“AYE AYE, SIR!!”
“Let us prepare for battle!” directed J.
The battle preparation involved the two hundred plus crew donning animal skins with part of the head intact and red noses in honour of Galactic Red Nose Day and gathering in the dome-shaped silver battle preparation room. They danced in an anti-clockwise throng around an artificial fire as tribal drums piped through the surround speakers. A well preserved dead horse that dangled from the ceiling had its legs pulled in different directions by ropes. Its belly gave forth a shower of animal fat and confectionary. In a frenzy, the crew danced and smeared themselves with the fat. J noticed that he was the only one who dry-reached a little as he did this. The crew reached a higher level of bloodthirsty apoplexy. Jemima approached J amongst the baying crew.
“Captain?” she asked coyly.
“Yes, Assistant P.A. Suckw… I mean Crystal?”
“If we don’t get through this…”
“Yes?”
“I just want you to know…”
“Yes?”
“I just want you to know…”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that… I want you to know…”
“Yes? Go on.”
“I want you to know that I can lactate at will.”
“Hubba hubba!” said J as he poked his tongue out and flapped his arms like a chicken. He stopped this when he noticed he had a pube in his mouth. He didn’t know whose it was and he tried to spit it out.
“ONWARD TO BATTLE!” he declared.
The doors of the dome opened and the crew poured onto the fibreglass-like surface of the planet. The Grongorgan ship sat; canted and smoking disproportionate smoke. The crew watched the