firm Posterior found herself displaced as Captain Seymour Dicklogic stood up. There was now an equally large embarrassing stain on his semi-demi-hemi formal morning uniform. What the hell was she going to wear, "Gundammit captain, I'm a Doctor not a-"

"It's negotiating time!" Captain Seymour Dicklogic ejaculated manfully. "Keep the torpedoes warm." He strode off the bridge, holding the doctor's hand and dragging her along too. "Kya times two!" she wailed.