Captain Log . . . Stardate 2377.67.6
I have finally been given the command of a ship worthy of my status as a warrior. Actually, I am not completely satisfied as it is not a Dreadnaught. But on the other hand, Federation Dreadnaughts are hardly worthy of the name.
So a Plasma Armed Heavy Battle Cruiser it is. Although the plasma part is new for me this ship is armed with enough power to adequately project my masculinity.
I do not understand the name Bismarck however. Some ancient Earth warrior of note I would assume.
The food is excellent. As are the human females. But I am being redundant.
There is just one problem. And it is a significant problem. I deserve an escort. Any Admiral of my might deserves an escort. These humans are so ignorant of protocol.
As such I have had that damn Adorian Admiral drug out of whatever <ptui> meeting he was in.
Oh yes . . . This is Admiral J?inn, commanding the U.S.S. Bismarck on patrol along the Klingon Front.
Die Hard: What is so damn important J?inn!!
J?inn: Look blue one. You will address me as Admiral J?inn, or Minister J?inn, or His Ferociousness. I demand no less.
Die Hard: I do not care about the stupid protocol requirements of the Kzin-Tera Treaty! You are under my command Mister!! Now I was in a meeting, so hurry it up. What is it!?
J?inn: I demand an escort ship!
Die Hard: <sputter> YOU WHAT!!!
J?inn: AN ESCORT!! A VICIOUS ONE!!
Die Hard: Grrrrrrr. I was taken out of a meeting with the Orion Slave Girls for this?
J?inn: Slave Girls!!!??
Die Hard: Yes, the meeting was schedule by Admiral Kirk. Something about Admirals needed to get their groove on.
J?inn: I?M AN ADMIRAL!!!
Die Hard: YOU EAT FEMALES!!
J?inn: Only the fat ones. Now where is my Escort!??
Die Hard: Fine. You want an Escort. You got one!! Die Hard Out!!
A few days later . . . . .
Ops. Officer: Admiral. We are receiving an incoming hail. It is the U.S.S. Hexxbane. They report they have been ordered to escort us in our attack of the Romulan Outpost.
J?inn: Excellent. Order them into formation and head for the Outpost. Warp Factor 6. Engage!
Tactical: Admiral! The base is in sensor range. Standard Romulan Class 1 Outpost. I am also reading something else. Hmmm. A Romulan FireHawk Cruiser. Inbound. Course 150 mark 10. Assault Pattern.
J?inn: WARM UP A SCATTER PACK!! Load everything else.
Op Officer: Sir!! Something is wrong with the Hexxbane.
J?inn: What is it?
Ops Officer: Their Friend or Foe Identifier is modulating. We are now painted as an enemy.
J?inn: WHAT!!!
Tactical: Sir!! The Hexxbane just adjusted course and speed. Turning to 120 mark 52. Full Impulse! All weapons systems armed.
J?inn: <sputter> Hail the Hexxbane!!
Tactical: Sir, we are being targeted!!
J?inn: Hexxbane what the hell are you doing!!??
The monitor showing a starfield shifts from the stars to the grinning face of a Lyran Commander.
Hexx: Well. Well. If it isn?t a Kzinti Scum.
J?inn: A LYRAN!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!
Science Officer: Sir, that is Captain Hexx. He is the only Lyran in Star Fleet.
Tactical Officer: THEY ARE FIRING!!!!
<multiple explosions>
J?inn: RETURN FIRE!!! COMPUTER!! WARM UP THE COMMAND ESCAPE SHUTTLE!!
Tactical: Their Number 3 shield is down. Our number four shield is offline and we have sustained heavy damage.
J?inn: HEXX YOU BASTARD!!! CRAP!! HELM GET US OUT OF HERE!!!
Topic: A Day Aboard the U.S.S. Bismarck (Read 904 times)