Free day!
There are a certain number of possible reactions to finding out that one is temporarily invisible and inaudible to the rest of the crew aboard the vessel you all share.
“FUCK!” is in the top ten.
So is, “This is a plot from a bad science fiction series!”
As well as a solid string of curses old and new.
Jabrelle went through the entire top ten before she settled down and attempted to get a grip. She wouldn’t have even gone through number one on the list if she was also intangible. The effects of the gravity generator would have flung her through the floors and into instant and lonely death if she had been also intangible.
Therefore, she had to let the Captain know that something was going on. And, since the accident had also obliterated the non-essential comms systems… she had to do that in person.
Writing on the walls was not a viable solution. Firstly, an on-duty and crisis-stricken UFTP survey vessel tended to cut off access to art supplies. Secondly, all the walls were one hundred percent graffiti-proof. And the cleaners would get to anything on the floors before anyone intelligent could see it.
Therefore, after weighing all her options and finding very few available, Jabrelle calmly and logically chose to mess with the Captain’s Cup.
The Captain’s Cup, which was an old Terran tradition and an early warning system. The Captain’s Cup, ritually filled with piping-hot beverage and watched like a weak and wobbling lamb by an anticipatory vulture in times of tension. The Captain’s Cup which, despite being an inanimate piece of porcelain, knew something was up well before any sophisticated sensor could alert anyone.
Of course she started subtle, using the silver spoon like a transmission key on a telegraph.
K-E-E-P C-A-L-M. O-F-F-I-C-E-R J-A-B-R-E-L-L-E R-E-P-O-R-T-I-N-G, she began.
The captain had turned white - quite a feat considering her everyday hue - and fastened her seatbelt. “Stand ready,” ordered Captain Kimutai.
Jabrelle belatedly remembered that only colossal nerds like herself even bothered learning morse code at all, any more. And, out of distilled frustration, flipped the Captain’s Cup clear across the bridge.
There was only one sane reaction from the captain to the sight of the Captain’s Cup sailing, unprompted, across the bridge. “RED A-FUCKING-LERT!”
Which would have been fine, if the current bridge crew weren’t aliens.
“Sir?”
“SHIELDS ON FULL, PREPARE FOR IMPACT, RUN ALL SCANS, BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES AND PREPARE TO KISS YOUR ASSES GOODBYE!” Kimutai roared. “SET COURSE FOR THE NEAREST BASE, WARP FACTOR- FUCK OFF!”
“Sir, this is irrational behaviour…”
“Did you not see the Captain’s Cup FLY across the room?” Kimutai demanded.
Jabrelle recovered the cup, saucer and spoon and started making all three dance. Out of pure spite, she set the bridge audio playback to run Hello My Baby! before she did so.
"It’s dancing! Nowhere in history has The Cup flakkin’ danced—”
Jabrelle could see the metaphorical penny drop. At last. She’d found an area of common experience.
"Internal scans. Do we have any apparently missing crew?”
The lizard discretely typing out a message to send help at the comms station made a face that clearly said, What the flying hell? “Sir?”
“Do we have any crew members who have not apparently reported to their duty stations?” Kimutai enunciated.
Tap tap tap… “Officer Jabrelle Martinez, sir. She’s currently missing under suspicious circumstances.”
“Gimmie that milk,” The Captain unbuckled herself and slit open the entire bag that today’s luckless ensign had urgently ferried in for a refresh.
The assembled bridge crew gaped at the human outline as Jabrelle dripped and managed a dairy-soaked wave.
“Cancel red alert. Someone get this officer some spray paint and get her down to the medtechs.” Kimutai sank back down into her chair. “Gods damn it, Martinez…”
And that’s how clever minds can resolve bad science fiction plots in less than ten minutes.
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