Captain Seymour Dicklogic - Origins.

Previously, here on Captain Seymour Dicklogic, the acting captain ordered the release of Experiment Sixty to distract the Hive Collective and enable the HMS Upskirt to make good their escape.

Minor problem. Experiment Sixty is entirely unable to distinguish friend from foe. After all, it's an experiment, not a production ready prototype space debris disposal device.

"That redshirt survived the entire episode? Outstanding!"

FANFARE!

Captain Seymour Dicklogic surveyed the bridge of the HMS Upskirt, he was back! He was front! He was sides! The epitome of The Manliance's Manliness program. A thoroughly dishevelled acting captain Doktor Firm-Posterior shoulder ornament too. He put her down and she indicated that he should have the captain's easy chair and she would use the chaise longue next to it.

It was Dicklogic Time. He glanced around, furrowing his brow. It looked familiar, yet not. Much like when they had switched to colour. The pilot was still stoned and the comminucations plaything was having an Azure Hue. "This looks like one of those old Codpiece Class Battleships. Back when they built them to use the subspace drive. All the oak panelling was real wood too, none of that vat grown MDF."

Doctor Firm-Posterior stopped trying to sort out her hair, "Sir, the HMS Upskirt is a scientific research ship. Any resemblance to a classic ship of the line like HMS Incorrigible or HMS Crotch-Fire is entirely imaginary."

"And the eighty banks of missile launchers?" The captain pointed at the master-at-arms, the remarkably buxom Tiffany Bangbangbangbangkaboom and the entire wall of displays behind her. Not one of them indicating an Azure Hue.

"Imaginary. They're for launching scientific probes. Besides, we call them torpedoes nowadays. Ever since The Incident." The doctor was not sure what that incident was, but it had capital letters and it was in comic sans too, that meant it was serious and would need retconning.

"And the Azure Hue?"

"Experiment Sixty is likely upsetting the sensors, they are used to be coddled like millenials. The exciting radiations outside are probably triggering them." The Doctor mused, fortunately they could cure millenials with the new Type-R space-rabies shot.

"I am afraid our Communications Plaything Slime Dispenser doesn't know how to work our Science Officer."

"I'm trying ma'am!" Communications Plaything Slime Dispenser wibbled, she had drawn the curtains over most of the sensors but it was still getting to her.

"My mother used to say that to me too." Captain Seymour Dicklogic shrugged, if this was just like a codpiece class, then... "Press the three red keys on the panel just above the wibblascope. That usually works. Damn things are always Azure Hue of Dooming."

"Yes sir!"

BEEP!

"Have your science officer carted to his cabin for revivication. Now-" Captain Seymour Dicklogic stalled his brain, then grunted, pointing at the lovely bay windows offering a forward view. "What the hell is that?"

"Experiment Sixty."

AZURE HUE!

"Impressive CG, I could swear I just saw a giant goat eat an entire cosmonipple battleputter in one go."

"Far out, man." The pilot appeared to be deliquescing. "Goats man, giant yellow space goats~"

"Problem, how do we get away?" The Captain had no intention of being eaten by a giant yellow space goat, regardless of whether or not it was CG.

"We use the subaether drive." The Doctor offered, "Space Goats, I mean, experiment sixty does not have subspace capability at this time."

"What do space goats eat?"

"Spaaaaaaaace~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"

The captain grunted, "subaether drive this close to the deathstar will have unpleasant redecoration effects. We'll have to sneak out while those creatures are distracted. Turn left at that moon and follow that wreck."

"Captain..." someone was about to correct him about the nautical terms until he was distracted by a double whammy to the head.

"Third ship incoming, it's a Gazonga-Class Battleboob. Oh no! It's The Triumph!"

"The Triumph?"

"No, The Triumph! The one with the exclamation mark at the end that crashed all our databases back in series one."

"Oh." That was serious. "Point some science at it, they might have an autocock field projector. Those are dangly." The doctor offered.

"Scanning now," the master-at-arms looked at her eighty plus scientific probe dispensers and targetted them at The Triumph! it did indeed have a very large exclamation mark on the name.

Doctor Firm-Posterior leaned over to the Captain and showed him the cover of her script and an amazing bout of cleavage from her dishevelled uniform. Captain Seymour Dicklogic took the script and stared at the dire warnings on the front page. In bright red comic sans. He furrowed his brown, he clenched his fists, "What parsimonious flibbleblotter wrote this. Do not say: Fire Photon Torpedoes."

FOOM!

"If I want to say Fire Photon Torpedoes-"

MORE FOOM!

"then I will say Fire Photon Torpedoes."

MASSIVE FOOMAGE.

"The enemy are abandoning ship." Tiffany Bangbangbangkaboom reported.

The captain relaxed as the forward bay windows were filled with glorious fire as ships exploded everywhere. This was just like the good old days. Only with a couple of rampaging giant yellow space goats thrown in. Computer graphics was amazing. "Pilot, get us out of here!"

"Sir, yes sir! Ahead Standard by two."

Experiment fifty-nine was a dismal failure, giant yellow space beavers. They had damned up a star system and sent the insurance premiums into orbit around a different star.