A Gentleman About Space Episode 1 – Sartorial Malfunctions

Meet Lord Cesar Salamander: space layabout, space playboy, and space millionaire, constantly attended and assisted by his long-suffering, quick-witted robot valet QC Edgetest. In this episode, Lord Salamander explains the finer points of peacocking, attends the society soiree of Lady Upsilon, and turns a murder-most-foul into a meet-cute with alluring detective Saoirse LaFemme of the Space Police.

AGAS is written by Matt Braman, and features the voices of Conrad Miszuk as Salamander, William Crook as QC Edgetest, Briauna Kittle as Det. LaFemme, and Kitt Keller as Lady Upsilon.

Music by Matt Braman and sound by Cody Sean Hazelle.

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Q.C.EDGETEST: Good morning, Lord Salamander.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Space Lord Salamander, please awaken.



SALAMANDER: Blast it, Q.C.Edgetest. How dare you address me by my first name. (LOUD YAWN) I’m thoroughly desiccated. Fetch me a drink. Uh… White Martian.

Q.C.EDGETEST: But Sir, you currently have-

SALAMANDER: You’re right, Q.C. Too early for a Martian. Make it an Orange Plasma, you cad. You always know what to do.

Q.C.EDGETEST: But the Forties, Sir.

SALAMANDER: At this hour? Detestable. Pubescent swill. I haven’t had a Forty in, well… I can’t remember the last time I imbibed that malt poison.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Last night, Sir. At the funeral.

SALAMANDER: Is that what that party was? I thought it was the goth girl’s birthday. That explains her reaction. Regardless. Forties, nonsense. I went to the dentist.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The dentist’s office, Sir. You coerced a bereaved orthodontist to open his practice and perform an after-hours procedure.

SALAMANDER: Procedure? Dear god, Q.C., what are you talking about?

Q.C.EDGETEST: You bribed the dentist generously, Sir. You threatened his family, begged, cried at his feet and then bribed him again. You said you needed to become a dark and beautiful mystery man cursed with a magical talent that isolates him from the townspeople.


Q.C.EDGETEST: You said that men would be jealous and women would be infatuated with your mysterious Gothic handsomeness. You made the Orthodontist laser bond forties to your hands, Sir.

SALAMANDER: I’m positive I did not.


SALAMANDER: Sweet Pleiades, I did.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I shall draw an amino acid bath.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Feeling better, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Like a trillion credits, old boy. What’s on the docket this orbit?

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Lady Upsilon Urban Planets Teenage Achievement Scholarship Foundation Fundraiser Dinner, Sir.

SALAMANDER: What a mouthful. Any talent on the roster?

Q.C.EDGETEST: The academic and professional achievements listed on the curricula vitae of all the attendees speaks to the prestigious nature of this event-

SALAMANDER: The Babes, blast you. Space Babes. Any Space Babes in the mix at this shindig?

Q.C.EDGETEST: What constitutes a babe is difficult to quantify, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Q.C.Edgetest Mark III, run the goddamned algorithm. I know you have an algorithm.

Q.C.EDGETEST: (EXHALES) Comparative analysis of the morphological proportions of a–

SALAMANDER: I, I’m sorry, was that a sigh?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I am not designed to sigh, Sir. I must periodically vent the gasses that cool my processor, especially during complex algorithmical calculations.

SALAMANDER: Very well. Continue. And I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Of course, Space Lord. Comparative analysis of the morphological proportions of the attendees compared to evolutionary indicators of reproductive fitness indicate-



SALAMANDER: Good Morning.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Good Morning, Sir.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Space Lord Salamander, I have taken the liberty of assembling party attire appropriate for tonight’s event.

SALAMANDER: Wasted time, Q.C. I’m wearing the Holo-Dickey.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Holographic Display Integrated Clothing Emitter, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Yes, whatever. I call it the Holo-Dickey.

Q.C.EDGETEST: It… it was recommended by your tailor to destroy it, Sir.

SALAMANDER: A myopic buffoon.

Q.C.EDGETEST: It did electrocute you, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Minor hazard, you worry wire. I was barely unconscious. And that only happened twice out of… how many times have I worn that?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Thrice, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Damn the odds, Q.C. I need to make a statement. I’m a writer. I make statements.

Q.C.EDGETEST: You have yet to send anything to a publisher, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: And you just won’t let me forget that, will you? You sound like my agent. Can’t wait to get your grimy digits on ten percent of my hard-earned credits with nothing to contribute. I’m a student of life, Edgetest. I’m studying.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Technically, I am your agent, Sir. If you ever publish-


Q.C.EDGETEST: When you publish, Sir, I will not receive a commission. Due to my status as a manufactured person, I am not entitled to own-

SALAMANDER: Good Ganymede, Edgetest. Will you cease your incessant whining and fetch me the blasted Holo-Dickey before I die of exposure?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Very good, Sir. Please remember the manufacturer’s warnings vis-a-vis neutrino interference.

SALAMANDER: Your manufacturer should have warned me vis-a-vis your mother hen program not having an uninstall option.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Of course your decision is final, Sir. I shall install fresh batteries in the Holo-

SALAMANDER: Don’t argue with me, Q.C. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Your aesthetic shortcomings are accepted, nay, expected as a drab manifestation of the ubiquitous and necessary conveniences plaguing modern life. I, however, as a Gentleman, must project an air of status, of excitement, of power. Have you heard of Pea-cocking, Q.C?

Q.C.EDGETEST: No Sir, but one can infer-

SALAMANDER: The social scene is a jungle, my gentle droid. Only the fittest survive and reproduce. The brightest feathers. The biggest plume. That’s how you show the whole zoo which cock is the top dog in this pony show. The tail gets the tail, savvy?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Indubitably, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Then fire up that dominant plume and let’s go get some pea chickens.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Peahens, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Whatever pea bird is the sexiest, damn it. Now give me the Dickey, you gasblasted paperclip.




Q.C.EDGETEST: We have arrived at the event, Lord Salamander.

SALAMANDER: Thank heavens. The limo shuttle mini bar was anemic. I mean really. Who only stocks 24 cans of ion beer and only 3 bottles of scotch? I was finished with the lot before we reached light speed. Anyway, how do I look?

Q.C.EDGETEST: You look… quite dapper, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Thank you, Q.C. I feel quite dapper.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The reflective luminescent fractal houndstooth animation is sure to draw the eye.

SALAMANDER: Yes, draw the eye, then draw the loins. Fractal houndstooth is only the beginning. I have 17 programs loaded into this Dickey, each more provocative than the last. Let’s go strut my stuff.



SALAMANDER: Hmm. Pretty bleak out there, space babe-wise. You, you need to improve your algorithm, my fallible abacus.

Q.C.EDGETEST: You saw the report, Lord Salamander. My algorithm can only analyze data, not improve the physical appearance of the attendees.

SALAMANDER: Whatever. I’m evaporating. Where is the bar?

Q.C.EDGETEST: That way, Sir, past the Lady-

SALAMANDER: Heavenly Nebulae, Q.C., look at that Azurian woman. Her morphology is indicative of me wanting to give her the old rail gun. Why wasn’t she in the report?

Q.C.EDGETEST: She was listed in the unavailable tab due to her marital status.

SALAMANDER: I’m not… I’m more interested in her uh, genital status.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Charming, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Was that sarcasm, Edgetest?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I am not designed to express sarcasm, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: Then hover off and get me a damned drink, you insouciant egg-beater.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Right away, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Excuse me, miss?

LADY UPSILON: I beg your pardon?

SALAMANDER: No need to beg, my dear. I would pardon a trespass, any trespass of a creature such as yourself. My senses are besieged by your subtle curves. Your clear blue skin. Your… (SNIFFS) nautical aroma. You are truly a delight to behold.

LADY UPSILON: Sir, I must take umbrage at your lascivious greetings. Such crass flattery is, is offensive and unwelcome. Now, I must attend to the other guests.

SALAMANDER: Imbeciles all, my sublime maritime goddess. None worthy of your time. Let us flee this tacky and depressing affair. Also, I heard them say that they don’t like you.

LADY UPSILON: Whatever are you talking about?

SALAMANDER: I’m talking about you, me, a zero-g suite, a ball of champagne, a night of unbridled passion. What do you say?

LADY UPSILON: I say that, that you are an insufferable, boorish nincompoop and you can wear that obscene costume right out the door. Putting your body on display like this at a serious function? It is an affront to our guests and to, to decency in general.

SALAMANDER: No need to play coy, my azure sea treasure. Come away with me.

LADY UPSILON: How absolutely dare you? I worked for months arranging this fundraiser. The children helped by our foundation have gone on to be doctors, engineers, heads of state. What, pray tell, do you do, Mr…?

SALAMANDER: Salamander. Space Lord Cesar Salamander. I own several systems in the Zeta Quadrant. I am also a gifted author. Perhaps when you admit your true feelings, you could be my muse.

LADY UPSILON: Please leave or I shall have my husband throw you out the moment I find him. Your erection is upsetting our most prominent donors.

SALAMANDER: More like prominent boners, am I right?


Wait, you can’t actually see my- Oh, dear. I must go now. Never forget how you loved me. Edgetest!


SALAMANDER: Where in Globb’s name have you been?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Fetching a drink, Sir. There was a line at the bar.

SALAMANDER: Do you have, do you not have visual sensors? Did you not notice a big gap appear in the front of my hologram?

Q.C.EDGETEST: And the back, Sir.

SALAMANDER: And you decided not to tell me?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I was under the impression you were peacocking, Sir.

SALAMANDER: I’ll have your cables for cummerbunds, you digital monstrosity. Fix this now.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Perhaps you could borrow some attire from the cloak room.

SALAMANDER: Brilliant. I shall decamp to the water closet. Bring me something stylish and be quick about it.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Tally ho, Sir.


Q.C.EDGETEST: I found this for you to wear, Sir.

SALAMANDER: A fur coat?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Yes, Sir. Zandarian Spider Stoat. Worn by the most elegant matriarchs of Zandar prime.

SALAMANDER: And why the deuce did you pick it for me?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It was the only garment configured for a humanoid, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Well, at least it’s expensive. Let’s try to salvage this abysmal foray with some drinks and a willing maid or two.

Q.C.EDGETEST: All the household staff are androids, Sir.


SALAMANDER: Leaping leptons, Q.C., what was that?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Unknown, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Well, let’s find out, shall we? Sally forth, amigo.

LADY UPSILON: He’s dead! Oh, my husband is dead! Someone call the Space Police. Oh my sweet Prince, who would do such a thing?

SALAMANDER: My dear woman. I’m sure your husband was a compassionate man. Surely, he would not want you to dwell upon this tragedy. In moments of strife we must reach out to those near to us. To find in each others’ arms a comfort both emotional and physical. Let me take you back to my limo shuttle and we can talk about your future over a bottle of wine. Also, bring a bottle of wine. My limo is a desert. Make it two bottles. A case if there’s one handy.

LADY UPSILON: Get away from me, you monster!

SALAMANDER: Was it, was it the fur?


LAFEMME: Alright, everyone stay calm. I’m Detective LaFemme of the Space Police. This residence is considered an active crime scene and will be on lock-down until we determine the nature of the incident. If you have any information, now is the time to volunteer it.

SALAMANDER: I volunteer.

DETECTIVE LAFEMME: Who said that? What do you know?

SALAMANDER: (WHISPER) Shrink away, Q.C. I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Not like you to admit that, Sir.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Not like you to make a mistake, Sir. Your judgment is almost always impeccable.

SALAMANDER: Try entirely always. Something about that woman, the detective. She makes me feel tingly and out of sorts. I haven’t felt this way since I swallowed those vibrating moth eggs in primary school.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Perhaps you are in love, Sir. Love at first sight is a chemical reaction, an infatuation not uncommon among primates, especially given her morphological indicators of reproductive fitness.

SALAMANDER: Don’t cheapen it, you unfeeling lamppost. I am moved not just by the breasts of her bosom, but by the bust of her soul. I must impress her. I’m going back for the Holo-Dickey.


SALAMANDER: Q.C.Edgetest, if you but-Sir me one more time I swear I’ll stretch you across a fusion battery.

Q.C.EDGETEST: To the washroom then, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: With alacrity.


SALAMANDER: I hate to ditch this fur. Those Zandarian Matriarchs really know how to line a coat. But I need something bigger. Brighter. Bolder. I will show detective LaFemme the biggest plume she has ever seen. Let me just uh, slip out of this, uh- Q.C.?


SALAMANDER: What is this in my coat pocket?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It appears to be a neutrino blaster pistol.

SALAMANDER: What is it doing in my coat pocket?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Recharging, I believe.

SALAMANDER: And just why would you believe that?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Whilst fetching your drink, I overheard the service droids discussing a neutrino discharge. Also, the recharge indicator light is blinking.

SALAMANDER: You didn’t think to investigate or mention this to me at the time?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I was already late with your drink, Sir. After the Darluvien Peace Ceremony incident, I thought it better to keep you refreshed.

SALAMANDER: You had better think better than better because now a man is dead and my genes are on the murder weapon. How could this get any worse?


Q.C.EDGETEST: A man is entering the washroom, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Stop him. Knock him out. Hit- uh, hello Sir. Nothing to see here. Just an android valet and a naked man holding not what it looks like. If you be quiet about this I can pay you. No, because then I have to call my trust fund manager. She is the worst. A-ha. I have a gun. Sit down or I’ll shoot you. Put your socks in your mouth. No, you maroon. Take them off first. Now let my valet bind your arms and legs with this stoat jacket.


SALAMANDER: That will do. Edgetest, you hookless coat rack. Why didn’t you incapacitate him?

Q.C.EDGETEST: My ethics protocols do not allow me to assault a sentient being.

SALAMANDER: He’s a guest at this party, how sentient can he be? Don’t answer that. Activate program 17 on the Holo-Dickey.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Neon Magnum Archangel, Sir?

SALAMANDER: The very same. When I strut up to detective LaFemme and present to her the murder weapon with captured suspect, massive glowing wings billowing above my chrome doublet, she will surely be overwhelmed by my potent manliness and become weak in the knees and willing between.

Q.C.EDGETEST: After you, Sir.


LAFEMME: Don’t worry, Lady Upsilon. I won’t rest until your husband’s killer is brought to justice. We will treat this grave matter with dignity and respect.

SALAMANDER: Behold, fair guests. Gaze upon my splendor and marvel. I have solved the murder of Lord Upside-Down and prepared the guilty scoundrel for extradition. Detective LaFemme, I present the murder weapon.

LAFEMME: How did you get this? Also, turn down your emitter, you’re blinding me.

SALAMANDER: And you me.



LAFEMME: Why do you have this weapon?

SALAMANDER: I wrestled it from the grip of a dastardly criminal. You shall find him bound in the washroom. Save your praise, it was my civic duty as a Gentleman of Space.

LAFEMME: Alright, Mr. Butterfly. I’ll interrogate him at the precinct and we’ll find out what happened. Until then don’t leave the system. Here is my contact frequency. Call me to set up a deposition.

SALAMANDER: May I call you for any other positions?

LAFEMME: (SCOFFS) How cute. I tend to prefer men who wear appropriate attire to formal events.

SALAMANDER: I do, too. I mean, wear good clothes. Uh, the wings were a just a joke.

LAFEMME: At a murder?

SALAMANDER: The joke began earlier. Before the murder. Everyone thought it was hilarious. I’ll be right back. (WHISPER) Q.C.?


SALAMANDER: Over here, behind the shrimp fountain. She called me cute, did you hear that? Set the Dickey to formal wear.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Formal Wear engaged, Sir. Be careful, it is flickering.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Or just run away.

SALAMANDER: (PANTING) Detective, Detective LaFemme, wait up.

LAFEMME: (SIGHS) You again. Yes?

SALAMANDER: I, uh, you, uh, we could- I mean we should-



LAFEMME: Sir? Sir? Medical, we have a nonresponsive. And uh, bring the disinfectant beam. It looks like he peed.



SALAMANDER: That was quite the hootenanny, Q.C. I feel like I have a pulsar in my cranium. Still brilliant, though, n’est-ce pas? How I solved that murder?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Technically, Sir, the investigation is ongoing.

SALAMANDER: Technically, Edgetest, you aren’t a real person so your opinion doesn’t matter.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Detective LaFemme for you, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Oh hey, uh, what’s hanging? How’s it uh, up? How’s it uh… Hi.

LAFEMME: Salamander. Detective LaFemme.

SALAMANDER: (ASIDE) I told you, Q.C. She wants the D.

LAFEMME: What did you say?

SALAMANDER: You wanted to speak to me?

LAFEMME: Yeah, an update on the Upsilon murder. The suspect Gene Matched to 7 other assassinations. He’s going to Space Prison for a long time. Thanks for your help.

SALAMANDER: Thanks for your face. I mean thanks for the holo call.

LAFEMME: You’re welcome. Um, some advice, wear pants next time. For parties and holo calls. LaFemme out.

SALAMANDER: Did you hear that, Q.C.? She said next time. Now fetch me a drink, old droid. It’s time to re-hydrate.

Q.C.EDGETEST: White Martian, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Quite right, my precognitive ally. You always know what to do.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Thank you Sir.



SALAMANDER: Destroy the Holo-Dickey. I told you it was a bad idea.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Indubitably, Sir.


CREDITS: This has been a production of The Never Rad Miscellany. The Never Rad Miscellany is produced and directed by Conrad Miszuk and co-produced by Megan Taliaferro. The sound effects are mixed and performed by Cody Sean Hazelle who is also reading the credits. A Gentleman About Space is written by Matt Braman with sound and music by Matt Braman. Space Lord Caesar Salamander is played by Conrad Miszuk. Q.C.Edgetest is played by William Crook. Lady Upsilon is played by Kitt Keller. Detective LaFemme is played by Briauna Kittle.

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