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All those system malfunctions last week turned out to be from some incorporeal being we ran over while passing through the Grungdar Nebula last Tuesday. Its ghost or something has been roaming through the ship's computer systems for the past several days. It used the hologram projector to create and image of itself and demanded for us to return its remains all the way back to the nebula, or else it would destroy the ship. Dr. Rena tried to communicate with it, but somehow she just got it even more pissed off. Finally, we managed to trap the being's spirit into a datapad and jettisoned it into a nearby star.
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We received a distress signal from the GSV Incredible today. Pretty sure it's another Draudis ambush, so we're just going to ignore it. Those Draudis pirates are really going all out with this phony distress call. They've even got people screaming and begging for help on the transmission. So fake!
That damn fake distress call has been blaring all day. They stopped voice transmitting at least, but now it's that annoying automated distress beacon pinging over and over again ... Driving me nuts. It finally stopped transmitting a couple of minutes ago. Ha ha I guess the Draudis realized we weren't going to fall for their schemes anymore! Stupid Draudis Lizard Men have ambushed us again! This is the third time this month ... they know we're required by Official Galactic Union Policy to answer every distress signal we receive, and they keep luring us to the same asteroid belt. They took out our weapons and energy fields, and told us we have two minutes to surrender. Commander Powell and Dr. Rena are going on and on about a plan of some sort ... waiting for one of them to sum it up with an analogy ... those two talk too fast. God I have such a headache. It might be a migrane. The bridge is all messed up too. Lt. Jayda's bleeding that weird pinkish blood all over the carpet. The Draudis captain on the viewscreen just said 50 seconds left - or 15, it's hard to tell with their super deep voices and accents. Right now I'm in my office tying to shake out this headache with the help of a little space ale. Hopefully Rena and Powell are done with their plan. They looked both look pretty busy at their consoles when I left them. Dammit they're firing again! GTG!
It has come to my attention that Lieutenant Commander Vorpak is suffering through the yearly "mating season" that his species must endure. I mention this only because he's been abusing his position as the ship's Chief Teleport Officer by teleporting the more attractive female crew members to his Main Teleport Chamber. Obviously this hasn't made him very popular with said crew members. Heck, I don't think the creepy little dude has even gotten to first base yet! Distraught with failure, he's sealed himself up in the Main Teleport Chamber for the last two days. Although no one's gone missing yet, we've received scattered reports of meals teleporting away from people's hands and female crew members finding mysterious "mixed tapes" on their bedroom dressers.
 My crew and I have landed on the surface of the alien planet. We are here to negotiate a cease-fire between two warring factions. That's right, the fate of an entire alien nation rests upon our sweaty backs once again. Mood: Hopeful. My crew and I have traveled to the planet Maringa IV to speak with the Maringan ambassador. Having teleported directly in the center of the government's capital we were immediately attacked by what I believe were called Royal Guards. Commander Powell, fulfilling his duty as my first officer, protected me from the brunt of the attack, receiving several blows from these guards large "torture sticks." As usual, I countermanded Doctor Rena's overreaction to rush Powell back to the ship, assuring her he was strong enough to continue the mission. Powell is a fighter, after all. A true survivor. Fortunately, the Maringans are reasonable people and Powell's was lucky they were able to synthesize so human blood in such a short notice for his transfusion.
We've arrived on the planet Rigmatel and I'm frankly at my wit's end. We've just discovered that we don't have the native species' language programmed into our translator wands, which naturally makes it impossible for us to speak to anyone. This is creating a great deal of difficulty as our mission is to bring peace to these savages. I'm instructing my crew to create detailed sketches and to prepare an impromptu stage play which that will hopefully convey the story of our advanced technology and modern values.
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Jack Sunstrike
Captain of the GSV Remarkable. This is my blog. Archives
September 2013
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