Unexpected News from Space

I still don't know what to think... I got up this morning and found the message below waiting on the ship-to-shore communicator device thingy.

Is it possible? Is Inky REALLY on board? Or is this some kind of nefarious plot by the insurgents in Republic of Tinselman to destabilise our attempts to sew the seeds of democracy in that benighted realm?

Of course, I immediately attempted to contact the spacefleet flagship Our Bite is Worse, but they seem to have once again left communications range. I curse the day that we followed Minister Ivo's instructions about saving money and signed up with Australia's BigPond... it simply has no coverage -- leave a capital city and it simply isn't there. No wonder the Oz tyranny is attempting to offload it onto unsuspecting foriegn investors...

Anyway, if the following IS true, then all our troubles will soon be over. And Inky is safe after all!

Part of Museum of Dust's spacefleet. (Image credit: Capt. Demarius Pike)

Communication #One.
Captain's log [terra chronis 23/10/06]
Source: The interplanetary vessel 'Our Bite is Worse than this Barque' [Ian M Banks class] command ship to the Museum of Dust Interplanetary Research and Development Department.
Recipient: The Museum of Dust/Terra Incognita via Burnham Wood.

We have just left the 'information shadow' cast by Saturn and Jupiter and are now free to beam directly to Earth. Back-up files will follow.

As you all know (we did leave a note attached to the whiteboard in the anatomy lab – you DID read it didn’t you?) we were requested by NASA to confirm Pluto's planetary status. I decided it would be a perfect opportunity to test the interplanetary abilities of our starfleet. The results were good all round. Pluto was sadly lacking in the bulk required for planetary status. Unfortunately, it was also somewhat too big for admission to the Museum of Dust. After an evening of large amounts of rum and indiscriminate disciplinary measures I decided to destroy the uppity rock. [see attached foto] It is definitely no longer a member of the pantheon.

But it IS now eligible for admittance to MoD’s collection.

On our return trip I was tempted to colonize Jupiter as part of our philosophy of 'Pre-action' but we found the inhabitants peaceful, friendly, and receptive to our cause having suffered severe brutality at the hands of someone called 'Your Illustrious Khan'. Beneficence being the better part of valor we left them such helpful items as we could - catalogues, compasses, looking glasses and the like. Saturn we left a smoking ruin.

Now, frankly, I have to ask 'What the hell has been going on?' I spend a couple of weeks in space and come back to find we are on the brink of war with the Republic of Tinselman. I've never heard of them - which is good, in a way, as it make it so much easier to wipe them off the map. That is assuming they ever made it on to one. War-making is my imperative and Cog's prerogative.

It is not an option for someone such as Leslie Fenton Scam-scam.

Leslie is to be commended for his actions during this time of crises. However, for exceeding his authority he will be shot at dawn, with a matinee at two o'clock, an evening show at eight, and a late supper shooting on Fridays.

The people of the Republic of Tinselman and the employees of the Museum of Dust must be reminded that war is not to be entered into lightly. The consequences always outweigh the benefits. No one is ever ennobled by the subjugation of others. You have all been swayed by false messiahs. As the wicked Leslie Fenton Scam-scam tried to lure us to destruction the malevolent spirit of William Shatner stalks the Republic of Tinselman. This evil, malign, despicable creature must be driven back to its home in a Boston law firm. The benighted savages of the Republic must be made free. As of this moment I direct the starfleet to cross the galaxy in a quest to rescue the Khan and save him from false Samaritans. We will not rest until he sits upon his throne and once again can enlighten and protect his folk.

May comets waver in their paths and suns die at your glance:
we salute you mighty Cog

Studley Wilcox-Lusher III
Minister of Defence

PS: [DELETE THIS NOTE]-commandline-1-note/deletion>stack-failure
Will send out scouts. I will probably just swing around behind Uranus (I know… but the astro-navigation crew insisted) colonize a few moonlets and be home in time for supper.

I suppose the only thing to do now is wait. And hope.