From: Fabian Alexander <psychon@oocities.com>
Date: Sat, 12 Jul 1997 14:09:48 -0700
Subject: [Fwd: USS CHESAPEAKE: Swinging on a Star]

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Date: Mon, 07 Jul 1997 22:30:19 -0700
From: Fabian Alexander <psychon@oocities.com>
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To: jrbowman@london2.skn.net, tnagumo@pop.pitt.edu, cfontain@uoguelph.ca,
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        Mark@Pomerol.Demon.co.uk, Sam@positronix.demon.co.uk,
        MFielding@aol.com, trevins@cjnetworks.com, psychon@oocities.com
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: Swinging on a Star
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MD 13 (?).1500 [NRPG: I *think* I sent out a post called 'Arrival'.  If
I didn't, could someone tell me, please ?]
Scene: Bridge [I'm sure of that]

	"Would you like to swing on a star...", O'Graeachs voice trailed not
unskillfully across the room while he was keeping the ship in orbit. 
Not that it was difficult.  It stayed there by itself, although he *did*
perform the occasional twirl around a piece of junk of a small asteroid.

	He glanced over to the rest of the bridge crew.  They were all busier
than him, which was not too difficult, given that his job was simply to
keep the ship from crashing.  It was a truism that the pilot usually
wasn't busy when every else was, and when the pilot *was* busy everybody
else was busy praying, which, in his opinion, counted as 'not busy'.

	His sensors flashed up again.  The Correllians had scanned the
CHESAPEAKE again.  "Cmdr. Brennan,", Oz called out, after having made
sure that he was not interrupting anything important, "the Corellians
are scanning us again."  *Bloody Snakes*, he added mentally, but did not
say it.  He did not want to be reprimandd by some xenophile Superior
Officer.  Oz wasn't prejudiced against alien races.  He simply didn't
trust them.  It wasn't because they were aliens, it was because
experience had taught him that it didn't matter where someone came from,
they all wanted the same, and unfortunately that was his head or his
blood, or any combination of those.

	Given their superior surveillance grid the Corellians always knew
exactly where in the Sky the Chesapeake was, and no doubt they had aimed
missiles or cannons or phasers, or deathrays at the ship.  Oz bit his
fingernails.

	A little blimp appeared on his sensor screen.  Without ceasing to sing
he zoomed closer, investigating.  "Uh oh, looky who's here !  It's a
miners vessel on rendezvous course, and boy, does it look in need for a
new paint job.", he reported.  "In fact, it looks pretty much in need of
repairs as well.  It's only the rust that's keeping it together, and I
can't say that it's grade A rust.  I think someone wants to talk to our
head-honcho.  Hey, Cmdr, there's someone trying to talk to you."

NRPG:
I'm moving house, and might be moving accounts, so please add 
psychon@oocities.com
to the list.

I'm pretty sure I sent a post detailing our arrival (if I didn't I
apologize).

Love,
Fabian

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