CHAPTER 15 (Letter from Commander Scorpion to Captain Hotshot)

Captain Hotshot,

So okay, I don't know what I'm talking about. But you've got to stop forcing those Kirilian Smashers on me, as an ordourve (sp) they are sure tasty but they tickle going down. I thought one bite was supposed to stop their legs from kicking. When it looks like a two inch millipede, there's a lot of legs to tickle with. And that beer, Grand Teton Bold. Yechhhh!! I've had better skunk piss. In fact, so have you. Remember the time we were on the moons of Fzzxypthhharadog for the blrthybag tour? Wow! Now that was really something.

We had a great 4th. I brought out the old Shriven Scout and we took a drive through the Hectigol Highlands. Those rugged spires of mirrored lucinthicol are always inspiring. The luminous rainbows under several of those moons it breathtaking. I know, we've seen it many times, but ... well ... it brings back fond memories of when we would bemuse ourselves tracking the fur fish. Some of those beauties really were beautiful! Not to mention seductive (I didn't mention that). I digress.



Afterwards, we wanted to go to the big holozone in Adaven Sagev Sal. I know, they even write backwards. Alas, due to the holiday, the holozone was sold out. Consequently, we invoked "Plan B". We went to dinner at a quaint turn of the prior century eatery (called restaurants). This one was aptly named "Acapulco". The food was surprising good! We had some mystery fish with a butter wine sauce. Aaaahh ! Life is good. But, (a knot in my throat) I miss ya pal. We always have fun bedazzling eavesdroppers with our tales (or is it tails?). Well, the subliminal sleep incantations in this baroque-reggae music I have on is beginning to take effect.



As always



Yer bud



Scorpy



Editors note: Both chapter 14 and chapter 15 were found in a timeless capsule posted on Minimus four, the thirtysecond moon of the Priligmat System. The capsule was found somewhat by chance as Minimus Four, the Postal Zone for that section of the Kiryllian Galaxy, was being decommissioned. One of the Minimusians was cleaning out the dead letter section and found the capsule. Thinking it might be important, he/she/it forwarded the capsule to Glactic Patrol HQ on Dracma Servius. When opened and found to be trivial communications between two of their more outstanding officers - cough, cough, the missives were sent on to the histerical section for posting.



p.s. On further reflection, Admiral Kleindingst (who was the forwarder of the missives to the histerical section started to wonder where Captain Dolan had got to. After doing a little research he found the Captain "Hotshot" hadn't gone anywhere. Commander "Scorpion" had been on a deep cover mission on holodeck nine and got trapped in a timelees loop, thus the timeless capsule.



p.p.s. On further investigation the Admiral determined that "Scorpy" eventually found his way out of the loop and re-entered real time so he could mark time while making time before doing time and time again.

And then a voice was heard to say, "Cut, cut, cut. It's a wrap."

CHAPTER 14 (
tribute to a friend)

Standing before the view port was a man shadow bent.
Gazing upon starfields from which he had been sent.
Remembrances flashed sight and clashed sound.
Myriads of life forms playing in memory abound.
Among ghosts too many, friends living few.
One brother refreshes each day life anew.
As time weathers against ever on mind.
One stands next by in kin and bind.
The Dolanmeister Mike.
My friend. I like.
Ever again.
Amen.

CHAPTER 13 (Holodeck Nine)
(Weeks or months later ... after a period of rest and rehabilitation ... )
It was a dark and dreary night. The cold fog huddled around the warm lights. Like a heavy cloak it blanketed everything. Even sounds were muted. Such sounds as there were. An almost rythmical creaking, the distance of which would be hard to guess in this damp thickness. An occasional thud or muffled crack sounded far yet near. Barely perceptible footsteps were approaching, as if they were cloaked in wool. A rush of anxiety began to crawl over my skin. I rose to meet the approaching footfalls. The lights failed to illuminate much beyond their own standards. The footsteps were getting near and I could tell that they were skirting around the lighted areas.

I quietly checked the cap on the large silver cylinder in my hand. The footsteps suddenly stopped. They stopped mere yards from me. There was a silence that seemed to last an eternity. Then there was a cough. I recognized it immediately.

I softly voiced the word, "Mikey?"

He immediately replied: "Yep".

I queried: "Did you get it?".

Mike: "of course. It just took longer to find it in this soup."

He stepped into view, glancing immediately at the silver cylinder in my clutch. As Mikey displayed the package I held the cylinder out to him. He took it while placing the package in my hand.

I said, "This way". He followed my lead to the edge of the wooden deck. We we stepped into the boat and I tossed the bait into the ice chest as he began to pour coffee into the cap.

I remarked: "Another early start for another glorious day. It doesn't get any better than this !"

Mike nodded and smiled as we settled into the familiar routine. The engine coughed and came alive. The ropes were loosened and stowed. Slowly we headed out through the familiar channel, sounding the horn as we went. Half an hour later, we were out of the channel, the sun's light was burning its way through and the fog thinned as it lifted. We stepped up onto a plane and were soon at our favorite area. Dropping to a crawl we dropped our offerings into the vast briney deep. The sun broke through and began to brighten the promise of the day ahead. Mike broke the silence with the traditional first call ---"peeeeieiiieeeiiieethpht" (fart). I struck a match and threw it at him. He almost poured his coffee all over himself.

Mikey stammered with a chuckle: Commander Speaker, you'll never change!" Just then his pole dipped sharply and the line began to sing out as it ran. In the brilliance of the emerald green a large Andromedan Sounder broke through the surface in a flying arc of spray. It flipped and cast its dark eye on us as it dove back into the green liquid. Mike exclaimed happily: "Its a keeper. This omens a good day!" as he snapped the switch and keyed the pad on his auto-reel. My smile reached deep and a warm feeling filled my chest. As I reached for the net my the sensor alert dinged as my pole dipped with a solid strike. I tossed the net to Mike and lunged for my pole as the line streamed out in a blur. Mike laughed at my animations and I laughed at myself along with him. We nearly forgot the Andromedan Sounders as we got caught up in the mirth. We nearly knocked over our antique barbeque and lunch.

The tank was full of Sounders and a few other things we couldn't identify. We turned towards the shore as the lower of the twin suns began to touch the horizon. The day had been full. There was the usual plethora of pranks and dry humor (aka: bad jokes) interspersed with rememberances and mind numbing chat. Cruising back, few words were exchanged. None were needed.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The lights dim as the camera pulls back and the director calls: "Cut".

Synchronously, Cmdr. 'Scorpion' and Capt. 'Hotshot' exclaim in a deep grating groan, "Oh no ! Not again!".

Both feeling around for the simulator mushroom stop button ...... The scene fades with the two brave men fading in a fizzle of diminishing returns that have a redemption value ... thus returnable.

Time inverts.

CHAPTER 12 (Almost into the Black Too)

Cautiously we opened the cargo bay door in slow/pause/stop/reverse/eject mode. The cases seemed to be intact except for one. By all appearances several containers had exploded, blasting the thick wine in all directions.

We double-checked the environmental conditions, puzzled about what caused them to do that. Everything was within optimal parameters. Cap’n Hotshot asked Commander Scorpion to enter the hold first. Scorp stepped in carefully avoiding slippery spatters and puddles.

Carefully looking around the shambles of the hold we discovered a baseball-sized sphere (yes, it is still played in a few places). It was a perfect black. Nothing reflected from it. Knowing that ship’s safety routines were operating, Captain Hotshot fearlessly picked it up.

Immediately lights from deep within its invisible depths flickered and danced in smooth transitions (you have to be almost blind to see into infinity, but Hotshot was appropriately qualified. Without a second thought we rushed for the Khreshnard language spinner. The communication system interpreted with audio and a text display copy. What we heard and read was astounding. We were given the secret behind the amazing Mup and Jhen. That stuff will never ever touch our lips again!!

Mup and Jhen is distilled from Khreshnard amniotic fluid! Now we are told by the sphere to rush and pour it all over the new hatchlings for their survival!

After a moment of stunning stunnedness our wits returned to the options and actions ahead of us. Captain Hotshot and I were both talking rapidly to one another in concerted thoughts. We grabbed a few containers of that vile wine and rushed back to the hatchlings. With help from the spinner at the door console we were finally able to convince the ship’s systems to open the door for us. The room was filled with lights! We had to be careful not to step on any of the newly arrived Kreshnards as we worked our way around the room ‘annointing’ the baby hatchlings.

They swarmed to us, attracted by the smell from that disgusting fluid. We doused them all as if putting out a fire. The living lights changed their frantic flickering display to soft subdued phases and passed colored patterns around the room in a slow hypnotically sleepy song of light. With droopy eyelids, Scorpy ushered Hotshot out of the room. We stepped quietly back to the door. We dimmed the lights. Suddenly all the hatchlings rose up in unison and burst into activity.

We turned the lights back up and they quieted again. We deduced that possibly they were ‘nursing’ on the light from the room’s illumination system. We closed the door and checked back through the display to confirm that they were still resting and ‘nursing’.

In a tiny room, which we used like a science lab, we set the sphere into a sensor cradle. “Bring up the holoputer”, said Captain Dolan. “Puter, please analyze the sphere for any further information”. Nothing happened during several tests and analysis attempts. Then Commander Scorpion suggested, “Maybe what worked with the hatchlings might effect the sphere. Say Cap’y old boy, maybe you should put some of the decommissioned 1,000 watt ‘Squaaad’ lights around it.”

Captain Hotshot positioned several high-powered decommissioned industrial grade spotlights around it. When he threw the switch the sphere came alive. It hovered and rotated. How we knew that it was rotating is unclear since no light was emitted nor reflected from it’s perfect black. (Well, the Captain knew as was previously noted being almost blind he had the ‘Certificate of Qualification’ to see into infinity).

After a few seconds a low display of repeated light patterns began to glow through its blackness as if from very deep within. We had brought the spinner translator into the lab with us and the interpretation began to unfold.

It kept repeating a request for identification. We tentatively spoke our names into the light wheel. Sudden very rapid pulses of blinding color exploded from the sphere. The spinning wheel seemed to be responding. Then it hit us. It was communicating with the holoputer.

We dashed to a vid-console but could not quite keep up with the furious exchange. We garnered enough to deduce that it was explaining something to our computer. After a moment of this the communication system announced that it had received instruction and a request for permission to utilize a new technology. We discussed it for a moment with our ship. As near as we could figure, the ship’s hull could flip electrons in its composition in such a way as to emit powerful surges of color and direct them to the home planet of Khreshnard as a means of communication. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked commander Scorpion, “Heck Yes”, said Captain Hotshot. “This should be interesting and in any case it might just get us some replacement cargo, always keeping the finances in mind – heh, heh.”

From a section of our vid-console we saw the hull light up and begin a barely detectable high-speed flicker. We were mesmerized by how the light seemed to gather itself into a bolus and then exit in a tiny intense beam in the direction of the Khreshnard system. Then the audio translation came in.

They first thing we received was a question about the well being of their hatchlings. We affirmed that we followed the instructions and they seemed to be feeding and resting.

Then we were informed that these hatchlings were a gift to us. They would complete the mutation to become Khreshnards within a few days and become our devoted ‘children’ and wonderful things will be given to us through them over time. Their only need was continuous dousings with Mup and Jhen for three weeks and then continual sources of strong light. We were informed that they could hibernate for short periods for their survival.

Captain Dolan and myself quickly discussed the ramifications of all of this. We seemed to share the same thoughts. First, we now had a prized cargo that only we knew was actually alien amniotic fluid. Second, and offsetting the first, we were handed obligations from an alien society to raise and care for their offspring.

Captain Hotshot whispered to me and I nodded in agreement while asking them what would happen if we declined. The response was immediate. The hull of the ship began glowing intensely hot. We were told that this was just a tiny sample of possibilities.

This was followed by a dignified plea for cooperation and increasingly good relations. We were told that we would be given information that could make us rich and powerful, if we so chose. They would monitor to prevent significant abuses, however. (Must’ve known about some of our more excessive escapades over in the Gamma Quadrant).

In one voice of like-mindedness, Captain Hotshot and Commander Scorpion graciously agreed to host the advancement of new relations between the two civilizations. I whispered something to Captain Hotshot and he was immediately forthcoming to them; that we had stashed some of the Mup and Jhen in remote scattered roids that would take a little time to recover. They asked how much was still on the ship. Then they informed us that they had anticipated us and there was no need. We carried an excess of many times the small needs of the hatchlings.

We all mutually resolved to form a partnership to pioneer the incorporation of the two civilizations in a new era of relationships. After that the Khreshnards sent a formula to us as a reward and incentive promote future cooperation and exchanges. The purpose of the formula was a little vague but they assured us it would benefit us immensely. We bid well wishes to one another and terminated the discussion. However, we noted that a very thin thread of light stretched out from our ship. We deduced that it was a link.

After several hours of discussion, Captain Hotshot Dolan and Commander Scorpion Speaker formed the structure and goals of a new corporation as entrepreneurial diplomats.

After that we took a close look at the requirements for the formula. The ingredients were all common and the procedures were within our capabilities. We followed the instructions and ended up with a small vial of sweet smelling amber liquid. We followed the suggestion and tested it on virtual human. The test subject seemed to be energized. We ran tests and analyzed various data recordings. We could not believe the results so we ran everything again. And yet again. The test subjects all became … enduring! Their cells replicated and changed so that they were in the mid years of maturity, in perfect health and then stayed that way!!

We ran the tests for days and the results were always the same. Finally Captain Dolan suggested that I should try it. After some laughter and cajoling we did thrice, rock-paper-and-scissors. Alas. Commander Scorpion quaffed a portion of the amber potion. The effect was immediate and I reported the sensations continually. I was filled with tingling energy, but it was not extreme. My mental acuity jumped several fold in mere moments. We cheered!! We had a fountain of youth! We had opened the gates to our suppressed intellect! We laughed and danced and hugged and cheered in exuberance!

Then I heard Captain Dolan screaming something in a desperate excitement. My mind seemed to shed a fog as his words penetrated my thoughts. He was slapping me silly and screaming “Halt simulation! Halt simulation damn it!!”

My eyes opened to see him shaking me with serious concern written all over his face. Slowly my thinking cleared and my memory revived. Then it finally registered. This was all only a holographic psycho simulation. I felt utterly dejected and depressed.

Captain Dolan patiently consoled me as we made our way back to the bridge. After we kicked back for a few minutes we set course to resume our trip home to Terra. A bit later I was clearing equipment away to storage locations when I spotted something unusual. The sudden freeze in my motion caught Captain Dolan’s attention and he turned to follow my gaze. There in the trophy display case was a little wheel of lights on a handle.

The rest is Tip Top Super Secret and cannot be published. Suffice it to say that we seem to keep falling into fortunate situations and want for nothing.

As a closing to this missive we offer a toast. “To joyful health and longevity!”
Commander “Scorpion” Speaker and Captain “Hotshot” Dolan

CHAPTER 11 (Almost into the black – financially speaking, that is)

The long journey home was finally getting near. The blackness of space had become like a dark dream. The vision of the blue ring of air around good old Terra became the bright spot in this part of our journey. In the mind’s eye, it replaced the scattered stars in the cold black of space. We carried rich cargoes indeed. Many months had been invested in hauling goods along trade routes and a few weeks spent taking ‘side roads’ to infrequently visited systems. It had nothing to do with avoiding customs officials. Nothing. Really.
We had many cases of precious Mup and Jhen wines from the octopod Khreshnards. The prize of our haul was obtained in a trading deal on one of the remote Terran mining outposts. In a completely fair trade involving no psychic drinks or drugs, we obtained two real living Christmas trees which were gratuitously decorated with hand made paper and popcorn chains and genuine ancient aluminum foil shaped into a star on each top!! That’s how we were able to wrangle so much Mup and Jhen from the Khreshnards. We showed them old holograms and then they couldn’t wait to festoon the tree with lights. Since their system is so infrequently visited not many know very much about them. This is the edge that allowed Captain Hotshot Dolan to negotiate our windfall. That they have eight legs and eight eyes is obvious from the holostills. Captain Hotshot saw an opportunity.

We spent many sleeping hours studying their language. They have no sound mechanisms and rely on light in quick changing subtle shades. Their eyes collect light normally just like ours, except that theirs also emit light. They are masters of mirrors and clear but reflective glass. One of them can talk to another a great distance away in a remote area as easily as addressing a crowd gathered among glittering structures of one of their cities.

Captain Dolan became Master Dolan with his invention. It looks like a spinning wheel on a handle. The wheel flickers with light around its perimeter. Here is what we did. We tied the holodeck mind sensor to the ship’s communication system, which sent the appropriate signals to our device. As soon as he thought a sentence it was instantly emitted from the lights on the wheel in the Khreshnardian language. He explained, educated and then displayed a hologram of a fully festooned Christmas tree complete with lights. The attending Kreshnards dropped all pretense and it was clearthey would clearly give almost anything to acquire one. Well, they got it. But at a dear price, which we were now carrying a portion of, home to Terra.

We would be rich!

And we still had the other genuine Christmas tree to rent out for displays! Captain Hotshot negotiated a coup with the Kreshnards. Their amazing abilities with light were applied to decorating our remaining tree with lights twinkling in musical sequences stirring the emotions to great joy. Captain Hotshot and myself, Commander Scorpion, spent many an hour imbibing Mup and Jhen samples, while gazing at the dazzling lights of the tree.

Our ship’s computer analysis confirmed that no harmful effects were buried in the light display. The Kreshnards made it clear that they wanted us to come back with more such treasures and would not poison the well. But I diverge. The customs duty from the great cargo that we carried would be enormous. That is, if we followed the normal trade routes. Thus our journey took many more weeks than normal. Mup and Jhen was stashed in several roids familiar to us in the great clouds at the fringe of our home system of Sol. We now carried only a tenth of our entire haul. We would pay the duty and set up our auction, periodically taking a brief respite. The respite was to dart out and grab another batch to replenish our auction stock. We knew how to ‘refine’ our bookkeeping. Again, I diverge.

It was a moment ago that things suddenly changed. The ship’s computer sensors detected a change in the light display and sounded an alarm. We rushed to see what had happened and found the room had been automatically quarantined by the ship’s safety system. Peering into the display of the quarantined room we suddenly realized that our trip home was doomed. The lights on the tree … were … oooh nooo! Hatching! After a moment of stunned silence Captain Dolan and Commander Scorpion turned to each other with the same simultaneous thought. Captain Dolan called up a display of the cargo hold to check the cases of Mup and Jhen. The display was useless since one of the containers must have popped and thick wine was oozing down the lens. That brings us to this very moment. We need to immediately do a physical inspection of our cargo. More later! Gotta go!!!

Computer! Edit and transmit. Now! Cdr. Scorp.

CHAPTER 10 (Time Warpers - Reprise)

Heeeee, heee!!! Here we go loop-de-loop, here we go loop-di-li, her we go fiddle-di-dee, all on a Saturday night$$$ Yes, those are dollar signs, the blackness of the Jaberwock has once again lifted the blue danube from it's bed. And they thought I wasn't conscious... hrumph.
Over (conscious) again (no period)/
Waiting, tick tick tick tick
Waiting, tock tock tock tock
Riiinnnnngggggggg---------------
Hello? Is anybody there?
Can you hear the sound of my voice?
Do the leaves on the trees flutter to the sound of the breeze or is it meerely a latent resonse to the jets flying overhead?
Waiting, tick tock tick tock tic toc tic to ti to t t t t t i m e i s s l o w l y s t a r t i n g t o e x p a n d a s I hear my heartbeat go b d u bbb s l o w e r a n d s l o w e r a n d s l o w e r

S
T
I
L
L

U
N
T
I
L
L
at last, I feel a hand reaching out and grabbing the top of my head, lifting me out of the swirling vortex. And there I am standing next to Commander Speaker who is calmly munching on a very mundane ham & cheese sandwich, drinking a very weak Rum & Coke.
"Well Captain Dolan, I see you finally made it. That was some kickass Double Spinback Overloop with a three quarter Temporal Twist, huh!!""Well Commander, you do lead an exciting life. I'm just happy to share it with you (as long as I survive, that is!)!!

CHAPTER 9 (Time Warpers)

“HALT! Who goes there? By order of the base Commandant, stop or I’ll be forced to shoot! This is your final warning! Hold, I say! Stand and give the password.”

This was becoming ridiculous. Here I am, a decorated hero of the 17th Stygian war being chased through the barracks of General Hossenpfeffer’s School for Advanced Tactical Training. Yet I dare not allow myself to be stopped and questioned. The last communication from Commander “Scorpion’ Speaker leads me to believe he was headed in this direction. And I have to find him before he is captured by the looney squad and sedated. Every time that happens he tries to divulge secrets, top class critical secrets at that. In fact he has secrets floating around in his head that are so secret even he can’t access them.

I think he may be near. I finally caught a wiff of Grand Teton beer wafting on ther light breeze from between those two buildings. And yes, I hear maniacal laughter coming out of that downspout. He’s on the roof. If I can just use that garbage can in the corner as a vault, I might be able to catch up with him. (loud noise as a garbage can lid is compressed and rolls onto the ground, followed by a loud OOOoofff as Captain ‘Hotshot’ Dolan reaches the roof of the building.

“For Pete’s sake Commander Scorpion, it is I your faithful companion, and erstwhile traveling mate! We need to make our way back to the field. I’ve got the Lucky Dragon fired up ready to take us to orbit and back to our regular ship, The Highball.” Suddenly I see my buddy start to weave on his feet, in fact he’s becoming a chimera, slowly disappearing before my eyes.

Damn!! He’s using the DolSpeak Double Dodge Back Stepping Forward Flip Leap maneuver we used to practice. He won't even know what time I am in! In fact he won’t know what time he’s in. Listen to him laugh… it sounds like he’s flipped out or trapped in an echo box. Ha ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ha ! . ha ..!

Well here goes nothing. I’m going to execute a Spinning Delta Twinge with a Half Glart. It should shoot me into the vortex he created and pull me in with him. This is one of the most dangerous maneuvers (manurers – sp) on the books. But there isn’t time for anything else. I see the gilt clad guards of the base commander crawling over the lip of the building. It’s now or neverrrrrrrrrrrrr……

“Hey Don, look at the walls of the vortex we’re in. The colors are wonderful!! Purples and oranges and green an …. Ooooppss, they’re all fading fading fading leaving only a little black with a side dish of bluuuuueeeeeee………..

And so we leave Commander ‘Scorpion’ Speaker and Captain ‘Hotshot’ Dolan drifting through a time vortex on a journey to anywhen anyhow anyway. Will they make it back in time for drinks before supper? Or will they be forced to spend eternity caught doing the Time Warp? Will they find Eddy, Brad, Rocky, Dr Scott or the other Transylvania 6-5000 players? Who knows. Perhaps it’s a question best left to metafisical subtraction… <>

CHAPTER 8 (Reply from Frantsberg Base)

“SMEDLEY! Consarnit! Where is my Kinsington Translator?!!! I got this here message and can't make heads or tails of it.”

“Smedley !!!! Oh wait. I recognize this cryptic writing. Its the ad hoc cursive writing of my ol' pardner. Lessee here, I used to be able to read this stuff.

Ahh! Okay, . . .when we left each other you asked if I had reeived a special package from the Frants. Yes, I got the secret formula for the blurtibant bender. I found it attached to the back side of a Siphnarician Photo Beam Rider. I almost swatted the lil' buger, but noticed the flashing 'You Got Mail' LED just in time. Thanks for the kudos on my dance. I try to stay lithe in my maturity. . By the way, thanks for pulling me out of the simulation loop problem. That danged simulator has a sick sense of humor ! It was gonna keep me as its child! It had already renamed me too! It was calling me its "Little Iteration". Stupid simulator ! I told it I would agree if it would just answer me one question. It foolishly agreed. I told it I would return when it had the answer. ... hunh? Oh the old "Dolan Keep Em Busy Until They Die Strategem". Yup ! I pulled that old page right out of yer own book, "Show me the precise value of pi." Heheh, I know, the oldest in the book. As you can guess, the engineers are just a little ticked off. They were muttering something about creating antagonistic bots with my name on them. Go figure, no sense of humor. I did drop in on the simulator this morning to see how it was doing. It was out to over 67 mega-quint-zook-erudian-gillion decimal places. I didn't say anything but I thought I smelled something like burning insulation. Yah, I know,... I exited quickly.

Hold on a sec ... Engineering is buzzing me. . . The simulator has enlisted the aid of all the base computing resources ! Ha! Ha! Ha! The chief was furious because he could get into his electronic steamer chest for his daily (multi-daily) elixir, Grand Teton Beer. Ta ta. I decided to use the rolling black out for a chance to actually go out for a walk. The titsy flies were everywhere! I gorged. I must have eaten three pounds of them! All in all, its been a good day. Hold on ...the base commander is buzzing me on old fashioned radio wireless ... I guess ALL the computing resources are diverted hunh? Oh Oh ! He wants to see me right now ... gotta go ... ... its gonna be a long walk out of this base. That desk bound base honcho won't find me so easily ! HA! I'll use the DolSpeak Double Dodge Back Stepping Forward Flip Leap maneuver we used to practice. He won't even know what time I am in ! Oh oh! He must be an impatient sort ... I see his gilt clad gate guards coming this way. I will leave this message undeleted from my sent file so that he will wonder if its a decoy or not ... including this last statement, and this one too ... okay, okay ... gotta run.. or flip out, heheh I know ! Ha ! Ha ! ha ! ha! ha ... ha ..!

CHAPTER 7 (Dreamstate 87 – AKA Holodeck hangover)

Everything is a little fuzzy as I wake up from a deep sleep. It almost feels like I was drugged. I seem to recall asking “Hotshot” Speaker if he had received some important information, but I can’t be sure if that’s real or … “Commander Speaker”, I ask in a subdued tone of voice, “Did you get the package?”

Silence….

Slowly a vision of exotic line dancers passed before my eyes. They were doing the ‘Texas Two Step’, which was odd as they hadn’t any legs. In fact, they hadn’t any arms either. Which made sense, since they were members of an obscure race of beings from the planet Sluggo. But where did they learn such moves??? “Computer, where is my copy of this mornings paper?”

The computer replied, “I didn't keep a copy you nitwit, besides you never specified that I get your news before nine.” So there I was, fuzzy headed, no copy, copy, coffee, coffee, coughing, coughing, coughing my lungs out from the noxious fumes spewing forth from the broken canister of Davarian bloat gas - god, how did this happen...

"Ensign Wedgly!", I called out, "Did you pack the antidote or are we going to have to break out the Tums?"

"By the way, how ever did Commander Speaker manage to execute that dance step? Here we are in zero G, during a test simulation and he manages to do a Louis XIV half quatrile without a partner for leverage and gets it down (up? sic) perfectly. What a fop he's becoming! Of course, the fact that he also managed to knock over the canister of Davarian bloat gas on his last pirouette..."

"Oh, oh!" I said as I watched Commander Speaker float back through the bulkhead hatch into the com area. His belly was distended like a rhino about to give birth to triplets AND he was still trying to master the follow-on dance step.

"Commander Speaker, you old fart... Say, that's the answer!! On the count of three, ..." A loud booming sound followed on the heels of a concerted grunt. The air turned even more foul smelling, (insert description here) as a gust of expelled flatulence was released into the ship.

Suddenly there was nothing but silence as everything faded from Black to Blue

CHAPTER 6

(This chapter is provided by C.S.-Norwalk Institution Administrative Assistant Trainee Intern, Pravat Hardinja as excerpted from a memo from the Chief Proctologist, Doctor Kervorkianopoli)

“ …. I will pick up the diatribe where we left off. No, no, its okay. My therapist says its good for me to release in this way. I think he-she (literally) said something like "fantastic', 'fantasick', or something. Right now I need a little break whilst I quaff a Soodovolian Ironman Ale. I think I need to cut down on those. I'm beginning to suspect that the brewery is attempting to cut costs by substituting lunar lead for Soodo (sp?) Iron. My proctologist says that I have an unusually large concentration of lead in my butt. I will get a new specialist in that area. It seems that I was reading a print out of your last comunique, and ... well ... it was mental suggestion I suppose. Anyways, he had security eject me (yes, pants around my ankles) after I severly flatulated during a rather ... uuuumm ... embarrassing part of the exam. Need I say more? Please, I forgot what I was saying . Anyways, I will ... uumm ... what was I going to do ? I will do whatever it was a.s.a.p.”

CHAPTER 5

Found inscribed on the original Rubics Cube at the archaeological dig on Antares IV earlier this Spring, "ne pas te slt ne pas te sgr ne pas anting bt hrd tms @ Stlr Hgh n te Lssr Mglenic Cld"

The closest we could come to an interpretation was, "No one ever passed me the salt or sugar, it was only hard times at Stellar High, in the Lesser Magelenic Cloud". The assumption being that it was written about 16,000 years ago by Flick the Kleindingst, one of the least known transpangenic actors (circa 13,773 to 13,702) from the troupe le ouile school of acting.

Along with the cube was found a piece of Ridellian molecular memory paper that had no business being there. This artifact, a product of the late 23rd century, either had to be a plant or some form of inverted matter transmission. Several of the archeologists were puzzling over the what could be on it when one of them passed the slip of mempap across a candle flame as if looking for a message written in disappearing ink.

“Look,” exclaimed the senior member, “there’s something strange going on. The surface is changing hues, cycling between a dark blue and a light black. And there are sparkles of glitter shooting off the page! I feel like I’m falling into a deep dark tunnel. My vision is becoming clouded and my hearing is becoming acute. Everything is blurring as I turn my head around. Ttiiiiiimme sseeemmmsss toooo bbbbeeeeeee ssssssssssllllllllllllooooooooowwwwwwwwiiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggg ddddddoooooooowwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnn mmmmmyyyyyyyy ffffeeeeetttt aaaarrrreeee llllliiiikkkkeeee llllleeeeaaaadddddd……… “

SSSSNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPP

AAAaaaahhhhhhh!!! Much better. What at first glance looked like a point singularity was really just a different point of view. Kind of like looking through a glass darkly versus looking darkly through a glass. And whether the glass is half full or only half empty of any particular meaning as we bring this ramble to a close the door when you go out this evening to see the sights of Copernicus Prime under the stars that seem to shine with a strange intensity, sparkling first into the blue then fading toward black holes can really stretch you out. Wheeew, that was close.

“Hey, Scorpion old buddy, can you reach into this loop and turn it off?”

Talk about being in a deep freeze, last week we were on a mining tug, working in a simulator, then doing acceptance trials for a new dreadnaught. And during all this activity we were eating meals catered by the Rising Sun Chop House. They specialize in mouth watering morsels from all over the galaxy. Of course, some of the delicacies we ate were somewhat of a gastronomical surprise.

“Scorp, are you there???” Ohhhhhh yesss, I just needed to turn my head to the right a little and I find you sitting at the command console talking to the navigator, petty officer Flurb. Wow, that was a really potent dhable we had for breakfast.

So, Commander "Scorpion"... I mean, Commander "I told you not to call me Sir" Speaker ((Sir-sic) really sick),

“Well lookit that”, intoned Commander Speaker, “Captain Hotshot (make mine a Rainier) Dolan has finally re-attached himself to reality. Hey Mikey ! Is this one of your "gotcha's" ?

CHAPTER 4

Commander Speaker slowly opened his eyes, ... or so he thought. As awareness returned, he pondered whether he was truely awakening or if he was still under the mind haze of the Serian Mud Rat pie that he overindulged in after the frogs. The mind haze can trick your consciousness, even while unconscious. Finally, Commander Speaker concluded, "I am, therefore I am" with feelings of dejavoodoo [sic] [really sic!] His eyes focused on the bright glare of the bridge lights. Slowly the fuzzy image of a fave hovering over him clarified into his friend and nemesis and mentor and student and ... well, .. I diverge... Cap'y Dolan.

He heard Cap'y Dolan's voice reaching to him through the haze, "Commander! You're alive! I thought that you died and I was no longer "Number One". I mean, ... that's a GOOD thing .... sir."

Without warning Commander Speaker heard those ominous words he had come to loathe, "Okay, that's it. That's a wrap". As he tried to rise the Gates Wrap surrounded them all. They were all cocooned in shrinkwrap left over from an obscure computer virus from the 21st century.

Captain Dolan shouted, "I really hate when that happens!" just before the wrap covered his mouth. Simultaneously, in synchronized motion, Captain Dolan and Commander Speaker began farting. Predictably, the Gates Wrap dissolved. As the lights dimmed and the props department began a flurry of activity around the mock bridge. Commander Speaker and Captain Dolan exchanged glances. A whole story (which this author will forgo for now) passed between them in the quickness of that glance. Understanding and kindred thoughts and feeling transmitted in the nonverbal communication of that glance. Captain Dolan and Commander Speaker pined for bygone days before retirement, when they were truely the finest in the Inter Aegian Fleet of Terra.

In a flash of subtle hand signals that looked like the swatting at a pestering flying insect (Karlenian language. Karlenians were eight legged/armed creatures from an environment without atmosphere with which to carry sound, ... anyway...) Captain Dolan prompted Commander Speaker to meet, as usual, at the Introverted Portal Cafe. Six servings of Erikanian Larva chased down by an equal number of Mardacien Mold, the cafe bots "escorted" them home ... again ... like every other day.

"AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSER, GILTTRIPPS TRAVEL ... "

Fade to identical shades of grey ...

{OOC (Out Of Character) Good god Mikey ! We desperately need ... well, a lot of things, like a new transducer for the holodeck, an upgraded bio-interface for the master drive comuter, ummmm…. A new sponsor wouldn't hurt either, heheh, but I digress.

CHAPTER 3

"Commander Speaker, Sir...", intoned the ensign. "We're ready to resume liftoff for our trials run. Engineering has reported that there was no damage to the stern thruster when we rocked our landing cradle and damage control shows all status green." What the ensign didn't say was, "... I hope the Commander wakes up before we get into serious trouble..." as he slowly applied reverse lift to move out of the docking bay and into the blaxckness (sic) of space.

"Captain Dolan, you have the helm. Take us out to Antares Center and let's put this baby through it's paces."

"Aye, aye Commander."

Captain Dolan had noticed the somewhat vacant stare on Commander Speakers face but was unsure how to bring it up. Surely a little mishap like firing a forward thruster override while docked can happen to anyone. I wonder what he's thinking about... We have plenty more of that Carnellian Brandy he's so fond of and I personally brought aboard five 50 pound sacks of the finest Rigel Sunflower seeds, so it can't be that. Is he lapsing into the warp trance? He does look sort of faraway... No, it must be something simple. Probably indigestion from the Beten Tree Frogs we had for breakfast.

"Commander, we're coming up on our check point, shall I engage the test script?"

"One moment Captain, I'm still processing the last of our instructions".

"Okay, that's it. It's a go. You may proceed Captain, but please, no sharp changes in course or radical maneuvers until I give the signal."

"Aye, aye Commander."

"All right Ensign, engage the test script. Engineering... get ready to monitor performance against target parameters. Weapons decks... prepare to fire as dummy decoys are deployed from the test platforms. Make sure all weapons are tested at rated max plus ten percent. Systems, make sure all communications and computational gear are performing as expected. Kitchen, make sure the Commander has something mild for lunch. I think the tree frogs disagreed with him. He still has that dazed look."

"Commander, we're on track to complete our first run... Commander? Commander Speaker!! Medical, send a team to the bridge immediately. Commander Speaker has fallen into a gruggfreise - he has yellow foam at his mouth and his pupils are as big as 'eight balls'. I think we need to abort the mission!!" "Mission" "Mission" Mission... style macaroni for dinner. "haven't you been paying any attention to what I've been saying??"

"Where did you get off to??"

Slowly my foggy brain is responding. I must have had an attack of the walking sleeps. Looking around I recognize the interior of our home on the small asteroid, Splendido, one of millions in the Oort cloud that circles our system. There beside me is Commander Speaker. But wait, that's not my buddy... Something is wrong!! He is foaming at the mouth and spraying bits of purple spume all about him.

I grab him by the shoulders and try to shake him into some sensibility when it all comes back to me... I'm dreaming again. We're still lost in space with our suit air running out. The ship has been breached by a missile from the targeting platform and everyone around us is dead. No, not dead... merely unconscious... No not even unconscious, they've all become the walking dead!! I've crossed over into a 'B' movie, "Space Horrors from Amityville". Finally it all begins to fall in place as the director shouts, "That's it folks, it's a wrap."

Fade to black and blue..........