Captain Seymour Dicklogic - Onions.

HMS Upskirt, acting captain Doktor Firm-Posterior pretending to command until the script writers man up and get us a real captain powered by real testosterone. Someone so thrusting, manly someone who can furrow their brow like a man, clench their fists like a man, grunt like a man-

"Grunt!"

"Nice try, Supernumary Officer C. Barbarian. Now put something on. A sock for example." The captain sighed, something she felt would more or less define this chapter of her miserable existence. Why their new captain had nominated her as a stunt double then run off to the legendary brothels of Oh-La-La was beyond her.

The Science officer glanced at his instrumentation. "Captain Ma'am, sensors are indicating an azure hue. This must be the right system."

"Implying that the legends were correct after all." Captain Firm-Posterior looked at her cheat-sheet taped to the back of the pilot's comfy chair. "The binary star of Meatantwoveg was the final battleground of Good versus Evil."

"Don't you mean the Manliance versus the Hive Collective," the First Officer pointed out.

"They put the milk in first."

"Good versus Evil. Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am."

Something whooped cheerfully, causing people to look around, "no cellphones on the bridge." The bosun grumbled.

"Sensors are picking up bursts of boobic energy to port. It must be that deathstar." Someone pointed, it didn't really matter who it was, but this time it was the bosun instead of the science officer, who was looking unpleasantly azure from too much staring at the sensors.

Communications Officer Fourth Class Slime Dispenser held out an official cosmogalacti barf bag just in case. It was brilliant eye searing green. "I have pink or yellow if you'd prefer sir."

"That's no deathstar, that's a moon," the captain frowned.

"But it's in Jane's book of space ships," the bosun held up the offending item, a real vintage cosmogalactikindle, "the puce edition!"

"Captain the azure hue is coming from that moon." The Science officer blinked at the gorgeous pink vision of a fourth class communications officer who was not azure, she didn't even have blue eyes. It was love at first sight. She was offering him a prize too, some sort of bag of holding.

"Excellent!" The captain declared declaratively, none of that tedious furrowing of fists or clenching of brows. "Bosun, you owe us an ice cream."

The Science officer recovered from the fabulous vision of barely restrained pointy bits enough to chime in, "Plutonium Nyborg."

"Two!" the vision of lovely pointy bits declared, holding the bag of holding steady. She patted the Science Officer on the back and closed the lid on the sensors to stop the azure hue making anyone else nauseous.

"Strawberry."

"Chocolate."

"Don't be ridiculous, where is he going to find Plutonium Nyborg out here, Science Officer." There was only groaning and other wretched unmanly noises in response.

"Hydroponics." Communications officer fourth class Slime Dispenser offered.

"Oh, oh. Right."

"Nyborg for me too," the pilot perked up.

The bosun sighed, still it could be worse, he could have been a Hive Collective spy. "Now?"

"Before the end of the episode. There's an advert break coming up." the first officer noted glumly. He wondered quite why a fourth class officer was on the bridge, but as she was keeping the Science Officer pre-occupied, well and good. The last thing they needed was more scat.

---

While you were away, the bridge crew are enjoying their ice cream and ready to land on the moon. However, the intense bursts of boobic energy from the moon are having an adverse effect on some systems and things are not working well.

"**!"

"Did you really just say **?" The pilot stared at the co-pilot in amazement.

"No, I think I've been autococked."

The Science Officer had bright orange sunglasses on and a communications officer sitting on his sensor. It helped an enormous amount. It didn't matter what colour the stupid sensors were, they were covered in sticky stuff. What did they make these costumes out of? "Captain, we appear to have entered an autocock field. Anything we say or doowop may be cheesed beyond carbonation. And it will git moister as we head deeper into the crotch."

"Excellent!" the captain's word of choice today, "finally the cheese nurse will be unintelligible!" She had issues with the skittish accent the Engine-room nurse had.

"Unintellect?"

"I no what you mena."

Communications officer fourth class Slime Dispenser spread her legs and looked, so that was what it was, "Sensors indicate an azure hue!" she primly put her knees back together, but having ones privates exposed to too much blue light was mildly unpleasant. It made her want to have a trumpet solo.

"There's a Hive Collander sloop over there with an unusual hairy arris. Could that be the sauce of the autocock field?"

"Very probably ma'am." The science officer was feeling Slime Dispenser, much better. "It appears to be a small fleet of hive ships, possibly they flowered us through hyper-beagle."

"We could destroy them," the master-at-arms suggested, Tiffany Bangbangbangkaboom was all about destruction, that and ice cream, which is why she had only been allowed strawberry.

Captain Firm-Posterior frowned, but soon stopped that as she didn't want wrinkles. What a shame the HMS Upskirt wasn't a battleship, but a science vessel. "I'm sorry, this is a science mission. It says so on my script that I'm totally not allowed to say things like "Fire photon torpedoes!" or "For Science!"

The ship trembled a bit as a volley of photon torpedoes arced off into the distance. "Oops, sorry." The master-at-arms wondered if she could use her posterior to fire the wave cannon.

"Might want to work on you prominence, I could wear you said you weren't supposed to say... IT." The bosun pointed at the ships on the radar, two of them winked out. Obviously a bug in the software.

FOOM!

"It? Oh, Fire all weapons! You mean?" The captain checked her script, it had a huge list of things she was not allowed to say

MORE FOOMAGE!

"For Science!"

EVEN MORE FOOMAGE!

"Ow, that's going to leave a mark."

"Totally, I think we're going to need an advert break." The captain noted. "I'm sure there were some ships on the radar, is the software acting up again?"

"Autocock field is collapsing."

TRUMPET SOLO!

"Communications officer, I hope you didn't break the sensors this time."