I will have a big wooden board sticking out of my ship. Whenever anyone (crew member, ally, or enemy) asks about it, I will point out that I consider ‘walking the plank’ to always be an option.
By the time I bark out a command to conn to take evasive maneuver “delta delta four,” and the conn lays in the maneuver pattern, and the ship responds… it’s too late. I will have preprogrammed maneuvers on my command chair and active them with one touch. Also, if I don’t have to coordinate my maneuvers or my retreat with an ally, and all I need to do is to avoid fire, I will execute the preprogrammed maneuver: random directions.
Any galactic ubervillains claiming to be my father will be required to submit extensive, notarised paperwork attesting to the same, preferably in quintuplicate - birth registry and hospital records, affidavits from attending midwives, dog-eared tear-stained old baby pictures and the like. Oh yeah, and blood samples for DNA testing. Lots of them. Taken with big scary needles. Sorry, but “Search your feelings.” just won’t cut it anymore.
If the deadbeat turns out to be telling the truth, I shall then sue his arse through the highest court in the galaxy for 36 years of unpaid child support, as well as substantial reparations for emotional pain and suffering caused by his absence. If the bastard is unable to pay up, fine: I’ll take the keys and papers to his shiny new orbiting battle station in lieu. Boo-yah.
Oh yeah, and all Starfleet ships are in for a major redesign: out go the old ironing board and two dust-busters designs, to be replaced by something considerably more penis-shaped, even if this entails digging up the remains of the guy who designed the original E-Type Jaguar and cloning him from his DNA. Standard boring grey and off-white colour schemes will then be ditched in favour of metallic purple with hot-rod flames on the front, and the hydraulic landing gear will be tricked out to bop the ship up and down to the strains of Deep Purple’s Space Truckin’. That and the furry dice ought to add a sense of occasion to any first contact missions.
If my crew are entering a hostile situation on a planet’s surface, they will carry a variety of weapons, so that if our phasers prove ineffective (and when don’t they?) my crew will have an option besides “run away.” This assortment of weapons will include an ammunition-based firearm (preferably an assault rife or shotgun) and a good hand-to-hand weapon.
And on the subject of hand-to-hand weapons: my redshirts will be given lightsabers, and be trained so as to be reasonably proficient in their use. I don’t care if I am mixing fantasy universes; those things make for damn good melee weapons. You can call them “plasma rods” or somesuch if you must, but my combat troops will not get their asses kicked because they have no close quarters combat ability.
The design requirements for all planetary bases, mobile bases, and ships will include a specification that the main power plant will be completely isolated from hangar areas. This particularly includes physical defenses against weapons fire and solid barriers to prevent unauthorized personnel.
Also, the main power plant will be equipped with its own high-tension circuit breakers and fuses, so that if weapons fire does blow the power plant, that incident will not result in the loss of the base or ship.
I will never use a major weapon system that has a single point of total failure – doubly so if that single point of failure is MY OWN SHIP.
If someone develops mechanical soldiers, battle robots, etc., I will acquire as many as my ship can reasonably carry. These battle robots will augment my onboard Marine force as shock troops. Why send living people into the fray when I can send machines instead?
No mobile pets. Small caged / jarred / bowled / boxed pets are okay, but the owner is responsible for the pet’s consumables (food, water, oxygen, etc.).
Any crew member who goes temporarily insane and attempts to sabotage my role as captain or our ship itself will not be reinstated to officer status upon recovery, they will be killed long before recovery is an option.
Music will be closely monitored at all times, and any instance of minor key horn parts will result in me or my crew being transported out of there, and those coordinates will be bombed into rubble. This will eliminate 95% of unpleasant surprises.
Slight hijack, but Red Dwarf has bathrooms! It’s almost worthy of its own thread to celebreate this small victory for ship designs, but in at least three episodes a bathroom area or toilet are shown on the ship! (And, in one case, the captain is shown to be retreating from the bathroom while spraying a copious amount of air freshener behind him as he closes the door.)
That either shows that Red Dwarf acknowledges that there are certain things that all people do, or that in all other sci-fi settings humans have evolved to the point where they don’t have to take a dump anymore.
All women’s uniforms will revert back to the shorty shorty dresses from the original series; they will have one long zipper in the front so they can be easily removed; all female officers will be easily sexed up and bear a striking resemblance to Yorman Rand.
All women’s uniforms will revert back to the shorty short dresses from the original series; they will have one long zipper in the front so they can be easily removed; all female officers will be easily sexed up and be at least as good looking as Yoeman Rand.
… Each member of my crew will be taught the “Everything so and so says is a lie” / “I am lying” logical paradox, rendering us immune to all artificial intelligence enemies.
My hull and floors will be laced with exotic matter taken from the quantum foam (or something). This way if I undergo some kind of cockamamie “Phase shift” and no longer interact with normal matter so I can walk through walls and am invisible to the crew, I can still run through corridors instead of drifting out of the ship into deep space.
A friend of mine once decided that Star Trek crews had a device called the Pantsporter that just zapped your waste into the toilet or the septic tank or whatever.
Oh and should I have an artificial intelligence ally, I will make sure it knows the
‘I am lying’ paradox is a result of the fact that grammer is not derived from logic, and was never intended for these types of self-referential statements.
Prospective candidates for the position of chief engineer will be given a rigorous psychological examination before being offered the job. If any of them show suicidal tendencies, they will not get it. Any chief engineer who fails to eject the warp core in an emergency five times in a row will be court martialed for sabotage.
I will not go looking for God. I will not try to become one with God. I will not try to build God. I will not try to become God. I will not assume a planet is Eden. (God includes omnipotent entities, sentient planets, and proto-sentient fungal stalks that urge me to transcend my physical form and become one with the fungus – sorry, I’ve been playing Alpha Centauri lately)
I do not want to transcend my physical form and become an energy being. Thanks for asking.
