Otto found himself sitting in an armchair, dressed as he normally did in his yellow shirt, but now wearing black trousers. There were other people standing or sitting at consoles around him wearing blue, yellow, or red tops. Ah, this must be a dream, he surmised. This could be interesting. I've never even dreamed of commanding a starship before, so I think I'll just go with the flow...
A character showed up standing beside him, handing over a clipboard containing a document that obviously required his attention or his signature. Thank you, Lieutenant, the auburn one uttered as he scribbled a chicken-scratch at the X. But before the aide could walk away, the deck was rocked to is very foundation by an explosion somewhere aboard the vessel, and everything on the bridge that was not nailed down - people included - slid one way and slammed another. Alarm lights flashed and alert tones sounded throughout the ship. What happened? Otto demanded to know.
A familiar face turned away from one of the consoles, his blond hair in a brush cut. Adjusting his glasses, he reported the unpleasant news. It looks like somebody managed to put a bomb aboard our ship, Skipper. I'll get damage control on it right away...
The communications officer, a purple-haired girl, spun about in her seat and spoke up abruptly. We're being hailed, she reported.
This piqued Otto's suspicion. An attack followed by a phone call? At least this could provide a clue. On screen, he ordered. Even in a dream, Otto couldn't believe his eyes. So, you're the one behind this, huh? he challenged the calling party, a Latino with unruly brown hair, a gray beanie, and a face half full of technological implants.
The face on the screen spoke with haughty sarcasm. Ah, you seem to be busy, dorks! With the kind assistance of our fifth-column within the Alliance, all of your facilities in the sector will soon be under our complete control. And as for you and your miserable bucket of bolts, you will soon meet your maker! exclaimed Otto in disbelief.
The face on the screen dispassionately continued monologuing: Thanks for coming out all this way, bucko! You've made my job so much easier. By my estimation you have about... one minute and twenty-three seconds to say your prayers. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!Judas F. Priest! yelled Otto's tactical officer, a Latino in a striped beret. There's a million bazillion of his ships headed right this way!Scramble all our fighters! Now! Otto barked. I just hope our guys are better. It's all up to them. Power up weapons and raise shields once they're out of the barn.Uh Captain another character uttered as he motioned towards the main viewer. An enormous, brilliant, and terrible weapon headed at high speed on a suicide course towards the camera as Otto and his crew watched in horror the instrument of their own demise.
Otto woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright in his Cadillac bed inside his night-darkened bedroom. He caught his breath. All really was as it should be. He reached for his teddy bear and laid back down, closing his eyes.