Blue Dirt!

[Tachyon 0]

Personal Stardate 0410.13

Ensign Dave Grey

-------------------------------------

 

I sat on the log and chewed on some roots, a PADD in my hand. Staring blankly at the screen, I finally snap back to “reality” and remember that I’m composing a letter to my parents. So far I’ve got the salutation down

 

My Loving Parents,

 

Sounded good so far. Now I needed to tell them how my life was going. I sat on the log and chewed on some roots, recollecting my experiences of the past few days and wondering where my life had gone. Joining the Challenger had not just been some decision, I realize now that what I’ve done has changed my life and spun it in a completely different direction. It’s all well and good to say you’re going out there; it becomes a different story when you are actually out there.

 

Greetings from the Acamar system, eh. First voyage into “deep space”. So far, so good, the Challenger is holding up. Some minor problems, but nothing completely unexpected. Everyone’s pretty excited about our first away mission to another planet.

 

As I write this, I’m sitting on a log and chewing on some roots: Acamarian roots to be precise. They’re bitter, but I think they’d go good in a stew. We’ve found a lot of things after only a few days here, I’ll be spending the next few weeks in the science lab analyzing all the samples along with my colleague, Allan Adams. I’m particularly interested in this “blue dirt” that we’ve found, and Adams has an Acamarian-shark creature to study.

 

I read it through. Things were starting to get surreal now. Apparently, an Acamarian had been injured in our camp, and we’d just made first contact. It was kind of jarring, and I feel rather detached from the whole incident, but it was also a unique experience.

 

Other than sample-collecting, we’ve investigated the food resources on the planet. Like I mentioned before, there are some bitter roots, some fruits, and some rodent-dogs (don’t ask). Everyone got a bit of a scare yesterday when someone set off a grenade while hunting some sort of goat-boar animal. Unfortunately, the grenade attracted the attention of the local Acamarian humanoids.

 

It seemed rather rough, but that’s what revisions are for. Signing my name, I resolved to revise and edit it on the trip back to Challenger and subsequent sleep in my quarters. Then I would send it off and get to work on those samples.

 

With a small groan, I remember now what’s going on up above me: the analyzer in the science lab is beeping away, happily separating the proteins without any supervision from me. I just hope it hasn’t made a mistake—at least, not one that will be costly and time consuming to fix. Proteins are not my area of expertise.

 

Blue dirt is also not my area of expertise. Yet it is dirt, and moreover, it is blue dirt—how much more opportunity does one need?

 

Note to self: Investigate why I am so excited by the prospect of blue dirt.