Captains Blog

Boldly going where no blog has gone before..


Cant talk. Long.

Command crew; All dead.

Deep Space Nine. Falling through. Atmosphere of Bajor.

Hideous replicator malfunction.

Life. slipping away.

Oh my...


According to Starfleet, my handling of the new Kobayashi Maru scenario 'further blurred the line between madness and genius'.

I don't really know what that means.

Anyway, not long after I finished my Deep Pan Double Tribble Surprise (With Extra Hair), A Holo-Admiral from Starfleet command called me on a an ultra secure emergency frequency and requested that I power down my phasers immediately and return to Deep Space Nine.

I said that the Holo-Sisqo had gone mad and that I really ought to destroy the station before an intergalactic incident occured. Holo-Admiral sounded incredibly distressed and after a long silence he told me I had passed the test. I asked him whether my thinking could be perceived as being highly original. After another long pause he agreed that it could be and that I would get a certificate with my name on it and some vouchers - which they don't usually provide.

I shouted loudly and did a forward roll/karate chop to celebrate.

Sadly, I managed to rip my shirt on the rough edge of a Klingon gantry.

Apparently, there was some kind of fault with the Holo-Deck so the Holo-Admiral said that I had to 'end the simulation manually'. This meant docking with DS9 and going directly back to my cell because ending the simulation any other way would 'interfere with my brain pulses and alpha thought pattern tidal waves'.

I think that's what he said anyway.

Admirals are paid to know a lot of useless jargon like this so I thought best not to argue and just head back to my cell.

There was a burger waiting for me - another gift for my strategic brilliance. It tasted funny, but I was hungry. I fell asleep shortly after that. I was pretty tired from all my original thinking.

When I woke up, the command crew were present and seemed quite relieved.

They were probably worried that I had been hurt.


The Kobayashi Maru Scenario went rather well.

Sisqo put me in the Holodeck thing, which is just a big room with grids on the wall. At first I thought the game had changed and I just had to find my way out, so I started punching the walls to find gaps. This proved to be a poor tactic when the simulation started and I accidentally punched out my 1st officer as she appeared in front of me.

She fell onto one of the control consoles and hit the 'photon torpedo spread' button, destroying the Kobayashi Maru - the ship we were meant to be protecting.

I received a hail from one of the Klingon Battlecruisers asking what was going on. I had a flash of inspiration and said that I was planning to defect and turn over my ship, and that my first officer was a romantic gift to the Klingon High Council.

Suddenly, the funny grids reappeared and Sisqo walked in through a door. He said that my action 'was the grossest act of misconduct ever witnessed in the scenario' and that 'even if I was the real Berk, I would go to the gulag of Rura Penthe for my breathtaking insubordination'.

Well, there's no fooling Captain Berk.

I punched out the Holo-Sisqo and made for the Klingon Warbird, curious about this new twist on the original Kobayashi Maru scenario.

Along the way, I managed to acquire a phaser by punching out a hologram of that Bajoran Command Officer whose name escapes me, and after I had stunned three or four of those menial guard types (the ones who used to get saddled with the different coloured uniforms on my away missions) I made it to the Warbird and got myself some blood wine from the replicator.

I fired up the engines and managed to melt myself free from the belly of Deep Space Nine.

My guess was that - in this new scenario - Sisqo had gone mad and was using the old test to demoralise young cadets into thinking they were unworthy of Starfleet. This was a new test; a test of questioning authority, and when it should and should not be done. I replicated another blood wine and a tribble pizza, then locked the photon torpedos onto the station and requested they surrender.

I won't repeat the language Holo-Sisqo used in response.

2-0 to me!


Sisqo said he will release me as long as I stop stealing his food.

Starfleet told him to test whether or not I am a clown (obviously I am not) by having me sit the Kobayashi Maru scenario - a funny game where you have to fly into a nasty place and get into a big fight. I would have thought that getting me to ride a miniature bicycle through a loop-the-loop would have been a better test, but no-one seems to think that is a good idea, especially Sisqo, who becomes more and more convinced that I am a clown every day.

I still remember when I sat The Kobayashi Maru scenario as a cadet.

During the load up screen I tried pressing the following buttons; Left, Right, Up, Down, ABC, ABC because it made multi-coloured alien females appear in an old video game I read about in a 20th Century 'magazine'.

It didn't work, but after about 3 hours of play the simulation was stopped because the supervising officer claimed I was 'cheating' - whatever that means. I explained that he was just jealous because a cadet was skillfull enough to destroy 300 Klingon Warbirds without sustaining anymore than a 1% loss in shield strength. He also disapproved of my conduct during the battle, saying that 'it's not gentlemanly to rip off one's shirt, tie it around one's head and forward roll/karate chop the video screen during battle'. I said that such behaviour was an important part of my winning strategy. Later, they found out about my attempt to make ladies appear onscreen.

They gave me a commendation for original thinking - even though it didn't work.

Starfleet - never the smartest organisation in the galaxy.

Anyway, no-one knows how I really did it - blood wine and lots of forward rolls - so it looks like I'll get to relive the whole experience again in something called a 'holodeck'.

2-0 to Berk?

We'll see. But probably 'yes'.


I am still in the holding cell.

Apparently, Starfleet command believe that I am a clone.

Sisqo has been questioning me to see if it's true. I told him that just because a Captain can juggle, it doesn't mean he paints his face and wears baggy trousers. He said that I misunderstood him; a clone is an exact copy of somebody. I said that sounded quite dull, and that small children were unlikely to be enterained by two people who just look the same - you need a car that falls apart when you beep the horn, and balloons.

He went a funny colour and threw his dinner against the wall.

After he left, I reached through the bars and scooped up the remains of his meal.

Commander Sisqo - hungry
Captain Berk - not hungry

1-0 to me!


I am onboard a Starfleet base called 'Deep Space Nine' - which sounds like a rude Ferengi film I heard about (but didn't see).

When I mentioned this similarity during a discussion with the crew of The Nine about my docking procedure, it didn't go down too well, so I abandoned any further attempts to lighten the mood.

After all the shouting died down and everyone put away their phasers, I was told that I was now on a space station near Bajor.

I have only been to this sector once before and I remember little about it- ending up here after a game of Transporter Roulette; a drinking game Khan invented. I think we had to leave quickly because Khan thought it would be funny if we taped toast racks to our noses and threw hourglasses at the locals. It turned out that wasn't particularly funny, judging by the fanatical mob that tried to lynch us. Damn that blood wine.

Anyway, a rubber faced man with bad hair asked me to give my name rank and serial number but I refused - just in case.

You never know what's lurking in the memory banks.

After a long stand off, a funny looking bald man emerged from his hiding place and told me his name; Sisqo. I asked him whether he was descended from the famous 20th century musical artist of the same name.

There was more shouting and a brief firefight (which I lost - because my phaser ran out of batteries), then Sisqo had me escorted to the holding cells whilst he 'tried to figure out how he was going to remove a Klingon warbird from the belly of his station'.

I think it looks quite good - like a young tribble suckling it's mother.


Ah, it's working. Good.

It's now an incalculable time since I was last able to complete an entry; I have no watch, and I'm not quite what those point things mean in the stardate.

Anyway, the computer on this Klingon Warbird is rubbish when compared to Stafleet's finest.

It's running something called 'Super Mario Brothers' instead of the Klingon standard 'Ms Pacman', which is extremely irritating. It means that I couldn't spend these last few months bettering my high score. On a less inconvenient note, it also means I have been unable to maintain this private log, as the computer says 'no information can escape a black hole'.

Khan must have rewired it.

Since my last entry, I've been quite busy.

On my way to meet The Remans to introduce myself for some freelance mercenary work, I fell asleep on the control desk and accidentally spilled whisky on the console, causing the computer to change course - inadvertantly guiding the warbird into a black hole. The computer refused to provide me with an A-Z of black holes, claiming something about 'their dimensions being infinite' and 'the event horizon representing the point of no return'. Usually, pounding on the console and screaming loudly sorts out these problems - an officer usually assists, or the admiralty get involved.

Not on this hunk of junk.

Luckily, the Black Hole spat the ship out somewhere, which the computer said was 'technically impossible'. I responded by pointing out that it had actually happened, so it was not technically impossible, therefore making the phrase 'technically impossible' an oxymoron - which is defined as a phrase uttered by a moron that is just a waste of oxygen.

I won't repeat what the computer said in response.

The computer was annoying me, so I took control manually. The scanners indicated there was a Starbase nearby and I figured it would probably sober me up to try and maintain a course to dock with it. There isn't much you can crash into in space, so it's a pretty good hangover cure. Just don't try it on your way out of a starbase. That can get you in all sorts of trouble.

Eventually, I arrived and asked the computer to open a hailing frequency (and get me another bottle of whisky).

Before it could comply, a message came over the comm-link:

"This is Deep Space Nine. Please approach the docking bay in the usual manner, rather than in reverse as you appear to be doing"

Deep Space Nine?