Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 5

This is just for fun. Any resemblance to people who work at the space center is intentional, although these characters aren't really them. Any resemblance to an actual mission is your imagination.

Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 5

I slumped against the wall. Of the six people stuffed into the brig, none of us knew enough engineering to figure out how to take down the force fields. It didn’t help that the control panels were all located outside the cell. For once, I wished Starfleet engineers were a bit more incompetent.

“What was the rest of your plan, Stevens?” Captain Herring ran his hand through his hair for the fiftieth time. It stood straight up.

“Turner was going to try to bust you out of the brig. Obviously he didn’t make it that far. I don’t know where he is. Vasha thought she could hack into the main computer from your quarters. LeGrange, where’s Vasha?”

LeGrange shrugged. “Somewhere in the air ducts. They caught us outside officer’s quarters. I held them off while she ran.”

The lights flickered and dimmed. The force field, however, held steady.

Captain Herring glanced overhead. “Looks like at least one of your plans is working.”

“Not well enough, yet.” I kicked the wall. “At least I had plans. Your plan was what? To surrender as fast as possible?”

Captain Herring narrowed his eyes. “I surrendered on the condition that Del’Brugado let everyone except the command officers leave.”

“And gave this pirate one of Starfleet’s best battleships.”

Captain Herring smiled a thin, evil smile. “He thinks so.”

I straightened. “So you did have a plan.”

He turned his back. “Computer, initiate protocol delphi zero seven three. Voice authorization Drew Herring, captain.”

“Authorization accepted. Protocol initiated.”

Captain Herring sat on the bunk. “Two hours.”

“Until what?”

“Delphi takes over the ship. And if I say more, I will have to shoot you. You don’t have clearance.”

Shouting in the hall distracted us. Pirates dragged a very battered Fells into the brig. Turner was thrown in after him. That made eight of us in a cell designed for three.

A short man stalked into the brig, glaring through the force field. His dark hair was slicked into wavy spikes. The sparkling trim on his outfit blinded me. He slapped hot pink gloves across his hands as he eyed us. “You gave me your word, Captain.”

“I’ve kept my word.”

“Your crew still fight us, sabotage at every turn. We caught these two stealing weapons from the armory.”

“A commendable act.” Herring moved off the bunk, standing just inside the force field. “Unlike you, I reward acts of initiative among my crew.”

I bit back the sarcastic comment I wanted to make. Initiative in the kitchen apparently didn’t count.

“I do not trust you, Captain.” Del’Brugado spat into the force field. It sparked.

“I am a man of my word.”

“You are nothing of the sort!”

“My engineers are cooperating, aren’t they?”

The door to the brig slid open and closed.

Del’Brugado snarled at his guards. “Find out what is causing that and stop it!” He turned his ugly scowl our way. “This past hour, everywhere on your ship, it is like ghosts turning lights on and off, opening and closing doors, water running when it should not. What have you done to your ship?”

“Me? Nothing. I’ve been locked in the brig.” Captain Herring played innocent almost as convincingly as I did.

“Pah!” Del’Brugado spat again before marching out of the brig.

The doors slid closed, catching the tail of his over-decorated coat. He swore profusely as his guards wrestled the doors open long enough to pull his coat free.

“Vasha?” Herring questioned me.

“Probably.”

The force field faded. The lights cut off, plunging us into darkness.

“Definitely me.” Vasha’s voice crackled from the speakers. “I can’t hold them out for long, not if they activate the manual overrides. If you hurry I can get you into the shuttle bay.”

“No.” Herring’s voice was decisive.

“It’s our chance to escape!” I edged through the cell door by feel.

“By all means, Stevens, steal a shuttle. We’ve been at warp for the last hour. You can’t launch while the ship is in warp. If you do survive that, you’ll be stranded in space. Or can you pilot a shuttle?”

The lights came back on. The force field reactivated, locking the others inside the cell.

“I’m not going to sit and wait patiently. These are pirates!”

“I won’t order you to stay here.”

“You want to be captured by pirates. You want them to take you to their base.” I wanted to smack him in the face. “You could have warned us.”

“You were warned this would be dangerous. You chose to come.”

“Your orders, Captain?” LeGrange saluted.

“You haven’t learned your place yet, Stevens.” Herring’s look was stern. “We wait for Delphi to activate.”

The door to the brig slid open at the same time the ship shuddered, slowing abruptly to impulse speeds.

Del’Brugado’s guards marched into the brig, weapons armed and aimed at us.

“We’re transferring, now.” The lead guard shut down the force field and waved his plasma blaster. “Del’Brugado doesn’t trust you on this ship. We’re scuttling it.”

Herring had enough self-control not to swear though I could read the anger in his eyes.

“Move it, you, to the shuttle bay.” The guards picked me, Herring, and one of the bridge officers in the cell.

“What of the others?” Herring asked.

The guard shrugged. “Not my problem, you are.”

The guards marched us through the ship, never giving us the chance to attack.

The waiting shuttle wasn’t Starfleet. Del’Brugado himself waited on the boarding ramp.

“Welcome to Fellucia, Captain and crew. Your rank will mean nothing soon enough. I think you might fetch a good price at the slave market.”

His evil laugh hung in the air after he swept into the shuttle. The guards shoved us after him.

“Slaves?” I whispered.

Herring shrugged. “I just hope Bradley remembers his orders.”

“So much for a quiet retirement.”

The guards locked us into the back of the shuttle. The bridge officer swallowed nervously.

“Steady, Fredricks,” Herring said, clapping the man on the back.

“Yes, sir.” Fredricks head bobbed.

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe we’ll luck out and they make me work in their galley. I could poison them all.”

“You’re cooking isn’t that bad.”

“I’m not flattered, sir.”

Herring smiled. “Trust Bradley, Stevens.”

“Then we’re doomed, sir, with all due respect. Bradley couldn’t find his...”

The rest of my words were lost in a rush of engines as the shuttle launched.

Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 5

This is just for fun. Any resemblance to people who work at the space center is intentional, although these characters aren't really them. Any resemblance to an actual mission is your imagination.

Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 5

I slumped against the wall. Of the six people stuffed into the brig, none of us knew enough engineering to figure out how to take down the force fields. It didn’t help that the control panels were all located outside the cell. For once, I wished Starfleet engineers were a bit more incompetent.

“What was the rest of your plan, Stevens?” Captain Herring ran his hand through his hair for the fiftieth time. It stood straight up.

“Turner was going to try to bust you out of the brig. Obviously he didn’t make it that far. I don’t know where he is. Vasha thought she could hack into the main computer from your quarters. LeGrange, where’s Vasha?”

LeGrange shrugged. “Somewhere in the air ducts. They caught us outside officer’s quarters. I held them off while she ran.”

The lights flickered and dimmed. The force field, however, held steady.

Captain Herring glanced overhead. “Looks like at least one of your plans is working.”

“Not well enough, yet.” I kicked the wall. “At least I had plans. Your plan was what? To surrender as fast as possible?”

Captain Herring narrowed his eyes. “I surrendered on the condition that Del’Brugado let everyone except the command officers leave.”

“And gave this pirate one of Starfleet’s best battleships.”

Captain Herring smiled a thin, evil smile. “He thinks so.”

I straightened. “So you did have a plan.”

He turned his back. “Computer, initiate protocol delphi zero seven three. Voice authorization Drew Herring, captain.”

“Authorization accepted. Protocol initiated.”

Captain Herring sat on the bunk. “Two hours.”

“Until what?”

“Delphi takes over the ship. And if I say more, I will have to shoot you. You don’t have clearance.”

Shouting in the hall distracted us. Pirates dragged a very battered Fells into the brig. Turner was thrown in after him. That made eight of us in a cell designed for three.

A short man stalked into the brig, glaring through the force field. His dark hair was slicked into wavy spikes. The sparkling trim on his outfit blinded me. He slapped hot pink gloves across his hands as he eyed us. “You gave me your word, Captain.”

“I’ve kept my word.”

“Your crew still fight us, sabotage at every turn. We caught these two stealing weapons from the armory.”

“A commendable act.” Herring moved off the bunk, standing just inside the force field. “Unlike you, I reward acts of initiative among my crew.”

I bit back the sarcastic comment I wanted to make. Initiative in the kitchen apparently didn’t count.

“I do not trust you, Captain.” Del’Brugado spat into the force field. It sparked.

“I am a man of my word.”

“You are nothing of the sort!”

“My engineers are cooperating, aren’t they?”

The door to the brig slid open and closed.

Del’Brugado snarled at his guards. “Find out what is causing that and stop it!” He turned his ugly scowl our way. “This past hour, everywhere on your ship, it is like ghosts turning lights on and off, opening and closing doors, water running when it should not. What have you done to your ship?”

“Me? Nothing. I’ve been locked in the brig.” Captain Herring played innocent almost as convincingly as I did.

“Pah!” Del’Brugado spat again before marching out of the brig.

The doors slid closed, catching the tail of his over-decorated coat. He swore profusely as his guards wrestled the doors open long enough to pull his coat free.

“Vasha?” Herring questioned me.

“Probably.”

The force field faded. The lights cut off, plunging us into darkness.

“Definitely me.” Vasha’s voice crackled from the speakers. “I can’t hold them out for long, not if they activate the manual overrides. If you hurry I can get you into the shuttle bay.”

“No.” Herring’s voice was decisive.

“It’s our chance to escape!” I edged through the cell door by feel.

“By all means, Stevens, steal a shuttle. We’ve been at warp for the last hour. You can’t launch while the ship is in warp. If you do survive that, you’ll be stranded in space. Or can you pilot a shuttle?”

The lights came back on. The force field reactivated, locking the others inside the cell.

“I’m not going to sit and wait patiently. These are pirates!”

“I won’t order you to stay here.”

“You want to be captured by pirates. You want them to take you to their base.” I wanted to smack him in the face. “You could have warned us.”

“You were warned this would be dangerous. You chose to come.”

“Your orders, Captain?” LeGrange saluted.

“You haven’t learned your place yet, Stevens.” Herring’s look was stern. “We wait for Delphi to activate.”

The door to the brig slid open at the same time the ship shuddered, slowing abruptly to impulse speeds.

Del’Brugado’s guards marched into the brig, weapons armed and aimed at us.

“We’re transferring, now.” The lead guard shut down the force field and waved his plasma blaster. “Del’Brugado doesn’t trust you on this ship. We’re scuttling it.”

Herring had enough self-control not to swear though I could read the anger in his eyes.

“Move it, you, to the shuttle bay.” The guards picked me, Herring, and one of the bridge officers in the cell.

“What of the others?” Herring asked.

The guard shrugged. “Not my problem, you are.”

The guards marched us through the ship, never giving us the chance to attack.

The waiting shuttle wasn’t Starfleet. Del’Brugado himself waited on the boarding ramp.

“Welcome to Fellucia, Captain and crew. Your rank will mean nothing soon enough. I think you might fetch a good price at the slave market.”

His evil laugh hung in the air after he swept into the shuttle. The guards shoved us after him.

“Slaves?” I whispered.

Herring shrugged. “I just hope Bradley remembers his orders.”

“So much for a quiet retirement.”

The guards locked us into the back of the shuttle. The bridge officer swallowed nervously.

“Steady, Fredricks,” Herring said, clapping the man on the back.

“Yes, sir.” Fredricks head bobbed.

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe we’ll luck out and they make me work in their galley. I could poison them all.”

“You’re cooking isn’t that bad.”

“I’m not flattered, sir.”

Herring smiled. “Trust Bradley, Stevens.”

“Then we’re doomed, sir, with all due respect. Bradley couldn’t find his...”

The rest of my words were lost in a rush of engines as the shuttle launched.

Heck Week. Our Great March to Victory

Hello Troops,
We are on the eve of Heck Week (edited for the sake of our younger readers). As many of you know, every summer I have a tradition of picking a week in July and turning it into Heck Week. I fill the week with camps and private missions to the point where sanity is itself is tested beyond its limits. This is the week that nearly drives us to drink. This is the week that sends many of you to counseling. This is the week that tests men’s souls. By Saturday, I’ll know where each of your breaking points are. By Saturday everything about you will be exposed. You’ll be a blabbering idiot, barely able to form complete sentences due to a serious lack of sleep. Walls will be walked into. Monitors will be placed at the restrooms to help the semi conscious remember which door to use. Caffeinated soft drinks will pour from the drinking fountains (not an easy accomplishment but doable for the right price). I instructed Aleta to stop at Red Lobster and acquire a box of plastic bibs for staff use at mealtimes. I’ll assign a camper to each of you. He or she will wipe your mouths and chins as you eat and be ready to pound your back should you start to choke.

May I say at the onset of this seemingly impossible challenge that I have every confidence in our ability to end the week victorious. We will do what some say can’t be done. We will slay ignorance. We will vanquish poverty. We will end this recession and, by giving up one extra hour of sleep each night, solve our nation’s health care crisis. We will achieve all of this, and still complete our camps and missions by feeding off pure adrenaline and the inspiration that comes from standing at the partition that separates reality from fantasy. We can do all this and much more!
So, rest well tonight fellow Troubadours. Tomorrow at 10:00 A.M. the bugle will sound and the drum will beat. The whistle will blow and we will go over the top. We will fight until there is no one standing (which should happen at 6:00 P.M. Saturday when the last campers leave). If our flag falls another will stop and pick it up. We will go forward, never retreat.

When all is said and done, this week will go down in Space Center history as our finest. Tales of what we accomplished will be told for years to come as we sit around our fires and remember the day when everyone said it couldn’t be done and we did it.

Buckle up and hold on. It will be a bumpy ride.

Mr. Williamson.