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May 27, 2005
Stacy: Human Nature
Moon Base Alpha's construction was proceeding nicely. After a disastrous first year, with near 50% casualties, the training had finally caught up with the reality, and now only actual veterans taught the noobs what they needed to know to avoid spacing themselves. It also made for good PR back home, especially when the bleeding hearts in the World Congress screeched about the "cost in human lives".
'Still, the occasional accident will happen,' thought Lancaster, as he pulled the body towards the airlock, again thankful for the 1/8 gravity. The airlock cycled open then closed, and Lancaster returned to duty, whistling.
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June 8, 2005
Stacy: Oogabooga This
"Oogabooga," shouted the weirdly dressed native.
Ixi glanced back at the other members of his team.
:What’s all this then?: he tightbeamed Oto, chief science being.
Oto turned one eyestalk towards Ixi.
:Some kind of mating plumage, perhaps?:
Ixi shrugged, pushed past the native. Time was short, retrieval was in less than nine limtecs.
"Dudes, those are some rad costumes," the native slurred, the odor of grain alcohol overwhelming the team's biofilters. The native grabbed for Ixi’s eyestalks as they passed. Then there was a small pile of dust instead of the native.
The team continued on through the crowd.
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June 18, 2005
Stacy: Rocket Man
10...
Nine years of training, I finally get to go up.
9...
Not my favorite crew ever. Hope I can stand them without wanting to jump out the airlock.
8...
Really hate that physicist from Italy. Arrogant prick.
7...
The pilot's cute, it'll be nice to have a woman around this trip.
6...
Four hundred-something experiments in three months. Christ, they think I'm a machine?
5...
I wish my flight suit wasn’t bunched up like that.
4...
No hold this time, we’re going up!
3...
God, I’m going to miss the kids.
2...
Did I leave the iron on?
1...
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September 27, 2006
Stacy: The Researcher
Even with Jupiter’s great bulk out of the way, FTL radio had been hissing static for a week now. When he finally got up enough interest to turn the 15 meter scope towards Earth, he was unsurprised to find the planet shrouded in white, no hint of it's typical blue-green visible. The stations at the LaGrange points were completely dark, no shuttle traffic between them and Luna. Mount Olympus’ relay beacon was likewise silent.
Shrugging to himself, he turned the FTL radio receiver off, pointed the scope back out past the Kuiper belt, and continued his study of Asteroid 134340.
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September 28, 2006
Stacy: The Best Defense
“Gimme!”
“No, MINE!”
“Mine, mine, mine…”
The earsplitting screech resounded through the sensors of the craft, as its occupants watched from above. A small, pink hu-man had just snatched an object from the appendage of the slightly smaller pink hu-man, and was cavorting around the container of pulverized rock in triumph. The smaller hu-man opened it’s feeding orifice and emitted a noise that made each of the explorers clap their tentacles over their earbuds and morph cerulean in pain.
A tentacle crept up the control panel towards a certain lever.
“Liktnop…we are here to OBSERVE.”
The tentacle moved sullenly away.
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December 14, 2007
Stacy: Biological Imperative
It slides through the pipes, seeking warmth, the heat of living things. It leaves a trail of viscous slime behind, a warning of its presence were there any to see.
It has been without a host for some time, a time of pain and cold. It needs the warmth and life of organisms to thrive, to multiply. And it needs to multiply. That drive is a rippling pain across its primitive nervous system. Feed, grow, divide.
It stops as a warm draft crosses its path. Faintly, from above, “Mooom, where’s the toothpaste?”
It slides up the pipe, towards the warmth.
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April 30, 2008
Stacy: Retreat!
“I fail to understand this, Liktnop. How could these hu-mans be so ignorant? ‘Is there life on Mars…’ Can they not see for themselves?”
Liktnop did not reply, busy himself glaring at his viewscreen. On it were two hu-mans, a tangle of writhing arms and legs… confusing where one began and one ended.
“Technard Liktnop, what in the name of the blackness of space are you watching?”
Liktnop sneered as one of the hu-mans began moaning, obviously in great pain.
“Comnard Vertnor, these hu-mans are low-forms. This one is eating the other one.”
Vertnor blinked. Cannibals. Mars must be warned!
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July 2, 2008
Stacy: Surely You Saw That Coming
“Bronsky?”
“What’s up?”
“Can’t find Bronsky. He was right over by that Sauromatum-type plant, and now he’s gone.”
“Of course he’s not gone, moron, we’re on the eighth moon of Venus. Just where the hell would he go?”
“I don’t know, dammit, but he was right there and now he’s not!”
“Calm down, Rogers, we’ll find him. He’s probably just off having a whiz.”
“You know, I’ve had it with this sloppy fucking operation. First we miss our landing area, then we lose comms, and now this… Are you listening to me?”
“That smell… Vanilla? Cookies!”
“Wait, don’t…”
GULP
“Fuck.”
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March 10, 2009
Stacy: All You Can Eat Buffet
“Younglings, these are called hu-mans.”
Comnard Vertnor extended a tentacle towards the viewscreen currently displaying a feed from the My-Ami Beech monitoring station. The younglings waved their eyestalks curiously. These hu-mans were varying shades of brown and red, dotted here and there with brightly colored pieces of Clo Thing.
The Comnard continued, “See how the light from the system primary colors their skins? This is known as ‘caramelization.’ This results in a much finer flavor, and a more crunchy texture in the aged ones.”
The younglings twittered in anticipation. Meal Preparation Class field trips that included lunch were most salutary.
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March 24, 2009
Stacy: In the Character Lounge
“What’s she doing,” asked Patience.
“Procrastinating,” answered the Jack impatiently.
Uzi shushed him.
“Quiet, you. In such a hurry to return to the scene of the crime, are you?”
The Jack glared, Uzi glared back.
Cori snorted, most unladylike.
“You all complain, but every last one of you is kind of in a tight spot right now. Just enjoy the calm while it lasts.”
A chorus of jeers greeted this suggestion.
Comnard Vertnor beeped irritably, tentacles curling.
“You Hu-mans, so noisy! I should eliminate you all.”
Vertnor turned puce as Patience drew her pistol, cocked it meaningfully.
“Patience,” she said.
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