Now what?

Who: Mk.7 and Benjen
When: Whenever you want it baby
Where: Parrots, Navigation room, space
Benjen and Mk.7 had been sitting in Parrots drinking continuously
for about 30 minutes, and about 3 capacitors blew in Mk.7 every
minute from the alcohol shorting out systems he had
dubbed 'superfluous'.
"Hey, I thought you didn't drink that much." said Mk.7 followed by a
loud bang from his left knee
"Yeah, well there doesn't seem to be much else to do around here at
the moment" said Benjen downing the last of his beer.
"The chicks around here seem pretty hot today." noted Mk.7
At that moment a short, fat woman walked past in a very tight top
with half her gut sticking out, and the word 'Sexy' printed over the
chest.
"We gotta get out of here." said Mk.7 having a sudden change of
heart.
The pair sauntered up to the Navigation room, and Benjen collapsed
onto a console with several screens showing the movements of several
civilian ships.
"What, can't take yer liquor-or-or-or-or-or-or?" asked Mk.7, his
speech circuit shorting out, before his self-repair systems kicked
in.
"No, I'm just a bit tired. This is one big ship. Did we have to take
the stairs?"
"Trust me, it would have taken a lot longer to take the X-Press
lifts."
"Hello? What's this?" said Benjen perking up at the sight of the
civilian ships on the scanners.
"What is it?"
"Some of the civilian ships are engaging each other."
Mk.7 patched into the radio frequency of the civilian ships and
routed it through the Navigation deck speakers.
"This is the civilian ship 'Cabramatta' calling to ship 'Mega
Goat': Give us all of your wine and cheese dip supplies or be
destroyed."
Mk.7 cycled through the other frequencies. All the civilian ships
were pillaging each other for supplies.
Mk.7 and Benjen looked at each other, before running down to the
nearest hanger.
A few hours later they had arrived in the area where all the
civilian ships were paired off against each other. Benjen had come
with the intention of mediating and Mk.7 had come with the intent to
blow something or someone up.
Mk.7 patched into the comms of the nearest ship.
"Hello. You ordered a Babe-wash for your vessel. Due to staff
shortages, I will be your babe." said Mk.7 in the hopes of at least
confusing the ship enough for it to disengage the ship that it was
attacking.
A voice crackled over the comms.
"Ah yes, thank you. I would like a full wax and don't scratch the
paint work." came a smarmy French voice.
"A FRENCH ship, eh?" said Mk.7, grabbing the weapons control, before
Benjen shoved him away from the helm.
<tag dude>