stardate 984309876512057362507629.6
I have been rescued. Thank heavens for the interstellar brothership which happened to be in the vicinity!
Although this captain would have preffered to have been rescued by a flying whorehouse populated with females, beggars and captains cannot be choosers. I did not particularly care for the way some of the taller ones had eyed me, and had to employ a quick throat jab and eye-gouging technique taught to me by The Mentalistic One, who resides at the summit of the tallest peak of the smallest asteroid, to make an example out of one of them.
After sending my condolences to his pimp, I managed to access a secure terminal from which to recieve further instructions from Grand-Admiral Fartek, who had only recently attainted the position of Grand-Admiral after many.... distasteful favours too low-brow to mention in this log.
It seems that the Confederacy has great plans for this issue of Superman #1. It was hinted that its power could be used to fuel some sort of all-in-one revolutionary energy reactor, dishwashing machine, and Doomsday weapon.
I am sure the Confederacy engineers will find a way to unleash its full dishwashing and easybake oven potential. I should arrive in our space within a few minutes or years, depending on the subatomic fluctuations in this particular sectioning of the quadrant's main quantum manifolding gravity fountain.
In the meantime, I shall entertain myself with reruns of Eureka's Castle and David the Gnome.