An excerpt from the Encyclopedia Universalis on what it means to be a part of a crew — (Best read in Stephen Fry's voice)
"It is highly regarded among many races and species that inhabit the universe that there is one ultimate form of camaraderie, for which there is one simple word for it in basic English: crew. Crew, as a word, had become so popular with the people as a form of escapism, that honestly should have just been kept within works of fiction (50 Shades of Grey wasn't enough? Come on), that it had been given a special spot in the dictionary and single-handedly consumed various other words into its collective. In fact, this had caused quite a stir in one specific community—the Logrodytes of Conchessa—during the hippy movement in the 60s, that every species went through at some point in the 60s. It's actually been dubbed and proven through a few experiments that no one bothers to redo and test further that the 60s is actually a universal time anomaly, in which the Hippy's, also a temporal anomaly, could thrive without due process or persecution for possession of illegal paraphernalia and use of said paraphernalia in every world ever that has a way to measure the passing of years. This has been proven through the observation of the world Hippolytica, a tie-dyed world that smells oddly of weed and looks oddly like Dr. Seuss had an aneurysm. Through recent discoveries, it seems to be that this world is in fact trapped in a temporal time loop where it resets every decade so that it may never traverse further down its historical line.
It was determined that a scientist had caused an unwanted and wholly unnecessary rift in the world's time core (a theory still being tested, though scientists are much too lazy for that) just as the planet hit its 60s era, you know, the one everyone goes through. Sad to say, this effected the whole universe in a way that everyone suffers now. As it should be. However, this was the sole cause for the utter annihilation of one particular race: the aforementioned Logrodytes of Conchessa. This particular species was very well known for its skill in debates. The fact that they wouldn't let go of a topic until one could no longer stand the incessant thing was a great help and was the sole tool in their kit of debating skills. It was also their downfall.
It so happened that this race of beings thought it necessary, after becoming so hyped up on cocaine and LSD, to completely change the word banana to mean the same as the word crew. In other words, they wanted a Banana to become a part of the vast collective of what the word Crew actually meant, thus bloating the word so much that it became a common trick question on tests that quickly turned into full blown essays on the importance of the word crew and what it meant to you. Sadly, the banana was an invasive species (who would have known a phallus shaped fruit would literally dick around so much that it would spread like gonorrhea in a brothel. Goes to show the willpower of men) which had found a home among the once primitive and honor bound species of the Halatians of Warsaw XI. They had become so accustomed to the banana that it become their sacred religious symbol, and the symbol on every flag they rose. It so happened that the orange was also a sacred fruit and they put that on their flag, too. Do you see where this is going? They literally had a flag with a penis on it. A human shaped one that resembled it so much that it was actually offensive to look at once you got it, but this wasn't the shape of a Halatian male's phallus, so it hadn't really occurred to them just how immature their flag was. When humans came into the picture, people began to realize just how immature their flag was.
Back to the subject: after many years, the Logrodytes finally took over the political arena and were successful in changing the word banana into the word crew. Suffice to say, this was the end of the species as people knew them. The Halatians took such a great offense to such a blatant disregard to their culture—honestly, who doesn't separate church and state nowadays? Many agree that they were acting like childish infants that day, including the Logrodytes, who were, more or less, completely... and utterly eradicated.
This is why you don't put all your eggs in one basket... and don't lace said basket with every drug known to whateverkind.
It is also quite unknown as to the reason why the Encyclopedia Universalis sells so many copies, as many people have often complained about its proclivity to run off in wild tangents, to the point where an article explaining the reasons for the Berlin Wall could very well be made into its own novella and sell many more copies alone than most rubbish.
This was the perfect day for a spot of tea.
Well, it was a pretty good day, anyway. Especially when half the crew was either limping or split in half due to some monstrosity infesting the air ducts. Apparently, someone thought it was a good idea to bring an unknown being's egg into the space ship. That someone was in no particular way inept at their job; in fact, they were quite good at what they did. Never mind that what they did caused more deaths on average than a serial killer let loose on a small fishing village. Research was research, though, and he did get what he wanted out of that—not the deaths, but the data.
It was oddly coincidental that he had the near exact amount of people lined up to replace those that had died. He'd have to tell some of them to leave, however, but the others were guaranteed a job. Unless, of course, the dead crew reanimated; in that case, he'd have more expendable crew which he wouldn't have to pay or feed and would be more profitable in the long run, give or take a few infectious diseases running rampant that he'd somehow be responsible for.
Aside from all of that, it certainly was a fantastic day for tea.
"Don't you think, Jane?" Doctor Eckhart Nosek, after slipping a nifty antique pipe into his mouth, questioned. He gave her a look over: the gal was worse for wear, just like most of everyone else that survived. Or didn't survive.
The blonde woman stared at him from across the table. There were bags under her eyes, and she hadn't touched her tea. She wore a light blue shirt and dark pants of some slightly shiny, stretchy material. She had been staring past him at some fixed point in the distance; her eyes wandered to his as he spoke. Eckhart wondered, vaguely, how long it had been since she had "slept" - or whatever the word was for what she did.
"What?" She said.
"That it's a good day for tea," Eckhart replied, enunciating clearly as he gestured toward her drink, "Or is there something else you fancy? Coffee?"
"Whiskey," she said. "Six people, Eck. And we're at what, now, twelve in two years?"
"More than twelve," he signaled his personal A.I. to fetch the whole bottle as he spoke, "I just find reasonably good copies. Coincidence, really. Think around eighteen or twenty and a half, including myself."
Jane sniffed. "That man" - she hadn't bothered to learn his name - "is an idiot. One medic's insides got eaten and he started accusing us of all being alien duplicates."
The A. I. (a tall, white-haired woman with a bosom of gravity-defying metal and silicone) brought Jane an ornate bottle of whiskey and started to pour it into a small glass, but Jane waved her off. Without looking away from Eckhart, she swept up the bottle in her right hand and downed about a third of it.
"This is disgusting," she said. "Tightening your belt, doc?"
"We're making more money than we have in years," he growled back, "never mind that it was caused by a few mishaps that ended in tragedy..."
Jane was inspecting the whiskey bottle. "Morker's Make?" she said. "Doc, we both know better then that. What are you gonna to do when there's nobody left who wants to volunteer?"
"Oh dear Jane," he scoffed, "I'll be out of candidates when poverty stops existing. No one likes utopias anyways; it leaves little room for opinions and people love opinions."
Jane pursed her lips, regarded him for a moment, then took another long swig from the bottle. "No way I can convince you to try some real science-villainy again?"
"I mean, kill me a few times and I might want to," Eckhart commented with a grin. He made fancy work of lighting the pipe in his mouth before looking at Jane again, "Is there something particular you don't like about living like a pauper?"
"Not that it's the worst thing possible, but come on, Eck." Jane gave him a dimpled smile. "We had a lot more fun. I bet I could still conjure up that dress... you know, the silver-gray one--"
"Doc." Eckhart was immediately brought away from staring at the amount of whiskey Jane had consumed, as if it were money sliding down her throat, and had his attention averted to a limping figure heading his way. The man stumbled forward into his small, plastic stool, pale and unassuming—or rather like death because he certainly smelled like it.
Eckhart cringed and took a long sip of his tea. "Forget to shower today, Captain?"
"I'm dyin' doc."
"Oh," Eckhart blinked. "Mind dying somewhere else? You're fouling my tea."
"Doc—" the captain convulsed onto the table before something large and slimy burst forth from his ribcage. The A.I., Martha, who was previously busy glowering at Jane, moved to retrieve the specimen and subsequently left without a word.
Jane stared at the spot where the corpse had been, then down at her chest. "He got blood on my shirt."
Eckhart simply looked up at Jane, smiled, and took another sip of his tea, only cringing at the taste of human flesh. "Looks like you're the new Captain. Would you like me to clean his uniform before you wear it?"
Let's get started, shall we?"