Science Officer's Log, First Entry, 371231
Begin official log for Science Officer Hedwig Larson, Consortium Space Ship
Jay Hook
, serial number 23-333-6476. Accepted commission as Science Officer and Ship's Counselor on Stardate 371125, serving under Captain Francis Montezuma and First Officer Cosmo D'Antonio.
Inspected science sensors and recording media; found them satisfactory. Ship's complement of exploratory probes missing five, expect delivery within the hour before departure. All escape pods present and test in working order. Library computer in excellent condition, bio equipment substandard; I hope replacement can be found en route. Work station satisfactory and living quarters adequate. Stowed my personal gear at 1310 hours and prepared for mission start.
As per regulation 4634, Consortium Regula Beta Division, I hereby absolve the Consortium from any responsibility for personal liability due to circumstances that may occur on Exploratory Mission #13234 to Sagittarius VI Delta, whether from equipment failure, negligence, consequences of entering an alien environment, acts of war, incompetence of captain or crew, exposure to radiation, or preexisting medical conditions. I hereby declare that my preexisting medical condition is Wortinger's disease, contracted 7 standard years ago in Thompson's Nebula on Exploratory Mission #11298 and treated by standard gene therapy cycle Gamma ending 371119.
My physical condition: height, five foot five; weight, 200 pounds, hair, absent as a result of Wortinger's disease; eyes, grey, also a result of Wortinger's disease; age, 45 standard years; marital status, unattached.
I declare my nearest living relatives as follows: daughter Rowena Salisbury, 28, resident of Centauri III Beta, and son, Jason Harris, 21, enrolled at New Canaan University on Hart's Planet.
As per regulation, I accept standard Ship's Discipline as outlined in Consortium Consula Standard Regulations for Exploratory Vessels and agree to any justified application of punishment as regulations specific for infractions, with Captain Montezuma as immediate authority and the Corporate Arbitration Board Alpha for all appeals.
I have accepted my commission of my own free will and will abide it to the duration of my commission or death.
Personal Log, 371231
It was a Friday night when I came aboard; raining at Terra Del Fuego station. The ship already stank. I made my way up to the bridge, and Captain Monty swung his big chair around to greet me. He was a large man, very overweight, with a huge salt and pepper beard, long arms that ended in fat fingers, and huge legs. His overall was stained with many hued splotches, and his long grey hair was already greasy with sweat. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Science officer coming on board. Hello Tits, welcome home. You know the drill." His toes wiggled in anticipation.
"Good evening, Captain Montgomery. I trust everything is well with you and your family."
"Oh, my family, yeah, they're okay. Meet the rest of the crew you'll be serving under." He gestured to the first mate's station. "This is Cosmo, First Mate and weapons officer, and the roughest motherfucker this side of Orion's belt. Cosmo, this is Heddy Larson, ship's counselor and science officer, and nicest piece of ass you'll find in hyperspace. Tits, this is Wadface."
"We've met," Cosmo said, turning his aquiline face and big nose to face me. He was tall and thin, his hands orange with nicotine stains. "Hello. How's the Wort?"
"I"m surviving Wortinger's disease, thank you. It's isn't as fatal as it used to be. They're come up with some new therapies."
"Which you can't afford yet. Pity. Well, don't get in my way or I'll kick the shit out of you."
Damn the cost of radiation therapy that left me so broke I had to sign for another trip to Hell under Monty Montezuma. Shit, health care used to mean you didn't spend every spare credit on treatment.
"Let's call the others up from the engine room," Monty said, punching a button on his command console. "Hey, Jackoffs One and Two. Get your asses up here."
The comm crackled in reply. "Why?"
"Cause I said so, Jackoff. Meet the Company Tit ration, just come on board. "
"Roger," came the reply, with a strain of despair.
"Roger," he whined in imitation. "Damned idiots. If they get us killed, I'm going to haunt them till they shit their pants." The lift hissed and two men emerged, one tall and thin, the other short and scrawny. "Tits, these are the crew we're putting up with. The tall piece of shit is Greg Jones. He's the brains of the outfit, which isn't saying much. He's from Mars, that's why he's so fucking tall. The short piece of shit is Paul Dingle, who plays with his dingle while sniffing ether every chance he gets. He's from Akron. Both of them have been in space before, though you'd never know it. Boys, this is Tits Larson, the only science officer who knows her shit in the universe. She outranks you, so if you disobey her she gets to fry your nuts. She's also your counselor, so if you miss you mommy or want to jackoff with a brillo pad with your nuts on fire, talk to her. And she's morale officer, and you'll find out what that means a week from today. Questions?"
They shook their heads sheepishly. "Then get below and get this goddamned rust bucket into hyperspace."
Monty turned away and started inspecting his monitor, his practiced hand bringing out a pinch of marijuana snuff and bringing it to his nose. A long sniff, a few walrus shakes of his head, and a sneeze and he started typing. After a moment, he turned and looked at me like I was an idiot. "Dismissed. Shit, don't stand on ceremony here, you know that. Get your ass downstairs and get your nest made. You don't have to worry about anything till next Friday."
I went below and found my quarters. Company standard: a barely upholstered closet with a sink and a bucket. My small bag produced three changes of overall and a spare pair of shoes, which went into the locker above my bed. Then came a holoreader, personal log recorder and two prints of my children and grandchildren, the only personal items I ever bring. I put them on the ceiling and lay down to stare at them.
Rowena said I could live with her, but her little girl is in the terrible twos and we'd kill each other inside a month, and Jason's too close to the standard student existence to want his old mother hanging around. No place else to go, and thanks to exclusivity agreements, I can't work for anybody else than the Consortium. The plagues of retribution were completed when I was assigned to work for Monty again.
We're going to the Sagittarius VI system, which hasn't been explored that much. There's a rare element there that a new broadcast power generation system depends on, so if we hit a big strike, my money worries are over. The initial probe results were promising, so I hope we can bring it home with the rusty equipment we have.
No sign of intelligent life, so there'll be no limit what we can take away. Damn Consortium. Being based on Keptman II, they can sashay around Federation regulations any damn time they want, and even if there is intelligent life, they've got no chance. Monty's mean enough to wipe them out if they give him any trouble and thanks to his connections they will be non entities without a whimper.
I just have to hope he's got enough Marijuana snuff to forget holding Party Nights.
Science Officer's Log, Second Entry, 38113
Progress through the wormholes toward Sagittarius VI Delta is on schedule, with arrival in 12 standard days. All systems are now adequate, and ready for use. Have reviewed all crew profiles and interviewed same for fitness reports; all crew members in good condition and fit for duty.
