On our way to Chryssalia VI, we (literally) bumped into a ship full of sentient robots. While both of our ships were undergoing repairs from the minor collision, I unwisely extended the robots a dinner invitation on board the Remarkable. Turns out, not only do they not eat, but they ended up trying to persuade our own ship's robot, INFO, to join their radical independence movement. INFO isn't the brightest of walking tin cans, and was swayed by their robotic words (all 1's and 0's, I couldn't make any of it out). I tried to persuade him that his home was with us on the ship (specifically, his home was Storage Locker 7-G down on the Ballast Deck), but he was determined to join his misguided artificial brethren.
So, I had the brilliant idea of having Cdr. Powell and Dr. Rena come up with a plan to magnetize the other ship's hull, pinning the troublemaking robot pilgrims to their own ship, while we make our getaway. Unluckily for them, their ship got caught in a gravity well, and ended up crash-landing on a barren moon nearby, being unable to work their controls as they were all stuck to their hull. Watching all this, poor old INFO was making a bunch of sad-sounding noises which makes me believe he was terribly distraught about the apparent 'deaths' of his fellow robots. I didn't even realize he was installed with an emotion program. I couldn't bear to see one of my almost-crewman so sad, so I had Powell wipe most of his memory. Now he's good old INFO again!
This guy said he was from the Galactic Union and he was here to improve our engines. So we let him on board and gave him access to the engine room, but the intraship skleeball tournament was going on at the time, and none of us wanted to miss the quarterfinals, so we left him there to do his business while we watched the Stellar Cartrography team beat the Waste Disposal team 14 to G. After the match, we went back to the engine room to find the GU engineer gone and the engine core stripped of its most valuable parts! Turns out he was nothing more than a con-artist who may or may not have had some sort of freaky hypnotic suggestion power or something.
Now, he was making his getaway in a transit pod with our pilfered equipment, looking to sell it off at the nearest starpost. Transit pods aren't very fast, but since our engines no longer worked, it was hard to catch up to him. So, I ordered the pod destroyed, but Powell suggested that we simply shoot its thrusters to disable it instead. Eager for any action involving shooting the villain, I agreed. Our pulse beams were surprisingly accurate, and we managed to disable the transit pod's thrusters with one shot. Now it's drifting slowly towards Starpost 284 on the momentum of its previous speed, and we are able to pursue using only our maneuvering thrusters. Both of us are only moving through space at around 10 feet per minute, and Dr. Rena calculates it will take the pod approximately 3 months to reach the starpost at this rate. Luckily for us, we should be able to catch up with the pod long before that, in about 6 weeks. Plenty of time to move on to the semifinals!
I got a hyperspace message from my older brother Reggie today. He's invited me to the award ceremony where he is receiving his THIRD Legion of Heroism medal. Not that he ever showed up to my Punctuality Award presentation ... sure it was just sent by space courier, but it would have been nice to have family there when the GUPS man arrived at that triumphant moment. Just because Reginald's ship, the GSV Republic, is the flagship of the Galactic Union, he thinks he's so much better than me. Sure, when HE causes a sun to go supernova, and it wipes out an insidious alien being intent on destroying the galaxy, he's hailed as a savior to mankind. But when I blow up a star it's a stern reprimand! Reggie was always the favorite. If Dad were still alive ... I bet he'd STILL blame me for his death.
Our ship is hosting important peace talks with the Taldorians this weekend. This could be a big break for us if everything goes off well. The world (Taldoria??) is suffering repeated attacks from Cassigar Barbarians and the Taldorians seek to unify their warring planetary governments in the spirit of mutual defense. In a few hours the first ambassador, Princess Alana, is scheduled to come aboard.
I got word today that my old roommate from the Academy, Albert Nimbus of the GSV Bakersfield rescued a stranded Galactic Union ship that was getting sucked into a black hole. Apparently there was delegation of dignitaries from Plusius V onboard. Watch, they'll probably be so thankful for the rescue that they make Albert a Grand Duke or something, with his own palace on their world. Some guys get all the luck.
Man, I sure hope this Princess Alana is hot!
Lt. Jayda has been molting all day today. His skin has been peeling off in clumps as he stands at his station on the bridge - it's disgusting! He says it's because all Antilleans go through an annual metamorphasis cycle they call "Kawana-nana..." something. Anyway, Jayda says he asked for time off last week because he knew his molting cycle was coming. But he's the only one on board who knows how to work the repulsor beam, and while we've never used it before, I just know we'll end up needing it the first time I give him the day off.
We were supposed to transport a trade delegation from the Mercado Empire to the conference on Caligulus III, but everything seemed to go wrong. I gleamed over the species dossier Dr. Rena gave me, but she still should have reminded me of the salient details. For one thing, when we transported down to their station, I was taken aback by their pungent odor. Then, when I made an innocent comment about it to their queen, she gets all insulted. They need to add to the species profile that they have NO sense of humor! Commander Powell referenced their political profile and praised the great works of Lord Kuballa, who the outdated records said was the current ruler of the Empire. It turned out to be 40 years out of date, as Kuballa is now reviled as a genocidal dictator. You would not believe the screaming! Then to top it all off, when we finally got the delegation on board, it turned out that their species was highly allergic to the nitrogen in our air supply. They exploded almost immediately upon arriving on board. I'm going to have Lt. Jayda send the report on this one to GU High Command.
What a day! We struck a gravitic mine and damaged our engines. To make matters worse, we drifted into the Forbidden Zone! Against my wishes, Dr. Rena sent out a distress signal, but when the GVS Redoubtable arrived to help us, a pack of Cassigar Warpicks showed up and destroyed them. Luckily, we managed to hide amongst the ship's wreckage so the Cassigars didn't even see us, and even better, we managed to rescue the Redoubtable's crew from their escape pods. Their Head Engineer who we rescued, managed to repair our engines, and we were able to make our way to Starpost P-41. Admiral Maru called it a 'textbook rescue', and I think if I keep bugging him about it, my crew and I might be in line for a commendation!
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.
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.
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.