Captain Seymour DickLogic and the Dreadnaught of Doom!

Captain Seymour DickLogic and the Dreadnaught of Doom!

Starring... Captain Seymour DickLogic, Käsekuchen Oktanzahl and some redskirts.

Note, do not attempt any of the stunts involving teaspoons without getting help from your favourite USMC.

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Captain Seymour DickLogic arrived on the bridge.

SCHEEEP! SWOON!

Ensign Lovelyjugs checked her script and her stash of crystal meth mints. They made everything possible.

There was no fleet to survey, for this was to be an action episode. Captain Seymour DickLogic contented himself with a manly grunt of greeting. He wondered what was wrong with the Ensign in the corner, she was dangling limply in her swoon-proof harness. "Doctor, that redskirt needs fixing."

Doctor Firm-Posterior agreed, the swoon-proof harness was coming apart too. "Mint?" She offered the poor redskirt. Was Ensign Lovelylegs going to survive the episode intact?

"Captain, something is on the viewscreen. It doesn't appear to be a stuck pixel this time either. It's moving." The Helmsman was suspiciously clean shaven this time, so much so that even his eyebrows were missing. "And I think there's something in the rear view mirrors."

Captain Seymour DickLogic furrowed his brow and glared at the screen, it was no good, but would he still be manly enough if he wore glasses. He slumped manfully in the Captain's chair and groaned when sat on by the Girl Guide that had followed him in. This particular Girl Guide had blue hair which matched her uniform nicely too.

The First Officer looked up grumpily, his script called for him to be grumpy but at least he wasn't gay like the helmsman. "What's *she* doing here?"

The girl guide was wondering about the helmsman too, a rainbow tutu was probably not acceptable bridge uniform, neither was the clown make-up although it was really good. "Our ratings are plummeting. Cheesecake Gambit."

"I happen to like cheesecake," the First Officer responded drolly, "but really?"

Doctor Firm-Posterior perked up from her couch. "That unfortunate incident three episodes ago totalled your set. Besides, Season Grand Finale today. I mean, after this they're going to cancel our arses so fast-"

"Camel got cancelled twice last night. Look how much happier she is." The girl guide answered, "Anyway, Käsekuchen Oktanzahl, nice to meet you. Smile some more, I'm not in charge." She waved cheerfully. In truth she was having way too much fun. "This show could be cancelled at any time so we must act like every show is the end of season grand finale!"

"SOPWITH!" The Maid Centurion complained. It was hopeless though, The Vagendra of Manocide listened to her about as much as everyone else did. The Maidful Way was full of tribulations like that.

BLEEPLY BOOPLE NOISE! Ensign Lovelyjugs chimed from where the mints were really kicking unicorn arse in ballet shoes.

"Captain, sir! I think we have a space cow on our tail." The helmsman was squinting down a telescope at his rear view mirrors. After a while he realised and removed the eye-patch before trying again. "Wait, it's a ship bristling with gunses and thingses!"

"Incoming call on channel D." Communications playbeing Slime Dispenser had just accidentally had a free peek at what the girl guide was wearing under her uniform. She was as white as a sheet! "It's some stuffy old git demanding we stop and give them all our lupins."

BLOOPLY BLING! "I DEMAND YOU SEAS ALL FORWARDING MOTIONS AND PREPARE TO BE BORED! YOUR LUPINS OR YOUR LIFE! WAIT! ARE WE ON YET? IS THIS THING WORKING?"

"Like that."

"On screen." Captain Seymour DickLogic ejaculated manfully, quite surprising the Girl Guide who was thinking rude thoughts. "Helm, prepare for maximal thrusting motions, just in case."

The Helmsman got on the blower to the Steam Room Nurses, "Matron, more steam! Warm the mansplainers!"

"Wocha!"

"Good morning," Captain Seymour DickLogic ejaculated a manly greeting, putting up with being smooched by a girl guide while trying to be extremely manful. "what do I owe the displeasure of this call?"

"I am Captain Doom, the grated pirate in the Known Universe. Stop your engines and prepare to be bored by my COBOL programmers. Obey immediately and I will spare your miserable lives." The man had several eyepatches and a remarkable hat. "Persist in your thrusting and I will be forced to kill all the men and give your women to my COBOL programmers!"

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend doing that. Some of our women are highly radioactive. Besides, would your programmers even know what to do with all that oestrogen?" The Captain demurred smoothly, "I don't think we'll be inviting you to lunch, it's chocolate pudding day." He waved at the helmsman, "thrusting, standard by two."

"Foolish Imperialists, you think you can escape Captain Doom?"

"Actually yes." The Girl Guide stopped smooching for moment, "your little dreadnaught is hardly a match for us, we are scientists."

WOOP DERP WOOP DERP THRUSTING AT STANDARD BY TWO! WOOP WIBBLE SPLINGE GRONK SCHWEEP! MAN THE UNICORNS!

"A pox on your science! What fools are you to think this is a mere dreadnaught. This is better than a mere dreadnaught. Wait, didn't I just say that?"

"Miss!" The helmsman pointed at the notice on the rear view mirror. "Objects in the rear view mirror are larger than they appear unless you upgrade to the pro license." He felt pretty silly addressing The Vagendra of Manocide as "miss" but she had pointy toed deck shoes and really knew how to use them. It was wonderful and the bruises were finally starting to fade.

"A dread one?"

"Foolish imperialist morons. This is way better, this is a dreadeleven. Now cease your thrustinating and prepare to be bored."

"Helm, it's time for thrusting, head for that planetoid." Captain Seymour DickLogic decided. "Maximal thrusting."

AROOGAH TULIP PANTIHOSE BISON AROOGAH!

"Doctor, what's wrong with the ensign in charge of sound effects?"

"Not enough mints." Doctor Firm Posterior checked her pockets, space onesies did not have pockets which made them pretty annoying.

"Here," The Science Officer handed over a tin, "Grandma specials. One at a time, place between the knees and clasp firmly. Do not take more than ten."

"Wao, sciency!"

"Can't we Science them?" The weapons officer in charge of the research probes asked, feeling sad that she wasn't going to get to blow things up.

"Don't be silly, this is a peaceful science mission, they have a big scary dreadnaught." The captain simpered insincerely.

"Dread eleven!" the man on the screen roared angrily.

"I never liked elevenses." The girl guide observed.

"Who are you, you girl you!"

"Käsekuchen Oktanzahl. A pleasure, I look forward to your entrails."

"I used to dread elevenses too," Maid Centurion Sopwith observed dryly from where she was sitting. She was the reason the First Officer was unhappy, Maid Centurions had the boniest of bottoms and the sharpest of maid black puddings. His poor officer's pudding was not even in the same league. "What with the ceremonial disemboweling spoons. Getting the mess off the ceiling of the grand hall of grisly executions was such a hassle even with the firehose."

"Shut up Camel."

VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! MAXIMAL THRUSTING!

"You cannot escape my dread eleven! Your thrusting is weak and small." Captain Doom glared angrily at them, behind him, a few things exploded, "Driver, Ridiculous Speed Now!"

"Oh no. We'll never out run them." Captain Seymour DickLogic sighed, he gestured at the communications officer who was glued to the back wall by the THRUST so great that it was IN CAPITAL LETTERS. The angry man and his crew of men dressed as penguins vanished.

"Where are we going?"

MAXIMAL THRUSTING was so powerful that the helmsman's make up was running, turning him from a sad face into a homicidal maniac driving a large space ship.

GRAUNCH!!! BLINGE!!! WE HAVE SIXTH GEAR! AROOGAH! The ensign was dancing on the ceiling.

"Localised gravity bug." The Science Officer startled as all of a sudden he was lying on the ceiling with a maid sitting on his face. "Please don't fart."

"Is it time for an advert break? Only I need the little girl's room," The girl guide chimed in.

"Now?" Captain Seymour DickLogic undid the seatbelt to let her get up and then re-did it. Safety first and all that jazz. "Increase arse plating to level three."

"I forgot to go earlier."

"Butt plating level three."

The Science Officer struggled with maidly underwear, a curious combination of leather, lace and carbon fiber. "I am afraid not. Special relativity due to MAXIMAL THRUSTING."

"Wao, Camel, your bottom has a deep voice." The Vagendra of Manocide looked up. "So, time dilation means that we don't get an advert break even though the reader does. How annoying. Excuse me." She headed for the other door without sound effects ensign.

"You'll need this." The Science officer felt around and provoked an amazing squeak from the maid. He held down a weapon.

"A phaser? Set to kill?" Käsekuchen Oktanzahl asked, "are your bogs really that dangerous?"

"The latrines, yes, the head, I'll lend you a marine." The Captain thumbed a button manfully. "Toilet duty." He grunted equally manfully.

The door opened and a genuine space marine materialized. None of that tedious marching, walking, sneaking or anything like that, he was simply there. "Corporal B. Yonde Rekt reporting for duty, sir!"

"Excellent, please escort me to the little girls' room. Kill everything. You can have this phaser."

"No need miss, I have a perfectly good space marine teaspoon."

"Let's go then. Camel?"

"Sopwith!" She wailed, digging in her skirts, "are you all right in there?"

"No! Stupid gravity bug!" The Science Officer was in deep trouble, just how many petticoats was this maid wearing?

IMAGINARY ADVERT BREAK CAUSED BY THE TIME DILATION EFFECT. DO NOT ADJUST YOUR FONT OR UNICORN. Ensign Lovelyjugs was thoroughly zorched by the supremely potent mint clasped firmly between her knees. Everything was tricycle and even an autocock field couldn't ruin her day.

"I'm back!" Käsekuchen Oktanzahl chimed cheerfully. "Darling, can I have a marine issue teaspoon? They're wonderful!" She bounced into Captain Seymour DickLogic's lap "did you miss me?" She stared at the screen, "holy bovine excrement, a space cow, out here!"

"Helm, ready the Manspreader Drive, set them for forty five light seconds ahead." Captain Seymour DickLogic was a man of action, as the Girl Guide was well aware of now, and the time had come for some incredible manliness. "Three points to the left!" He did not admit that either she had amazing eyesight or she'd killed someone and read their script.

"Starboard three points!" The helmsman agreed, he pressed buttons on the ancient mechanical till that controlled The Manspreader Drive. Such a short jump would only offer them a few minutes respite from the pursuit.

"Captain! There's a naked woman wearing a lab coat on the teleprompter!" Communications Playbeing of the year Slime Dispenser wailed!

"Is she naked if she is wearing a lab coat?" The Science Officer had just come face to face with the most secret of secrets and was highly flustered. So was the Maid Centurion.

"How should I know! I didn't write this script." Slime Dispenser landed heavily on the floor, "gravity bug is moving! Seatbelts!"

"Oo, darling!"

"Captain, petticoats are azure hue!" The Science Officer complained from somewhere maidy. "Serious azure hue Sir!"

Maid Centurion unplugged the sensors with her black pudding. "Ekky-Thump." This did not, however, change what colour her petticoats glowed. "Are you all right in there?"

"That dreadnut is awfully close and all missiley."

"Oh great. Professor 2Z, get off our teleprompter and back to your planet of roses." The Vagendra of Manocide put on her best imperious girl guide voice. "Right now."

"You can't order me around, I am a scientist! I am doing a science! Stop trying to sound like that pipsqueak Vagendra of Manocide, no one is ever going to fall for such a dreadful fake accent. Now get out of my way. I *is* SCIENCE!" The woman on the teleprompter raged angrily. She had every right to be angry too, this was a cheap lab coat that itched.

"You have ten seconds, then I will tell everyone your three sizes."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Helm, handbrake."

"Sir!"

BRACE FOR IMPACT WARNING WIBBLE! COR BLIMEY MATE.

"Do it now and I'll get you a SCOTTeVEST Lab Coat for Women in your size." The girl guide ordered. The last thing they needed was Professor 2Z in the same system as they were. Indeed, her being in the same galactic quadrangle was worrying.

The mad scientist on the teleprompter vanished instantly. Seconds later the space anchors ripped a hole in the fabric of space-

"Manspreading now!" The helmsman had been watching the forward screens and holy bovine backside that was close.

Everything turned custard pie for a second, then normal space resumed as they narrowly avoided a vetinary event "Rearview mirrors."

The space cow was much closer than it appeared in the mirror, it also looked very upset at an impromptu vetinary event.

The Vagendra of Manocide kissed Captain Seymour DickLogic, "Masterful use of inappropriate scenery."

"Operation Bovinator Success."

"No redskirts wasted." Doctor Firm Posterior chimed cheerfully from where she had the deranged sound-effects ensign in Full Nelson.

"Might want to check the Holodeck." Captain Seymour DickLogic grunted agreeably. He tickled The Vagendra of Manocide because it was an acceptably manly way to deal with girls of the female persuasion. "On screen."

"Oh. Oh dear."