What you may have missed on Friday's Overnight Camp

A Secret Revealed and Blackmail Hemmed with
Bribery Caught on Camera!

Mr. Williamson caught in the act of blackmail

"Mr. Williamson?" Marissa interrupted me at my desk.
"Yes Marissa?" I responded.
"I know."
"You know what?" I wondered what it was she knew.
"You know what I know, and I know you do."
"No Marissa, I don't know what you know. How am I suppose to know what you know. Now run along and bother someone else." There was an awkward pause. She didn't budge.
She half whispered. "I know about your addiction."
"Addiction? Marissa, I'm a well respected teacher, a registered Star Trek Fan and life long supported of Tibet's Freedom from Chinese control. How could I have an addiction? Who told you I had an addiction problem?"
"Let's just say a little bird told me from my window sill." Marissa smiled and tapped the side of her nose with her index finger, the universal sign for the Universal Society of Secret Knowers.
"My patience is quickly evaporating. If you have a point to make, then I suggest you MAKE IT?"

Marissa was holding something behind her back throughout our short conversation. My challenge forced her to play her hand. She produced a box of Girl Scout cookies - Thin Mints to be exact.
My face went white. I knew the proverbial cat was out of the bag. If she knew about my addiction to Thin Mints, then who else might know? Marissa examined my reaction with pleasure.

"I see your breathing harder, and is that sweat building on your forehead?" She pointed to the top of my head.
"Curse you Marissa!" I spat.
"Oh, plenty of time for that." She held the box out for me to take. "I see by your reaction to this last available box of Girl Scout Thin Mints for the 2012 selling season that you're in a world of hurt. I hear withdrawal from Thin Mints can be uncomfortable - to say the least. An experience you'd want to avoid at all costs."
"What do you want?" I spoke in a hushed tone, knowing anyone could walk by the desk.
"I'll let this lovely box of Heaven's Joy go for...... Let's see - how about you give me one of those nearly impossible to get Magellan staff positions for tonight's Overnight Camp. Your generous act might convince me to let you adopt this little box of decadence."
"Do you know how many people want to work in the Magellan?! Am I to ignore them and give you a spot just because you have a box of cook....coo....cookie......cookies in your hand?" I stammered with drool.
"Got that in one. Good job Mr. Williamson. Now let's finish this little transaction so we can both walk away happy. I get the Magellan and you get to sulk away to the school's boiler room to feed your nasty little habit."
"You know about the boiler room?"
"My source tells me that last September school district plumbers found sixteen empty boxes of Thin Mints from last year's selling season in the school's basement boiler room? Nobody knew what to make of it - but I knew where they came from. Now, do we have a deal?"
"I'm better than this." I protested in embarrassment that my one true weakness had been discovered.
"No you're not." Marissa was not one to confuse kindness with plain speaking. "Do we have a deal?"
What choice did I have. "Deal."

I took the box. Marissa smacked her lips in victory, half curtsied and walked away to the Magellan. A moment later I was in my cement corner of Central's basement.

Megan's Act of Selflessness, Caught on Camera

Megan Warner is a perfect example of selflessness. Here we see her directing a Phoenix mission. Behind her sits Andrew - an observer. Yes, you read correctly. Andrew is an observer.

Look closely at the photo. I know it's difficult to see, but notice that Megan is sitting on a hard wooden stool. Notice that Andrew is sitting on the over cushioned and decadently stuffed Phoenix Flight Director's chair. I took my camera and snapped the photo to share with our righteously intelligent Troubadour readers.

If you need a car, ask Megan.
If you need money, ask Megan.
If you need advice, ask Megan.
If you need a shoulder to cry on, ask Megan.

I exaggerate to a fault in an effort to make my point, but what I'm absolutely sure of is this; If you come to the Space Center hungry and see Megan with her bag of Malt O Meal cereal, milk, bowl and spoon - ask for some. She'll had hers right over. Yes, she'll give you the cereal right out of her mouth; that's how generous this modern saint is.

Colton Risks Life and Limb for our Campers

This is Colton. Colton gets the Extra Mile Award for this weekend's Overnight Camp In this photo you see Colton spelunking into the mysterious depths under Central Elementary School's stage.

The Westfield Elementary students had just been assigned to their ships when I called the staff to the gym to set up the sleeping cots. We keep our cots in pull out carriers. The carriers slide in and out from under the school's stage. One of the carriers got stuck and wouldn't come out far enough to get the cots. My first thought was to call for Pleasant Grove's Fire Brigade.

"Not so fast!" Colton jumped into the carrier and went down flat to his belly. "Let an army man take care of this."

"I urge caution," I cautioned Colton. "Nobody knows what lives down there." Colton shrugged and started forward.

"Stop, at least let me send someone to fetch one of my mother's canaries. Coal miners used canaries deep in the mines to test the air. You got out of their fast if your canary snuffed it."
"You got an air mask?" Colton countered.
"No."
"Then I'm going in. Live dangerously I always say!"

Colton disappeared under the stage.
"Anyone know his next of kin?" I asked the gathered staff and volunteers. They shrugged a no.
"Who's going in after him if he doesn't come out?" Nabil's voice shook with fear knowing he was the smallest and therefore my answer would be him.

We heard a voice from the dark. "Pull!" We pulled on Colton's command. The carrier slid out holding a dirty Colton and several of the Center's sleeping cots.

Colton earned the Federation's Extra Mile Service Award for courage in the face of UnderSchoolStageCreepyCrawlees. He tread where few go lightly. It is a well deserved honor.

An Attempt on Mr. Williamson's Pride.
The Miscreant Caught. Bail Posted. Beware.

I asked Scott Warner to set up my table for Overnight Camper Sign Ins. This was the result. Please pay close attention to the two legs. See anything suspicious? The legs were not extended properly, nor were they locked into place. This table would have collapsed on me during signing in. I would have leaned forward and Bang, the table and I would have ended on the floor. The injuries to my pride could have been fatal.

I could tell by Scott's reaction to my taking the picture that he knew, I knew it was no accident. I called for Voyager Security. The Voyager's two unsuspecting Security boys were pulled from their birthday party mission and brought into the gym. I ordered them to arrest Scott and put him in the Voyager's brig until I could decide what to do with him.

I'm open to your suggestions. Email them. Until then, Scott is to be considered dangerous and armed with a better than average intelligence. He is out on bail at the moment.

Aliah Earns A Phoenix Pin.

A Phoenix Pass Pin was awarded to Aliah E. on Saturday morning during our "We Survived Another Overnight Camp" post camp meeting. Megan Warner awarded the pin due to the fact that the Phoenix's Set Director wasn't in attendance. Dave and his wife were up late Friday night attending a Relationship Seminar for Couples sponsored by his local LDS ward.

"Don't ask," was Dave's response to my question about the seminar when he arrived for the Saturday private missions. My hat is off to the brethren of that ward who attended with their wives.

Aliah is one of the Center's top volunteers. Congratulations Aliah on earning the pin and getting Megan to smile while giving it to you. Megan guards the Phoenix Pins with her life and finds having her teeth drilled without the benefit of Novocain and parting with a Phoenix Pin both in the same category of discomfort.

SpaceX Makes Progress on Manned Capsule

Sure looks like 7 astronauts could fit in there!

SpaceX, creator of the Dragon spacecraft and Falcon rocket systems, continues to engineer a manned version of their Dragon cargo spacecraft. In the photo above, courtesy SpaceX, seven NASA engineers, astronauts, and SpaceX engineers worked out crew space requirements in an engineering model of the future Dragon Capsule. This crew trial is one of two important crew tests in the development of SpaceX's entry in the Commercial Crew Development race. Other companies competing to send astronauts to the ISS include Boeing, ATK, Lockheed (NASA Orion capsule) and several others.

What the Dragon cargo module will look like approaching the ISS. The Dragon crewed vehicle will look very similar.

SpaceX is preparing to launch their first official mission carrying cargo to the ISS in late April. With the hopeful success of that mission, SpaceX will begin contracted work to regularly deliver essential supplies and experiments to the ISS, and return valuable equipment to the Earth (which is not capable of any other current cargo craft).

NASA's own crewed capsule, Orion is currently in testing but is scheduled for a crewed launch in 2021, which seems a long ways from today. Will SpaceX beat NASA in their own game? Let's see how they do with their cargo mission next month, but I'm putting my money on SpaceX.

You can read more about SpaceX's crew testing on their site:

http://www.spacex.com/updates.php

Mark Daymont
Space Center Educator

A Friday Night's Ramblings Round and Round the Mulburry Bush.

Hello Troops,
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.

Mr. Williamson