Quotes in the category captain.
The perfect being, huh? There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliché, but it’s the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it. But, what’s the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I loathe perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for a person to gain additional knowledge or abilities. Do you know what that means? For scientists such as ourselves, perfection only brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who finds ecstasy while suffering from that antimony. In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears, you had already lost. Of course, that’s assuming you are a scientist
Never trust the captain who has never taken any education from the School of Storms!
In order to avoid shipwreck, wise people usually appoint one captain to navigate the ship.
Oh, that's great. That way, when things have quieted down, and we come up for air, or money, or re-supply, we'll get a nice explosive package from him that says "so nice to see you again" in a way that only multi-megaton yields can.
We got to see a Corsair ship up close – all matt black, no markings, no lights – and practically invisible out here in the dark! What a sight to behold! Most people don’t get to see those bastards up close. That is, for very long! Anyways, the ship was just floating there, no sign of life. Our hails weren’t being answered, and so we assumed the ship was dead in space. Captain Mulligan, gods-rest-his-soul, told me to form a boarding party of security and medics from the sickbay and that we were going over there. We weren’t a military ship, and we’re not Star Marines, so we were lightly armed and quite nervous. I mean, this wasn’t just some of my security section being called out to break up a fight at one of the bars on the promenade, this was serious life-and-death shit! So I said ‘okay’, and told my assistant supervisor, Lisa Garfner, to get them all together. Seven of us shifted over to the other ship with the transmatter (you still use those things, I take it?) not knowing what to expect. It could’ve been anything… and it was. It was crazy.
You'll have to leave my meals on a tray outside the door because I'll beworking pretty late on the secret of making myself invisible, which may take me almost until eleven o'clock.
Being captain of such a vessel was not a stressful job, despite the sheer size of the thing. Everything was automated, and this meant that this behemoth could be efficiently handled by a far less seasoned captain. Besides, hiring mature skippers with actual experience would cost real money. And hey, the computers ran everything anyway – and that’s how Bran Johannsen enters this story – as a fine young inexperienced graduate of the Merchant Space Academy in Mars City, who only got his Executive Officer’s ticket four short years ago.
Shandy looked ahead. Blackbeard, apparently willing to get the explanation later, had picked up his oars and was rowing again. 'May I presume to suggest,' yelled Shandy giddily to Davies, 'that we preoceed the hell out of here with all due haste.' Davies pushed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead and sat down on the rower's thwart. 'My dear fellow consider it done.
What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?”“Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.”“Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?”Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.”“Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen.“Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked.“Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises.“Any communications?”“Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.”“What are they doing?”“Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.”“Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up!
Don't allow others to put a cap on you. Don't simply agree when someone draws your own finishing line. You're the captain of your destiny!!!
Trust is like a block of ice, once it melts into the ground, you can never get it back.
There was a warrior once who foughtAgainst man's subtlest, mightiest foe,And more than valiant deeds he wroughtT' effect th' enslaver's overthrow.But ah! how dread was his campaign,Forc'd in the wilderness to stray,Lone, hungry, stung with grief and pain,And thus sustain the arduous fray.Prompt at each call from place to place,'Mid sin's dark shade and sorrow's flow,He sped to save man's erring race,And bear for him the vengeful blow.But when his soldiers saw the strife,When imminent the danger grew,Though 'twas for them he pledg'd his life,Like dastards from the field they flew.Wearied, forsaken, still he strove,And gain'd the glorious victory;Yet such achievements few could move,To hail his triumpn 'beath the sky.Dying he conquer'd; yet at lastNo human honours grac'd his bier;No trumpet wail'd its mournful blast,No muffl'd drum made music drear.But when he dy'd the rocks were rent,The sun his radiant beams withheld,All nature shudder'd at th' event,And horror every bosom swell'd.E'en Death, fell Death! could not detainHim, who for man his life had given,He burst the ineffectual chain,And soar'd his advocate to heaven.
The compass rose is nothing but a star with an infinite number of rays pointing in all directions.It is the one true and perfect symbol of the uni
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
Gankis lifted an arm to point at the distant shale cliffs. "And in the face of it there were thousands of little holes, little what-you-call-'ems...""Alcoves," Kennit supplied in an almost dreamy voice. "I call them alcoves, Gankis. As would you, if you could speak your own mother tongue.
Ex ‘Fleet man?”“He was a full Commander, last I heard, sir.”“Interesting.” Falconer commented. “Get me his specs. If I have to take him aboard my ship, I want to know all about him.” She swallowed. “Yes sir.”Falconer returned his attention to Nordyke.“What’s their location?”“They’re about a week outside the Hermes system, Captain.”“Helm, set a course – best possible speed!”“Um – sir, we’re on conversion drive at the moment.” The helmsman reported.“I know, Linson – d’you think I’m senile?”“No, sir – I…” The young helmsman stammered.“I did say ‘best possible speed’, didn’t I?”“Yes, sir.
Captain Harald Biscay rubbed his graying temples, staring deep in thought at the vast star field showing on the large navigation display on the bridge. It had been a pretty rough few days for him. Of all the things he’d seen in his travels through the universe, not many rated worthy of being remembered. Of the few examples of items Captain Biscay rated that highly, when he was a young man, his uncle would often play the bagpipes at strange hours of the night – shortly before being put in a ‘home’. That rated a mention.
A ship's captain was her master and the right hand of God in Heaven Himself, and concerned with matters of such grave importance that minor issues like food for the mortals in his command were entirely beneath him."I'll get someone else to take this duty, sir," Creedy said stoutly."The nonessential personnel are already on leave, XO," Grimm replied. "All the remaining hands are fully engaged in installing the new systems and making repairs. You know that.""But, sir," Creedy said. "What will the crew
The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem
Mr. Bird flung his food away and leaped to his feet, glaring around at no one in particular. 'I am not a dog!' he shouted agrily, his gold earrings flashing in the firelight.
To live is to walk beside Death but never join hands. ~ Captain Buck "Slackeye" Roberts
I lost my temper," I finish. "I lost my temper. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.""Well, no one means to lose their temper, my boy," the Captain smiles. "If they did, it wouldn't be lost.
The sign of a good leader is easy to recognize, though it is hardly ever seen. For the greatest leaders are those who share as equals in the trials and struggles, the demands and expectations, the hills and trenches, the laws and punishments placed upon the backs of those governed. A great leader is motivated not by power but by compassion. Therefore he can do nothing but make himself a servant to those whom he rules. Such a leader is unequivocally respected, and loved for loving.
Moments later, Sona Kilroy, heading for the open doorway, stepped over the sergeant’s body. With an old auto-rifle in his left hand and his favorite sword in the other, and the sharp melodic din of bolts and bullets ringing in his ears, ‘the Hammer’ grinned an evil grin to himself, well pleased. He wished he could’ve seen the look on the face of Indomitable’s captain when he realized the tables had just been turned on him! The thought amused him. It was bloody hilarious. He cackled, reveling in this complete reversal of fortune. Then he stalked onward with conviction, a grim smile on his lips – intent on taking the ship for himself. * * *
Be a master of yourself.
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