The End of One and the Beginning of Another

Hello Troops,
Our Day Camp ended at 3:00 P.M. Thursday. EdVenture Camp 5 started at 7:00 P.M. The EdVenture Camp ends Saturday at 3:00 P.M. Let it never be said the Space Education Center let a day go by without finding some way to make it beneficial to ourselves and our students.

I have an injury to report. Tuesday, early afternoon, Flight Director Bracken is standing at the bottom of the Voyager's Spiral Stairs. A Voyager Security Guard slowly descends the spiral stairs - step by step, phaser drawn. He is more concerned with a possible intruder than minding where his feet are falling on the stairs.

Three steps from the bottom, with his back to Bracken, the security officer missteps. Gravity intercedes and pulls the boy toward an abrupt and possibly painful disagreement with the carpeted Crew Quarters floor. But wait, there is a rather large mass in the boy's way. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, its Bracken! Instead of colliding with the unforgiving floor, the boy falls into 6 foot 9 ish Bracken. The boy is spared and there was great rejoicing.

Bracken, on the other hand, wasn't prepared for this close encounter of the forth kind. The boy's mass impacted Bracken's, sending Bracken off balance. Bracken's left leg lost its structural integrity and gave way, sending Bracken's left rib cage into the metal bar of the small bunk bed next to the spiral stairs.

Bracken collapsed onto the floor, clutching his side. According to reliable witnesses he repeatedly called for his mother. Another remembered seeing Bracken lose consciousness. When he woke moments later he mentioned an unsettling memory of a bright light at the end of a long tunnel and a voice of rolling thunder say, "We don't want your kind here!"

It took the combined effort of four eleven and twelve year old boys to hoist Bracken off the floor and drag him to the comfort of a bunk.

"No, No," he said with hand upon his heart. "I will not rest while others work. Leave me here. I shall preserver." The boys left Bracken in the crew quarters clutching his side while struggling for breath.

I learned about the accident when I saw Bracken crawling on his hands and knees out of the Voyager and into the Space Center's office. I jumped up to offer assistance. It was refused.

"No No," he said with hand upon his heart. "I will not take your help, or help from any man while people starve in sub Sahara Africa! Help them I say. Leave me to the Fates!" With that, he collapsed onto the carpet, blocking the entrance to the Voyager.

We pulled him back to the world of mortals with smelling salts and a few of the camper's dirty socks found abandoned on the gym floor. Bracken, no longer able to crawl because of the pain, inched his way in a unflattering worm crawl into the office. He maneuvered around the metal filing cabinet to the area between the long wooden desk and the outside wall. He layed beside the Black Hole (The Space Center's Lost and Found). The twenty minute journey of eight feet left him exhausted and barely able to speak.

"Water, water," Bracken whispered through swollen cracked and bleeding lips. A young volunteer, holding back sincere tears of compassion, found a cup and filled it from the drinking fountain. He knelt beside Bracken, lifted his head and held the cup to his lips.

"Here Bracken," his voice wavered between sobs. "Water."

"No, No," Bracken said pushing the cup away from his parched lips and throat. "I will not drink until everyone here has had a drink. The Good Book says that the first shall be last and the last first." With that, he fainted.

Bracken, a Hero to Young Children.
A Martyr to Pain and Punishment

Bracken is an example of the kind of staff we have at the Space Education Center. They are people who put everyone else first. Our staff and volunteers are the salt of the Earth burdened with extreme humility as their only weakness. The thought warms a Director's heart.

Epilogue: Bracken badly bruised his ribs but thankfully there were no breaks. He is a trooper and was back to work the next day. He makes an interesting sight - a nearly seven foot young 20 year old hobbling around the Center looking more like someone 93 years of age who was unable to reach the toilet in time.

And now, on a brighter note, shall we take a few minutes to enjoy the Imaginarium?

Who are your top ten favorites?

The home of the richest of the Hobbits in the Shire.

Just one of the Imaginarium's favorite Watering Holes for our young gun slingers looking to spend a few hours washing away their troubles in lemonade, and Sarsaparilla while listening to Kitty at the piano. Later, a few hands of Uno before home, bath and bed.

See You Soon Troops!

Mr. W.

Imagination Amok

Hello Troops
What an electrical storm we had yesterday in Utah County. The lightening and thunder was an excellent follow up to the banging and booming of the fireworks throughout the night of the 4th.
The change in the fireworks laws created a spectacle I've never seen before. It was an amazing sight from my deck. The valley was ablaze in color.

I'm about to leave for the Space Center and another day of Day Camp followed by private missions. I thought I'd start the day with a few things from the Imaginarium. Enjoy and I hope to see you all at the Center soon.


The connection between the mind of a child and his television. A bond difficult to break.

It's a maze and at times quite a bewilderment, but what a journey life takes us on.

This is the last page in the Space Center's Emergency Actions Handbook titled "When all else fails...."

It's true, isn't it?

I'd like to post these at various places around the Space Center.

And an item from a grocery store with a sense of humor. Would you go a bit out of your way to shop there? I would.

Have a Great Day,

Mr. W.

Adrian Stevens Personal Log 3-2: Drill Sergeant Warner

This story is just for fun. Any resemblance to space center employees or volunteers is deliberate. If you want included in the story, just let me know, but be warned. You may end up as a bad guy or a whiner or the cook or something else entirely.

Aleta

How I Flunked Out of Starfleet Academy: Part 2

"Attention!"

The female cadets scrambled to line up at the end of their bunks. We'd been given one hour to settle in. I guessed that hour was up as the drill sergeant strode through the door, tailed by her assistant.

"Cadet, you are out of uniform." The sergeant glared at the first cadet in line. The girl still wore her street clothes. "These bunks are atrocious. And the lockers," she flipped open the nearest foot locker to reveal a jumble of belongings, "are not properly stowed. Your response time is also lacking. But I'll be generous since this is your first day. I'm going to walk out the door and come back in two minutes." She turned on her heel and marched through the dormitory door.

"Who does she think she is?" The cadet bunking on the other side of Christine complained.

Christine and I had the beds in the very far corner, right next to the lavatory. She and I traded glances. How stupid was the cadet? We straightened the military issue blankets on our beds and made sure our gear was stowed correctly. Wasn't hard for me, I hadn't brought much from home.

"She's drill sergeant Warner, thinks she owns the place." The cadet across from us jerked her head to the door. "And her assistant, watch out for her. That woman is a menace to everyone. I think her name is VandenBerger. They call her the Big V." Her eyes dropped to our collars where the lack of colored pips declared our status. "General studies? Losers." Her collar sported red piping.

"Attention!" Warner and Big V were back for inspection.

Christine and I jumped to position, at attention to the left side of our foot lockers.

"How long did they take?" Warner asked her assistant.

"Fifteen point seven three seconds."

Warner shook her head. Her hair didn't shift. It looked painted on, every lock glued into position. "That's over ten seconds too long. Do you know what that means?" She turned on the nearest cadet.

"No, ma'am." The girl swallowed nervously.

Warner shoved her nose into the girl's face. "Sir! Not ma'am. Sir. Got that? And next time, don't squeak. Shout like you mean it. Now, do you know what that extra ten seconds means?"

"No, sir!"

"Five extra laps of the track when we finish inspection. Show me your locker, cadet."

I tried not to fidget as Warner and Big V worked their way down the line of cadets. They were generous with the demerits. A wrinkle in your pillowcase? Demerit. Your clothing not folded precisely in the locker? Demerit. A stray hair out of place? Demerit and a recommendation to get your head shaved.

She reached Christine. Warner eyed her head to toe. "Your hair is too long for regulations. Your blanket is not tucked in properly. Do it again. Now."

Warner turned to me while Christine untucked and retucked the corners of her bed. "Sloppy. What's your name, cadet?"

"Stevens, sir."

"Well, Stevens, do you know what general studies cadets do while the other cadets are at morning training?" She smiled. It was evil, like a big snake preparing to eat it's next meal. "They get to scrub the barracks. You and your friend will find cleaning supplies in the closet. You have one hour."

My heart sank as the other cadets smirked. I didn't come to the Academy to clean barracks. I was here to be an officer.

Warner marched up the aisle between the rows of beds. "Cadets, report to training. Dismissed!"

Christine and I traded looks as the room emptied.

"Cleaning? Seriously?" Christine kicked her foot locker.

I grinned. "We can do it fast. I'll show you. I worked janitorial on the ship here to pay my passage. And then I've got an idea."

"That smile scares me." But she followed me to the closet.

An hour later, the barracks gleamed. The rows of short-sheeted bunks showed not a single wrinkle, the blankets tight enough to bounce coins. Christine and I stood at attention as Warner and Big V inspected.

"Very good, cadets. You have until lunch at twelve hundred. I suggest you spend it in the library and the gym."

"Sir? What about classes?" Christine asked, her voice squeaking just a bit.

"Study what you want, at least for the first month. Further training will be based on what you pursue." Warner paused, hands clasped behind her back. "General studies is just that. Many admirals were general studies cadets, as well as most of those directing special ops and undercover assignments. Specialists are necessary, but those who understand more than their chosen field are the ones needed at the top. Remember that."

I watched her and her assistant leave the room. A faint ray of hope glimmered in the depths of my mind.

"We should short sheet our own bunks, just to allay suspicions," Christine said.

"They're going to know, Christine. Who else has access to the dorms?" I shrugged. "They fired the first shot."

"And what if we get into trouble?"

"I don't think we need to worry about that, not with Warner."

I was right. The cadets who complained ended up with extra KP duty. Christine and I ended up with fifty-eight enemies.


Aleta Clegg, writing as Jaleta Clegg