Saved by a mad cutie.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic looked relaxed, he did not furrow his brow, clench his fists or grunt manfully. They had made the mistake of getting off the ship at a minor base full of bureaucrats and the first thing they had done was take their phasers off them. It was not a time for anger, it was a time for rational thinking and plotting revenge the moment they escaped.

"Have you ever captained when drunk?" The Prosecuting Lawyer asked, like ancient judiciaries of yore, he had a wig, unlike them, it was a bright green mohican almost as long as his arm. He was so important he had a name, Prosecution Lawyer Felching von Felch, it was overdue for an upgrade, if he could get his conviction quota in this month, then he could upgrade to a double-barreled Felch-Meister. This was nothing compared to the judge, who had a special quadruple height door just for his judicial mohican. The Judge was also important, but they had forgotten his microphone and taped over the mute button on his gavel.

"The correct term is: commanded." Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted politely.

"Have you ever commanded when drunk?" The prosecuting lawyer repeated. He was paid by the hour and could afford all these delays, at least until his medication ran out. Five minutes tops.

"Drunk on what, exactly? Please be more specific." Captain Seymour Dicklogic politely requested clarification while wondering if the mohican was a smokeless wig or not.

"You're being evasive."

"Thank you for your advice." Captain Seymour Dicklogic smiled agreeably. Half the jury swooned from the karmic impact of his perfect pearly whites, the other half wanted to have his baby, right now.

"To re-iterate. Have you ever commaned a ship while drunk. Typically but not specifically on alcoholic beverages." The Prosecution Lawyer's mohican was changing colour! "Specifically, you stand accused of-"

"Actually, I am seated. But at least you are getting specific now."

"Sit accused of being drunk in command of the HMS Upskirt in the orbital station of Fondlemycrankshaft at or about 0200 hours cosmogalactitime on the thirty-seventh of Fructose."

Captain Seymour Dicklogic arched an eyebrow, a difficult thing for his massive craggy brown. "But this year, Fructose has only thirty-six days."

"It does not!" The Prosecuting Lawyer could taste victory, an incorrect assumption on the behalf of the accused. "Fructose has thirty-eight days this year due to the alignment of the Grootinux in the Blinge of Crunion!" He declared angrily.

"No need to shout. I have excellent hearing." The Captain observed manfully. "Wait. Does that mean I have to wait an extra day for my birthday?" He turned to Doctor Firm-Posterior sitting next to him. She smiled disarmingly.

"Me too." She announced in her sexy doctor's voice. Half the jury wanted her to have their baby, the other half sharpened their nail-files.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic calmly noted a discolouration on the opposite wall. "So, asssuming that I was, to some unspecified degree, drunk on some unspecified but likely alcoholic substance at or around 0200 on the thirty-seventh of Fructose, on the bridge of the HMS Upskirt which I was somehow commanding. What am I alleged to have done?"

"You-" The Prosection Lawyer roared, then took a deep breath and calmed down. It was amazing to witness. It did not, however, stop his prosecutor's mohican starting to melt. "The HMS Upskirt collided with the SS Bigplonker, the private space yacht of Hizzoner The Blortle of Blinge and proceeded to crush it flat. Fortunately it was empty at the time, or you would be facing highmuckymuckslaughter charges."

Captain Seymour Dicklogic was genuinely puzzled, "do you have witnesses to this most peculiar of events?"

Doctor Firm-Posterior leaned closer, jiggling suggestively because she knew it annoyed men in funny wigs, "If he calls for Hanover Fiste, I am outie." The Captain agreed.

ZOWNT!

The discolouration on the wall turned serious. It turned into an enormous hole with glowing edges. It was The Vagendra of Manocide wearing a Girl-Guide uniform and brandishing a respectable un-phazer with an air of casual menace! "Hello dears," she observed cheerfully, "and they thought I'd never get the Girl Guide's Dramatic Entrance Type-3 badge."

The Prosecution Lawyer's mohican started smouldering sponateously as a Girl-Guide accosted him, what was The Hive Collective's Manliance Enemy Number One doing here? Besides sticking a blaster up his nose?

"You know what I like about being The Vagendra of Manocide?" She asked sweetly.

A genuine maid centurion took the gavel away from the Judge and wondered why his hair was melting, "I'll take that, now be quiet, little man."

"The... tassels?" The Prosecution Lawyer stammered nervously, he desperately needed the official Manliance Manual of Emergencies, volume 6, section 9, possibly subsection 14. It would tell him precisely how to react in the situation: A young female of the girly persuasion attempting to pick his nose with a large weapon. She smiled at him. "Or the gold braid and maybe the ribbons and bows?" He asked emboldened by the positive reaction.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic stage whispered to Doctor Firm-Posterior, "uh-oh, she's smiling."

The Vagengra of Manocide stepped back smartly, not actually to let this man off, but to avoid large green dollops of something falling from above. "The meson cannon with quad-damage and fresh batteries," she smiled most agreeably.

ZOWNT!

The jury were beyond swooning and were now wondering if they would drown in their own juices or be vaporized by a girl-guide. Half-of them were hoping for the latter, what a way to go!

ZOWNT! ZOWNT!

"Oo, that's going to leave a mark." The maid observed dryly, she used her handy maidly laser cutter to cut the dock in half and let the Captain and Doctor out. A few seconds with her maidly lockpicks of picking locks and incautious noses sufficed to remove the cuffs of handcuffing too.

ZOWNT!

The court filled with the smell of burning something, whatever they made the wigs out of was really excitable.

"Shame I forgot to pack marshmallows," the maid observed sadly, polishing her maidly halberd of halberding and wondering when the fire alarm was going to go off.

It wasn't, the announcer's corner near the door was vacant.

MASSIVE ZOWNTING!

"Amazing what you can get out of these new PP3's isn't it?" The Vagendra of Manocide asked rhetorically. "I don't mind the ribbons and bows as long as they don't clash with my blue hair. But truthfully, happiness is a warm Pachelbel." She wandered over to the dock and grinned at the doctor and captain. "Ice-cream?"

"Sure!"

"You're buying." Doctor Firm Posterior told the Captain, he nodded. He wasn't going to argue with a Vagendra, not while sober anyway.