“All Alone In the Night, Well Kydd is Here as are Others” by Danae Tullaris
from February 26, 2007
Sitting at helm, tapping on her console. Is she working…? Mebbe.
I am stuck on the bridge with Kydd in command. We are all going to die. We are so dead. And what am I doing right now? I am mapping this strange place with the information pouring in from sensors. Still, Kydd is prattling on about something or another. I am trying, Goddess I am trying, to tune him out. My ears keep twitching. At least for him it gives the appearance that I am actually listening to him.
Right now, I just want to be off-duty and with John. He is sleeping right now. Watching him sleep puts a smile on my face. Of course, it also makes me just want to snuggle him. Little does he know that while he has been sleeping, I have been sneaking in and taking pictures. If he finds out, I am in for it! His gamma shift duty should be ending soon, thankfully. It will be nice to be back on the same schedule. But, I better get all my Kydd picking out of the way or I will be in trouble again.
It is rather fun to torment Kydd. I should tell him that he tastes like chicken. That would get his sheep. Sheep? Yeah, that sounds about right. Hmm, or maybe I should tell him he tastes like crap. Then again, I haven’t eaten crap so I wouldn’t know. Yes, definitely chicken without the feathers. That would just be weird if he had feathers. But, that does give me an idea. I wonder if I could put feathers on him? Probably. I would just have to sneak out the various powders and supplies, conjure up the formula, say the strange words of my ancestors (whomever they may be), and presto…instant chicken.
With my luck, I’d probably turn him into an ost-something-or-another. Too bad he has already been a flag. That was a neat trick. Flap, flap, flap in the breeze. Q is a genious for that one. Now, he can flap his wings. Maybe the drunk monkey would like a snack. Someone please give him back his spork.
A note from Capt. Stacey Templar, CO of the Mercutio:
This is one of my favorite logs. It epitomizes the struggle between duty and family. Henry had just lost his wife to a transporter accident. He had returned home with his children to be with his family. Upon his return, he had a chat with a fellow crewmember on why he came back.
“Burning Out His Fuse” by Henry Crow
Following the physical and somewhat contentious meeting with Dr. Melanick, he wandered the halls a little, finding his way to the mess. As he entered a few people glanced up silently but quickly broke the eye contact when he returned the gesture.
Taking a seat in the back of the room by a viewport, he watched the stars etch by like steaks of lightening. After a few moments, a younger member of staff, a security officer he vaguely remembered before he’d left came up, standing at attention.
“I’m not active duty, kid.”
“Uh..Sir…may I join you?”
“It’s a free country.”
“An old saying.”
The younger man quickly sat across from him. “Sir, they’re all wondering why you came back. After what happened….we figured you’d had enough.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have all night.”
That small amount of assertiveness brought his eyes from the stars to the younger officer.
“I had a talk with my family back home and even after that I was unsure but my sister took charge and made all the arrangements.
“She packed my bags that night pre-flight. Zero hour for the shuttle back here was nine a.m. And I started thinking, I’m gonna be high as a kite by then.” His eyes returned to the stars. “I miss the Earth so much….I miss my wife. You know kid, it’s lonely out in space, when you’re on such a…timeless flight.”
The younger man’s eyes never left his former Commander.
“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time, till touchdown brings me round again to find I’m not the man they think I am at home” He paused, sighing almost. “No, no….cause deep down I’m a rocket man, who’s just burning up his fuse out here, alone.”
“But you have your daughter with you, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise a kid, in fact it’s cold as hell. Besides, there’s no one there to raise them if you did.” He motioned around at the ship around them. “And all this science I don’t understand. It’s just my job five days a week, ya know…being a rocket man, like they used to say.”
“Well if it’s all the same to you Sir, I’m glad you’re back. We’re all hoping the Captain comes to her senses and reinstates you.”
“Kid, I think it’s gonna be a long, long time…”
After a skip month, we’re back! The latest issue of the SLA Monthly has just been published. I would like to thank the hosts and crew of the USS Mercutio for being June’s profiled crew.
This month brings us a new ongoing feature on page 3: The Moderator Chair’s monthly updates. They’ll be here every month to give you an idea of what’s happened this past month and what to expect next month.
Be sure to check out the Mercutio crew’s favorite log and read Danae Tullaris’ log right here on the Monthly Web site!
As always, feel free to submit stories, special news from your sim or anything else you think would make a nice addition to the Monthly by pressing the Submit Stories link in the right hand column. Please remember that the Publications Chair has final say on all content.
And I’ll see everyone next month.
Prax Jarvin, Publications Chair