Last month we attended Sue and Rick’s White Elephant party. Remember Sue?
Everyone brought a wrapped “White Elephant,” something new or used to pass on. We drew numbers, with number one picking a gift and unwrapping it. The next person could choose an unopened gift or lay claim to someone’s opened gift. But a gift couldn’t change hands more than three times.
I’ve always been a Trek Geek so in my opinion, the best prize was an email address “@ starfleet.com,”and that’s even before I realized it was the gift that would keep on giving. It was snatched twice by Star Trek officianados, AKA Trekkers. When my daughter Bea’s turn came, she commandeered the Starfleet address and no one could take it from her, as she was the third to claim it. At the holiday’s end, she returned to school.
Soon after, I received my first email from Cadet Garrard of Starfleet Academy. She had enlisted!
Dear Mom and Dad,
I just wanted you to know that I have settled into my dorm room and all is well. My roommate is an Aaamazzarite. It is a little awkward between us still because I can’t pronounce the name of her species. On the bright side, however, Aaamazzarites are hairless, so vacuuming is quite easy. It’s better than last year, when I roomed with that girl from Sigma Iotia II. She kept trying to extract protection money from me and teach me some weird game called “bizz fin.”
I started classes yesterday. I’m pretty excited for Andorian Early Empires, though there is only one other person in the class, and he’s…well…Andorian. Wish me luck. I’m also in Xenolinguistics, Intelligently Fudging Incident Reports (which, legend has it, Kirk got an A+ in), and the Starfleet Graphic Novel Project, which follows the struggles of 13 female Starfleet captains back when sexism was still a thing.
I also made a couple of friends. One of them is a fellow student of xenobiology. We’re both interested in extraterrestrial ecology. He seems pretty fun, although he’s strangely obsessed with mustaches. The other guy is a Ferengi. He talks really quickly and likes juggling gold-pressed latinum. Unfortunately for him, he is very good at juggling but has no latinum to juggle. He plays the Vulcan lute surprisingly well.
Anyways, I’ll let you know how things go. I love you and miss you!
Upon reflection, Bea at Starfleet Academy made perfect sense. She was always keen to explore strange new worlds…
–especially her own little world.
I recalled the voyages of the star child Beatrice.
Her ongoing mission…
…to seek out new life…
…and new civilizations.
Rife with pirates…
…and pink fuzzy brainsucking creatures.
From the tiny…
…to the towering.
And at great personal risk…
…To boldly go…
…where no man has gone before.
She is well qualified. A Starfleet cadet needs to be flexible.
She always manages to bounce back…
…blend in with the locals…
…and keep her head.
We can hardly wait to beam down to the Academy in San Francisco to check out her new Starfleet digs.
Barring any transporter accidents…
…which can get SO messy.
We’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime…
It’s good to know you are all settled into your dorm. Life goes on, but it isn’t the same without you. To cheer ourselves up in our Empty Nest, Dad and I took a short trip to Risa. When they say what happens at Risa stays at Risa, they aren’t kidding. He left six bars of gold pressed latinum at the Dabbo tables. It’s lucky I’m such a cheap date. All I needed was a l’il sippy cup of Romulan Ale, and a few hours in the Holo Suite. I like that program about The Battle of Hastings, only I programmed it so that King Harold Godwinson could kick William the Conqueror’s ass right back to Normandy.
The bad news is that we asked Grandma to take care of your pet tribble, Odysseus, while we were gone. Unfortunately, Grandma forgot she wasn’t supposed to feed it. By the time we got home, five days later, there were eight generations of tribbles crammed into the cage, and they had all died of suffocation. We put them in stasis and can have the funerals—228 of them–when you come home for spring break. Maybe we can get you a nice Cardassian Vole.
Don’t turn your back on that Ferengi, and don’t get killed!
Mom and Dad
Copyright 2014 Naomi Baltuck