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Transcript
Panel 1:
Special Envoy Lorraine Hulyard: I can't believe I let Bannister talk me into just sitting her in the shuttle.
God knows what idiocy they're getting up to out there.
And who programmed this replicator? This coffee tastes like armed over engine oil.
Andre Peters: Gee, I'm sorry our crisis situation isn't meeting your needs, Ms. Hulyard. Perhaps I can stop fixing our only means of transport and instead become your personal chef.
Unknown Transmission: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Mr. Dwayne Shrunt: You shouldn't talk to Jan like that. She's your superior.
Andre: We're all civilians here, Shrunt. Just hold that tricorder steady.
Panel 2:
Hulyard: You keep talking about a "Jan," Shrunt. Who the hell is Jan?
Shrunt: I was talking about a Jan? When?
Hulyard: Just now.
Shrunt: No, I said Ms. Hulyard. Ms. Hulyard.
Hulyard: Ugh. Whatever. It has to be that laughing. It's eating our brains.
Andre: She's not wrong about that. You know what it reminds me of? The canned laughter from old Earth TV shows.
The sitcoms, anyway. Not a big fan of those. But I do like the old sci-fi. It's funny how much stuff they got right. And how much they got wrong.
You ever watch any early television, Shrunt?
Shrunt: Yes, actually. Battlestar Galactica.
Panel 3:
Andre: Really? That's amazing! Did you know I had the Galactica in mind when I designed the Intrepid?
Around the hull, mostly. I wanted ship armor so thick she could tank a nuke. Like in the show.
See? Maybe we all just got off on the wrong foot. Have any other hobbies?
Shrunt: Bears. Beets.
Did you hear that?
Andre: No? But I do need you to keep watching that readout. This panel is sensitive and the main computer is still down.
I'd rather not give myself 3rd degree plasma burns.
... Did you say bears and beets?
Panel 4:
Shrunt (aside): I can't keep sitting here in the warehouse.
I've got to call some clients. Jan, are you coming?
Hulyard (aside): Ugh, yes. I suppose I have to. I've left Michale by himself for far too long.
Andre: Anyway, hang on... I think I got it.
SFX: *VRR!* *VRR!*
Andre: There!
Panel 5:
Andre: Okay... diagnostic system is back on. Should be too primitive for that virus to infect.
Hell. There's more damage than I thought. Shrunt, I'll need you to--
Panel 6:
Andre: Mr. Shrunt? Ms. Hulyard?
Panel 7:
Andre: Oh, crap.
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