Its Friday night. That means the Space Education Center's starships are out on patrol someone within 400 light years of Earth.
Tonight four ships left Starbase. Reports coming in through the military subspace network tell tales of herosim and valor. The crews manning the ships hail from Westfield Elementary. They do their school proud.
The Voyager is in space dock being deloused. Last week the Voyager picked up a colony of ugly little beasties shed from the matted hair of a Klingon family found stranded on the Olive Moon of Panthea. They were accidently transported onto the Voyager by Ensign Jake Hirschi. Ensign Hirschi neglected to activate the proper transport biofilters during the 'beaming up' - a common rookie mistake. Security was the first to notice the squirming insects in the adult female Klingon's hair as they approached her on the transporter pad to escort them to sick bay. The alarm was sounded and the containment force field sparked into action. Unfortunately not before several of the lice like vermin had fallen to the floor and crawled into the ship's air circulation system.
Ensign Hirschi spent the rest of the week fumigating various sections of the ship. His efforts, though well intentioned, were fruitless. Not even an Ensign facing disciplinary action could stay ahead of the these rapidly reproducing insects.
The Captain ordered the ship back to Starbase for fumigation when several of the creepy crawlies were found in his morning bowl of Froot Loops. Everyone knows there are two things the Captain will not tolerate, insubordination and an unsatisfactory bowl of Froot Loops.
It's 10:44 P.M. Colton McKay is talking 'military' with Metta Smith to my left. Colton is in the Army. Metta is in the Air Force.
Megan is celebrating her Favorite Crew of the Week? She gave them death time. Instead of sitting quietly through Megan's music of choice, they danced - without making a sound. Everyone knows that Death Time is extended if the crew talks during Death Time. Megan was impressed. Its not easy to impress Megan. She purposely goes out of her way not to be impressed.
It's 10:47 P.M. and time for me to stop typing this post. I need to put out the ice cream sandwiches and snicker doodles. Mrs. Houston will be arriving any minute to chaperon the girls.
I'll be back soon.....
It's 11:56 P.M. and all is quiet. The Westfield boys are in the Voyager. The girls are in the gym. There isn't a peep coming from the Odyssey. The staff are either out cold or tuned out with ear buds blasting. I found our little dinasourlite emerging from the seat of my chair. It gave me a fraction of a moment's concern. You'll find it poking its head out of my file cabinet now.
Matt Long, Megan Warner and Ryan Pendleton are in the school's computer lab thrashing out the bugs in the Phoenix simulator's new Cocoa Starship controls. Revolution Code has powered the Phoenix ever since its launching six years or so ago. For some reason, our Revolution Code is exhibiting the same symptoms of dementia commonly found in humans over 80. At times, the Phoenix forgets its a Starship. I think it was a tractor in a previous life.
"Its amazing," Matt Ricks said last week, "how the Revolution programming degrades with use. I fix a bug, it works for awhile, then the same problem resurfaces."
"The ship hates me," Megan chimed in with disgust. "The Phoenix doesn't give Dave or Zac the problems it gives me. It hates me and that's a fact."
To accuse a ship of hating one of its flight directors is a serious allegation. I investigate every reported incident of one of my ships striking back at one of my flight directors. Our ships must learn the basic rule of the Space Center. They are here to serve US, not the other way around. Action will be taken if I feel the Phoenix is to blame for these problems that keep cropping up. That action could be anything from a severe scolding to a exorcism (as was done on the Voyager a year or two back to rid it of a network loop that nobody took responsibility for. The loop was either the work of a disgruntled spirit or a ship that was too big for its britches).
OK, enough of this. I need some sleep if I'm going to be of any use tomorrow.
Wait, what was that? I felt something in my hair............ I knew I shouldn't have gone into the Voyager for that Diet Dew kept in the ship's fridge.