NARRATOR: Aboard the mercenary warship Broken Wind...
CDRE TAGON: Petey, this mission is pretty far down the crapper. Let's talk escape clauses.
PETEY: How bad is it?
CDRE TAGON: When we got here, everybody was dead. We haven't found a living soul anywhere.
As "good will" missions go, this one's so far down the crapper it's compost.
PETEY: What about the archive? Have you found it?
CDRE TAGON: You mean the missing horns of the dead?
Those have been amputated, and are still missing.
PETEY: Who said the archive was in F'Sherl-Ganni horns?
CDRE TAGON: Who said it isn't?
Certainly not you.
You pitched this gig as "Show up, be nice, offer assistance, and ask to look at the archives."
CDRE TAGON: In reality, this mission has been "Show up, be horrified, get assistance from a homicide detective, and ask ourselves why we're here."
PETEY: I can see why you're upset.
CDRE TAGON: I misspoke regarding the depth of this crapper-drop. This mission has sunk past compost, and is now being pressed into petroleum under some continental plates.
PETEY: I don't know whose plate tectonics you misappropriated in making that metaphor, but you left out catagenesis and pyrolysis.
CDRE TAGON: This crapper-drop skipped those bits on its way to being stinky, greasy fuel.