Departure Date +992



I’ve always interviewed well, that’s the problem. Long ago, leaders of men rose through the ranks naturally, solely by their innate desire and a capability to lead others.

I rose because I filled out the reports on time and looked good in an officer’s uniform. But out here, light-years away from home or any way to discipline these assholes I have for a crew, I realize how much I suck at this. Particularly when I stumble into the showers and interrupt a four-way between my officers and crew.

At first I thought some alien life-form had snuck on board, a multi-humped, groaning monster that was aggressively flailing its limbs at me. I fumbled for my gun and attempted to communicate in Universal Verbal. I called loudly through the sheets of steam for the creature to state the reason it was here several times and only realized my mistake when it finally replied in a strained but perfectly clear voice, “I’m just here to bust a nut, Cap’n!”

The last four nights I have been awoken from a dead sleep by a nightmare. In this dream, I am four or five years old. I’m in the bathroom at my parents’ house, except it’s huge, and I can’t see the walls for all the steam. I am being chased by a huge, hairy, pink monster with several arms and legs. It speaks with Vasely’s voice through a tiny, puckered mouth, and just when it is about to catch me it says, “I’m gonna bust a nut, little Cap’n!”

I have a code I can feed into the main server that will automatically open every airlock on the ship and shut down life-support. This knowledge is the only thing that keeps me going some days.