The sound you just hear **ahem** read was that of my head hitting the keyboard. Today was the Snow Day From Hell. Last night I knew that I'd be keeping the youngest junior crew member at home. He'd been losing an argument with a budding upper respiratory annoyance. Last night I had also figured that the oldest would be going to the education center only to be whisked back to base a few short hours later for weather-related early dismissal. Nope. Sessions were cancelled outright first thing this morning.
It's a good thing, too. The ground was barely dusted with that cold, white flaky stuff when I checked the local radar loop. Oh shit. Houston, we have a problem. Vital medical supplies and food rations are nearing critical. Time for a challenging shuttle hop to Planet Salem for restocking. But what might the situation be like in that quadrant of Galaxy Ozarks? Surely the indigenous peoples of that locale were becoming aware of what was fast approaching this region.
Mission commencement: 07:30, -6 GMT. Systems sluggish, but functional. Green light, with caution.
The fugishuttle made careful but swift time to the primary commerce outpost. Most of the district was still inactive as large puffy chunks wafted downward with increasing fervor. Great. I'll just fetch the crew's supplies and jet on out of here. But woe unto me if I accidentally cause injury to any of these few unusual beings that are starting to mill about, or to their numerous offspring. (Note to self: Check quadrant regulations on cloning; an abnormally large percentage share similar overt genetic traits...) Gee, look- they're arriving in droves now.
The refueling depot wasn't that bad upon landing, but soon became as congested. Thank goodness I was able to secure adequate quick nutritional supplements before those entering from the docking bays wiped out that resource. Even mediocre hot brown substances in liquids and solids are better than none at all on missions such as this. At this rate there was no reasonable estimate of when I might arrive back at my home base. I was only marginally concerned for the well-being of my safe-at-home crew in comparison to that of my own.
Upon return to my crew's remote base I was greeted by the co-commander. He was gracious in offloading our supplies, and his thoughtfulness for having prepared good hot brown liquid in anticipation of my return may earn him yet another medal. The junior crew members though, are another matter entirely.
My rejuvenation chamber beckons. Signing off now. Tomorrow looks to be a "cabin fever" day.
