[Not based on a true story; I’m just on a Star Trek kick lately and this is a sort-of parody of those series]
(On the minimally staffed bridge of a slightly run-down spaceship, Destination: Unknown)
Captain: (Slouching in The Big Chair and staring broodingly at the various crew members at their various stations doing their various tasks, then at the main viewscreen showing the same images of stars, galaxies, and deceptive nothingness streaking by. With a full-bodied sigh, hits a few buttons on an arm of The Big Chair) Captain’s Log: Space Date 4… 3… 2… 1...? It’s March 14, 2724 – I barely learned the metric system on Earth, you think I’m gonna learn another standardized set of measurements more random than the English system? Whatever: just doing the obligatory check-in where I note that it’s business as usual. We continue on our unending mission to who-knows-where in order to do who-knows-what, getting into all sorts of shenanigans along the way. Whoever’s bright idea it was to stick hundreds of terrestrial-based beings into an oversized tin can, continuously pump fake atmosphere into it, use controlled explosions to shoot it off into a vacuum and hope for the best, oughta be smacked upside the head. I mean, what is the point of all this anyway? Discovery? We’re not discovering anything – every planet and celestial phenomenon we encounter as we stumble along the stars either is already known by the beings who live there, or is so incompatible with our own flora and fauna that the best we can do is point and say “Ooh that’s nice!” and move on. Anything else messes up the civilizations that were doing perfectly fine before we got there, starts yet another war, or at best perpetuates the cycle of codependency. And don’t get me started on what goes on board here during the downtime between stops on our improvised itinerary: we’ve got more experiments going awry than ones that have any practical application; equipment malfunctioning more often than it works that it’s a bona fide miracle we haven’t all been blown out into space or sprouted extra body parts; and half the crew hooking up with the other half that I’m frankly amazed that any work gets done. And if I have to sign one more inane report on ship’s systems that should be running themselves at this point, I am literally going to tear my own head off.
Lieutenant: (Has been standing next to The Big Chair the entire time) Captain?
Captain: (Turns to Lieutenant) Yeah?
Lieutenant: I have a report for you to sign.
Captain: (Stares balefully at Lieutenant for several seconds) Computer: delete that log entry.
Computer: Log entry deleted.
Captain: (Takes the tablet that Lieutenant is holding out, uses a stylus to scribble at the bottom of the screen, and hands it back) All done – I feel so fulfilled.
Lieutenant: (Stares a moment at the screen) Thank you, Captain, but this doesn’t appear to be your name at the bottom.
Captain: That’s because it isn’t.
Lieutenant: May I ask – ?
Captain: I’d rather you didn’t, but go ahead.
Lieutenant: What does “TL;DR” stand for?
Captain: (Chuckles) It’s an ancient Earth phrase that comes in very handy in situations like these, Ensign.
Lieutenant: …It’s Lieutenant, actually, Captain.
Captain (Brow furrows in confusion) Since when?
Lieutenant: Since you promoted me last year.
Captain: I did? What for?
Lieutenant: I believe the reason you gave was “Unexpected Competence.”
Captain: (Thinks for a moment, then laughs) Oh right, now I remember. (Pointedly addresses the rest of the bridge crew) It was so rare. (They duck their heads in shame as Captain turns to Lieutenant again) OK, we’re done; what’re you still hanging around for?
Lieutenant: I’m waiting to be dismissed, Captain.
Captain: You’re a full-grown adult, Lieutenant; you don’t need my permission to live.
Lieutenant: True, but we’re military so I do need your permission to leave.
Captain: Ugh, enough of that nonsense. (Taps another few buttons on the arm of The Big Chair) Attention, ship inhabitants: this is obviously your Captain speaking. New rule: when a conversion is clearly over, feel free to buzz off instead of waiting for me or any other so-called “superiors” to tell you when to go, and if turns out we’re not finished then we’ll order you back. Captain – OUT! (Taps another button to turn off the intercom, then stares pointedly at Lieutenant)
Lieutenant: Oh, right – bye. (Trots to the bridge lift to exit)
Captain: (Smiling at the retreating figure) I knew I made you Lieutenant for a reason! (Leans back in The Big Chair and starts spinning it from side-to-side, sighing again) I’m bored – somebody put on a movie!
Pilot: (Turns around in chair to face Captain) Um, Captain, we need the main viewscreen to navigate.
Captain: No you don’t – the computer and sensors are doing all the work and you’re only telling them where we want to go. And the viewscreen just uses psychology to trick our minds into thinking we’re actually getting somewhere in a universe that has no beginning and no end. (Pilot turns back to the controls, flabbergasted; Captain opens a panel next to The Big Chair, rummages around a bit, and pulls out a can of soda) Computer: tap into the kitten cam feed of the Humane Society in New Jersey and patch it through to the bridge’s viewscreen.
Computer: Accessing kitten cam feed.
(The starscape on the viewscreen is replaced by kittens playing with toys, napping, and overall being cute)
Captain: Heh-heh; sweet. (Pops open the can’s tab with one hand and slurps the drink)
(An alert sounds)
Communications Officer: Captain, a ship from the star system we designated as Kepler-186 has suddenly appeared off our port bow!
Captain: (Nearly spits out the drink) “Suddenly appeared”?! Who fell asleep at the lookout station?!
Communications Officer: Their ships have technology to hide themselves before making a dramatic entrance, Captain!
Captain: Oh right, I forgot they had that – wish we did.
Communications Officer: They’re asking us to pick up on the party line, Captain!
Captain: (Drops the soda can into the open panel and slouches again, head lolling back on The Big Chair) Arggghhh, what do those douchebags want noooow??!!
Communications Officer: We’ll probably find out in a few seconds once we pick up, Captain.
Captain: (Cracks jaw) Computer: replace the kitten cam feed with the incoming call.
Computer: Replacing kitten cam feed with incoming call.
(Kittens are replaced by the face of an angry-looking soldier)
General: Earth vessel –
Captain: (Head snaps from side to center) WHAT?!
General: (Momentarily taken aback) This is the warship –
Captain: We know what your ship’s name is, weirdo; it’s written in huge letters all over the hull. (General is stunned into silence) WHAT DO YOU WANT?!!!
General: (Regains composure) You have trespassed in our space and have 30 seconds to move along or we will bombard you with artillery! And possibly destroy you, but that outcome’s never a guarantee.
Captain: (Rolls eyes) We’re nowhere near your space – and besides, no one owns space, it just is; none of it can be yours and you can’t tell anyone what to do or where to be!
Pilot: (Turns around again) Actually, Captain, according to a memo sent from headquarters yesterday, this sector is now considered their space.
General: Aha! You were told! And we do so own it!
Captain: (Finally sits up and speaks to Pilot through clenched teeth) Then why are we in it right now?
Pilot: I may have been a little distracted in my duties lately, Captain; my apologies.
Captain: …If you even hint that high-school-couples’ drama has nearly led to an intergalactic incident, I will personally court-martial the both of you. (Pilot turns back around and focuses intently on keeping the spaceship hovering in place)
General: Well, Captain? Will you shove off or not?
Captain: (Leans back again) So, what, you want us to move four inches to the left or something?
General: “Inches”?
Captain: How far do we have to move ourselves in order for you to be content?
General: Oh, not far – 1,000 light years should be sufficient.
Captain: (Eyes widen) Are you kidding me?! Even at top speed that’ll take us – (Counts on fingers) over a year! And you only gave us 30 seconds!
General: Which have now passed, so it seems you leave us no choice. (To off-screen crew) Blast `em to smithereens, good people!
(Call abruptly ends and General’s face is replaced by the kittens as the spaceship rocks from laser beams hitting it)
Captain: (Falls out of The Big Chair, then scrambles back onto it) Are our defenses even working?!
Tactical Officer: The outer energy fields should hold for at least another minute, Captain, so that’s something.
Captain: Unbelievable.
(Lieutenant re-enters the bridge from the lift)
Lieutenant: Captain! (The latter whips around in The Big Chair to face the former) “Too Long; Didn’t Read”?!
Captain: (Nearly falls onto the floor again as the spaceship rocks violently) Are you for real right now?! Get outta here, and go wherever it is you nerds hide during fights like this!
Lieutenant: (Gasps while holding onto a railing as the spaceship rocks again) You don’t even know what I do here?!
Captain: No, and I don’t care and never will, nerd!
Lieutenant: (Runs back to the bridge lift and turns around to face Captain defiantly) That’s the last time I make sure the life support system works at maximum! (Lift doors close on anguished triumph)
Captain: Cripes. (Spaceship rocks the hardest it has yet; Captain spins around to Tactical Officer) What’s keeping you?! Fire back!
Tactical Officer: How so, Captain? Lasers? Bombs? Sledgehammers?
Captain: (Holding onto The Big Chair’s arms for dear life) I don’t know; use your best judgement!
(Tactical Officer shrugs and hits a button; a burst of light hits the other vessel, which immediately shuts down)
Captain: What’d you do?!
Tactical Officer: Hit `em with an EMP – seemed best.
Captain: (To self) I didn’t even know we had one of those. (Hits a few buttons on The Big Chair’s arm; General materializes on the bridge) So! You were saying?
General: This is outrageous! You not only trespass in our newly-declared property, but you’ve now doomed my entire crew to a slow death by suffocation or hypothermia, whichever decides to act faster! Once our homeworld hears about this abomination, they’re gonna go nuts!
Captain: Too bad: picking a fight and then losing it spectacularly comes with the literal territory.
General: We were defending ours!
Captain: From what, our nonexistent exhaust?!
General: From your presence! We don’t like you, and we don’t want anyone tromping through our interstellar backyard!
Captain: Feeling’s mutual, but you don’t see me blowing up your ship about it.
General: But you were told!
Pilot: (Turns around in chair) We were told, Captain.
Captain: (To Pilot) I don’t want to hear another word out of you ever again. (To General as Pilot sheepishly turns back around) All right, since you and your homeworld are clearly going to be eternal pains about all this, I’ll make it real simple. Computer: target the other vessel and relocate it – (Smiles demonically at General) INTO EARTH’S SUN.
General: WHAT?!
Computer: Incapable of executing command: not enough power exists on this vessel to transport that amount of mass over that amount of distance.
Captain: (Sighs and leans back to address the ceiling) I am surrounded by insubordination! (Pushes off from The Big Chair and approaches General) Fine! We’ll bring your crew over here, help you fix your ship, you go on your merry little way, we go on to… wherever out of here, and none of us ever speak of this again. Happy?!
General: No, but it’ll do.
Captain: Good, `cause I’m hungry so I’m going on break. (Trots off to the bridge lift, leaving no one in charge so everyone looks confusedly at each other)
(Hours later, the two repaired ships part ways)
Captain: (Back on the bridge, eating a candy bar; hits a few buttons on an arm of The Big Chair) Captain’s Log: The past few hours have been extremely annoying and I don’t want to talk about what happened and wind up reliving it, so I won’t. [Crunch-Crunch] Oh yeah, one more thing: I’m writing up the entire crew for sass. Even if they don’t to my face, I know they do behind my back. [Crunch-Crunch] Blazes, these things are tedious – having me “Dear Diary” every five minutes when there’s an objective recorder in the background at all times is the definition of redundancy. I mean, if the ship crash lands tomorrow, who cares what I thought about the whole thing? No amount of self-reflection’s gonna unscramble that egg, know-what-I-mean? [Crunch-Crunch] That’s about it – end log. (Tosses the candy wrapper like a basketball into a nearby garbage bin) Yes! Nothing but net.
Pilot: (Turns around in the chair) Captain, I know you never wanted to hear me speak again, but can I ask a question off the record?
Captain: (Opens another panel, grabs a pillow and blanket, reclines The Big Chair, and settles in for a nap) Like I just said if you were eavesdropping properly, the computer records everything like a spy so nothing’s ever off the record.
Pilot: Oh.
Captain: (Closes eyes) OK, what’s up?
Pilot: Well, you clearly don’t want to be out in space –
Captain: No kidding.
Pilot: – so… why did you join a space-exploring organization? And bonus question: how did you ever get promoted to Captain?!
Captain: (Puts on a sleep mask and curls onto side) I had nothing better to do, and there was a shortage. Now: continue flying us on our course to nowhere, and no one talk to me for the next six hours – I’ll be deep in multiple dream cycles, which are far more entertaining than this nonsense.
