Commander John
Maury:
Log for John
Maury, in command
Of the Starship Timothy
Leary.
International
Reformed Calendar date
Twenty-one
twenty-five point six point 3.
Almost
twenty-four hours ago Earth’s Sun,
Without warning,
went completely dark.
With so many of
Earth’s systems operating
On solar power,
the lives of billions
Of people are in
mortal danger.
The U.N. Space
Command ordered the nearest
Space ship to
the Sun to investigate.
The science
vessel Timothy Leary,
With
Lieutenant-Commander Nathan Boone
As our science
officer and engineer,
Lieutenant Julia
Graves at the helm,
And myself,
responded. U.N.S.C.
Replied,
ordering us to the Sun
Without any
delay. Graves and Boone
Opened a
wormhole, we have made the jump,
And now we are
making our approach to the Sun.
[On the
bridge. Maury and Graves]
Graves:
Five minutes
until we’re in visual range, Sir.
Maury [A
concerned grimace across his face]:
Steady as she
goes, Lieutenant.
Keep us at
maximum speed till then.
Graves:
Aye Sir.
[A commotion is
heard. Boone enters the bridge from the
rear, forcing a squalid, elderly man onto the bridge with him.]
Boone:
Commander! A stowaway!
Maury:
Lieutenant, keep
her steady. Boone, who is this?!
Boone [With his
arms still wrapped tightly around the unknown man]:
Don’t know
Sir. Just found him in one
Of the supply
rooms, muttering with his arms
Stretched out.
Maury:
Who are you,
and what are you doing here?
Stowaway
[Laughing, carefree]:
I was baptized
Mosaker
Though you may
call me Little Tater
As I’m not
enough to fill a gator!
Maury:
Okay,
Mosaker. Why have you decided
To hitch a ride
in the back of my ship?
Mosaker:
I needed to find
a throne.
Maury:
You’re
a king?
Mosaker:
Not a king,
But every man
has a need,
At some time, to
pee!
Hee, hee, hee!
Graves:
Sir, he’s
insane!
Mosaker:
Yes, yes, no
understanding,
But neither am I
hiding
Any anatomy by
clever tucking-
Jonathan Graves,
dead-naming!
Maury [With a
fatherly, good-natured smile; he is starting to find humor in Mosaker’s
behavior]:
An impressive
façade, Lieutenant.
We’ll discuss
this later, assuming for the moment,
That we live
over the deadly peril.
Graves
[Sheepishly]:
Yes Sir.
[Looks at panel]
Commander! We’re in visual range.
Maury:
All stop. Image on screen.
[Hordes of black
objects are seen circling the Sun, blocking its light.]
Boone
. . . what is this?
. .
.
The rest is at https://www.newenglishreview.org/articles/enceladus/.
--
Holy
Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema
to the Union!