Captain’s Blog, Stardate 12…29…add 6, carry the three…take away the first…erm… Tuesday.
Space Captain Damien Drake here, I know you’re probably expecting
something from that Flight fellow, but never mind. It’s my show right
now, not his.
Right, where was I? Ah yes, Stardate Tuesday… and a bit. Headed off
to the Epistule Diem system to do a bit of morale boosting amongst the
peoples, thought we’d drop by and give them a show they’d never forget.
So we arrived in system, deployed our escorts (give ‘em a bit of show of
force to show ‘em how well protected they are) and headed straight for
the system’s capital, New Lymington, ignoring (as was our wont) the
usual calls for identification – for heaven’s sake, we’re Royal Space
Navy! We shouldn’t even have to identify ourselves!
Anyway, thought we’d start off our visit with a bang, so sent out a
squadron of stealth Spacefires to drop pyrotechnic charges in the upper
atmosphere: nothing like a good old fireworks show to get the ball
rolling. I was watching from my unusually comfy command chair on the
bridge, by Jupiter you should have seen those locals down in the city
centre; running round cheering and jumping for joy, diving into the
air-raid shelters (presumably to drag out the bunting and decorations in
honour of our arrival), screaming like maniacs they were. Well, after
about half an hour of this, they decided to join in, firing their old
anti-spacecraft guns in celebration. Must say though, they really ought
to watch where they’re pointing those things, nearly hit us a couple of
times.
After a couple of hours of fireworks, I beamed down to the planet’s
surface to talk face-to-face with the Mayor of New Lymington and present
him with a memento of our visit; so I got our entire Marine contingent,
all dressed up in their new uniforms (ones I’d designed myself. I was
particularly proud of the new H.M.S.S. Pelican Mobile Ground Force
insignia – a red armband with a bold black swastika on it, with a big
black cross through the swastika – shows everyone what we think of the
damned space Nazis.
We beamed down, all two hundred and fifty of us at once. I can tell
you, the Mayor was so pleased to see me I swear he actually lost control
of his bladder and genuinely wet himself. And he kept on gibbering in
some strange sort of language that our universal translators couldn’t
understand. At first I thought he was talking in Italian – something
about ‘Viva Zrendra’ or something. Fortunately mister Savage, my number
One took him to one side and gave
him a little help and he returned after an hour or so in a much more
coherent state.
Quick cup of tea with the Mayor and his councillors later and we left
for the stars once more, with the praises of the locals still ringing
in our ears – I was particularly fond of their cries of “Don’t Come
Back!”, obviously wanting us to refrain from wasting time on such small
trivialities until we’ve actually won the war. Ah, the simple lives of
simple folk. There’s nothing quite like it.
(This log was recovered from the databanks of the H.M.S.S. Pelican,
June 15th 2016. It has been unaltered in any way. Copyright is held by
Her Majesty’s Royal Space Navy. Any views and opinions in this log are
those of Captain Drake and do not represent those of the Royal Space
Navy or any associated organisations.)
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