Percent: A Love Story

“Captain, the shields are down to seventy-three percent!”

“Damn it, engineer, quit wasting time typing out full number words for shield percentages or I’ll drink your secret scotch supply you think I don’t know about and sleep with all your alien wenches on your next shore leave!”

“You were going to do that anyway, Captain.”

“The engineer has a point,” the pointy-eared, green-blooded Vulcan interjected. “Also, I believe it is illogical to type this conversation over IRC when we’re all on the bridge.”

The captain kicked the Vulcan from the channel.

“Who gave the captain OP?!” The doctor shouted.

“I’m werry sorry, doctor. It von’t happen again.”

“CHEKOV!” The bridge crew exclaimed.

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Bedtime Stories for the ADD: Road Trip

It had been a once in a lifetime chance. He spotted the craft and knew—even with a million things to do—it would be worth the chance.

He waited several hours, not willing to risk a minute for a piss.

The gangly creatures walked on fours, and had mottled blue skin. Their language consisted of chirps and clicks with the occasional hum that covered several octaves simultaneously.

When they were nearly ready to leave, he sneaked aboard.

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Grjerlik found the dead thing. Its immune system hadn’t quite survived the common bacteria. It was a shame. They were so cute.

#32

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