rosetto

Look Ma'am... It's the cake again! LOL Happy B-Day Miss Dacotah...

<<< Your mother looked like this? >>> Spittin' image. <<< Holy Space Ports! I look like a mega ultra robot explosion! >>> Your point is?

I'm sorry.... but what does that have to do with Napoleon Icecream?

Aye lassie.... aye..

Same way I managed to sleep from 1AM to 3AM. Gonna be a great day....

What was it? What was so important that he join this crew? He had plenty of money to wait for the next gig to come along. He wasn’t a desperado down to his last credit or some lone wolf ditching the law for a past deed of indiscretion. He was just an honest joe looking to regain his sense of self. What was it that the doc had said? “…be wary of the QoB... She's cursed…” The doc seemed like a good sort, just issues with telling the difference between reality and the bottom of a rocks glass. Sal had two or three old service buddies who had found similar excuses. And Chris, well Sal didn’t really know Chris but he did seem like a decent sort, someone he could work for, someone who was probably quite faithful and who you could rely on to be there when you were in a fix. So what was it? Why did he feel uneasy, like a man without clothing as he returned to the table? Sal’s mind was firing on all thrusters as he tried to sort out the night’s events. Joe had made it perfectly clear that they didn’t need a pilot. He should just wait for another opportunity to present it self. He didn’t know any of these people, really. That was the best play, the safe move. It was settled. He was going to turn them down. There really was no good reason to jump on the first flight off this rock. He didn’t need this job, not as badly as some he’d met in Tranquility. It was settled. The Rom Ale was going down real smooth. Sal lifted his mug to take another swig and brought back that painted smile that he wore so well. Now he thought. Who was he going to approach? Would he simply come out with it to Nickles here, thank ‘em for the refreshment and take his leave? Or would it be best to wait until the captain returned and politely decline? Sal didn’t think heartburn would be involved in either case, not theirs. As he sat back down he decided that he would wait. It wasn't gone. It wasn't settled. Not in the least. Sal knew that there had to be a reason that he was placed there, in this situation. What was it?

Trying not to stare, Sal eyed the Deltan as she spoke with the first mate. He couldn’t figure out her game but it was a game indeed. It had been some time but he had remembered getting trapped in a Deltan lure. She was not a fleeter, not bound by the ‘Oath of Celibacy’ and so her pheromone emissions were not cutailed. Deltan’s not only aroused other species, they were able to tap straight into their prey’s mind. This was a quite natural thing for a Deltan but had proven to be ultimately distasteful to others. This was the primary reason that the oath and its chemical applicant were established by Star Fleet. He looked again at Redera as he quietly sipped his ale and then told a silly joke that had the whole table laughing. Everyone thought of him as a suburbanite and the joke had poked fun at that lingering ideal. In reality, Sal was raised in a rural community on Mars. Milankovic was not part of the mainstream culture there. It was a backwards little settlement of farmers who were quite conservative in their views toward others. He had been influenced by his mother’s genes, however. She was not from a rural community like his father. Sal often thought that she ha sacrificed too much to raise him; that she had given up on her dreams. This dream-seeking trait had definitely been passed on to Sal and that was why he was here. There was a rumor concerning Deltans that was just on the edge of Sal’s mental focus. He could not remember the details, only that he’d heard something about an age of ascension. This was a mental age in the Deltan species where they passed into enlightenment. Before such age, a Deltan could be considered dangerous if exposed to another race who could not manipulate the world of subconscious thought. The rumor, as he remembered it was that there was a sect of Deltans who had rejected ascension. The details eluded him as he tried to regain focus on his surroundings. Could this be ‘IT’? Could this be what was bothering him? Why should he be casting suspicion where there was no apparent cause for it? Sal thought about it for a long moment as he assessed the room in general. He was most likely over reacting. Jealous? He hadn’t been jealous since… wow. Sal remembered Jill, the woman he almost asked to marry from Preenos. He chuckled to himself as he mused about his youthful behaviors. She was already engaged, he’d found out, but still his young heart had pounded for her. This wasn’t jealously, though. What ever it was, Sal felt like he needed keep it to himself for now.

You want H E A T ???? Come stay with me thru July & August. It's a dry heat, yeah. Like being inside an oven dry. Thank creation for A/C! (do you think we'd be living out here without it? Oh yeah, they did!)

To ALL (yes, even you): I cannot tell you how much fun I have been having here. I know that I've had differing opinions and some have taken my views out of context but all in all this place is just fantastic! I love the commentary on "Stay Off Topic" and enjoy reading the posted "SIM logs" whether they are from the Advanced SIMs or simply the Academy. I have also much enjoyed creating Sal's back story, K'Normia Memories. I hope that everyone else has enjoyed it as well. I realized that there was a hanging story left out there. Hopefully if I have time and opportunity, Harry will finally reveal the secrets behind the Westen ritual. More recently, however, I have been working with the members of QoB and let me tell you, writing a joint log is a lot of fun fun fun! I have done it two different ways now, LIVE and via e-mail, and both have their advantages and disadvantages. Well, you guys be the judges, okay? LOL Anyway, I just wanted to express my thoughts and let you all know that I really like being here and playing a part. I hope the feelings are mutual... pete (definitely, OOC)

Same place mine has... distant past.... '100,000 light years from home'

A world without coffee.... ::thinking for 0.1826145 nanoseconds:: Nope! Doesn't work for me.

Young Bret Farr tries out for the Green Bay Alpachas

Sal looked around the table. Chris was engaged in conversation with Redera. That wouldn’t be interrupted by a freighter passing through the room. Then there was this man with the mechanical arm. He wasn’t saying anything, just clasping a glass of water and staring off into space. Sal tried to catch his eye but the man just wouldn't turn. This wasn't going to be easy. 'What did Harry always say?', he thought, 'When confronted with the quiet type?' Sal couldn't remember so he just attempted to start a dialogue, “Hey. Shane, right? I’m Sal, Sal Rosetto. You look like a man who’d be up for a challenge. I saw a dart board on the other side of the bar. You up for a game?” The cyborg's cold gray eyes moved from the large room over to the well dressed man across the table from him, his face hard and expressionless. He looked down at the big metal contraption on his shoulder, unsuited for anything small and delicate, then back at Sal again. Was this guy serious? Shane turned his gaze to the room once more without saying a word. "Not your game, huh? Hmmm... What else have I seen in this place?" Sal pulled the mug of Rom Ale to his lips waiting for a response that he was apparently not going to get. He finished his brew in one quick swallow and then spoke again in Shane's general direction, "Not the real stuff, but a close proximity. Whatcha drinkin? I'm going to get a refill." He raised his glass to the man who just refused to look. "May be the last freebie we see in quite a while. Common pleasantries seem to be at a premium in these parts." Sal paused and looked at the man again hoping that he wasn't being impolite, "You can speak, right?" Then chuckled to him self almost embarrassed, "Of course you can! I heard you speaking earlier." Shane inwardly sighed in growing annoyance as Sal kept talking. He hated these kinds of guys, friendly and outgoing; there was a reason they didn't last long around here. All he wanted was to get the job, get on board a ship and get off of this rock. After several more minutes of jabbering, Shane couldn't take it any longer. He slammed his glass down on the table, shattering it to pieces and causing Sal to jump. Standing up, he stared straight at the other man and spoke in a low, menacing voice,"Look, what’s your name? Rosy, I don't want to 'chat'. At all." He leaned over the table for emphasis, "Get the hint." With that he turned and started off for the bar where he wouldn't be bothered fellow, over-social applicants. He also needed another drink. This water wasn’t cutting it anymore. Sal was quite shocked at Shane’s response and was starting to get discouraged again but that wasn’t why he was here. All he wanted was to get a job and get off this forsaken rock. If he was going to join this crew then he would have to work with them. As the quarters were tight on most of these jobs, one would have to learn to eat, sleep and breathe their crewmates. With this in mind, he grabbed his now empty mug and followed Shane to the bar. He approached the bar, handed Pete his mug with a confirming request for refill and moved over to where Shane was standing. Sal poised himself and then stated with confidence, “Look. I don’t want to chit-chat either. I want to go to work. That’s why I’m out here. Unfortunately with the port closed, even if we get these jobs we are not leaving anytime soon. I will be serving as a Scientific Engineer but my forte’ is Navigation. I suspect that you applied for the Weapons or Engineering positions. I know a little bit about engineering. The point I’m trying to make is that if we are going to be on the same vessel then we need to try to find some common ground. The only way we’re going to be able to do that is through an open dialogue.” Sal waited patiently for a response from his quiet crewmate. He didn’t know what kind of response he’d get but he hoped that it would be at least within a range of cooperation. The muscles in Shane's real arm flexed as he debated punching this guy's teeth out. For the sake of his possible job, he forced himself to settle with a heated response. "What are you, a dadgum counselor?" he looked at Sal next to him with an expressionless leer leaning on the bar with his huge mechanical arm, "Here's your dialogue: you speak to me only when absolutely necessary and I won't toss you out the airlock. Sound good?" “As you wish, and therefore since I would classify this as necessary, I guess I should tell you that you just picked up the wrong drink.” Sal nodded to the glass in Shane’s hand as he spoke. The gentleman and that was a loosely used term, looked up from his dom-jot table, handed his stick to his partner and started walking their way. Here came that freighter through the room… Glancing down at the mug in his hand, Shane closed his eyes in an angry wince and mumbled something about city slickers and beatings with blunt objects. He spun slowly to meet the approaching patron and his friend to be suddenly greeted with a hard right to the face. "Think you can steal drinks just cause you're half-made of metal?" the obviously drunk man slurred out, "I'll teach you to..." He was muffled by Shane huge metal claws clamping around his face and lifting his feet off the ground. With his eyes burning in anger, Shane brought the struggling man to eye level with his scarred face and growled, "That was a mistake." With a powerful overhand swing, he chunked the drunk head first into his partner, sending both flying back into a table. The wood collapsed under the force of the men hitting it and left them moaning or unconscious on the floor. Wiping the blood from his nose, Shane dug a good amount of credits out of his pocket and slammed them on the bar, "Sorry about the table, Pete." He grabbed his drink, the right one this time and with one final glare in Sal's direction, stalked off to find his table again. Sal picked his jaw up off the bar, smiling meekly at Pete while grabbing his own mug. “Uh, I guess I need to…” Sal motioned and pointed to Shane. Pete just shook his head with a painful look on his face. He had just replaced that table.

S-W-E-E-E-E-T.... LOL

I just received a link to this skit. It may be old to some, but I never saw it and enjoyed it. It's the WEEKEND UPDATE skit on SNL and can be found on DailyMotion... Too Funny! LOL

Which Play? Not that I could make it to VA from AZ... Just wondering as I suspect are others...

Just a little treat for everyone....

I didn't noticed that all! Ha Ha Ha... The package just said, "Suprise Inside!" Seriously, it did. I also have (and can produce) images of the USS Grissom approaching Space Station Regula I.

<H2 style="MARGIN: 3pt 0in">In His Mind</H2>Sal was doing his best; making a show of it, but he really didn’t know what to think of this place, this crew, this captain, this whole situation. He sat and listened to the others chatting and laughing as if they had no care in the universe. Was it that they had truly found their freedom out here? Or maybe they were just as confused and uncertain as he was? Sal didn’t have any answers; none that made any sense. He sipped his Rom Ale and laughed quietly at someone’s off-handed attempt at a joke. It wasn’t that funny to him. But then he wasn’t really listening either. Their voices all seemed to melt together like a gaggle of geese near a cool pond of water. Sal could do that; disappear into the wallpaper. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing. That’s how he had attributed it. Right or wrong didn’t really matter. The fact was that though he wasn’t consciously focused on anything, he would remember almost every conversation in the room. His mind was preprocessing the information and simply storing it away for evaluation at a later time. It was all a state of mind; a built-in autopilot. What Sal was focused on was his performance, or lack there of, during this interview process. He couldn’t read this Manning fellow at all. Sal struggled with this because usually he picked up on psyches quite easily. He could do the task as required and had proven that many times over in his career. Whatever it took, Sal would figure out a way of getting the job done. But this seemed different because he really didn’t know what his job would entail. A bottle had hit the floor. There was a dispute at the dom-jot table. He turned to see one gentleman picked completely off the floor and placed precariously and unwillingly on a hi-top table. Sal turned away as the other gentleman pulled back his huge unclad left arm while holding the man with his right. The sound of his fist repeatedly striking the man’s face had made Sal cringe. What ever the dispute was about it was best to keep one’s place, he thought. It was, after all, none of his business.

After Joe left, Sal continued with Chris talking about exactly what he could and could not provide for the QoB crew. He explained in detail his knowledge of astrophysics emphasizing that it was his minor study at the academy but that he had kept it as a hobby since. Sal showed Chris some of the work he did from the observatory on Sunny Ridge and the systems that he had catalogued from the available data on the Hyades Cluster Group. He also tried (until Chris’ eyes glazed over) using diagrams and calculus equations on his PADD to explain that there was a way to navigate safely through the core but that it would some time to work up an exact flight plan. Chris still seemed disinterested in his navigational skills and this discouraged him a little. There was a familiar indicator blinking on his display and it began to be annoying so Sal excused himself from the table and walked over to an isolated corner of the room and opened his messenger. To: Sal From: Harriet Via: SHJ-Rosetto Personal Network Hi Sal… We got your message yesterday. How did your interview go? I was talking to Dad and he said that he had met a Federation Officer named Joseph Manning. Or at least he thought he remembered the name. Anyway, he’s gonna do some checking. I’ll let you know what he finds out. According to Joia, you haven’t been writing. I hope you’re not falling back into one of your drinking binges. I told her that you were probably just really busy with the new job and all. You’ll tell me different if it is, though, right? Yeah, I’m still worrying about you. You know I always will, Sal. Love has never been our issue. Speaking of issues, I also spoke to the lawyer three days ago. There may be one concerning cash flow. Okay, Hun, settle down. I know we agreed on selling Haxnar Industries and retaining the vineyards. Well, Bill said that there were some adverse claims and a secondarily liable on a negotiable instrument? Yeah, it’s Greek to me too. I think it’s those partners that you signed on when we contracted with the Federation for colonization expansion. You’ll get the papers with this message. Please look them over and tell me what to tell Bill. Well, I have a luncheon with the Federation Advisor to Colonial Affairs and I’m running late because Joia had some issues with a new boyfriend and the west regulator is on the blink again. Busy. Busy. Busy. Love you, Babe H He closed the messenger and stuffed the PADD back into his pocket thinking that he’d deal with this back in the room. He then walked straight up to the bar and ordered a Rom Ale from Pete and offered to pay but Pete’s hand waved him off and he pushed the latinum back in Sal’s direction. “Joe was adamant about it, Sal. Drink. Enjoy.” He thanked the bartender and then returned with a painted smile to the highly active table. He took a sip of his ale and then remembered that ‘this’ was the substitute stuff, a synthehol-based concoction that was much cheaper than true Romulan Ale. Sal would have to get used to the ‘not so’ finer points to life out here.

My puppy's back! My puppy's back! I was so worried about him. He had disappeared yesterday morning then we had a really heavy rain. He was no where to be found. Then we started looking again this morning and a neighbor was driving around with him in the back of their SUV looking for his home! The best I can figure is somehow he slipped under the fence (probably chasing a critter) and then found himself outside the fence and couldn't figure out how to get back in... I'm SO happy!!!!

T'Aral, I know I've asked this before. Perhaps if you post the info. How do we 'listen' to the music?

Sal woke only four hours later as the sun peeked into his hotel room through a slit in the blinds. He got up, made some coffee and wondered what time it was back in Southgate. 'Time? What day was it?' he thought absently as he sipped his morning brew and moved to the desk which provided a full-sized key entry pad that could be enabled on its surface. He sat down and tapped the panel lock. The display lit up. 'Thank God it wasn't Klingon!' He was elated to find that this hotel must have been built when the Federation was still controlling this sector. The display cycled through a standard Star Fleet boot sequence and revealed a standard 80-key Terran alphabet. His PADD was already in the dock and so Sal logged into it and opened his messenger once again and began to type: To: Joia d'Cel From: Sal Via: SHJ-Rosetto Personal Network Hey you! Thanks for all of the letters. I do read them and mommy's correct in that I have been busy here. Unfortunately it has not been work. I will meet my new boss for the first time later today. The Commonwealth also has the ports closed here but I have spoken to some locals and they said that it's no big deal. It's probably just a Federation Inspection Team conducting a port inventory check. Yeah angel, it's a different world out here. You never know what's going to happen next or who's going to come around the next corner. You gotta keep on your toes but then you never had an issue with that! LOL Your DANCE honey! Anyway, I wanted to sit down and answer some of the questions you had in the last five messages that you'd sent. "What's a Klingon like?" Well, I have only met a couple of them here and they are friendly in their own way. They didn't kill me. (joking) Let's see. They are all taller than most people and usually larger too. Yes, they do 'smell' but it's not like you think. It's just not what you're accustom to. They are very direct and 'to-the-point' when they speak. At first it might seem rude but it is not their intent. Other than that they are pretty much like you and me, kiddo... "The kids at school wanna know if you're involved with the 'Rainmakers'?" Absolutely not, dear. I don't know what your friends are thinking but I am here to work and to explore. I do not intend to get mixed up in any of the local politics. "Are all Orion Women like animals?" Honey, you must learn to be more accepting of differing cultures if you are to explore the worlds out here. We are all animals. We have primal thoughts that are derived from our reptilian brains. Ask your Biology teacher. As for the Orions, they are different. They have different motives and values. I should think that we will encounter more of them out here since we are near Orion space. From the few whom I've met, the women are very attractive looking and let's just say they have a way with men and leave it at that for now. "How many stars are there? Is it day all the time?" Yes, the concentration of stars is greater here in the cluster but again, it's not like you think. Here on Tranquility we are near the core and even though most of the surrounding stars are much hotter than our sun on K'Normia, they are not so bright and so big as the would light up the night sky. Densities like that only occur in active nebulae and the galactic core, angel. "What time is it there?" This is an interesting question. A present it is 8 Hours local time. There are 38 of these periods in one day cycle. So, basically it's morning here, but one day here is nearly two full days there. Well, I hope I answered all of your questions thus far. I'm going to get cleaned up and go down stairs and have some breakfast. I miss you too, angel. Lugs & Hisses! Daddy Sal sat and stared at the message, reread it several times and then tapped send. How could he fault her. He was missing her probably as much as she missed him. He leaned back in the desk chair and opened his mind while he tried to relax. Another swig of coffee and he’d get up, shower and get dressed. He sipped his coffee and closed his eyes. “Sallie? It’s time for bed!” “Mom. I’m not tired. I’m stilling playing star ranger on the holo-cube.” “Put that game away. Do I need to come in there?” “No……” Cindy, Sal’s mother entered his bedroom anyway. He knew she would and had just one more asteroid to destroy before he made it to level 7. It wasn’t to be tonight. Cindy tapped the power and the hologram disappeared. Sal was about six at the time and he could see that his mother wasn’t too upset but also that he’d best not press the issue. “Now get your P.J.’s on and brush your teeth.” “oh, awe-rite…” He replied with as much enthusiasm as a sym-bot reading poetry. He relented to his mother’s requests, brushed he teeth, donned some pajamas and darted off to his bed. His mother was still in the room and she had an e-book in her hand. Sitting down on his toy box next to his bed she began to read: “Mushi & Her Mews: A Tail of Two Kitties” “Now this story was written by your great-great-grandfather many years ago and back on Earth. It’s become a tradition in our family to pass it on to our offspring.” Sal looked at his mother with his eyes sparkling. “Really Mommy? My great…great-grandfather?” He struggled with the phrase and Cindy smiled. “Yes, now be still so I can read this, okay?” Sal straightened up under the covers, stiff as a board and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. Cindy continued: “The first kitten was young and struggling with the usual growing pangs combined with unusually stressful social issues in her home. She was a good kitten; a precious kitten, really; not crazy, just a little unwell. She was a very playful kitten and as most, she sometimes got a little too excited. She could be very nice though and purr in your lap for hours if you let her. Most people miss that part of her entirely, especially those who are closest to her. This only compounds the issues for her. She became confused as to their intent and unsure of their love. I’m certain that she had attempted to communicate her feelings but because of past deeds and actions taken by her (the incident with the toilet paper roll comes to mind). They listened to her mews no more. So she was usually alone with her thoughts and was never allowed to freely play with the other kittens in the neighborhood. This aged her mentally and this inward turn made her recluse and unreachable. She was safe and warm there so that’s where she stayed most of the time. She would never let anyone get in too far, too close. The story of this tragedy is known not from this kitten’s lips alone but through her emotional aura which to some was as bright as a quasar but invisible to most. This night was a rare occasion for her and she was out of her cage for the evening and her leash was not tethered. She was in eye shot though so those who loved her could also watch her closely. She took the opportunity to explore in the moonlight. She danced about a fallen branch and toyed with various twigs and leaves. It was fun but soon she became bored. Then out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a shiny object covered slightly with the ground clutter. It was a multi-colored ball of twine and she found it very fascinating. Some of its threads shimmered in the moonlight and the sparkles danced about gaily. With a quick paw she batted at the ball but it refused to move. One more swat caused it to teeter but nothing else. She was very discerned and so she reared back and pounced! It was almost as big as she was but she held on and finally it began to roll with her attached. Catching her balance, she let go and the ball rolled away. She chased after it! It came to a stop and she reared to pounce again. The game was on! Then she saw the paws; the place where the ball had stopped. One paw was raised slowly and settled on top of the ball. It was smooth and black and looked very powerful. She meekly looked up at the owner of the paws. His eyes were bluer than blue and in them she just melted. This was the second kitty. Now this kitten was very similar to the first. He was much older and had been docile for countless years. Of late, he would on occasion venture out to play in the moonlight. Tonight he was mewing sweetly and quietly to himself. He would never venture too far from home though because he too could become overly excited and cause troubles on the home front. Like the first, he had social issues which he had overcome for the most part. Other kittens, however, rarely understood his actions and usually feared him and kept their distance. He knew this and like the first, he remained alone with his thoughts. Casually he was known as that quiet one over in the corner that wouldn’t harm a mouse. They all knew of him but few really knew who he was inside. No one got inside his inner realm because no one understood this world. He knew that. The black cat now rolled the ball back and forth causing it to sparkle sporadically in the dim light and she watched curiously. A warm smile grew across his face as he gently tossed the ball over by an isolated tree. She immediately darted after it, jumping up and pouncing again! She fell head over heals and tumbled into the darkness. His smile turned to laughter as he watched his new found friend play. She seemed so happy to play with his simple ball of twine. The ball happened at his feet again and she was there next to it. Then their eyes met they never broke stare. Each gazed deeply into the other for what seemed hours and hundreds of miles. There were no words exchanged but he quietly mewed and purred at the moon above them and she silently listened. There was no need for words because these two had shared emotions on a different level. They shared a common tail! When she wagged it, he felt its gentle tug.” Cindy looked and little Sal was sound asleep. Sal remembered this event as if it had happened yesterday. But he also vividly remembered a similar occasion spent with his own little Joia.

I guess many look at this differently. With me, this is ALL new. I have never performed on stage before and in fact I have a funny story about that (he has a funny story about most things. comes with age.). I am simply saying that I found this exercise helpful in enabling me to transition into this world of SIM. Some may find my advice helpful while others will find it quite the opposite. As with all things, there are many ways to reach the same point.

You gotta know Joia Sal left the good doctor with his whiskey, knowing that what ever it was that was troubling him would eventually work its way out in time. That was one of Sal’s downfalls. He tended to let things get personal. This needed to be a ‘job’, a means to an end. He wanted to discover strange new worlds. He was an explorer and being on the fridge out here enabled him to do just that. As for this crew, well, he’d met only one thus far. If the morning ever got there, he would eventually meet his new captain. The rumors around the Maze were flying but Sal didn’t take much pack in rumors. It was like any other bar in that respect. One must take everything at face value until it proves otherwise. It had been years since Sal had frequented a bar like this one though. His biggest concern was the language/culture gap. Sal had never learned much Klingon. It was not a necessity in K’Normia. In fact, by comparison K’Normia was Federation Territory. Situated near the Talos Star Group and Iadorian space, it was basically a peaceful little corner of the galaxy. Betazed and its colonies were also relatively near and highly influential. Here, on Tranquility, everyone seemed to speak a morphed language containing as many Klingon adjectives and expressions as there were Terran. The last thing Sal wanted to do was to show disrespect to a surly Klingon. He had never been one for bar brawls. He continued to walk down the corridor which led back to his hotel room. He knew he had to get some sleep because he’d be meeting this Captain Manning in... He stopped mid-stride and reached into his pocket for his PADD, pulled it out and tapped the display several times until his personal calendar came up which displayed the local time. It was 7 hours which here was still early morning. The sun wouldn’t even rise for another two. His meeting with Manning wasn’t until 15 hours, nine hours away. Sal was not used to these long days. But that was the way it was in space which was one of the primary reasons that Star Fleet had adopted the STARDATE system. Sal liked the system because it very closely approximated the Martian day but this was merely incidental. The sole purpose of STARDATE was to universalize the passage of time because the cycle from sun-up to sun-up was vastly different from planet to planet. He looked at his PADD and there was a small indicator flashing in the upper left corner of the display; Joia’s message. He opened up his messenger just as he approached his room. Standing in the hall he began to read her message as his fumbled in his pocket for his room badge. Still reading he pulled it out and waved it at the access panel to the right of the door. It lit up and the door slid open. Sal didn’t even look up as he walked into the room. "Computer. Lights. Reading lamp near desk." The door closed behind him after a moment and he took a seat in the chair next to the bed. He read on: "...and then Jeni came by and we were talking about Bosney and his last minute save in the game last night. You remember Bosney, right? He was the cute boy with the freckles who wanted to kiss me in the gym two mons ago. Well, last night the score was tied and he can out of nowhere and scored. Those boys of Roseland Tech were so surprised. I think a couple of them thought they were naked or something, the way the just stood there in awe." Sal smiled to him self knowing that she was going to be okay and then he read on: "Daddy, it was so much fun. But... I missed you so much. I know that you must be busy with your new job and new boss. Mom told me that was probably why you hadn’t written or called these last couple of days. I’m trying, Daddy, you know, to understand. Good luck there, Streak. I love you, daddy. I will write more tomorrow." Sal sat and thought about what she had written. Most of it was what had been expected from a teen but he knew that there was more to it. His daughter was becoming a young woman much faster than he had anticipated. Harry must have told her about the nickname that he’d acquired in the fleet. Sal never knew whether it came from the port controllers or the Nav Staff on the El Paso. The former used to bead him for always leaving a streak on there displays whenever the vessel he was mastering left port. The boys in Nav would never let him live down the time when they’d caught him coming out of the sonic shower and had to chase this young ensign clear across the Rec Room and through three observation decks. That girl could surely run and had his clothes in her hands laughing her head off. He finally caught her in the turbolift and when the door finally opened 15 decks away, he was only half-dressed, they were kissing and the crew in the corridor stopped and applauded. ‘What was her name?’ he thought.