Meal, Culturally Customized, Spaceflight
18 Apr 2018Namita Pear
Hello, everyone. This entry is written by CMDR Wade Alexander. CMDR Namita Pear is indisposed, and wishes for me to keep you all abreast of our journey for the moment.
The Seagull Nebula, I believe. It looks the part of a bloody one, at least.
YIAH sits at the time of writing in the Herschel 36 system, with six life pods in her cargo bay, a restless first mate, and an increasingly closed off captain. To the fore and aft of us rotates two Class O type stars, which themselves are remarkable due to their calculated age of 1,010 million years. Much like life, I believe that a culmination of experiences eons apart led to their individual luminescence and size, or else these would have died at least 1,000 million years ago.
Conversely, the voyage I continue to steer us through has ground into the dull monotony of routine jumps. It is true that we have recorded water worlds of various size and makeup, many containing indigenous life, for the first time in history; true too is the discovery of an Earthlike world, emitting perfect Earth gravity despite holding twice the atmospheric pressure (a problem which may be solved by diluting the argon quantity in the air by a full atmosphere, then creating a perfectly bearable oxygen-nitrogen mix.) But, with our traveled distance fully rounding to 30,000LY, these small breaks do nothing to fully titillate my mind.
Earth, argon flavored.
I opened the bulkhead leading from the galley to the living space eighteen hours ago, to serve the day's supper and rest for the next leg. We were still in transit from Eta Carina to the Lagoon Nebula and I had to ration my helm-time for the 150 jump journey; I also dislike keeping CMDR Pear to herself for too long, with her mood. The tray containing our food blasted cumin and coriander towards my nose as it floated while my hands busied with shutting the door. From her position, sitting cross-legged and on the perceived ceiling of the dining area, Pear asked me what I had prepared.
"It's just reconstituted," I replied, "as I'm deathly tired. But it's scrambled paneer."
She allowed herself enough motion to retrieve a package of tortillas and spread the spacefood. CMDR Pear was smart to make her first business moves in Aeternitas, as they are quite advanced in the art of zero gravity dining, for even the previously prepared meals such as this were delicacies compared to the stories of explorers relying solely on Lakon Chef units for sustenance. I killed the power to my boots and anchored myself on the wall, eating and trying to converse.
"Did you know Berthold Wolff died?"
CMDR Pear said, "Who's that?"
"He designed ships for CD. Retired. He was Augustus Brenquith without the explorer credibility."
"Oh."
"When I sent Search and Rescue the message about those survivors I pushed for headlines. Did you see my message? I attached them."
Chewing and looking up at her typing form, I heard no response but saw her nod.
"He and I never met, but, I know the Condor's schematics. Everything attributed to him was top-notch, ad oculos."
More silence from her.
"A lot of people went to the wake... do you think he's the type of man who would let anybody who wished to pay respects visit?" I gave up waiting for a reply shortly: "I digress, have you made any progress?"
Finally she became animated, saying, "Well, yes. There's a common structure to the latter half of the message, so I think it might be notes, or maybe a list, or something. I think I even have part of the key! Look here –"
She showed me the screen, hastily-made wrap spinning next to her head. I could see the two ciphered messages side-by-side.
"– Sagittarius A-star. Nothing else could match up with those letters! So, you can get at least part of the key from that. Which I did! But, see, it's all fragmented. The key doesn't repeat over and over, the letters get broken up, for both the messages. I just don't get what's happening here..."
I smiled. My stomach was full now, but bags tugged at my eyelids. "Good job, boss. I'm sure you will get it. Clean up when you finish, will you?"
Eta Carina, visible through rocks orbiting a virgin water world.
I pushed off towards our sleeping closet, yawning. I wanted nothing more than the ferromagnetic blanket to push me into the cushion and let myself sleep. There are still no nightmares plaguing me like they do Namita, but the small amount of pity I feel for her drowns compared to the respect I have that she continues going. Even during the random system failures and malfunctions during our Guardian excursion, she remained steadfast in keeping that hunk of metal so far from service stations.
Of course I refuse to admit she flies better than I. I still remember having to open every panel that said I shouldn't in order to fix us on her first crash landing.
But, if it were me out here, alone (even more so than CMDR Pear's mood leaves me,) I would be back home by now. One of the largest struggles I find is that, being so far from civilization, when you hear news of turmoil and discovery back home you are in a poor position to do anything about it. Worms are being found in dead ship's logs, men die, aliens continue their rampage, rescue services become sabotaged...
And I do not wish to comment on what the Imperials are doing with their 'recruits' in the flush of their youth.
Cras es noster.
Lagoon Nebula, quite dim.