SPACE DATE 2236.014
This is me at work.
The Remarkable is en route to pick up Admiral Grissom as he returns from a diplomatic summit. We’ll be hosting the Admiral for the next few days and preparations are underway to ready the ship for his arrival.
ADDENDUM: Due to a ... uh ... an encounter with a space-based life form we're diverting course to the nearest starpost for some minor, very minor, repairs. Just a few dents and some ... cleaning. Admiral Grissom will now link up with the GSV Bakersfield and continue on from there.
ADDENDUM 2: The nerve! The entire janitorial staff of the starpost, who may I add are employees of the Galactic Union, have gone on strike. They refuse to the finish cleaning of the exterior of the Remarkable, citing that the working conditions are "cruel and unusual." As I draft up my official complaint to High Command, I've asked Commander Powell to take charge of the cleaning efforts in the meantime. And by take charge I mean, since we only have one functioning Space Suit, he'll be doing all the work.
SPACE DATE 2235.316
The Galactic Union High Command has sent us to the Poriasis Star System to oversee the evacuation of a local colony due to, uh ... I don’t know why, exactly. A plague, supernova ... I’m sure we’ll find out why when we reach orbit, or whenever Powell or Rena tell me. Meanwhile, I’m told that it’s Lieutenant Jayda’s birthday today, and I guess we’re supposed to be throwing him a little party later on. For his birthday present, I’m giving Mr. Jayda a large jar of Callystan mouthwash. I’m hoping he’ll take the hint."
(This blog entry appears in the Voyage Trekkers Novella: Gambit of Chance)
SPACE DATE 2235.221
The GSV Remarkable has been dispatched on a fact-finding mission to the poverty stricken world of Cro-Daria Prime. The Cro-Darians are a small, squat people with rather plain-looking women. They walk with a sad kind of waddle that makes it very hard not to laugh at them. The wretched inhabitants of the desolate village of ... hey you, what do you call this place?
The inhabitants of Glumhaven are a particularly pathetic lot, which is saying a lot considering what a backwater armpit of a planet this is. Seriously, I've been down here for an hour and I need an anti-depressant. I'm sorry, did you need something?
Well then maybe you could go wring your tiny hands over there, while I finish my report?
(This blog entry appears in the Voyage Trekkers Radio Play)