Moo! Moo like you mean it!

"Captain!" The helmsman squealed effeminately. Not everyone could be so manly that their cojones were rumoured to be made from pure manlitonium. Although they still tried. "Captain, there's a Hive Collective space cow almost dead ahead!"

This called for manliness! With or without the optional girl guide sitting on his lap. Captain Seymour Dicklogic furrowed his brow and clenched his fists of clenching. He needed a fleet to survey manfully too, but Doctor Firm Posterior was nowhere to be seen.

"Helm! Maximal Thrusting, do not let that ship get ahead of us under any circumstances what so ever!" The girl guide barked. "The Last thing HMS Upskirt needs is the back end of a space cow."

"Sir?"

Captain Seymour Dicklogic was never one to be diverted from the cause, unless that cause was the very lovely Girl Guide sitting on his lap. He grunted manfully. "What she said."

"Or would you rather be on hull cleaning duty?" The Girl Guide solicited with a delicate hint of restrained menace. "It takes years to get the smell off and the stuff sticks almost as badly as space barnacles."

"Maximal thrusting! Right away ma'am!" The helm operated the levers and got on the horn to the engine room, "Nurse Corblimey! More steam! We have to outrun a space cow!"

"This promises to be exciting," the Girl Guide noted. "What's with the amazing hair?"

AROOGAH! AROOGAH! MAXIMAL THRUSTING IMMINENT! Ensign Lovelyjugs roared like a kitten as her amazing bust waa barely restrained by her redshirt as she fastened herself into the droolproof and excessive manliness proof harness. had a whole bottle of ultra-death combined mint, throat lozenge and brain mines, they rocked!

"I am told it is a holo deck fro." Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted manfully.

"You have a holo disco on a battleship? Such decadence." The Girl Guide did the seatbelt and wished that the captain wasn't quite so manly at times, it was distracting.

"Scientific research vessel." The Science officer corrected, thick sheets of artificial fur in any colour other than azure were glued over all his sensors, it really helped. "Why would a Hive Collective space cow be out here, this is the middle of nowhere, not far from previous episode."

Communications officer and playbeing Slime Dispenser tried to peer under a thick piece of bright pink death bear fur (artificial of course, real death bear fur was such a horrendous pink that people died just seeing the creatures!) Try as she might, she could detect no azure hue.

Maximal thrusting was fabulous! The Steam room nurses were singing bawdy sea shanties as they stroked the massive boilers that powered the Manspreader drives and everyone held on for dear life.

HMS Upskirt soon cleared the possible threat of being on the wrong end of a space cow.

"Well, it's a good thing I can't get more pregnant," The Girl Guide noted.

Steam came out of several people's ears and the poor man with the holodeck fro's hair exploded.

KERPUFTIE! Lozenge.

He ran from the bridge seconds before a possibly fatal detonation.

"I'm not sure this crew is prepared for such revelations," Maid Centurion pointed out, she examined the dials and levers at the console next to the chaise longue she was seated on.

"Camel, perhaps you could illuminate the Science Officer on quite why space cows are so dangerous." The Girl Guide offered. A manly arm was around her waist and she was lucky she was still coherent.

"Sopwith!" The Maid Centurion complained.

"Yes, yes, get on with it."

"Space Cows were engineered to counter the Manliance's experiment 59. However, our mad scientists weren't as good or as mad as yours and you know as well as I do that putting a cosmolonghorn in the embiggenator is just asking for trouble. Of course, a couple of space cows escaped the farming planet of Cowpattieparadise and oh dear, the scientists didn't neutralize them. I am lead to believe that several starbases have been wiped out by cowstrike, but no hard evidence has been discovered."

"Space goats are worse." Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted as manfully as was possible with a Girl Guide sitting on his lap. She nearly swooned.

"How so? I was under the impression Space goats were less than half the size of space cows. Escaped or not."

"Space goats eat everything."

"Everything?" The Maid Centurion repeated incredulously.

"We lost a death star once. Not a trace. Just a load of feisty neutrinos." The Girl Guide observed pregnantly.

"We know." Captain Seymour Dicklogic re-arranged his Girl Guide and her bony posterior.

The Science officer and communications plaything were fighting over a plug quietly. They could either have the encaffeinator or the sensors but not both and Slime Dispenser really needed some sensors. She won, sitting on the Science Officer's face to keep him quiet while she plugged the sensors in. "Captain sir! Massive azure hue directly astern!"

"Space cows travel in large hunting packs." The Girl Guide observed. "What a fun episode."

Maid Centurion glared at her charge.