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 2
I slammed the cover of the replicator shut. Everything checked out perfect, but the hamburger deluxe still tasted of fresh strawberries, not flame-broiled beef. The light in the cafeteria flickered off. I slumped against the wall in the sudden darkness. Find the spy, ha! Admiral Williamson was delusional if he thought I could find anything on the ship. The Voyager was a mess. Nothing worked properly. Half the crew were on report at any given time. Captain Herring locked himself in his quarters for days on end, refusing to talk to anyone except Lieutenant Bradley.
Rumors of mutiny floated in the air. Mutiny against the Captain, not Starfleet, although if the Admiral was right, someone wanted the Voyager in Del Brugado’s pink-gloved hands.
The lights blinked back on. I collected my scattered tools.
Turner, my assistant, poked his head through the door to the empty cafeteria. “Adrian? The replicators on deck ten are delivering charcoal lumps.”
“Do they taste like strawberries?” I stuffed tools in my pockets. “We can’t get any replacements until we make Starbase 89 in another day or two.”
We walked together to the lift. Turner shot suspicious glances at the crew, clustering in small groups in the hallways. Officers stopped whispering as we passed. We stepped into the lift. The door slid shut.
Turner watched the lights flicker past. “This ship is cursed.”
I nodded agreement. Williamson’s warnings about not trusting anyone echoed in my head. Was Turner part of the conspiracy? He couldn’t be. He had less access than I did. How the Admiral expected me to find his spy was still a complete mystery.
The lift slowed, then changed direction.
I frowned. “We’re not headed for deck ten. We’re going up.”
Turner punched the stop button. The lift continued moving. He hit it again. “Stupid messed up piece of junk! Top of the line ship, ha! Nothing works right.”
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket. “Let me at the controls.”
“And get us stuck here for the next six hours? I know how you like to abuse door controls.”
“Get out of my way, Turner.”
Turner crossed his arms. “Report me for mutiny. I dare you. I don’t want stuck in the lift with you. It’s still moving so it’s not broken. It’s just not going to deck ten. We can take the emergency ladders once it stops.”
As if on cue, the lift slid to a stop. The doors opened on a dim laboratory space with a clear dome ceiling. I craned my neck, watching stars as I exited the lift.
“Where are we?” Turner asked, staring overhead.
“Auxiliary Astronomical Observation Deck.”
We both looked to the far side of the room. A thin woman nervously chewed her fingernails. Her lips twitched in an imitation smile. “Hello, Adrian.”
“Vasha.” I greeted her. “I thought you were transferred to a planetary posting.”
She shoved a stray strand of hair behind one ear. “Captain Herring refused to sign the transfer papers.”
“Access ladders are over here.” Turner opened a hatch.
“The lift didn’t malfunction,” Vasha said. “I programmed it to bring you here. I trust you, Adrian. I need your help.”
Turner closed the hatch.
Vasha chewed her lip, watching me.
More intrigue. I hated playing games with people. I shoved the screwdriver back into my pocket. “What do you need, Vasha?”
“They’re filing charges against Captain Herring, conspiracy and piracy. He’s going to be court-martialed when we get to Starbase 89. I can’t let that happen. He doesn’t have a choice.”
I studied her face. “You know something about the mutiny or about the sabotage to the ship?”
She nodded. “Someone is trying to use the Delphi AI to control the ship.”
“They wiped the memory banks. Several times.”
Vasha flicked a glance at Turner. “They have a corrupt copy they keep installing. I don’t know who or I’d stop them. Del Brugado is holding Captain Herring’s sister and her family hostage. The captain has no choice but to do what the pirates tell him.”
“Why haven’t you told someone, like Admiral Williamson?”
Vasha shrugged. “I have no proof. Not yet. But I have a plan to help Drew, I mean the captain. I need your help.”
“How can we help? We run the kitchen.”
“I saw what you did last time, both of you. You can help.”
“Do what?” Turner asked.
Vasha pulled a data chip from her pocket. “This is the real Delphi protocol. I tweaked the programming.”
“We’re going to use it to take over the Voyager?” I couldn’t hide the skepticism in my voice. “It didn’t work last time.”
“But it did,” she corrected me. “It just took longer than I expected to fully integrate. And we aren’t taking over the Voyager. It’s too big. No, we’re going to rescue Drew’s sister and her family. You are going to help me steal the Odyssey. And Delphi is going to make it possible for us to fly it.”
I saw insanity in her eyes as she smiled. “Would you rather be shot in the mutiny that will happen tonight?”
Great. Steal a ship or get caught in the crossfire in a mutiny? Either way, my career and possibly my life were over. I accepted the lesser of the two evils.
“When?”
Vasha dropped the data chip in her pocket. “Right now.”
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Almost Time for Bed
Hello Troops,
It's 11:35 P.M. on Friday, June 18. I'm at my computer. The door is open into the Voyager in front of me. I hear faint laughing from the Crew Quarters. I'm guessing Jon and Todd are telling stories before going to lights out. I hear the sound of two air conditioners. I hear air exiting the vents in the ceiling directly above the Transporter leading to the stage.
It's quiet now. No more laughing. They must be going to bed. The junior high staff are tucked away in the Odyssey to my left. They are either asleep or watching a video or two on their ever present ipods. The senior high male staff and volunteers are in Discovery. I'm sure they're not asleep. I gave them until midnight to talk.
I spoke too soon. Loud laughter now from the Crew Quarters. Jon and Todd are in true form tonight. I'm surprised they've got the energy. This was swimming and video night. Several of the campers were sound asleep and had to be woken up to go to bed when the video ended at 11:00 P.M.
I'm hearing two boys climb the ladder to reach the Captain's Quarters and bed. It's 11:43 P.M. now and story time must be ending.
This has been a wonderful camp. We have 41 campers, twelve of whom are on the joint Astrocamp / CMSEC six day camp. The kids are kind, courteous and respectful to the staff. They are sci fi fans and enjoy their time in the ships. They were excited to watch an episode of old Classic Trek. We watched "Balance of Terror".
One of the boys is tapping the plastic window pane looking out of the loft and into the Briefing Room where I'm sitting. I think he wants my attention. I'm typing so I'll ignore him. I can't see him anyway due to the glare of the reading lamp to my left. The beds in the loft are creaking. The boys are moving. That is the one downside to those loft beds. Every turn is accompanied by the creaking of wood.
This camp ends at 3:00 P.M. tomorrow. We will be sad to see this group of campers leave. We will be excited come Monday evening to greet another new set of campers for our next EdVenture Camp.
11:52 P.M. My pad is waiting on the floor, my shoe is in the doorway keeping the door into the hallway partially open. I'm tired...........but there are a few other housekeeping things I need to do while on the computer.
Yes, you could say the night is lovely, dark and deep but I have miles to go before I sleep.
Nodding in and out of consciousness, I am,
Mr. Williamson
It's 11:35 P.M. on Friday, June 18. I'm at my computer. The door is open into the Voyager in front of me. I hear faint laughing from the Crew Quarters. I'm guessing Jon and Todd are telling stories before going to lights out. I hear the sound of two air conditioners. I hear air exiting the vents in the ceiling directly above the Transporter leading to the stage.
It's quiet now. No more laughing. They must be going to bed. The junior high staff are tucked away in the Odyssey to my left. They are either asleep or watching a video or two on their ever present ipods. The senior high male staff and volunteers are in Discovery. I'm sure they're not asleep. I gave them until midnight to talk.
I spoke too soon. Loud laughter now from the Crew Quarters. Jon and Todd are in true form tonight. I'm surprised they've got the energy. This was swimming and video night. Several of the campers were sound asleep and had to be woken up to go to bed when the video ended at 11:00 P.M.
I'm hearing two boys climb the ladder to reach the Captain's Quarters and bed. It's 11:43 P.M. now and story time must be ending.
This has been a wonderful camp. We have 41 campers, twelve of whom are on the joint Astrocamp / CMSEC six day camp. The kids are kind, courteous and respectful to the staff. They are sci fi fans and enjoy their time in the ships. They were excited to watch an episode of old Classic Trek. We watched "Balance of Terror".
One of the boys is tapping the plastic window pane looking out of the loft and into the Briefing Room where I'm sitting. I think he wants my attention. I'm typing so I'll ignore him. I can't see him anyway due to the glare of the reading lamp to my left. The beds in the loft are creaking. The boys are moving. That is the one downside to those loft beds. Every turn is accompanied by the creaking of wood.
This camp ends at 3:00 P.M. tomorrow. We will be sad to see this group of campers leave. We will be excited come Monday evening to greet another new set of campers for our next EdVenture Camp.
11:52 P.M. My pad is waiting on the floor, my shoe is in the doorway keeping the door into the hallway partially open. I'm tired...........but there are a few other housekeeping things I need to do while on the computer.
Yes, you could say the night is lovely, dark and deep but I have miles to go before I sleep.
Nodding in and out of consciousness, I am,
Mr. Williamson
Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 1. Adrian is At It Again.
Hello Troops,
OK, message received. We've heard comments critical of the lack of posts on the Blog lately. I'm guilty as charged.
Good News, Aleta Clegg, published author of the new book Nexus Point (www.nexuspoint.info) and Space Center Educator and Digitarium Director has graciously offered to create a new installment in her Adrian Stevens series from last summer.
Please enjoy this new installment in the life of Adrian Stevens.
Mr. Williamson
Preface:
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.
Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 1
By
Aleta Clegg
Admiral Williamson leaned back, his chair squeaking. “How is life aboard the Voyager, Stevens?” He watched me as if I were a bug under a microscope.
I shifted my weight, uncomfortable in the tight Starfleet uniform. “Fine, sir.”
“Really?” He arched one eyebrow. “You can speak freely, Adrian. I want an honest answer. If I wanted a politically correct asinine answer, I would have asked Lieutenant Bradley.”
I searched for a polite way to frame my answer. “Stressful, sir.”
Williamson tapped his steepled fingers against his chin. His air of benevolence didn’t fool me. He was the meanest admiral in Starfleet. He let silence hang between us, heavy and dense. I resisted the impulse to loosen my collar.
“You’ve learned some discretion. Admirable trait. But right now, I need answers. I need the truth.” His chair thumped forward. He fingered a stylus lying on his immaculate desk. “Have a seat and tell me the full truth, Adrian.”
I dropped into a chair. “You want everything, sir?”
“Every piece of dirty laundry. Your report won’t go beyond this office.”
I started with something safe. “The computer glitches in the ship are driving everyone crazy. Ever since Captain Herring activated the Delphi protocol, nothing responds right. They’ve wiped the core a dozen times and reinstalled everything, but within a day or two, the problems are back.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Doors opening and closing on their own, locking and unlocking at random intervals, lights shutting off. Nothing that would jeapordize the safety of the crew. One of the engineers, Larsen, reported voices in an empty corridor last week, but everyone thinks he’s nuts anyway.” I frowned. “The replicators are off, too. Everything tastes like strawberries.”
“That could be worse. Everything could taste like fish.” Williamson tapped the stylus on his desk. “And Captain Herring, any odd behavior?”
“No worse than before, sir.” I shifted on the hard chair. “I’m not the one to ask. I’m not privy to his conversations or his messages. I cook the food.”
“And keep the inventory lists. Captain Herring ordered enough computer chips to completely replace every system on the Voyager. Why?”
I shook my head. “There are only the regulation spares on the Voyager, sir. If he ordered that many, I’d know.”
“He deviated from his assigned route last month. Twice. The Voyager made unscheduled stops at two colonies near the Klingon border.” Williamson’s fingers tapped rapidly on the desk, the stylus clattering. “The complement of arms aboard the Voyager does not match the manifest. Half a dozen quantum torpedoes are missing, along with most of the hand phasers. Where are they?”
I swallowed hard. “I have no idea. I don’t inventory weapons. Lieutenant Bradley is responsible for those.”
Williamson leaned forward, lowering his voice. “There is a spy in Starfleet, one working for the Fellucian Marauders.”
“And you think he’s on the Voyager?”
“I’m positive that he, or she, is part of the Voyager’s crew. You are in a perfect position to find the traitor, Stevens.” The admiral’s steely eyes bored into mine. “I want a name within the week.”
I nodded. Guilt lay heavy in my belly. I’d suspected something, but not this. After our encounter with Del’Brugado and the Fellucian Marauders, I’d come to respect Captain Herring. I’d never like him, though. And I’d never have believed he would betray his command. But deep down, I knew something was wrong.
“I want you to find information, Stevens, no matter where the trail leads. I need to know who is leaking information to the pirates. Every move we make, every ship we send, it’s as if they know exactly what we’re planning before we even send the orders.”
“You suspect Captain Herring. How do you know it isn’t me?”
Williamson smiled, cold and calculating. “You said yourself you don’t have the right access.”
“But the captain works for you. Doesn’t he?”
“Go find me a spy, Adrian Stevens. And watch your back.” He set the stylus on his desk. “I hear Del Brugado plays for keeps.”
OK, message received. We've heard comments critical of the lack of posts on the Blog lately. I'm guilty as charged.
Good News, Aleta Clegg, published author of the new book Nexus Point (www.nexuspoint.info) and Space Center Educator and Digitarium Director has graciously offered to create a new installment in her Adrian Stevens series from last summer.
Please enjoy this new installment in the life of Adrian Stevens.
Mr. Williamson
Preface:
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.
Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 1
By
Aleta Clegg
Admiral Williamson leaned back, his chair squeaking. “How is life aboard the Voyager, Stevens?” He watched me as if I were a bug under a microscope.
I shifted my weight, uncomfortable in the tight Starfleet uniform. “Fine, sir.”
“Really?” He arched one eyebrow. “You can speak freely, Adrian. I want an honest answer. If I wanted a politically correct asinine answer, I would have asked Lieutenant Bradley.”
I searched for a polite way to frame my answer. “Stressful, sir.”
Williamson tapped his steepled fingers against his chin. His air of benevolence didn’t fool me. He was the meanest admiral in Starfleet. He let silence hang between us, heavy and dense. I resisted the impulse to loosen my collar.
“You’ve learned some discretion. Admirable trait. But right now, I need answers. I need the truth.” His chair thumped forward. He fingered a stylus lying on his immaculate desk. “Have a seat and tell me the full truth, Adrian.”
I dropped into a chair. “You want everything, sir?”
“Every piece of dirty laundry. Your report won’t go beyond this office.”
I started with something safe. “The computer glitches in the ship are driving everyone crazy. Ever since Captain Herring activated the Delphi protocol, nothing responds right. They’ve wiped the core a dozen times and reinstalled everything, but within a day or two, the problems are back.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Doors opening and closing on their own, locking and unlocking at random intervals, lights shutting off. Nothing that would jeapordize the safety of the crew. One of the engineers, Larsen, reported voices in an empty corridor last week, but everyone thinks he’s nuts anyway.” I frowned. “The replicators are off, too. Everything tastes like strawberries.”
“That could be worse. Everything could taste like fish.” Williamson tapped the stylus on his desk. “And Captain Herring, any odd behavior?”
“No worse than before, sir.” I shifted on the hard chair. “I’m not the one to ask. I’m not privy to his conversations or his messages. I cook the food.”
“And keep the inventory lists. Captain Herring ordered enough computer chips to completely replace every system on the Voyager. Why?”
I shook my head. “There are only the regulation spares on the Voyager, sir. If he ordered that many, I’d know.”
“He deviated from his assigned route last month. Twice. The Voyager made unscheduled stops at two colonies near the Klingon border.” Williamson’s fingers tapped rapidly on the desk, the stylus clattering. “The complement of arms aboard the Voyager does not match the manifest. Half a dozen quantum torpedoes are missing, along with most of the hand phasers. Where are they?”
I swallowed hard. “I have no idea. I don’t inventory weapons. Lieutenant Bradley is responsible for those.”
Williamson leaned forward, lowering his voice. “There is a spy in Starfleet, one working for the Fellucian Marauders.”
“And you think he’s on the Voyager?”
“I’m positive that he, or she, is part of the Voyager’s crew. You are in a perfect position to find the traitor, Stevens.” The admiral’s steely eyes bored into mine. “I want a name within the week.”
I nodded. Guilt lay heavy in my belly. I’d suspected something, but not this. After our encounter with Del’Brugado and the Fellucian Marauders, I’d come to respect Captain Herring. I’d never like him, though. And I’d never have believed he would betray his command. But deep down, I knew something was wrong.
“I want you to find information, Stevens, no matter where the trail leads. I need to know who is leaking information to the pirates. Every move we make, every ship we send, it’s as if they know exactly what we’re planning before we even send the orders.”
“You suspect Captain Herring. How do you know it isn’t me?”
Williamson smiled, cold and calculating. “You said yourself you don’t have the right access.”
“But the captain works for you. Doesn’t he?”
“Go find me a spy, Adrian Stevens. And watch your back.” He set the stylus on his desk. “I hear Del Brugado plays for keeps.”
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