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Captain’s Journal Star Date : The 28th Century
Dear Diary, I am recording this journal in the deep, dark, dank, claustrophobic dungeons of the Dwarves of Toth’s castle. No sooner had we escaped from the evil Giants of Noth than we were captured by these evil tyrants. The guard who imprisoned us was able to explain that the Giants and the Dwarves had been at war with each other for two thousand years with neither side able to command a victory. I was somewhat confused by his terminology as the dwarves seemed to me to be unlike dwarves as the giants had been unlike giants. The leaders of the two peoples could’ve looked each other eye to eye, face to face had they only the desire for peace. I put it to my colleagues that we could broker peace between these two powerful races. "Dammit, Butch, I’m a mineralogist not a parliamentarian" said the man John. I explained that peace was our best chance of freedom and he looked ashamed of his impetuous outburst. "How can we end a war that has raged for two thousand years?" asked Carol Richmond, my co-astronaut. "They must be made to realise that only by working together with your fellow men can they prosper and grow as human beings" I said eloquently. I had done an oratory module at the university of Central City and knew how to stir emotion. "Many years ago we Sensorites learned to be contented with our similarity and once we realised this, all treason and secret plotting became impossible" said Fingers. "Then why is one third of your population in the Warrior Caste?" asked the man John. "They are the ones who are unable to rule, work or play" replied Fingers with deadly earnest. "Ours is the perfect society" he added. "Then why did you leave?" asked Carol Richmond. "I craved adventure" he mumbled. All the while he had been playing around with his Telemat garter and at last he uttered a cry of triumph. "Eesh" he exclaimed. "You have something to report?" I asked. "I have succeeded in converting the etheric projection circuit into a simple communicator. It will be possible to send a simple signal to the SS Pioneer and aid our escape." "But how can sending a simple signal possibly aid our escape?" I asked. "I can reprogram the Telemat computer to be operated by remote control as long as I can send sufficient information in a simple on-off form." "Morse code" cried Carol Richmond. "Exactly" said Fingers. "I will communicate using space Morse code." "Your plan is flawless" I congratulated. "There is however a flaw" he continued. "It will take me approximately two million years to tap sufficient information into my Telemat garter." "Ah." "Oh." "Dammit." "We have four Telemat garters" I said, "we can immediately cut that time by seventy five percent." "Dammit, Butch, I’m a mineralogist not a calculation machine but even I know that would still take five hundred thousand years" said John. He clearly didn’t understand the principle of basic morale management. I attended a course at Central City entitled "Gloss for Success – the Art of Information Presentation in a Morale-centric Context". We relaxed in a gloomy silence once Fingers’ news had sunk in. Is there really no way out? Are the crew of the SS Pioneer to die a lonely death – each of us – in this dark and gloomy dungeon? Slain by warmongering dwarves?
Dear Diary, I am dictating this from the bridge of the SS Pioneer. There unfolded a string of events which would take a lifetime to fully explain but which can be summed up as Fingers discovered an error in his calculations and it would in fact only take an hour to send the coded information to the ship. He duly sent the Telemat equivalent of an SOS message and made contact with the big computer. "Dammit, Butch, I should go" said the man John. I was fearful – he was a vital member of the team and shouldn’t be used as part of what some would call a desperate and scientifically unproven experiment in molecular dissemination. "You can’t" I said. "You are too important. Carol Richmond shall go." "What?" squeaked Carol. Her natural female instincts shied away from adventure and more towards knitting and kittens. "Dammit, Butch, Carol isn’t going – I am. I love her and we are going to get married. If anyone has to die then it will be me." "I could go" offered Fingers. "That is out of the question – your unique knowledge of Telemat is needed here in this dungeon not on board the Pioneer" I told him. All three of their heads turned to me. "Dammit, Butch, that only leaves you" said the man John. I made sure the crew didn’t see me flinch or show signs of weakness. "Can you Telemat him from under the bed?" asked the man John. "It will be done" replied Fingers. Next thing I knew, my huddled body was being bathed in warm steamy water as I emitted through space. Upon my arrival on the bridge of the
Pioneer I weighed up my options.
I am staring at the Telemat console, unable to truly appreciate the complexity of its many knobs, levers, dials and so on. It is truly a magnificent machine and a credit to my skills as a developer of people. The only button I can honestly say I understand is the "Rapid Return Switch" which I hazard a guess will return me to the point of my most recent emission. Since I cannot bring the man John, Carol Richmond or Fingers up to the Pioneer without many months of study, trial and error (some of which could be fatal to either someone else or indeed myself) I feel it is my duty to return to them and lead a more practical escape. I have packed a bag of supplies and am about to press the rapid return switch.
Dear Diary, My materialisation in the cell, amidst the man John and the rest of my crew did not improve morale. "Dammit, Butch, what are you doing here? You were supposed to rescue us" snapped the man John. I will be noting those comments on his file and we will discuss them at his quarterly review. "I am indeed going to rescue you" I told him. I rummaged in my bag and pulled out the means of our salvation. "The laser cutter" gasped Carol Richmond. "We’ll be through that door in no time" I said reassuringly. The man John started crying.
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