The next Voyager Club meetings will be held on January 15, 2009. Alpha Group will meet 4:30 - 6:00 and Beta Group will meet 7:00 - 8:30. The topic of our next meetings will be: NASA past present and future featuring a guest speaker; Mrs. Aleta Clegg, who is one of our Space Center Teachers. We will also have a group discussion/debate on the subjects.
What is the Voyager Club and how can you be apart of this new group? The Voyager Club is open to students who love attending Space Center camps – classes and want to earn higher Space Center Rank. Club meetings, activities and educational programs will focus on space science, aviation, communication, team building, leadership and science fiction. Other details about the Voyager Club listed below:
1. There is no charge for attending
2. Class hours are awarded at the end of each meeting for attendance. Extra class hours are awarded at the end of each term to members that have no grades lower than a C.
3. The Club meets once each month. Meeting dates and times are announced two weeks in advance on this blog and through the Frequent Flyer email list.
4. You are allowed to attend ONCE a month. Lesson topics and objectives will change each month.
5. Lesson topics and objectives may or may not be announced ahead of time.
6. You must wear your Space Center T-Shirt to attend. If you don't have a shirt you may purchase one at the Center for $10.00 (Shirts available on Dec. 9)
7. You must register for each meeting ahead of time. This is done only by email. If your name is not on the register you may be asked to leave. The lesson is taught in the Space Center's Discovery Room, which can only handle occupancy of 30 max. That is why you must pre-register to attend.
8. The instructors are Center employees. There may be occasional special speakers.
9. These meetings are not merit badge classes.
10. Simulators may be used in class sessions, but not promised and not on a regular basis.
Your best behavior is expected. Students will be asked to leave and not return if their behavior becomes a distraction to the instructor and / or other students around them.
Once again, we are looking for students with an interest in learning and increasing your rank at the Space Center.
We look forward to having you in attendance!
Kyle Herring
Voyager Club
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
An Enemy from the Dark. Chapter 1
Hello Troops,
This is the start of a story that could end up being much larger if I have an interest to continue it. I enjoyed writing our school mission 'The Children of Perikoi'. I enjoy telling it even more. I've wanted to continue the story and did once several summers ago. The mission was told in the Galileo. It was OK but not what it should have been. I blame myself for that. Not everything you write is good. This is another attempt at a continuation of Perikoi using our own staff and volunteers as characters. Let me know if you find it interesting enough to continue.
Mr. Williamson
December 21, 2321
23:00 Hours
McAuliffe Station, Earth Orbit.
The McAuliffe Station’s Lounge was located on deck 12 near the Officer's Quarters. Large polished wooden doors separated it from the hallway. Each door had a normal sized port hole with the station’s logo etched in the glass. The hallway ended at the Lounge. Walking straight out from the lounge the hallway passed several officer’s quarters, two turbolift elevators and a small convenience shop run by the Station’s Commissary. The hallway ended on the opposite side at the entrance to the Station’s Command Training Office. This is where the Command Staff and instructors of the training facility had their offices and conference rooms. The hallway was carpeted in a speckled blue carpet. LED lights were embedded in the carpet showing the numbers of the rooms. The hallway was futuristic in design with soft lighting directed at the wall every six feet.
It was 23:00 hours and the Station’s Christmas party was in full force. The party’s noise bled out into the hallway each time the doors slid open. The noise didn’t matter . There was no one to disturb. The station’s staff and employees were all at the party. A large Christmas Tree stood on the opposite side of the room from the door. It was decorated in holographic ornaments that changed design to match the beat of the music playing in the room. False Flame took the place of lights. The tree was topped with a two hundred year old star brought to the station by the station commander’s wife. Everyone commented on what a fine tree it was.
The people in the room were divided not by design but by choice. The Starfleet Officers occupied one end of the room. They ran the day to day military operations of the Station. The educational staff were found on the other end of the room. They ran the Command Training Academy (CTA). The CTA was a special military boarding school for gifted teenagers wishing a career as command officers in Starfleet. After graduation most CTA students attend Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Their time in the CTA always placed them well ahead of their classmates. This made entrance into the CTA very competitive. Most of the academy’s students were on home leave for the holiday. The few that remained were looked after by the house Prefects of each Form.
The Lounge doors slid open. Commander Williamson, the director of the CTA entered the room. He was fashionably late. He looked around and noticed the demarcation line between the two camps. He moved toward the largest grouping of his staff.
“Hello Sir and Merry Christmas,” Lt. Stacy said. She was the first to see the Commander. The others in her group stopped talking in mid sentence and extended their holiday greetings .
“I see you’re all having a good time,” Williamson said. He glanced around and noticed the absence of his senior officers. “Where are the old timers?” he asked.
“There were sitting at that far table. They’re gone now,” replied Lt. BJ Warner.
“I see that BJ. Anyone have an idea where they disappeared to?” Williamson questioned.
“Not a clue,” Lt. Emily Perry chimed in as she danced rhythmically in a circle to some upbeat carol. She had a drink in her hand. Some of it spilled onto the carpet. Williamson reached out, took the cup and smelled its contents. “I don’t drink Commander,” She replied curtly while taking back the drink. “Besides alcohol is banned on this base so we make due with what ‘s available - we are drunk with joy!” she exclaimed as she picked up her prancing.
“You younglings have fun. I’ll just back away before I get hurt.” Williamson moved from the table and did another glance around the room looking for people closer to his age. His senior staff were nowhere to be found. As he turned toward the door he caught the eye of the station’s commander. The commander gave Williamson a polite nod. Williamson returned the nod and the pleasantries were finished. The Admiral was a fantastic and well organized officer. His station was one of the best run in the Fleet. He was proud of what he accomplished but he did disagree with the Fleet’s decision to place the Command Training Academy in his station. It was just something else on his plate even though the school was, for the most part, self sustaining.
Williamson picked up a cranberry juice from the bar in one hand. His other hand dove into a bowl of yogurt covered pretzels . He walked out of the lounge. The hallway grew quiet as the doors closed behind him. He walked slowly toward the turolift elevators. He had a good idea where his friends were hiding.
The lift opened as he approached. He stepped in. The doors closed.
“Destination?” the female computer voice asked. He thought for a moment. Where would they be. He knew they were going to the party so they are together somewhere. He wanted to try a guess before taking the easy approach and asking the computer to locate them.
“Observation Deck,” he replied. The lift began moving upward and then sideways. Seconds later it resumed an upward journey. The lift stopped and opened on deck 3. In the doorway stood two of the Academy’s students, Midshipman Aland and Midshipman Merryweather. They stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing their Commander occupying the same lift they were waiting to enter. They were caught. They were suppose to be in their form’s common room enjoying their own party. Instead they were loose.
“Well, well, well..... what do we have here?” Williamson asked. Both boys jumped to attention. “Two cadets roaming the station without clearance. I do believe that is a violation of curfew. Please correct me if I’m wrong,” he asked. Neither of the boys spoke. Their gaze was unbroken on a spot on the wall.
“Sir, we were on our way....” Aland began speaking only to be cut off by the Commander.
“Not interested. Sorry. If I want to hear a fine piece of fiction I’ll go to the theater. Let’s see, what is playing tonight on the holoscreen? Yes, I believe it is ‘Caught in a Web of Lies’. No gentlemen - words would be a waste of breath at this point and we don’t want to overwork the oxygen generators.” Both boys squirmed every so slightly. Merryweather’s eyes rolled upward and then toward Aland. He knew it was pointless to explain a breech of curfew. He was surprised Aland had tried. “Gentlemen, you will take the next lift and go straight back to your dorm. You will report to your Prefect, explain what you were doing and then go straight to bed. You will bypass the party in your Common Room. Tomorrow we will sit down with your Prefect and decide on a suitable punishment. I don’t want to make such an important decision now. This is something that needs thought. You know what I say - the punishment must fit the crime. Now step back and you have my permission to breath.” The boys took one step back. The lift’s doors closed.
“Resume,” Williamson said and the lift began moving. Seconds later the doors opened again. Williamson stepped out onto a solid floor. The rest of the room appeared to be open space. He was right - there at one of three tables sat his senior officers. “I thought I’d find you in the Observation Deck,” he said moving toward the table.
“Too noisy in the Lounge,” Comm. Mark Daymont said. Sitting with him were five other senior officers. When they were alone they called each other by first names. On Mark’s left sat Aleta, Lorriane, and Sheila on his right sat Dave and Bill. The table was full of snacks all hand carried up from the party below.
“You’ve got the right idea,” Williamson said as he moved a chair out and sat down. “This view never gets old.”
“That’s why we came up here. Quiet talk and a great view,” Dave explained. The blue and white Earth nearly filled the sphere over their heads. Beyond was the star studded black of space. Their conversation wound it way through many topics. Time was spent on the students. They discussed the new simulations being prepared for the Fourth Form Cadets. Lt. Megan Warner, assisted by several of the younger instructors, was writing a complete military campaign involving several simulations to be told in three of the station's training ships.
Before long two hours had passed. It was late. They all agreed to call it a night. Suddenly an alarm sounded. The klaxon's pitch caused some in the party to cover their ears as it reverberated around the transparent ceiling of the Observation deck . The alarm stopped just as suddenly and was replaced by the voice of the Station’s Commander. “Alert Condition One. This is no drill. Alert Condition One. This is no drill,” his voice sounded firm and without panic.
“We are under attack?” Lorraine asked with a puzzled expression. Everyone in the room starting looking through the sphere into space. There were no ships. All seemed peaceful.
“Control,” Williamson said as he tapped the communicator pinned to his uniform. There was a slight pause before the call was answered.
“What can I do for you Commander?” the voice responded.
“Where is the attack?” Williamson asked.
“We’ve received word from Command that Farpoint Station has been destroyed,” the duty officer answered.
“Farpoint Station?” Williamson was surprised by the answer. Farpoint Station was one one of the Federation’s furthest starbases. It would take two months to reach it at maximum warp. He wondered why the station was placed on battle alert if this attack occured so far from Earth.
“Farpoint was attacked by an alien race we only recently encountered,” the officer began answering his unasked question. “They use wormholes.” That statement made it clear.
Anyone able to use wormholes could strike anywhere.
“Who are they?” Williamson asked almost fearing the answer.
“I’m not sure what they call themselves but we encountered them at PCX2214. It is also referred to as Perikoi. Two of our ships engaged them there. We lost the Copernicus and they lost one of their ships. It appears they are back and in force.” The conversation ended. The room was still.
Everyone knew the implications of wormhole travel. The Federation was in danger from an enemy that could strike anywhere at any time.
“Well ladies and gentlemen, life is about to become very interesting.” Williamson said to the small gathering. “Let’s go to the Common Rooms and explain this to our cadets. I’m sure they are as concerned as we are.”
The group moved for the turbolift. The doors opened and closed leaving the quiet of space behind.
This is the start of a story that could end up being much larger if I have an interest to continue it. I enjoyed writing our school mission 'The Children of Perikoi'. I enjoy telling it even more. I've wanted to continue the story and did once several summers ago. The mission was told in the Galileo. It was OK but not what it should have been. I blame myself for that. Not everything you write is good. This is another attempt at a continuation of Perikoi using our own staff and volunteers as characters. Let me know if you find it interesting enough to continue.
Mr. Williamson
December 21, 2321
23:00 Hours
McAuliffe Station, Earth Orbit.
The McAuliffe Station’s Lounge was located on deck 12 near the Officer's Quarters. Large polished wooden doors separated it from the hallway. Each door had a normal sized port hole with the station’s logo etched in the glass. The hallway ended at the Lounge. Walking straight out from the lounge the hallway passed several officer’s quarters, two turbolift elevators and a small convenience shop run by the Station’s Commissary. The hallway ended on the opposite side at the entrance to the Station’s Command Training Office. This is where the Command Staff and instructors of the training facility had their offices and conference rooms. The hallway was carpeted in a speckled blue carpet. LED lights were embedded in the carpet showing the numbers of the rooms. The hallway was futuristic in design with soft lighting directed at the wall every six feet.
It was 23:00 hours and the Station’s Christmas party was in full force. The party’s noise bled out into the hallway each time the doors slid open. The noise didn’t matter . There was no one to disturb. The station’s staff and employees were all at the party. A large Christmas Tree stood on the opposite side of the room from the door. It was decorated in holographic ornaments that changed design to match the beat of the music playing in the room. False Flame took the place of lights. The tree was topped with a two hundred year old star brought to the station by the station commander’s wife. Everyone commented on what a fine tree it was.
The people in the room were divided not by design but by choice. The Starfleet Officers occupied one end of the room. They ran the day to day military operations of the Station. The educational staff were found on the other end of the room. They ran the Command Training Academy (CTA). The CTA was a special military boarding school for gifted teenagers wishing a career as command officers in Starfleet. After graduation most CTA students attend Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Their time in the CTA always placed them well ahead of their classmates. This made entrance into the CTA very competitive. Most of the academy’s students were on home leave for the holiday. The few that remained were looked after by the house Prefects of each Form.
The Lounge doors slid open. Commander Williamson, the director of the CTA entered the room. He was fashionably late. He looked around and noticed the demarcation line between the two camps. He moved toward the largest grouping of his staff.
“Hello Sir and Merry Christmas,” Lt. Stacy said. She was the first to see the Commander. The others in her group stopped talking in mid sentence and extended their holiday greetings .
“I see you’re all having a good time,” Williamson said. He glanced around and noticed the absence of his senior officers. “Where are the old timers?” he asked.
“There were sitting at that far table. They’re gone now,” replied Lt. BJ Warner.
“I see that BJ. Anyone have an idea where they disappeared to?” Williamson questioned.
“Not a clue,” Lt. Emily Perry chimed in as she danced rhythmically in a circle to some upbeat carol. She had a drink in her hand. Some of it spilled onto the carpet. Williamson reached out, took the cup and smelled its contents. “I don’t drink Commander,” She replied curtly while taking back the drink. “Besides alcohol is banned on this base so we make due with what ‘s available - we are drunk with joy!” she exclaimed as she picked up her prancing.
“You younglings have fun. I’ll just back away before I get hurt.” Williamson moved from the table and did another glance around the room looking for people closer to his age. His senior staff were nowhere to be found. As he turned toward the door he caught the eye of the station’s commander. The commander gave Williamson a polite nod. Williamson returned the nod and the pleasantries were finished. The Admiral was a fantastic and well organized officer. His station was one of the best run in the Fleet. He was proud of what he accomplished but he did disagree with the Fleet’s decision to place the Command Training Academy in his station. It was just something else on his plate even though the school was, for the most part, self sustaining.
Williamson picked up a cranberry juice from the bar in one hand. His other hand dove into a bowl of yogurt covered pretzels . He walked out of the lounge. The hallway grew quiet as the doors closed behind him. He walked slowly toward the turolift elevators. He had a good idea where his friends were hiding.
The lift opened as he approached. He stepped in. The doors closed.
“Destination?” the female computer voice asked. He thought for a moment. Where would they be. He knew they were going to the party so they are together somewhere. He wanted to try a guess before taking the easy approach and asking the computer to locate them.
“Observation Deck,” he replied. The lift began moving upward and then sideways. Seconds later it resumed an upward journey. The lift stopped and opened on deck 3. In the doorway stood two of the Academy’s students, Midshipman Aland and Midshipman Merryweather. They stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing their Commander occupying the same lift they were waiting to enter. They were caught. They were suppose to be in their form’s common room enjoying their own party. Instead they were loose.
“Well, well, well..... what do we have here?” Williamson asked. Both boys jumped to attention. “Two cadets roaming the station without clearance. I do believe that is a violation of curfew. Please correct me if I’m wrong,” he asked. Neither of the boys spoke. Their gaze was unbroken on a spot on the wall.
“Sir, we were on our way....” Aland began speaking only to be cut off by the Commander.
“Not interested. Sorry. If I want to hear a fine piece of fiction I’ll go to the theater. Let’s see, what is playing tonight on the holoscreen? Yes, I believe it is ‘Caught in a Web of Lies’. No gentlemen - words would be a waste of breath at this point and we don’t want to overwork the oxygen generators.” Both boys squirmed every so slightly. Merryweather’s eyes rolled upward and then toward Aland. He knew it was pointless to explain a breech of curfew. He was surprised Aland had tried. “Gentlemen, you will take the next lift and go straight back to your dorm. You will report to your Prefect, explain what you were doing and then go straight to bed. You will bypass the party in your Common Room. Tomorrow we will sit down with your Prefect and decide on a suitable punishment. I don’t want to make such an important decision now. This is something that needs thought. You know what I say - the punishment must fit the crime. Now step back and you have my permission to breath.” The boys took one step back. The lift’s doors closed.
“Resume,” Williamson said and the lift began moving. Seconds later the doors opened again. Williamson stepped out onto a solid floor. The rest of the room appeared to be open space. He was right - there at one of three tables sat his senior officers. “I thought I’d find you in the Observation Deck,” he said moving toward the table.
“Too noisy in the Lounge,” Comm. Mark Daymont said. Sitting with him were five other senior officers. When they were alone they called each other by first names. On Mark’s left sat Aleta, Lorriane, and Sheila on his right sat Dave and Bill. The table was full of snacks all hand carried up from the party below.
“You’ve got the right idea,” Williamson said as he moved a chair out and sat down. “This view never gets old.”
“That’s why we came up here. Quiet talk and a great view,” Dave explained. The blue and white Earth nearly filled the sphere over their heads. Beyond was the star studded black of space. Their conversation wound it way through many topics. Time was spent on the students. They discussed the new simulations being prepared for the Fourth Form Cadets. Lt. Megan Warner, assisted by several of the younger instructors, was writing a complete military campaign involving several simulations to be told in three of the station's training ships.
Before long two hours had passed. It was late. They all agreed to call it a night. Suddenly an alarm sounded. The klaxon's pitch caused some in the party to cover their ears as it reverberated around the transparent ceiling of the Observation deck . The alarm stopped just as suddenly and was replaced by the voice of the Station’s Commander. “Alert Condition One. This is no drill. Alert Condition One. This is no drill,” his voice sounded firm and without panic.
“We are under attack?” Lorraine asked with a puzzled expression. Everyone in the room starting looking through the sphere into space. There were no ships. All seemed peaceful.
“Control,” Williamson said as he tapped the communicator pinned to his uniform. There was a slight pause before the call was answered.
“What can I do for you Commander?” the voice responded.
“Where is the attack?” Williamson asked.
“We’ve received word from Command that Farpoint Station has been destroyed,” the duty officer answered.
“Farpoint Station?” Williamson was surprised by the answer. Farpoint Station was one one of the Federation’s furthest starbases. It would take two months to reach it at maximum warp. He wondered why the station was placed on battle alert if this attack occured so far from Earth.
“Farpoint was attacked by an alien race we only recently encountered,” the officer began answering his unasked question. “They use wormholes.” That statement made it clear.
Anyone able to use wormholes could strike anywhere.
“Who are they?” Williamson asked almost fearing the answer.
“I’m not sure what they call themselves but we encountered them at PCX2214. It is also referred to as Perikoi. Two of our ships engaged them there. We lost the Copernicus and they lost one of their ships. It appears they are back and in force.” The conversation ended. The room was still.
Everyone knew the implications of wormhole travel. The Federation was in danger from an enemy that could strike anywhere at any time.
“Well ladies and gentlemen, life is about to become very interesting.” Williamson said to the small gathering. “Let’s go to the Common Rooms and explain this to our cadets. I’m sure they are as concerned as we are.”
The group moved for the turbolift. The doors opened and closed leaving the quiet of space behind.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Commander Alex DeBirk Returns to the Voyager.
The stars seemed far away as the USS Francis Scott Key slowed to impulse on its final approach to the McAuliffe Station. The trip had been a long one for Commander Alex Debirk. After an extended absence, he was returning to his first love - the Starship Voyager. Alex walked into the Key's Ten Forward Lounge to watch the docking through the large windows. He leaned up against the transparent aluminum glass and watched as the ship moved gracefully toward the docking pylon. It was 0500 hours. The lounge was empty except for himself and one waiter.
Command Training Department
McAuliffe Station
"May I get you something to eat or drink?" the waiter asked, noticing the pips on his collar.
"No thank you," Alex responded. "I'm here to enjoy the view." The waiter bowed slightly and started to turn toward the bar. "Have you heard of the Starship Voyager?" Alex asked before the waiter could complete the turn. The waiter stopped and turned back to the commander.
"Yes sir, who hasn't heard of the Voyager?"
"What have you heard?" Alex asked curiously. Of course Alex was very familiar of the Voyager's history. Ever since news of his transfer had reached him on the USS Marshall he had studied every mission the Voyager had completed since he departure. He spent countless evenings in the holodeck walking the recreated halls of the Voyager getting to relearn her layout so the ship wouldn't seem a stranger to him when he arrived. The reason for Alex's question to the waiter was to see what the general public knew of his new ship.
"Well Sir, where do I begin? The waiter responded. "The Voyager has been in so many difficult situations, saving a ship, a planet, even the Federation itself. It is a ship of legends. You're lucky to get her back. Hundreds apply for that ship every year. You know, I believe the Voyager is here at the McAuliffe Station right now. I'll bet you can see her as we dock."
McAuliffe Station
"That's it - the Voyager" the waiter said almost reverently. Alex glanced downward
and saw his new home glimmering in the station's floodlights . The word "VOYAGER" in black letters outlined in red contrasted the white background of the ship.
"Beautiful," Alex thought. "That's my ship," he said to the window. His breath clouded the glass.
"Are you one of the new executive officers?" the waiter asked.
"Yes," came Alex's proud reply.
"I heard the Voyager was getting new brass. I'm happy to meet you sir." the waiter said extending his hand. Alex was taken a bit back by the offer but realized the waiter was a civilian employee of Starfleet. He shook the waiter's hand. The waiter turned and walked back to the bar to ready the lounge for maintenance and space dock.
Alex pulled up a chair and sat looking at the Voyager as the Key slowed to a stop at the docking Pylon. He reached into his pocket and took out his hand held computer. With a couple of clicks he pulled up his transfer orders.
The Starship Voyager
"...........You are hereby ordered to the Starship Voyager on January 1st. You will arrange transportation to McAuliffe Station. You will be working with fellow officers Brady Young, Bradyn Lystrup, Kyle Herring, and a new junior officer named Victor Williamson." He stopped reading. Alex knew these people well, except for Victor Williamson - the new rookie. He had worked with the others in different assignments. Some of them he had trained himself. He continued to read his orders. He was searching for the earliest time he could board. He was anxious to get his gear stowed and meet his staff. His orders read 0800 hours. He had three hours to wait.
Alex closed the computer and placed in back in his blue uniform's pocket. The Key's loudspeaker announced that docking was complete and the crew and passengers could disembark. Alex stood up, glanced once more at the Voyager, and walked toward the large doors of the lounge.
"Good Luck Commander!" the waiter shouted across the room.
"Thanks," Alex called back and disappeared in the hallway. The doors closed.
________________________
(We are happy to have Alex Debirk back at the Space Center after a short absence. He will work with Brady Young and Bryson Lystrup on the Voyager. He will take occasional overnight camps along with the Voyager's Saturday private missions and one private weekday mission. He brings his great talent for acting and desire to see our programs continue to improve. Welcome Back Alex!)
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