WxMurray

“Estimate?”

“Give me another day or so. The hardware replicators can’t work that fast.”

“Yeah, well, the faster the better. I’m not sure I can handle much more field rations.”

Murray got up and moved over to a console and sat down. He picked up a stack of circuit panels and sorted out the reusable ones. Things were not going well. As the aux generator started to die, he had to start shutting down various systems to keep the most essential ones running. The food replicator had been the first thing to go. He also had to shut down the PA system; shift changes and other important announcements were now made via combadge. Life support was the most recent thing to go. It felt odd to Murray that life support was not a vital system. Since the Primus was a Minshara-class planet, though, there really wasn’t a need for circulated air. With the local summer well under way, it got hot in the station, but the team preferred to sweat and suffer than to lose the hardware replicator.

“Ugh. It is really hot in here.”

Murray looked over at the console that had a pair of legs sticking out of it. “Are you alright in there, Jay?”

Crewman Jason “Jay” Williams shimmied out from underneath the console and sat up. “It sure gets hot under there.”

“Why don’t you take a break? I think I’ve got some packaged water over there,” Murray said, indicating a pile of padds, tools, and his uniform jacket.

As Williams rooted through the pile, Murray turned back to his panels. “Whoever took these out did a pretty good job. Let’s try and augment that generator soon so we can get another hardware replicator going.”

“Dickinson to Murray. You might want to get out here, sir.”

Murray sighed as he tapped his combadge. “On my way.”

Murray sat in his makeshift office in the makeshift command center of what was left of the communications array. Padds were scattered all over his desk, consisting of repair schematics, team roster, equipment inventories, more repair schematics, communication protocols, damage reports, and the dinner menu. He sighed as he looked at the padds and hoped that “tofu-burger, turnip fries, and soy milk cocktail” was someone’s idea of a joke.

He looked up as the makeshift PA system announced the end of his shift. He was running a two-shift rotation with interspersed breaks. It made for long days, but a lot of work got done. Right now they were still cleaning up the place. They still needed to get main power at least partially online before the aux generator died. He would feel much safer if they could get the perimeter sensor grid running, as well.

Murray got up from his desk and headed back to his quarters to take a nap before dinner. Two feet later he was lying in the cot next to his desk in his office. With the com station in the state it was, he decided it be easier for all of the rooms they were using to multitask as much a possible. He lived in his office, the engineers lived with the hardware replicator, and so on. He felt sorry for the poor soul that got stuck sleeping in the same room as the toilet. On second thought, no he didn’t.

No Ulysses?

There are no Us because of the lack of names for the six-year cycle and replacements. Even if you come up with ten, I'm pretty sure the WMO would want more in reserve.

I actually read that the National Hurricane Center (the people who names these things) might run out of names this season....interesting...

They have Stan, Tammy, Vince, and Wilma to go. After that they start using Greek letters. So we might just end up with Hurricane Alpha. My question is: can you retire a Greek letter?

I am all for going back to space. I can't wait. :) I just wish I had my Popular Science. :P

wasn't you it was WxMurray

Heh. Yeah, be glad I don't attend the Staurday Academies. You'd be even more frightened. :P

Hey there,

 

There is a site I came across a few years ago that actually shows what the NHC's computer models are projecting. These are the tracks they use to project the storms path.

 

 

As you can see, none are showing New Orleans as a target (though as of this time yesterday they were). Part of the problem, in my view, is the Mayor of the city attempting to get things going too quickly...trying to recover from a situation that he helped to contribute to the mismanagement of.

Ooo. A spaghetti plot.

The Weather Channel has become more aggressive in terms of forecasting longrange strike possiblities. Something I am not happy about, since Tracking storms some 5 days in advanced is not an exact science to say the least. While the Producers at CNN, FOX and MSNBC might not grasp this...The Weather Channel should. People at the Weather Channel should recall hurricane intensity forecasting has been even more challenging..and I would hope refrain from any 5 day strength prognostications as well.

 

Clearly something is changing at the Weather Channel, and I believe Mr. Van Roy has the best lead on the cause.

 

STSF Precip

They had a record of 51 million viewers pre-Katrina. They want viewers, and they will sacrifice quality to get it (by hiring blondes that are as dumb as bricks, for one). I had set my eyes on working at The Weather Channel one day, but I have gone off the idea recently with their changes. I am going to stay in Pennsylvania.

Rita is now a hurricane and is forecast to become a major one (category 3 in 72 hours) and is forecast to hit south of Galveston, TX.

5-Day forecast cone

Public Advisory #11 (11AM EDT)

Forecast Discussion (including strength forecast)

The National Hurricane Center

How about Hershey, PA, then? :(

This is true. I know its too early, but the weather channel is hoping for the worst...I mean, they keep saying they expect it to hit places they cant even traject yet. ::sigh::

Well, TWC has made changes recently that I am not fond of, and so I am not surprised about this.

1). It is not a hurricane...yet.

2). Actually, they are thinking of second landfall somewhere closer to Texas.

3). All things considered, it might be better to make landfall in Louisiana near Katrina's path. It can't do much damage because it's already been done, as opposed to hitting the Texas Gulf coast where it would be displacing a whole new set of people and causing more damage.

Hello. I am the STSF Resident Egomaniac, and I would like to welcome you to the Star Trek Simulation Forum at stsf.net (as opposed to stsf.com; try simming there :( !) Just remember that the secret to simming is to have fun and the secret word is "oscillation".

Holy crow, this topic is old!

This topic appears to have originated around the airing of the second season episode "Minefield" where the crew of the NX-01 encountered the Romulans in a minefield. The encountered the Romulans again in the "Babel One/United/The Aenar" Romulan arc when the Romulans used the two holoships to instigate war. Romulans also played an indirect role in Vulcan society with the former leader of the former High Command collaborating with the Romulans.

Outcast Genius

65 % Nerd, 65% Geek, 65% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius.

Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject).

Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius.

Congratulations!

Oh, yeah! How about dem Iggles?

Down for the count.

Either I am seriously lagging or it's down again. I'm guessing the latter.

Hey, welcome to STSF.net (as opposed to STSF.com). I look forward to simming with you in the Academies. The secret word is "cybertorium".

Don't worry...by week 5, teams start playing like their talent level (Which is why the Steelers will be fighting the Browns for the basement. :) )

Works for me! :P

Do you mean an animated GIF like Seiben has?

It didn’t take long for Murray to have his shoes off and sitting with his feet on the sofa. He had forgotten how much he loved being home, his real home, not his home in space. He accepted the glass of apple juice his mother offered.

“You haven’t been home in a while,” his mother accused as she sat.

“I know. But I’ve been busy with Starfleet.”

“Don’t they give you shore leave?”

“Mom, I haven’t even been in space a year yet. I haven’t needed shore leave.”

He took a sip of apple juice. It had always been his favorite. He was surprised at the taste: it was real, not the stuff that a replicator hands out. And it was cold, too. He might just have to come home more often just so he could get some real apple juice.

“Do you like it? We made it ourselves.”

“You made it? From real apples?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you? We bought the land behind us and turned it into an orchard. We make real apple juice, real apple cider in the fall, and real applesauce.”

Murray was practically drooling. He remembered his mother's delicious homemade applesauce from his childhood. She would go down to the Gettysburg area just to get real apples to make it; that area was one of the few places that still produced real apples.

“An orchard? In Campbelltown? It’s kind of odd, but whatever works.”

“It produces well. We keep some juice and sauce for ourselves, then the rest goes to restaurants. We keep some apples for baking, too.”

Murray looked around. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out in the orchard checking for insects and disease.”

Murray finished his apple juice and left to wander the house. There were definitely some difference from the last time he was here almost two years ago. The main bathroom had be completely redone; the one off the master bedroom had a new paint job. New carpeting all over the house, new furniture, light fixtures, and new cookware. What had once been the office, laundry room, and part of the basement were now converted to an area devoted to model railroading.

As Murray went to bed that night, he came to a decision. Change wasn’t scary, just intimidating. And all one needed was the right frame of mind to accept it.

Murray walked up the driveway towards the door. The two story house loomed before him in a sea of beautiful green grass. The lawn was neatly trimmed; the sides of the house lined with flowers; the trees swayed in the breeze, just as they had years before. Murray spotted a paper white birch tree to the left of the house, not too far from the tool shed. Not too far from it was a Bradford pear tree. Those were his favorites.

As Murray walked up the brick pat toward the door, he suddenly felt the urge to stop; something in the back of his mind scared him. It scared him so much that he almost didn’t want to be there.

It was change. Change is inevitable, a part of life. People change; places change. There isn’t really much that can be done about it. Everyone in life comes to expect it, but that doesn’t always make it any easier to accept, even if it is a change for the better.

Murray knew and understood this. He didn’t want to face change, but he knew that he should be here. It was only right.

He sighed and rang the doorbell. What lurked inside? What had the evil forces of change done? He tensed as he heard someone approaching the door. As it opened, he fought the urge to squeeze his eyes closed. But then he saw a person to whom time and change had paid a visit, but to whom they had not been unkind, and suddenly he found himself in her arms, happy to be there.

“Hi, Mom.”

Wimbley Murray’s Personal Log

Stardate 0507.14

I received my starship assignment today. I will be serving aboard the USS Walker under the tutelage of their tactical and Chief of Security officer Lieutenant Vanessa Anderson. The ship will be here in three days time. We will be heading out to the Andorian system to run training scenarios there. I am very much looking forward to this.

In the meantime, I am packing up. The Academy wants me out of my room so they can ready it for the fall semester. I have been told that I will have my own quarters on the Walker, so I can keep all of my stuff with me. This is a good thing. I wouldn’t want to give it to Saf to hold on to. Who knows what sort of booby traps he would plant.

I must say, three months back on Earth have been heavenly. It’s nice to experience weather. I never realized how much I missed the sun and even the rain. Still, it will be good to get back into space. That just leaves me with one more thing to do before I leave.

“You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I did. Ask my roommate.”

“I meant ‘I don’t believe you’ as in ‘You are such an idiot’.”

Murray rolled his eyes at his cousin, Gerhard, whom everyone called “Saf”. They were sitting in the café in Robinson Building eating breakfast. Murray was clearly disturbed by his cousins actions.

“You went commando to class?”

Saf smiled again, that smile that looks friendly, but also has a slight hint of insanity in it. Wimbley suspected that this was the sort of smile that Douglas Adams had envisioned for Ford Prefect in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

“Yes. I had a lab that day, too. We were working with hypospanners, anyon emitters, and bipolar torches.”

Murray sighed and put a hand over his face. Saf had always been a strange one. He’d dance like a maniac while standing on a table, even if there wasn’t any music, or worse yet, when there was calming, slow, peaceful music.

Murray looked up. Saf’s smile had grown even more psychotic. He sighed again.

“I must say, though, these uniforms are nice and comfortable.”

“Okay, I really did not need to kn…”

“Incoming transmission.”

Murray stopped and thought for a moment. Was he imagining things or did his second donut just say “incoming transmission”.

“Incoming transmission.”

Murray stared at the donut, seeing Saf out of the corner of his eye. What practical joke had he set up this time? A rigged donut? What was it going to do, tell him to change his socks? Sing the Billboard Song, maybe?

“Incoming transmission.”

Murray looked up at Saf, who, curiously, was rolling his eyes. Murray opened his mouth to ask him what he had done and is that donut edible when Saf picked up the donut and it’s wax paper and pulled out a padd. Murray stared at it in disbelief. Oh, he thought. I wondered where I had put that. Murray took it from the smirking Saf and opened his message.

FROM: Starfleet Command: Starship Operations, Starfleet Command: Assignment Division

TO: Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Wimbley X. Murray, Starfleet Academy, 1438 Forrest Dormitory

RE: Advanced Tactical Training Starship Assignment

Mr. Murray,

We have received and processed your request for a training assignment aboard a starship as part of your Advanced Tactical Training. Please keep in mind that assignments are made in order of receipt of the request and by rank. You may not end up on the starship of your choice. Regardless, you will be assigned to a Starfleet vessel. Starfleet vessels are dedicated to duty and training; any vessel in the fleet could serve as a training vessel.

Your assignment: USS Walker NCC-47683, Excelsior class under the command of Captain H.J. Hunt

Rear Admiral Fingal B. Chisholm

Admiral Martin J. Hummel

Wimbley Murray’s Personal Log

Stardate 0506.30

I got an express trip to the Academy Medical Ward today. We were in the holodeck running an anticipation scenario with an elusive Klingon. However, our team leader momentarily forgot this and led us right into a ravine where he came up behind me and took me out. I had one broken rib, three more cracked, a large cut on my forehead, and a large bruise on my back. I swear they turn up the pain settings in order for us to feel our mistakes.

We have received notification that phase three of training will commence next week. We need to choose a starship from a provided list on which we want to serve during the final three weeks on training. I am going to talk to Sheila’s father for advice on which ship to choose. He is a commander on Admiral Hendrix’s staff at Starfleet Security. I’m sure he can give me some advice on which starship to choose.