Capt. Lussiz was finally able to relax. Get a little thinking done. Maybe finally get around to updating the Captain's log. He had not done that in cycles. And he had a lot to report. Those new crew members were some of the most useful individuals he had ever seen, but they were also some of the most aggravating beings in the galaxy.

It seemed like every incident was either caused or solved by one of them. Mostly caused. He did not even want to think about what those damned bipeds were about to do with that broken gravity amplifier. They said something about atomic degradation rates and ran off saying the words that still haunted his rest period: "This is gonna be awesome!"

His dorsal frill still rose when he thought about those words, and what usually followed. But he still had to dictate every notable event into the logs, otherwise headquarters would flay him.

He was about to start the recording system when the door alerted him to a visitor. His frill stiffened in annoyance. He hit the comm system.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Captain, sir? There's been an... an incident."

Lussiz recognized the voice of his quartermaster. If she was nervous, then he could only think of one source. He opened the door to admit the aging Stelaxian.

"It was them again, wasn't it?

"Yes, captain." She said, tapping her third foot, indicating agreement.

"What was it this time?" He could already tell this would be a new entry in the logs.

"You recall last cycle the report of container 563 going missing?"

He gave his acknowledgement. It was hard to forget a large quantity of a highly toxic substance going missing. And her bringing it up made his mind go to the logical -- and unfortunate -- conclusion.

"What did they do with it?" He asked. "They weren't trying to weaponize it, were they?"

"No, sir. They were...using it as a food additive. Practically drinking the stuff."

Her rearmost legs were skittering across the metal floor. He felt the same way. How could they eat that stuff?

"But...that was pure capsaicin. Toxic to, well, everything." He said, as if that would change something.

"I know, sir. But they were eating it. They said they wanted something "spicy" for their meal, whatever that means. And when asked about drinking it, they said it was mimicking something called the "hot pepper challenge" from their homeworld."

He let out a tired rumble from his air sacks. Now he had another problem to deal with.

"Did you at least get the raining capsaicin back?"

"Yes, sir. They seemed upset by it though. They complained that their food rations were too bland and that...that poison was what they needed to make it better."

"Of course they drink poison for fun. Why wouldn't they?" He muttered under his breath. Then, much louder, "Thank you for your report. Keep all toxic substances locked up with grade one locking systems from now on, just in case."

The quartermaster gave her agreement and headed off. The captain trudged heavily to the log recording system and activated it before any more interruptions could manifest.

"Captain's log. The new crew members continue to be an irritant to myself and the rest of the crew. Their behavior is unpredictable and distressing. The latest in a long line of incidents has them stealing a large quantity of a controlled toxic substance. They did so to ingest it, while saying they wanted something spicy for their food. I don't even know what that means, but that was, according to my highly reliable quartermaster, the excuse given."

He continued to give his extensive list of reports on the crew member's behavior, both positive and negative. It took him far too long to do. When he was finally done, he sat on his reclining seat and said, out loud for some reason,

"I swear these damn humans are going to be the death of me."

I wouldn’t be surprised if this is illegal, but I’ve had enough of this sobriety shit. I’ve been stuck on this damn ship for six months now; I need something to lighten the load. Gradually I cracked open the fuel compartment of the ship’s torpedo with the end of my wrench. A melodious odor lingered from sludge as it poured into the small bucket in my hands as the chief engineer clambered down the distant ladder of the torpedo bay. The almost but not muppet with flesh flopped down the gangway of the room at full speed, screaming. “What are you doing? Stop, no! Why are you doing this; we need that!”

In due time the liquid continued to drain from the torpedo as the muppet slapped the side of my head repeatedly with the force of a feather duster as I remunerated to the frantic conversation. “I need it more! I haven’t had a drink in months!”

CE: “That’s torpedo propellant! You can’t drink that! There are so many dangerous chemicals in that liquid!

E: “Fuck You! I’m getting my torpedo juice!”

CE: “No! Give it back; there’s a pirate skiff in the system!”

E: “This is a battle cruiser! Use the guns!”

CE: “We have no guns!”

E: “Why don’t you have guns!”

CE: “They don’t work in space!”

E: “That’s a lie!”

CE: “Well, ours don’t!”

E: “Then get a different damn torpedo!”

CE: “No, this is federation property!”

E: “No, it’s mine!”

CE: “Fuck You!”

The blaring claxons and flashing red lights heralded my secured prize as I raised the bucket of torpedo juice moments before the projectile was shunted from the weapon’s room airlock.

E: “Ah shit.”

CE: "That's going to get stuck."

E: "Yep."

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.