To go where I have never willingly gone before

Captain Wolf's Log, stardate 1716694.992,

Some professional meetings may take place on B'havaria. Should that fortuitous happenstance come to be, I'd like to also inform the everyone that this is effectively a work trip sometime next standard.

This pathfinder mission to rebrand this ancient civilization has taken our unit to most riveting places so far, but perhaps the most impressive have been the friends we've made along the way.

A crew of Sokka players from Darumstadt staying at our planetary hospitality facility was ambushed by a parasitic winged creature! I found out at the reception that there have been no casualties of the alleged "bird", which has been asked to leave after it relieved itself liberally in the players' general direction. The spirits at breakfast, nonetheless, remained high. These men were admirably sturdy! Singer distractedly agreed with an eloquent, "Huh?"

Another note-worthy encounter was with an Ethiopian-born Italian chef whose name may have been Mawss, who was very touchy, and who is currenly on the lam. Should individuals seeking Mawss inquire where she went on her eternal quest for Bubatz, it may have been France, or it may have been England, but the dust has already settled on the Marlboro butts she left outside.

A temple of natural history has been exposed as a children's torture facility and after several attempts at establishing communication has been blown like a popcicle stand.

Cadet Singer discouraged me from seeking further temples, but my vigor, vitality, and the walking stamina unfamiliar to American natives, need a productive knowledge-soaked outlet. Therefore the cadet will not be joining me on away missions marked "museum", which is a native word for a place where one might suck wisdom for a modest fee.

Besides the natural knowledge, Lieutenant Canine and I are attempting to decipher the ancient alien artifact tablet we've found at the stronghold of Horny Mountain on B'havaria. The passage we are currently working on reads:

All that is gold does not glitter, 

and not all who wander are lost, 

so sometimes the lesson to learn here 

is that they lied to you about ghosts.

We are devoid of any current interpretations, and we have taken that very personally. We blame the messenger for bad choices and wish him a long and tedious lifespan.

Singer's suggestion for a possible diversion is a trampoline endeavor I am sadly too old for, I have listed 56 more pleasant ways of losing my lunch for her records, her appetite for the experience has since subsided. As it stands, she fancies very little, but she will keep me apprised of ideas as they come up.

Celebrating our newfound team cohesion, and meditating on Cadet Singer's tragic and sudden grief, we have attempted to commune with the dead via an alien toxin known as Jaguar Master. This vile substance however managed to get my Number Three stuck in a docking elevator. Retrieved by six B'havarian flame-fighters, all of which deeply concerned, but none capable (or willing) to princess carry me to an early retirement, Singer stoically hit her vape and went up the stairs with me to take a whizz.

The authorities have been informed of the officers' dishonorable conduct to date and did not respond, as we are all adults in the limitless expanse of space and bear the consequences of our own actions if we can't outrun them at warp factor ten. As the highest ranking officer, I am drafting an official reprimand for myself, which I will read to myself at dawn.

I'm fortunate to report however, I will continue going everywhere I am sure to find something hilarious.