Progress 39 liftoff from Baikonur.

Progress 39 liftoff from Baikonur.

The crew of the ISS always needs resupply. The Russian Progress supply spacecraft are tailor-made for this mission, lifting such necessities as oxygen, food, spare parts, experiments and propellant for the station's thrusters.

Progress 39 blasted off from its base in Kazakhstan on Friday after a 2-day weather delay. After another 2-day journey, it arrived at the ISS this morning at close to 6 a.m. MDT. Using the Kurs automated rendezvous system, it was safely docked and the crew of ISS will begin unloading supplies.

On approach for docking, picture from ISS.

After the spacecraft has been unloaded, it serves as a container for waste and trash from the ISS. When full, or when the docking port is needed, the Progress craft is undocked and de-orbited to burn up in the atmosphere over the ocean.

Mr. Daymont
Space Center Educator

Why The Space Center?

The first picture of Earth from such a distance taken by the
Voyager Space Probe in 1991 as it passed Saturn.
From this image this has become.....This is our Blue Dot in Space.

Hello Troops,
I've been asked many times over the last twenty years why I created the Space Education Center. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, the answer lies in something I saw and heard that changed the direction of my thinking towards space and our place in it.

I'd like to share that experience with you. Perhaps, after watching this, you'll come to understand the power of emotion in education and how something lasting only a few minutes can change a life forever.

The three minutes I spent listening to this master teacher may seem insignificant in a life of 52 years - but they were. They inspired me to pass this reverence of what lies beyond in the darkness that surrounds us and the importance of what we have here on Earth with my students. And thus, from my sixth grade classroom in the 1980's, sprang the concepts the Space Center was built upon.

The power of Dr. Sagan's words, spoken so long ago, still impact the children that come to the Space Center to experience what is, what was, and what could be -

- if we cherish the pale blue dot in space we call home.

Mr. Williamson

"We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

Dr. Carl Sagan

The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

An Entry from the Overnight Journal.

Hello Troops,
Just a quick word before turning in for the night. I'm at my desk at the Space Center. It's 11:42 P.M. so therefore it must be an Overnight Camp! Tonight we are hosting 45 4H campers. They're a great group of kids.

I just returned from checking on the High School Staff in Discovery. The room was dark and the talking robust (and if your interested in what robust means, look it up). The girls are all settled down in the Gym with Mrs. Houston, Metta and a 4H chaperon.

The junior high boys are sleeping in the Odyssey. Only McKay seems to be talking. The other five are quiet. McKay is telling a story - the plot is confusing because I'm hearing only bits and pieces. The boy campers are in the Voyager.

It's cold outside, a sure sign of Fall.

I'm typing this post on my new (gently used) computer purchased from Alex Anderson. Alex is getting a new one. My old desktop is going to the Magellan Control Room to become their Tactical Computer. Aleta, Lorraine and Sheila are happy. With my computer in their Control Room, the Magellan staff won't be borrowing Discovery's laptop every time they need to run their new tactical screens.

Jon just walked through the Briefing Room.
"Are they settled?" I asked while I typed the paragraph above.
"They're settled," he replied as he collected his laptop from the side desk.

Now its time for me to settle. I've got a pad waiting on the floor in front of my desk with my name on it. It will be sweet slumber once my head hits the pillow. I dream I won't be woken up by a needy camper. Six hours of sleep is all I ask. I'll be happy with five but will settle for four is need be.

Goodnight.
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite......

Mr. W.

Today at the Space Center.

Hello Troops,
Today at the Space Center is brought to you by "The Imaginarium" located in beautiful downtown Wonderland, right next door to the Department of Culinary Inspiration, where the world's greatest chefs access the inspiration to create tomorrow's Michelin Star winning dishes.

Warren Nuila's Last Day!
Supervisor and all around good guy, Warren Nuila, spent his last day in Space Center Blues last Saturday. Warren leaves for Germany on Wednesday to serve an LDS mission. Warren worked at the Space Center for the past 7 years as a volunteer, supervisor and flight director. If you've ever flown on a Magellan Camp you probably worked with Warren.

This is a picture of Warren and his band of cut throat Orion Space Pirates as they prepare to blast their way into the Magellan's Bridge. Unsuspecting younglings, working on the Bridge, were caught off guard and quickly lost all sense of organization as Warren and the gang burst through shouting "Get them humans!" and "Shiver me Timbers" and "Aaarrgggg!"
"You're Down and You're Down and You're down. Yes you. Yes you're down and don't argue," shouted the Bridge Supervisor.

In a matter of minutes, Warren had successfully taken the last Bridge of his Space Center career. It was a moment to be remember for all that participated. I'm sure Warren basked in the joy of knowing he was once again successful, because of his cunning - not to mention overwhelming fire power.

In fact, here is a shot of Warren basking. Bless his heart. A Legend at the Space Center and the source of many a child's nightmares over the last seven years :)

Good luck Warren and Keep in Touch.

Awards Given For Excellence Above and Beyond the Mundane!

Yet once again, awards for our awesome volunteers were given at the end of a recent Overnight Camp. In the picture above you see Julie receiving her Odyssey Pin for demonstrating outstanding talent in pushing play and pause. In fact you see Julie showing us the exact thumb she uses when pushing play and pause - mirrored by Emily, Odyssey Set Director, who also uses her thumb to push play and pause.

Granted, most people use their forefinger to accomplish the same task more efficiently but that isn't the Odyssey way, according to Emily.

"You'd be surprised at what the thumb can actually do," Emily said during a recent Odyssey training meeting where the Odyssey staff had all their fingers taped together, leaving only their thumbs to control equipment and computers.

Mr. Daymont is seen here congratulating Eric and Jordan for earning their Magellan Pins. We were limited on time for the award ceremony (due to the consumption of mass quantities of Lorraine's delicious Snickers Chocolate Cake) which is why you'll see Mr. Daymont shaking both boy's hands at once, thus saving approx. 3 seconds.
"A second wasted is a second lost," Mr. Daymont is fond of saying.

Stacy, feeling the pressure of time, followed Mr. Daymont's lead and shook both Jordan and Erin's hands at the same time thus congratulating them on earning their Galileo pin. I should point out that Jordan earned his Galileo pin over a month ago but because he was already standing at the front of the room, and seeing an opportunity to be congratulated a second time for an achievement he was already congratulated for, chose to stay and receive the applause and adulation of the assembled staff. Stacy was willing to go along with the deception remembering what happened the last time Jordan was called out for getting a second congratulation. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

Space Center Staff Assist with Central Elementary School Literacy

Alex Anderson, Stacy Carrell, and Jon Parker spent part of the this afternoon unboxing and stamping reading books for Central Elementary School's literacy program.

In this picture you see Alex and Stacy unwrapping and stamping the books with Central School's address.

Jon Parker did the same from another desk. Jon worked separately because he was working at a slower pace.
"Them books is the coolest," Jon said as he carefully leafed through each book, taking time to appreciate the artwork. "Whoda thought readen could be fun?".

"OK Jon, what's your favorite?" I asked.

"This un right here," he replied opening a book about Boats. "I never figured there was so much learning about bats. Bats are cool the way they can't see worth a darn and shout when they fly so everyone in their way has enough time to clear out!"

"Jon, that book is about Boats," I said quietly, not wanting to embarrass him in front of Alex and Stacy.

He looked over his left shoulder, hoping neither one was aware of his reading blunder.

"You're right. It's about Boats and Bats!" he exclaimed.

"You gotta get up early in the morning to pull a fast one on you," I said.


Mrs. Houston Changes Bulletin Board Paper!

This just in, Mrs. Lorraine Houston was seen in the Discovery Room this afternoon changing the paper on the left bulletin board! This was done secretly. The old paper had been on the board so long most of the staff were fond of it. There was no telling what kind of retaliation Mrs. Houston would suffer if the staff found out it was her that changed the old, yellowed, stained, ripped paper. She was right to do it secretly.

The new black paper is very nice and black.

Those of us still at the Center when school got out went in and admired the new paper.

"It'll do," Stacy said. "It'll do. No reason to get worked up over it."

Everyone agreed.



Again, just another day at the Space Center.

Mr. Williamson

Scott Warner Awarded the Presidential Service Award

Lt. Governor Greg Bell Honors Utah’s Top Summer of Service Volunteers at a Private Luncheon and Presents Presidential Service Awards

Shad West

Utah Division of Housing and Community Development

SALT LAKE CITY – Lt. Governor Greg Bell and the Utah Commission on Volunteers honored three Presidential Volunteer Service Award winners with a private luncheon. A press conference to hand-out awards was held at the State Capitol on September 8th.

These outstanding Utahns contributed the most hours of volunteer service in each age category between June 1 and August 31 as part of the Utah Summer of Service. This year more than 600 volunteers participated in the program and served more than 7900 hours.

Scott Warner age 14, Jacque Baumer age 23, and Dale Greenland age 52, recorded the most service hours in their age categories over the past three months, earning both a Presidential Service Award and lunch with Lt. Governor Bell.

“It is a matter of great personal pride for me to be part of a community where there is such a value placed on volunteering and community service,” said Lt. Gov. Greg Bell. “Recognizing the best of the best is extremely important to me.”

Scott Warner, from Draper, volunteered 236 hours with the Christa McAuliffe Space Center in Pleasant Grove. He helped direct the summer Edventure program training campers how to use the equipment in the simulators, direct simulations, develop “Away Missions”, and help chaperone overnight campers. Campers at the Space Center learn history, science, and how to problem solve.

“I absolutely love volunteering,” Warner said. “I would live at the Space Center if they would let me.”

Jacque Baumer, from Orem, volunteered 315 hours with Child Rescue. She took on the enormous task of putting on the first Candlelight Serenade Acoustic Festival.

This fundraiser brought together public and non-profits all in the name of protecting children from exploitation. Baumer did everything from organize the concert, plan a community awareness campaign, and organize space for non-profits to have booths.

“I volunteer to make sure every child is safe from exploitation,” Baumer said. “We have children who suffer abuse right here in Utah, and I am passionate about putting an end to it.”

Dale Greenland, from Magna, volunteered 424 hours of his time with the Veterans Administration Hospital. Since being laid off as a regional sales manager, Greenland has devoted his extra time to the patients at the VA. He hosts the craft room, where Vets can keep their hands and minds busy while in recovery. Greenland also drives one of the onsite carts that transports immobile patients to where they need to be in the facility.

“I give my time to these Vets because they have given so much to us,” Greenland said. “The award is great, but I win everyday because of my association with these great service men and women.”

In addition to the three top volunteers, all volunteers ages 5 to 14 who logged more than 50 hours of service, and those ages 15 and older who served more than 100 hours will also be honored with a Presidential Service Award and Recognition Pin.

Bracken Funk's Commentary

Hello Troops,
A thank you to Bracken for writing this take on my post concerning the criticism I received from a camper about my absent smiles. Bracken is a student a Fresno State in California and a Flight Director at the Space Center (when in Utah of course). He also plays a mean game of Basketball.
Mr. W.

To Whom it May Concern:

The creatorium's psychology division would like to announce test results of the Bossman.

Our analysts have been studying all pertinent information coming to and from Victor Alan Williamson, and would like to make the findings available to all who are interested in the facts. We assert that we are not making this up.

Evidence #C043526


We note here that this is Master Williamson in his most prime state of mind, you can see behind the smile that there is some form of brain function still occurring. The smile is real, unpretended. He is clearly happy, as you can denote from the relaxed shoulder position. May we contrast that with something only sent to us a short time ago by our spies.

Evidence #C043527

Please note the heightened position of the shoulders, and the strain in the upper right, and lower left facial muscles. Also note the difference in the eyes. In the first picture, his eyes are relaxed. Controlled. We're not quite sure what to make of these...

If that was the only difference, we would be more than happy to step back, and allow a complete and total mental analysis to happen- but the next several pieces of evidence make us wonder if he is in the proper condition to continue as leader.

Evidence #C043528


This is a photograph of our leader as a child. Besides the fact that he is wearing pink clothes (which is his favorite color... Quite disturbing really), you'll notice the brainwashing that is under occurrence... We are fairly sure that this contributes to this:

Evidence #C043529

After staring at a computer screen for several hours, he started talking on several phones (please note the other untethered comm devices behind him) and other devices asking for information regarding some alien invasion- often saying "yes, master" or "I am lowly of low, which is why I serve here with morons, rather than my true calling of traveling the stars. Forgive me, sir". Later, it is reported that he stopped speaking English all together...

Evidence #C043530

Several months ago, 2 staff members disappeared. Galo, and Kenzie.... Nobody knew what had happened to them. While listening to a sleep talking from the boss the other night, it is clear that they are within this cake. DNA testing confirmed... We are quite positive that it was on accident- however, we believe that these staff birthday celebrations are some form of ritual. The adult staff are all in on it (those older than Emily, and I, I mean). Aleta is ensuring the sacred sacrificial cap is near his head. The fire. Kyle's yelling of "Happy Barfday" (magical words). This is cause for extreme concern. When he came to sacrifice the head of our department... Here is what was captured by several of the center's CCTV cameras.

Evidence #C04531


Notice how the heart is clutched... The face contorted in pain... It would be quite a scare... Honestly. But, this isn't the only captured instance in which a staff member had feared their life. Here is the other caught on camera.

Evidence #C04532


The fear is apparent in the eyes of Chelsey is clear. The awkward seperation, and the evil smile from the boss....

And the final pieces of evidence... The strange appearance of random digits and appendages in his pictures.

Evidence #C04533/C04534/C04535/C04536

We aren't even sure what to make of these. BUT, there is speculation that it is for some form of mind control. We are terrified that something bad is going to happen if this goes on unchecked. We are submitting this report out of honesty, and caring for the state of mind of our director. If he has been taken over by aliens, then we wish to call the MIB. IF not, then, we are going to have to move a little quicker to commit him to an asylum before it's too late.

We do not blame him for cracking, if that is what's happened. We recognize that many staff members over the years have driven him into hysteria. We also know that 20 years serving children from Utah County is a nightmare for anyone... Happy Valley isn't as happy as one might think. However, something must be done as evidenced above.

Thanks for your time.

Bracken Funk

Psychological Evaluations

Creatorium Department

What a Bit of Imagination and Inspiration can bring

You Wanted More of Adrian Stephens - You Got It. Thanks Aleta!

This story is just for fun. Any resemblance to the staff at the space center is intentional. Any resemblance to a real space center mission is your imagination.
Aleta Clegg


Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 9

Harken slipped behind Angie. “I don’t trust her. I think we should shoot her now.”

“We don’t trust you, either,” Turner said. “You were the one smuggling, the one who got us stuck here.”

“And Perry killed.” I wanted to see if she’d wince or if she really was as cold-blooded as a snake.

“Perry’s greed got her killed. She overplayed her hand.” Harken didn’t seem bothered.

Angie patted the bag slung over her shoulder. “Well, if y’all got a computer terminal, I can plug this in and control Delphi from here. We’re fairly safe, ain’t we?”

“You are currently in mortal danger,” Caligula said from his prone position on the floor. “Everything in this room is keyed to my touch.”

Angie crossed her arms. “The ship is shut down, ain’t nothing working.”

Caligula laughed.

Chills ran over my skin at the sound. “Rafael knows where you are and he wants you dead. How can you laugh?”

“Rafael has been trying to kill me for months. He has not succeeded yet.” Caligula flexed his skinny arms. The strips of t-shirt ripped to shreds. He sat, tearing the bindings from his legs. “And you will not succeed, either. Give me your weapon and I will let you live. For now.” He loomed over me, waiting.

I handed him the rifle. He looked like a ninety-pound weakling, but he was a cyborg.

“Adrian!” Harken planted her fists on her hips.

“I’m not stupid, Harken.”

“Your friend is correct,” Caligula said as he crossed the room. “She is only slightly stupid. If you assist me, perhaps I will consent to offering you a position on my ship. Or I can strand you somewhere Starfleet might find you. Eventually.”

“What do you want from us, Caligula?” I ignored the hand gestures from Harken. I wasn’t going to jump him while his back was turned. We already proved that only led to pain.

Caligula tapped a code into a wall panel. A computer interface slid from behind a panel. He stuck his finger into a port below it. His eyes crossed. Information flowed over the screen. He pulled his finger free.

“Vasha has locked herself on the bridge. Rafael and his men are attempting to cut through the doors. The rest of the crew has deserted in the shuttles. The Odyssey remains. The computer systems were so corrupted by Delphi that the ship no longer functions.”

“Why are you sharing, Caligula?”

He ignored my question. “You, Adrian, have a connection with Vasha. You will crawl through the air ducts to the bridge and convince her to surrender. The rest will accompany me.” He aimed the blast rifle at my head. “Don’t attempt to double-cross me or you will never leave the bridge alive. Go, now.”

I didn’t see I had much choice. I crawled into the narrow duct.

“Move, now.” Caligula ordered the others.

I lay in the duct, wondering if I dared crawl back out. I had no idea where the bridge was. I wondered if Caligula had thought of that.

The vent cover slammed into place. Caligula melted it with the blast rifle.

I had no choice now. He’d sealed the way back. I squirmed through the air ducts, looking for the bridge.

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 10

I wiped dust and sweat from my face. My elbows ached from squirming through ducts barely large enough to let me through. I squinted through yet another vent.

Vasha slumped in the captain’s chair. The bridge looked too dark. Only one station showed anything on the screen. The power outage must have taken out most of the systems. Smoke leaked through the doors leading to the bridge.

I searched for a release on the vent cover. It was molded into the wall of the bridge. I muttered swear words. There had to be a way to get it open.

Vasha’s head snapped up. She looked awful. Her hair was a mess, one eye was swollen shut. She wiped blood from her nose. “Who’s there?”

“Adrian Stevens. Vasha, what happened?”

Vasha jumped from the chair. She stood under the vent, peering through the slits. “Is it really you this time?”

“It’s me. Open the vent.”

“Why? So you can try to kill me, too?”

“I’m trying to help you, Vasha.”

She chewed her lip while blood dripped from her nose. She finally nodded, touching the release buttons. The vent cover slid to one side.

I dropped through, landing on the floor next to a limp body. I froze in shock.

Vasha kicked the body. “She isn’t dead, although I wish I’d had a bigger weapon. She’s only unconscious.”

And bleeding, I added silently. “I thought Perry was dead.”

Vasha dropped into the captain’s chair. “She’s working with Rafael. I saw her meet with him more than once.”

“Turner told me you met with him on Starbase a month ago. Convince me you aren’t the real traitor.” I shifted away from Perry’s prone body. Blood dripped through her scalp, pooling on the floor around her head. The sight turned my stomach.

“I met with him as part of my cover. I suspected Perry and Harken. I was following a lead.”

“You’re working for Williamson, too? Harken told me the same story.”

Vasha pointed at Perry. “She’s the real traitor. At least on the Voyager. This is more than just one ship. I think an admiral is involved.”

I stared. “Admiral Williamson is a traitor now? Are you insane or just paranoid?”

“Not him. But someone close to him. We were all set up.”

The door to the bridge exploded inwards. I ducked flying shrapnel. Vasha screamed. Pirates thundered onto the bridge. Smoke clogged the ducts. Alarms hooted.

“Give me control of the ship, now!” Rafael jammed a phaser into Vasha’s face.

She flinched. “I can’t. I’ve been trying for the last hour to get control back. Someone locked everything. I can’t even access the holodeck programming.”

“She’s not alone!” A pirate grabbed my arm, shoving me into the middle of the bridge. “Perry’s body is on the floor behind her.”

Rafael’s head snapped around. “Is Emily dead?” He looked worried.

“Still breathing but she’s got a huge lump on her head.”

“Get her to sickbay!” Rafael stalked across the bridge, his face twisted with rage. He stopped a foot from me. “If she dies, you’ll wish you died, too.”

“I didn’t do it,” I squirmed, trying to escape the pirate’s grasp.

Rafael raised his hand to slap me. I cringed. The ship rocked to one side.

“Tractor beam,” a pirate muttered.

Rafael whirled back to Vasha. “Get this ship running. Now!”

“I can’t! Didn’t you hear me before? I don’t know who screwed up the ship, but someone did.”

Caligula strode through the smoke, entering the bridge like a conquering general. Rafael and his handful of pirates snapped their weapons to aim at the cyborg. Harken, Angie, and Turner sidled through behind him, moving out of the line of fire.

“It’s over, Rafael. Surrender while you still breathe.” Caligula planted himself in the center of the room, leather coat flaring dramatically.

“You should surrender to me, you freak mutant!” Rafael waved his phaser.

“I’ll let you die quickly, unlike Mad Dog.” Caligula’s calm voice echoed in sudden silence.

Rafael paled. “Mad Dog is here?”

“And Del Brugado is in the hands of the Federation. You have no power base, Rafael.”

Rafael opened fire. His pirates followed suit. The one holding me shoved me away. Most of the weapons were low on power. It turned into a fistfight, with some of Rafael’s men siding with Caligula. The bridge lights flickered and dimmed as power levels dropped further. Something in the hall exploded. Smoke poured into the room, thick and heavy.

I crawled around the edge of the bridge. I didn’t want them to remember I was there. Angie caught my shoulder as I neared the door.

“The Odyssey’s still here, we can make a run for it.”

“You can make it fly?”

Angie grinned, white teeth flashing in the dark room. “She’s my baby. Plus I stole the Delphi chip off Vasha. Why do you think she can’t get this ship to fly? She ain’t got the right controls.”

Turner and Harken joined us as we crawled from the bridge. The four of us were going to steal the Odyssey back from the pirates. I questioned my sanity.

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 11

We hid from a squad of heavily armed pirates in an engineering access tunnel.

“That was the fourth one,” Turner whispered. “Who are they?”

“Mad Dog’s men, probably. His ship docked just before Caligula made his move,” Harken answered.

“I don’t care who they are,” I whispered. “Let’s go while they’re distracted fighting each other.”

“Shuttle bay is right ahead,” Angie said. “Crawl through that left tunnel.”

I squirmed my way into the tunnel, trying to ignore my bruised elbows and knees. I’d crawled through most of the ship’s access vents already. The ship shook, smoke filling the vent. I coughed, my eyes blurring as I squinted through the smoke.

I found the hatch for the shuttle bay by snagging my fingernails on it. The smoke filled the vent, stifling us. I coughed, wheezing for breath, as I searched for the releases. I couldn’t find them in the dark. I finally squirmed sideways, bending myself into a knot. I slammed my boot into the vent cover. The cover popped free, clattering to the floor of the shuttle bay.

The ship shuddered, slamming to one side. I tumbled into the shuttle bay, sprawling on the hard floor. The Odyssey waited on the far side, past empty docking ports. The others scrambled out behind me. The ship rocked again, sending all four of us to the floor. The wide launch bay doors creaked as they began to slide open.

“Run!” Angie slapped my shoulder. “We’re about to lose our air!”

I sprinted, faster than I had in years, trying to keep up with Angie. Turner and Harken still reached the shp first. I grabbed the hatch as the air rushed from the bay. Turner grabbed my uniform, yanking me into the Odyssey’s airlock. Harken slammed the doors shut.

“Hang on!” Angie shouted. “I’m blowing the docking clamps.”

The Odyssey rocked as the explosive bolts blew. The rush of air from the docking bay pulled us free, yanking us outside Caligula’s ship. The power umbilicals snapped, plunging us into darkness as we tumbled into space.

I grabbed for a handhold in sudden freefall. I hadn’t been in zero G in years. My stomach churned. Turner flailed in midair, spinning wildly. Harken swam to the front of the ship, her marine training proving useful. Angie wedged herself under the command console, up to her armpits in the ship’s systems buried underneath.

The lights flickered on. The ship stabilized. The gravity field re-established itself. Turner hit the floor with a loud thump. I landed next to him.

“Got it.” Angie grinned. “Main computer, activate Delphi.”

“Confirmed.”

The control stations powered one by one. The computer announced each system as it came online.

“Fully functional and ready to fly.” Angie dropped the access cover back into place.

“I think we have a problem,” Turner said. He nodded at the main viewscreen.

Caligula’s battleship hung in space, leaking flames and air from every port. Looming behind it, was a giant ship, a flying fortress armed to the teeth.

“What is that?” Angie stared at the thing.

“Cardassian battle ship,” Harken answered. “I heard rumors Starfleet captured one from the Romulans. I think we found Mad Dog’s ship.”

“Who’s Mad Dog?” Turner asked.

Harken glanced over her shoulder, her face white. “The real leader of the pirates. No one knows what he looks like.”

“I think we’re about to find out.” Angie pointed to the flashing light on the communications screen. “He’s calling us.”

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 12

“Stall him, Harken. Tell him the video link isn’t working, whatever you can think of.” I waved Angie and Turner close. “Can you get Delphi to set a course? We’re going to have to run fast.”

Angie frowned. “Delphi won’t operate beyond the safe parameters. We can’t go faster than warp six. Plus, it’s going to take a few minutes to find reference points for the nav computer.”

“We’ve got a bigger problem,” Turner said. “I checked the power levels. If I’m reading things right, we’ve battery power but no reactor core. We might make it to warp speed but not for long.”

“What if we shut everything down and play dead?” Angie suggested.

“They just scanned us, too late for that,” Harken said.

“Do we have weapons? Anything?” I didn’t want to escape just to die.

“We’re going to fight that?” Turner jabbed his finger at the monstrosity on the viewscreen.

“We have to do something.”

“We’ve got empty torpedo casings and probes,” Angie said as she clicked through the controls. “I’ve got an idea. Hey, Rachel, you got things up here?”

Harken nodded.

“Buy us some time. You two, come with me.”

Angie’s grin scared me, just a little, but I followed her to deck two, Turner on my heels. She took us to the torpedo bay.

“We got extra exocomps on board. Caligula didn’t find them, I checked.”

“How are repair robots going to help us?”

“Change their programming, sweetheart, and they break things just as well as they fix them.” Angie waved at the empty torpedo casings. “You get those ready to fly and I’ll get the exocomps ready to load.”

“What makes you think Mad Dog is going to let these anywhere near him? We have to get them on board his ship to do any damage.”

“We make it look like we’re jettisoning cargo. He’ll sweep it up.”

I wished I had Angie’s confidence.

“You know, Vasha said something to me once about probe self-destruct commands,” Turner said. “We can always try to blow him up that way.”

I shook my head. “We’re going to take on that battleship with empty torpedos and armed probes. Am I the only one who thinks this is insane?”

Turner grinned. “No more insane than taking over Del Brugado’s ship with a handful of Klingons. You managed that, Adrian.”

The comm beeped. Harken’s voice came from the speakers. “Whatever you’re doing, you have about fifteen minutes to do it. Caligula’s ship is about to blow and that battleship is impatient. It’s moving this way.”

“Go!” Angie pushed Turner from the room. “Get those probes launched.”

“How many torpedos do you need?” I asked.

“Twelve, if you’ve got them.” Angie typed furiously on a keyboard.

I opened the first empty shell, loading it onto the cradle.

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 13

“We’re out of time,” Harken snapped over the ship’s speakers. “That ship will be here in less than five minutes.”

I wiped sweat from my face with my ripped sleeve. “That’s the last one. Locked and loaded.”

“Sending the new instructions now.” Angie hit a final key. “We can launch torpedos any time now. Are those probes in place?”

“Turner launched them,” Harken answered. “The commander of that ship just laughed. He’s not a nice person.”

“Mad Dog?” I slammed the cover on the torpedo launch queue.

“I don’t think so. He said his name was Scorpius.”

“Well, if we’re ready, give them all we’ve got.” Angie grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

The torpedo tube shuddered as the first one shot away from the ship. Angie and I went back to the bridge.

Harken swiveled in her chair. “He’s laughing, calling us fools.”

I studied the viewscreen. The giant battleship approached our position, eclipsing Caligula’s ship. “Can you send the probes behind the battleship?”

“What are you thinking?” Turner moved so Angie could sit at the scanning station. He slid over to the weapons station, keeping the torpedos firing.

“A handful of probes aren’t going to make a dent in that thing. But they could blow Caligula’s ship to kingdom come. We run away in the confusion.”

“I’ve got a lock on our coordinates,” Harken said. “And plenty of footage of that ship for Starfleet.”

Angie sat back in the chair. “Probe commands sent. The destruct code is loaded and ready to activate.”

“Can you target the shuttle bays with the torpedos?” I asked Turner.

“I can shoot them, don’t ask me to target things. I’m a cook, remember?” Turner sent another torpedo with its exocomp shooting into space.

Angie tapped her screen. “Scorpius is taking the bait. He’s scooping up those torpedos like they were candy. Probes are in position.”

The battleshipt turned to face us. Gun ports lined both sides, aiming for our tiny ship. It’s bulk hid Caligula’s ship completely. Which meant his engines would be square on to the explosion we were about to create. We just might survive.

“Angie, we need Delphi to set our course now. Is there some kind of emergency procedure you could activate with it?” The only flaw to our plan that I could see was our ship getting caught in the shockwave. We’d be ripped apart.

Angie typed rapidly on the computer. “I’ve got a course set to Starbase fourteen, but I don’t think I can override the safety protocols, not without pulling the whole thing from the computers.”

“Scorpius just gave us thirty seconds to surrender or he’ll open fire.”

I took the captain’s chair. It felt right. I was the one giving orders. “Everyone, hang on. Send the destruct code, Angie. Harken, go ahead and connect to the viewscreen.”

Scorpius’ face filled the main screen. He was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, angry Klingons included. Warty green scales covered his face. His eyes were yellow with vertical black slits for pupils. Gold chains dangled from the spikes growing from his skull.

“You amuse me with your antics,” he said. “You will surrender. You have no choice.”

Angie whispered, “Code sent.”

I sat taller in the chair, straightening my filthy uniform. “I think you’re the one with no choice, Scorpius. Tell your master we’ll find him. If he’s lucky, we’ll let him surrender instead of killing him.”

Scorpius barked a laugh. “The arrogance of Starfleet amazes me. You have no weapons, limited supplies, and yet you threaten me.”

“You have exactly ten seconds to surrender, Scorpius.” I motioned to Harken to cut the connection.

The screen flickered back to the giant battleship and its massive guns. A giant flare of burning gas and debris erupted behind it, engulfing the battleship. The lights on the Odyssey flipped to red.

“Warning!” the main computer said. “Warp core breach detected nearby. Activating emergency procedures.”

The ship banked sharply, engines whining as they were activated. The ball of flame spread, closing the distance.

“Brace for emergency speeds,” the computer said.

We shot out of the expanding explosion, streaking away at least warp nine. I clutched the arms of the chair as the whole ship shuddered at the strain. Smoke leaked from the air vents. Systems flashed red warning lights. Sparks danced over the controls.

“Stop us, Harken!”

“I’m trying,” she shouted. “Delphi’s got control of the whole ship!”

“We’re running out of power,” Turner said. “What happens then?”

“I think we’re going to find out,” Angie said. “Whether we want to or not.”

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 14

The engineering pod exploded with a bang. Clouds of smoke and showers of sparks blew from the opening. The ship shuddered, slowing to a full stop. The lights blinked twice before dying. The control screens all went black. I coughed on the thick smoke filling the ship.

“Angie? Turner? Harken?”

“I’m here,” Harken answered. My fumbling hand found her sleeve.

“I think Turner bumped his noggin,” Angie said. “He’s out cold, but he’s still breathing.”

“Anyone have a flashlight?” Harken asked.

“There was one back in engineering,” Angie answered. “I don’t think it’s going to be any use now. If you could even find it. If you got another plan, Adrian, now’s the time to spill it.”

“I’m making this up as I go.” I found a chair and sat, trying to breathe through my sleeve. “Anyone else?”

“The computer blew,” Angie said. “Even if we could get power, we got no way to control it. Every system’s dead.”

“I wish I’d never heard of Delphi. I should have taken the job as a prison cook when Williamson offered it to me.” I slumped lower, laying my head on the desk.

“And miss all this fun?” Harken sat in the chair next to me. “I just hope someone finds our records log.”

“We ain’t gonna die, stop thinking that way. If we rewire the stations, we might be able to get something.”

I closed my watering eyes. “I doubt anything on this ship will ever work again, no matter what we do. We don’t have any light, no supplies, and no engineer.” I wished I had Angie’s optimism. “And if you say we still have each other, I’m going to hit you.”

The ship lurched as a tractor beam attached.

“We still got an emergency beacon,” Angie said.

Harken snarled. “How do we know that’s not Scorpius or some other pirate?”

“Because I sent our coordinates to the Voyager right after I got Delphi installed.” Angie beamed.

“And how do we know the traitor isn’t still on the Voyager? It might be Captain Herring.” I lifted my head, wondering why I even bothered to argue.

“Nah,” Angie said. “He should have smoked them out of their holes by now. We got the worst of them off the ship for him. Though I couldn’t tell which of you was the real traitor.”

I glared in the direction of her voice. “You mean this was all a setup?”

“Yep. Harken, Perry, and Vasha we planned on. Getting you and Turner was a bonus, for me, at least.” Angie still sounded just as chirpy.

“Don’t tell me you work for Admiral Williamson, too.”

“Captain Herring asked me. Of course, I had to get approval from my own captain to do it. Why do you think we made it so easy to steal the Odyssey? Herring wanted information on the pirates. He set himself up to get it.”

The tractor beam shut off. The Odyssey scraped across metal. We sat, blind and deaf to our location.

“Did you know about this, Harken?” I asked.

“Not a word. How did you find out about us?”

“Vasha isn’t the only computer genius in Starfleet.”

The lights blinked on as the external power supply connected. Turner groaned as he woke. Angie sat on the floor next to him. Soot streaked her face, but her grin was as wide as ever.

The door opened. Starfleet marines charged inside. I raised my hands. They swept the ship with their weapons.

“All clear,” the leader said. “But it looks like we need a medic. Man down.” He waved his hand. Two marines scooped Turner up and carried him away.

“Admiral on deck!” the one in the doorway shouted. The marines snapped to attention.

I didn’t bother. I was filthy, tired, bruised, and didn’t want to stand for anyone. Besides, I didn’t think Admiral Williamson would mind.

It wasn’t Admiral Williamson. It was a short man, with dark hair and a fat little mustache. He sniffed, delicately wiping his nose with a cloth before speaking. “I’m Admiral Tagus. Who are you?”

Harken saluted as she struggled to her feet. “Commander Rachel Harken, sir.”

Angie didn’t bother to salute or stand. “Evangeline Lewis, sir, computer specialist for the Odyssey.”

Admiral Tagus turned his glare on me.

I sighed as I stood. “Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster of the Voyager, last I checked.”

“And the others? I believe Commander Emily Perry and Ensign Vasha Gorubnikov were also on this vessel.”

Harken cleared her throat. “They’re either dead or captured by the pirates, sir.”

Tagus twitched his mustache. “Not the best news I’ve heard today, but not the worst, either. And the Delphi protocol?”

Angie handed him the chip from her pocket. “It worked exactly as you predicted, sir. The virus should permanently deactivate it within a week.”

He slipped the chip into his pocket. “Good. Ship programming has been changed on all Starfleet vessels.” He turned to leave.

“Wait a minute, sir,” I said. “Why are you here, not Admiral Williamson? He’s the one who gave me my orders.”

Tagus raised his expressive eyebrows. “Williamson was arrested three days ago by Admiral Earnest Weatherly on charges of treason. “


Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 15

Admiral Tagus motioned to his marines. “Put Harken and Stevens under arrest until we can clear them of all charges. Good work, Evangeline.”

Angie jumped to her feet. “Wait. Admiral, I think you need to see some of the files we stole from Scorpius just before his ship blew up. Admiral Williamson isn’t the traitor, Admiral Weatherly is.”

“I sincerely hope your information provides proof,” Tagus said. He turned to his marines. “Get an engineering squad up here, now. I want all computer files from this ship sent to my quarters. And escort those two to the brig. They are still under arrest.”

The marines escorted Harken and me from the Odyssey. The halls of the Voyager were marked with scorch marks and half-repaired controls.

“Someone put up a fight,” Harken commented.

“The mutiny?” I asked the marine holding my elbow.

He grunted. “Captain Herring had it under control by the time we arrived with the Admiral.”

The other guard spoke, “Everyone’s upset. It’s chaos on at Starfleet Command. Everyone accusing everyone else of treason. The Romulans have pulled out of peace talks again. The Klingons annexed half a dozen planets last week. And the Andorrians accused the Federation of breaking the trade agreements.”

We turned the corner to the brig. Captain Herring stood in front of the door, one arm in a sling. The marines saluted.

“You can let those two go,” the captain said.

“But Admiral Tagus said to arrest them,” the marine on my left said.

“They can consider themselves confined to quarters for at least the next twelve hours. I don’t think they’ll argue. The brig is full.”

“Yes, sir.” The marines saluted again, then marched away.

Harken nodded to me as she left for her quarters.

“A word, Adrian?” Herring asked.

I stayed, though I could smell smoke, soot, dirt, and days in the same uniform. I wanted a bath and sleep. “Sir?”

“Perry was the traitor?”

I glanced after Harken to make sure she was out of earshot. “Harken said she was working undercover with Perry, but Perry decided the money was better to smuggle for real. Vasha was the real traitor, I think. Things were a bit confused, sir. You may want to track a man named Rafael. He met with Vasha several times.”

Herring nodded. “It makes sense. Consider yourself restricted to quarters until I have your full report. And if it takes you longer than twenty-four hours, you’ll find yourself restricted to the brig and under suspicion of treason. Good work, Stevens.” He turned on his heel, walking rapidly up the hall to the lift.

I blinked, watching him. He threatened me and complimented me in the same breath. I’d never understand him. I shook my head. It didn’t matter, not this time. I was back on my ship, and this time, I wasn’t going to let anyone mix me up in more spy missions. No, I was going to my kitchen and I was going to stay there, cooking and cleaning until my enlistment was up in another year.

Then I was going to move to a quiet little planet and open a boutique. I’d had enough excitement to last me the rest of my life.

Where's that Smile I Seemed to have Lost Twenty Years Ago?

What do you think of this one? Sincere Enough to be Believable?
This is the best I could do after 30 minutes of practice.

Hello Troops,
They often say that kids say the darnedest things. Perhaps its because they haven't lived long enough to learn what is allowable for politeness sake and what isn't. It's a skill we pick up over time and through experience. How many times have you opened your month and stuck your foot in it? How many times have you said something and the moment the words escaped you realized you put yourself into a social corner you couldn't get out of? Of course, most of these types of blunders can be forgiven because we know the person speaking meant no harm by the statement. They just didn't think before they spoke.

Then we have students that say things they know full well carry strong meanings - capable of pushing someone's buttons to force an overreaction and possible embarrassment. This happened a few weeks ago just as the overnight camp was winding up. I was standing in front of the campers giving my final speech before dismissing them to their parents.

One young teen boy raised his hand just after I told them where to put their pens and pencils, used to complete our camp end satisfaction survey. I normally don't get questions at that point of the wind up speech and wondered what it was about "where to put his pen" he didnt' get. I pointed to him so he could speak.

"Mr. Williamson, do you ever smile?" he asked.

I'll admit the question startled me. I was hit broadside by something I wasn't expecting and he wanted an answer. I looked for all the physical clues that would indicate he was joking around but they weren't there. From what I could tell, the question was legit. The issue that immediately came to mind was how to answer. I could have ignored the question with a frown, thus fueling the fire that fed the question and proving to the 44 campers that I was incapable of smiling. Or, I could be honest and say that I wasn't aware I looked liked someone weaned on a pickle.

I had to say something quickly because if I didn't the campers would see a crack in my solid 'Camp Director' facade. If I didn't answer quickly then I'd be admitting defeat to this young teen and that I couldn't do.

I opened my mouth to speak, stopped and gave him the biggest smile I could muster. Then I spoke. "I smile all the time AFTER all of you go home!"

I got a laugh from the rest of the campers. His half smile told me he thought my response was lame but I didn't care - at least I got out of the situation with my dignity. I mean, how can we constantly preach that the Space Center is the Second Funnest Place on Earth without always looking so happy you couldn't imagine yourself being anyplace else at that particular time.

I dismissed the campers and purposefully smiled as I walked down the two long hallways back to my desk to tally the surveys. I also made it a point to smile as I worked through the surveys and kept smiling until I knew the last of the campers were gone. Only then did I relax my mouth muscles and let them go back to their natural droopy state.

I will admit some good did come from his question/statement. I am now painfully aware that my appearance does make a difference in how other perceive the Space Center so I've made a start of the year resolution to try my best to smile more. I know it won't look sincere to those of you that know me well but as long as it passes and genuine to those that don't know me then we are in business.

So, here I am. You may call me the Happy Man that Runs the Space Center. Yes, I'm the guy that soon no one will trust because I'll be smiling all the time (isn't it true, you never trust someone that is always happy and cheerful?)

I'm practicing different smiles at home in the mirror. I've settled on two that look OK. The only problem is my teeth. They carry the slightly yellowish hue that comes from years of drinking Diet Coke. Kyle Herring recommended I have them whitened but fear the only thing capable of whitening these aged ivory relics is pure bleach and the warning labels on Bleach bottles warn against it. I see my dentist for a check up in a few weeks. I'll see what he says - once I get him to stop laughing.

So, life continues here at the Space Center. I spent last week filling our field trip calendar. This week we rehearse our new planetarium shows in the the new Digitarium and I venture back into the Voyager and review my school missions. I haven't flown since the end of last school year so I'm a bit rusty.

Thank you to everyone that reads this blog and a thank you to our many wonderful volunteers and staff. I'm grateful you've put up with my grumpy face all this time without saying something.

Perhaps I need to send more time with the Odyssey Flight Directors. They're always happy, bubbly and all smiley. Tis a mystery.....

Mr. Williamson

Let's move On.

With the Galileo complete, wouldn't you say its time the Space Center moved on to another project? There's still the other half of the school's cafeteria :)

We've been putting the Awe in Awesome since 1990.

Mr. W.

Check out this great MSN Video: Big Stars

Hello Troops,
Our mighty sun is a small player in a league of some super giants. Click on the link below and watch this short video on our 'modest' sun :)

Mr. W.


Check out this great MSN Video: Big Stars

Thursday at the Imaginarium

Samuel Cooper. Age 10. Returned home from school at 3:45 P.M. Enjoyed a cookie taken without his mother's permission at 3:47 P.M. At 3:49 P.M. drank from the milk carton while standing in the doorway of the open fridge - a serious no no. At 3:52 sat on the front porch of his home at 231 Elm Street, Eugene Oregon. At 4:00 P.M. accessed his direct link to the Imaginarium and at 4:01 relocated.

Samuel Cooper, Age 10 enjoys the scenery and the calm, realizing there is something stirring in the castle behind him. Then, a smell. Something familiar and quite foul. He has one hour before dinner. It is time.

And From the Imaginarium's
Needlessly True Deparment

North Korean People's Army Funky Get Down Juche Party

What, Funky in North Korea?!
What makes this so funny is also what makes this so sad. A nation of people brainwashed into a personality cult of their Dear Leader.

This is why we have a Constitution and Bill of Rights my friends. Be grateful you live in a country where you can Get Down anytime you want! Defend our Liberty and please Continue to Have Independent Thoughts. Don't let anyone tell you that asking "Why?" is a bad thing.

Live, Laugh, Think, Read, Write, Create and Imagine.
The Best is Yet to Come.

Mr. Williamson.

P.S. If we were living in North Korea, I'd be arrested, imprisoned and most likely put to death for posting this. Gulp........

The Walls Shook and the Foundations Trembled.

The Imaginarium's Receptionist diving for cover
at the first jolt and cheer heard from the Space Center

At 9:40 A.M. Saturday last the walls of the Space Center shook. In fact, the tremors were felt throughout the Imaginarium and Wonderland. I was sitting at my desk working on the September Volunteering and Staff schedule when the shaking started.

The jolt was preceded by Christine Grosland, one of the Odyssey's Flight Directors, announcing to her crew that they had successfully finished their Overnight Mission. A millisecond later there arouse a sound from the bowels of the Odyssey rarely heard at such a deafening volume. The cheering was so enthusiastic and energetic it caused my desk to rattle. The light fixtures overhead shook, sending me in a panic under my desk to cower in fear the fluorescent light bulbs would explode and shower my desk and chair with shards of glass.

"What the ..." I heard Alex shout from the Phoenix Control Room. "Hold on, Its the Big One," he shrieked, and in a panic so unlike the normally placid Alex, shoved his young staff out of the way so he could stand in the doorway for protection. "Its every man for himself," he spat, wildly kicking at anyone who came near him.

The cheering continued for what seemed like minutes. Dust from the overhead rafters began falling. Ceiling tiles broke free and chairs bounced around the room like popcorn in a hot skillet. The youngest of our staff took hold of anything that seemed stable. Their eyes, wide as saucers, as shock set in.

Students, attending Wonderland's School for the Imaginationally Deprived, dive for cover as the shaking started. These students are brought to Wonderland for specialized treatment designed to reignite their imaginations and creativity. For some, its too much TV, or video games. For others it is a lack of play. And for some, it is the result of their school's overemphasis on standardized testing.

Finally, the cheering stopped. The Odyssey went silent and the shaking stopped. Its said the Wasatch Fault moved a good six centimeters Saturday morning, thanks to Christine, her staff and the excellent job they did - which resulted in a cheer heard throughout Wonderland.

Needless to say, the Odyssey scored a perfect 1 across the board, the first for the summer season. Congratulations Christine and your staff. What an awesome job.

Mr. Williamson

Join Us at the Orem Public Library.

Hello Troops,

I'll be attending the following event at the Orem Public Library on Wednesday, September 1st and encourage all of you with an interest in Space to attend as well. Mr. Barber will be in Utah to attend the Timpanogos Story Telling Festival. This is his only public appearance (you can see him at the Festival as well).

As a special bonus, all of you that attend wearing your Space Center T-Shirt will be given a certificate for two class hours to go toward your Space Center Rank. This event is not sponsored by the Space Center or the Alpine School District. This event is a part of the Timpanogos Story Telling Festival.

I hope to see many of you at the event to listen to this Mr. Barber talk about his fascinating work at JPL and NASA.

Mr. Williamson

NASA's Science Outreach has accepted an invitation from Orem Library and Timpanogos Storytelling Festival to come to Utah!

Todd Barber, Lead NASA Propulsion Engineer on the Saturn-Cassini Equinox Mission

Will be Speaking at the Orem Public Library on

Wednesday, September 1 at 7pm

Todd will speak on highlights and memorable moments in his career as a NASA engineer. He will share images and recent findings from the ongoing Cassini Equinox Mission studying Saturn, its belts and the planet's 53 moons.

Todd Barber, Award-winning NASA Propulsion Engineer:

*Lead impactor on Deep Space mission (a la "Star Trek") of near-Earth asteroid, Braille

*Award-winning engineer on the launching of Galileo spaceprobe and orbital insertion around Jupiter

*Engineer on several Mars projects including Mar's Rovers

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 8

This story is just for fun. Any resemblance to the staff at the space center is intentional. Any resemblance to a real space center mission is your imagination.
Aleta Clegg


The emergency lights flickered on, very dim and red.

“Hold the door!” Rafael shouted. “If it shuts, we’ll be locked in here.”

“What’s Vasha doing?” Harken whispered. “Is she trying to kill us all?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Shut up!” A pirate slammed his rifle butt into my back.

I spun on my heel and punched him in the face. He reeled backwards. I grabbed his rifle, pulling the trigger. A spray of plasma bolts caught the other guards, cutting them down. Turner ducked behind me, grabbing Harken on the way.

“Negotiate this, Rafael!” I clicked the trigger.

Rafael was no longer in the doorway. His footsteps faded down the dim corridor.

I dove for the door, jamming the rifle into the opening. A plasma bolt struck the wall next to me. I dropped behind the door, out of range.

“Now what?” Harken asked.

“Unless you know another way out, we’re stuck in here with Caligula.”

“And he isn’t going to be happy when he wakes up.” Turner nudged the prone cyborg.

I slumped against the wall. “We need information. Harken, you were working with Perry. Did you sell out the Federation to these pirates?”

“It was a cover. We were looking for the leak in Starfleet. Although I think Perry decided it paid better than Starfleet ever did.”

I winced as another plasma bolt zipped through the opening. “Admiral Williamson assigned me to do that, too. He said they suspected someone on the Voyager.”

“Captain Herring? The rumors were true?”

I shook my head. “Not him, someone else.”

Harken sank into Caligula’s chair. “We thought it was you, Stevens.”

“Then who was it?”

“Vasha.” Turner smacked his fist into the floor. “She set us up. She’s working with Rafael. I thought he looked familiar. She met him at Starbase a month ago.”

“Why were you following Vasha?”

“We were dating. Sort of. She dumped me after three dates.”

Caligula moaned.

The air vent cover on the other side of the cabin wiggled. I signaled the others to be quiet as I eased the rifle out of the door. It slid closed as another plasma bolt ricocheted down the hall. I aimed at the vent.

It dropped to the floor with a clatter. A petite blond woman in a torn Starfleet uniform crawled out. She sat on the floor, raising her hands. “Y’all want to put that rifle down? I’m here to help. My name’s Evangeline. Call me Angie for short.”

“You’re working with Vasha. Give me one reason we should trust you.” I eased my finger onto the trigger.

“Because I’m your only hope.” Angie raised her hand, showing us a computer disk. “I stole the protocol when Vasha wasn’t looking. She’s gonna be real mad when she finds out none of her commands work. Admiral Williamson warned me to watch out for you, Adrian. Said you’d get me in a heap of trouble if I wasn’t careful.”

“How is Delphi going to help us now?” I shifted the rifle to aim at the ceiling. Any hope was better than none.

“We’re on our way back to Starbase Fourteen. And there ain’t nothing Vasha can do about it. I stole the computer chips that control course settings. All she can do is stop the ship.”

The engines whined to a stop right on cue.

I sighed. “You had to say that.”

The Subway to Wonderland Station

Hello Troops,
Today I took the Subway to the Wonderland Station. It is time for the Space Center and the Imaginarium to open for full normal business. The train was packed with Wonderland employees returning to work after their forced vacation (thanks to the Space Center closing for three weeks). There were smiles on many faces, the kind that come from knowing one still has a job to return to in these tough times.

Yes, even Wonderland has been hit by the Great Recession. It seems millions of Americans have had their dreams shattered by the world's faltering economy. Instead of having time to imagine and dream, more and more people are struggling to just make ends meet. Parental stress is also effecting the nation's children, whose imaginations are the primary fuel powering Wonderland.

Regardless of the situation out in the real world, I was happy to be back on the subway and back to my normal routine, surrounded by the kind of people that think outside the box and look at the world a bit differently. We are a befuddled group suffering from eternal optimism and bewildered by the dark forces of despair. We will work to ensure that creativity, wonder and imagination remain vibrant in this world. It is our goal, it is our mission and it is what we are paid to do.

You never know who you're going to bump into on the Subway to the Wonderland Station.
Just a few on the train today.

Volunteers and Staff. I'm glad to be back, glad you're back with me and glad to be in the trenches. Let's have a great year!

Mr. Williamson

Space Center News. At A Glance.

Hello Troops,
I don't have to be back to work until Friday. Why am I back to work on Wednesday? That's not the question you should be asking. The question you should be asking is, Why did I come back to work on Monday!?

If I waited to come back to work until Friday I would be so buried in emails, phone calls, mission bookings, teachers booking field trips, registrations, and Everything else I would be caught up until this time in the year 2012. So, here I am, up to my eyeballs in "things to do".

Me, earlier in the day. It only got worse. Paramedics were called,
oxygen administered and I'm feeling much better

So, just so you don't think I'm the only one buried in work at the Space Center as we heroically try to open for private missions on Friday, let me show you a few other pictures.

This is Christine and Adam. They just took off their Environmental Hazard Suits and are reviewing the new, almost clean Odyssey Control Room. The Odyssey was built in 1991/92 and, to my reckoning, hasn't been deep cleaned since. They even found an old bottle of salsa that expired in 2008! We might put it on Ebay - what perfectly stewed poison. Some demented person would pay big money for that.

I reminded the Odyssey staff that unlike wine, salsa does not improve with age. I chastised them once again for eating in the Control Rooms and then we 'disposed' of the salsa.

In addition to the good cleaning, the Odyssey's drawers and cupboards were cleaned out. They found old training tapes, VCR tapes of missions told long before humans discovered how to make fire, and props last used on the stages of pre revolutionary France.

This is where the overflow of 'stuff' was deposited during the delousing of the Odyssey Control Room. Yes, that is my desk. As you can clearly see, my staff have no fear of me. I can cuss all I want about the sheer volume of junk piling around me and they just grunt, shrug their shoulders and proceed. I get no respect around here......

While the Odyssey was being scoured, Stacy was in the cafeteria working on the Galileo. This is a prop used in one of the Galileo's missions. You see that Stacy is tidy and well organized. Even her messes are tidy. Let that be a lesson to all of you that work and volunteer at the Space Center. Cleanliness is our Creed!
"What was that? Just what I thought. Another grunt and a cold shoulder shrugged in my direction. No Respect I tell you from that Odyssey Gang!"

Stacy also had the Programming Guild in today to install the newest version of Cocoa Controls for the Galileo.

This is one of the new Cocoa Control screens for the Galileo. Our programming boys do good work, as long as we feed them a steady diet of Coke, chips, and red meat when they're good. Oh, we let them out once in awhile for fresh air but not to long in the sunshine mind you. Their white skin burns quickly leaving their work to suffer.
Now, on a happier note. I bought new chairs for the Odyssey. The Captain's chair was replaced. The old chair was splitting at the seams. The result of hundreds of nervous children scratching the leather of the chair in sheer desperation when faced with overwhelming obstacles all associated with a good Odyssey mission. I'm hoping the new Captain's chair will last more than a fortnight.

What do you think of the new blue chairs? I spent a few hours online, visiting every school furniture site I could find, looking for chairs that resembled something more modern than 1955. I found two styles that met the objective and went with the cheapest. Let it be known that I firmly believe that a penny saved is a penny earned,
(and I'm talking about real American Money, not that phony Canadian stuff).

Here you see two of the chairs at the Sensors and Tactical stations in the Odyssey. Cool aren't they? Modern, Yes? Ultra Modern? Don't tell me I'm pushing it because in my opinion, I would classify these chairs as UberModern! And yes, you may quote me on that.

Our younger Kyle (Not the Fish) has spent much of the week so far in the Discovery Room. It needed a new coat of paint. The carpets were cleaned as well. The Magellan staff may not recognized the clean and freshly painted Discovery (which is why I'm posting this picture so they will recognize the room and not think they've somehow entered the twilight zone and evaporated into an alternate reality where the Magellan staff actually CLEAN and MAINTAIN their Briefing and Staging Room).

Yes, the room is messed up as we paint and clean but that can all be put right when the endeavor is completed - hopefully by Thursday evening.

And finally, to wrap things up, I'd like to update you on other items of interest.


This is Emily, Odyssey Set Director, congratulating Devin for getting his Odyssey Pin.
Devin really knows how to turn on the charm when a camera is nearby.
Emily, on the other hand, is just........... Emily.


This is Devin actually getting his pin. This is the real Devin we all have to put up with when the camera isn't visible. I shot this picture before he saw the camera and could react.

This is Devin getting his Phoenix pass from Alex, the Phoenix Set Director. Again, he wasn't aware of the camera before the picture was shot. He was upset but quickly got over it when I said the camera failed to take the picture so it wouldn't be posted.

This is Alex presenting Josh A. with his Phoenix Pin. Alex has been studying the Roman classics this summer in preparation for his Art History Class he will be taking this school year. This is his 'Julius Caesar' pose. I think he's got that Roman statue look down, don't you?

This is Stacy. This is Joseph. Stacy is giving Joseph his Galileo Pin. Joseph is happy.
Stacy is happier. We are all happy at the Space Center. The Space Center is a happy place.
This is Stacy. This is Alex. Alex also got his Galileo Pin. Wait, is this Alex? Hard to tell sometimes. Alex is a great worker, when he isn't walking into walls.

This is Stacy. This is Matt. Matt is one of our long distant volunteers. He lives in Logan! We don't know how he gets here or how he gets home. We think he uses some form of technology unknown to mere mortals.

And finally. This is Logan. Logan looked sad during our Award Ceremony so we brought him up to the front and told him to pretend we were giving him an award. He perked right up.
(Logan actually received his Year of Service Pin. Great Job Logan and thanks).

Well, that's about it for today. I'm tired of typing and my neck hurts. Time to go home and ponder the mysteries until I'm needed.

Mr. W.