The Minkies

Captains Log: I have no idea what star date it is and I care even less. We are in orbit around another brown and green planet following a distress call received over the low alert frequency. Uhuhuh has tried opening our hailing frequencies and we have been swamped by an ancient Barry Manilow concert which has been out there for centuries. Plop, Moans and Slotter have been in the briefing room for four hours along with a tape of Animal House and a crate of beer which we picked up on our last port of call. At the helm Guru and Checkers are staring at the viewport through which even I can see the damn planet.

The intercom whistles. I listen up. Horrendous belching echoes throughout the ship then Plop speaks: "Captain?"
There is a sound of a loud slap in the background and a voice shouting, "Oi, that was the last beer, you git." "Captain?" Plop repeats. Then he pauses.
"Are you pissed, Plop?" I ask.
"Affirmative, captain. Dr Detroit has just been sick on my boots. He is crawling round the floor muttering about how few decent lines he gets. Slotter has broken the computer firewall's porn filter and you should really come down now and see what we are seeing now..."
"But have you found out what the distress call means?" I demand. "Come on Plop, use some of that Vulgar logic of yours."
"I am only half Vulgar, as you well know, Captain...Dr Detroit put that down now!"
The intercom goes off.
I call Security: "Go to the main briefing room immediately," I order. "Guru you have the helm. I need to pick for the shore party."

I find Dr Detroit and Plop waiting for me in the Trainspotting Room, Slotter is there looking quite bored with everything. There is also a tasty looking Yeoman. I ignore the others and get her phone number then we dream down to the planet. The planet Valhalla IV was settled a century ago by a clan of Norwegians. It is the fourth planet from the G type sun that has been named Valhalla. There was a big drive to stop using Greek or Roman names that nobody could remember.

We appear in a deserted control room. Due to a Trainspotter malfunction Yeoman Megan has lost her uniform. Slotter nods appreciatively. Then we hear a loud grinding noise coming from the direction of the door over to the right. Dr Detroit looks like he is about to hurl again. Plop pulls his blaster out and adjusts the settings to stun while the Yeoman shivers and after a while I relent and pull off my jersey which she puts on and stretches demurely over her thighs. It's the damn knee high boots that do it. Our eyes meet, there is a pause while we connect, then the door slams open and a fat man dressed in orange walks through. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demands, pulling out a blaster the size of a marrow from its holder strapped to his leg.

"I am Captain Jack T Curse, this is my first officer Mister Plop, with him is our Chief Macintosh Slotter and the gentleman throwing up in the large bucket behind him is my Medical Officer, Dr Moans Detroit. The girl is - " I pause, I haven't found out her name, which might help. "What's your name, Yeoman?" I ask, she smiles at me and pouts. "Come on, we havent got all day. Tango man wants to know who we are." Tango agrees and says "yeah, what's your name?" She stops pouting and looks annoyed, maybe more so with Slotter leering at her.

"It's Destiny," she says after a bit. We all look at her. "Although I am known as Angel and when I worked with Slotter's crew he called me Destiny Angel. He said he was a big fan of a television series from the historical library of television, called Captain Scarlet." Slotter looks embarrassed.

" Angel? Didn't we meet once in the holodeck. I know now you and I we -"

"Yes, Mr. Slotter, I am told that we did, although I don't really remember. You never called me you know. I was so upset."

I decided that her phone number wouldn't be much use to me and passed it to Slotter who reddened and looked at his boots. Plop helped Dr Detroit over to a chair by the control desk, while Tango had holstered the marrow and was leaning against the control desk interested in what was going on.

"DestinyAngel," Slotter said, pursing his lips. "Yes." His eyes took that faraway look. I turned to the Tango man.

"Aren't you going to ask us what we are doing here?"

"I already have, Captain Curse. I am still waiting." He looked at his fingernails. "Well?"

"We received a distress call from this planet. We are here to find out what has gone wrong and so forth. You know the drill."

"Yes, that is correct, Captain. We have been attacked by the native life forms that inhabit the region to the south. We have lost many people and we need your help to defeat the enemy."

I see Slotter and Angel wander off hand in glove. I suppose they have a lot of catching up to do. I turn my attention to Tango who is still waiting for me to make some profound statement, probably me suggesting we use the ship's main blaster banks to rid the planet once and for all of the creatures that are attacking them. But first things first¦

"Do these creatures have a name? I ask Tango.

"We call them Minkies, because they have sharp teeth, lots of fur and the ones we have killed so far have been made into nice coats for our women folk. We used to hunt them then they got wise to us and started hunting us back. I remember one time we had a whole ¦. He paused as if in reverie. I waited for a while for him to continue but apparently he wasn't going to. Instead he pulled out a packet of Z rations and chewed on a biscuit bar for a while.

Plop coughed politely. "Captain? He began as I turned towards him, wondering if Angel was really going to take up with a loser like Slotter. "Dr. Detroit has found something strange on the computer. It's a log of some description.

I joined Moans and Plop by the terminal and watched Moans tap away on the keyboard. "Look, Jack, said Moans. I looked. It was indeed a log of some kind. It was dated about a year ago and began as follows:

WE HAVE BEEN UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO HAVE SEEN THE DAWN OF A NEW RACE. AFTER THE FAILURE OF THE CONTAINMENT PEN THE MINKIES ESCAPED INTO THE SURROUNDING COUNTRYSIDE. FOLLOWING SEVERAL UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS TO HUNT THEM DOWN, WE ARE NOW BESIEGED IN THE MAIN SHELTER AND ARE WAITING FOR THE DISTRESS CALL TO BRING IN A FEDERATION CRUISER TO ASSIST US IN LEAVING THE PLANET, WHICH IS NOW OVERRUN BY MINKIES. MUST REMEMBER PAT'S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK.

"Is there any more? I ask Moans who looks baffled. "Anything? Anything at all? I continue.

"No Jack, that's all there is, it is the last entry in the log. I wonder who Pat is?

" I suppose we will never know, Plop said in a surprisingly deep voice. It echoed around the control room and then stopped. Tango had gone, and we were alone. Then I heard the sound of two people grunting, louder and louder, followed by a scream.

I pulled my blaster and was about to rush off to see if Angel was in danger when Moans caught my arm. "Don't go there, Jack, you will only get upset.

I looked at him strangely. "But Angel could be in danger!

"I doubt it, Captain, Plop said. "She is quite a fit female. My human half feels attracted to her, but my Vulgar half tells me that her ears are the wrong shape.

"Plop, stop going on about ears! Moans snapped. "This is a very serious situation we are in.

"Yes, I replied, bitterly, "Slotter is having his evil way and there is nothing I can do about it.

At that point Slotter came running round the corner, his eyes wild and his jersey torn in three places.

"Did Angel do that? I asked.

"Captain, Angel has been taken by some furry creatures with sharp teeth!

"Doesn't surprise me, I continued, looking glum. " She looked like the girl who would try anything once¦.

"Captain! I mean she has been abducted!

The credit dropped and we all ran around to where Slotter had been with Angel. All that was left was my jersey which had been ripped in two. "Are you sure you didn't er¦.

"What do you take me for? I am appalled at the suggestion, Captain. Slotter looked dangerous.

"OK, OK, so you didn't do anything. Well what are we going to do now? I asked Plop.

"Um, said Plop, thinking.

"Speculate Plop, that's what you do isn't it?

"I think we are all becoming affected by some strange force in this control room. It is making us act irrationally. See, Dr Detroit is crying, and Slotter is banging his head against a brick wall. And I think you have a pash on Angel, Captain.

"Um ¦er¦. I said, unable to make coherent sentences form in my mind. "Maybe, Plop. But you don't seem to be affected yet¦oh god, where did you get that from? I ask in amazement.

Plop is playing a Vulgar Zither like he is stoned. I pray for the commercial break to come¦¦.