Crew Quotes

Nothing unusual was noted during the voyage, in fact everything ran smoothly until Security alerted Biscay about the stiff in cabin 407. Nobody heard or saw anything suspicious. None of the passengers were missing or acting suspiciously. No airlock doors were opened or any transports allowed since their last stop four days prior. There were no notorious names on the passenger list, nor any unsavory persons among the ranks of his crew. In fact, the ship’s commander had never even seen a dead body in real – um, life before. And yet, almost magically, there it was.

Christina Engela

Same time as every day, Fyl..." she fussed, the rest of the bridge crew seeming to hold their breaths. "TWELVE THIRTY!" came the chorus. The next hour dragged by, in about the same way as the hour before that. At twelve twenty-five, Commander Ortez found himself stepping out of an elevator into an equally mundane grey steel corridor on his way to the mess hall. Turning a corner, he met with a stream of crewmen milling around between shifts. Some off-duty personnel were lounging around in civvies, which consisted mostly of re-revamped 60's hippy fashions. Of all the places on the ship, the mess was the most spacious, (i.e.: it was a big mess.) The command officer’s balcony overhung the rest of the crew dining area. Ortez sat at his usual place, wincing as he remembered to get someone to fix the springs in his chair. An ensign, 3rd class dressed in chef’s white, served him with a plate of what either ended up feeding the chefs latest pet - or strangling it. Marnetti, Barnum and the sciences officer Commander Jaris Skotchdopole filed in, not necessarily in that order, and found seats. After a few bites, Marnetti -- who was the first officer and navigator, put up a hand and signalled a waiter. The lad approached fearfully, appreciating the highlight of his day.

Christina Engela

On any given day, Ossifar Distana carried around 5000 passengers, the actual figure varying slightly depending on where she was on the vast elliptical cruise that took her around the Terran Empire. When she entered the system she carried 4984 passengers, 500 crew, one dead body and one very puzzled Captain.

Christina Engela

Joe!” he groaned, attempting to speak clearly. “Joe! Good ol’ Joe!”“Captain, you’re drunk!” Lofflin said, stating the obvious while trying to keep his voice level. Blaine grinned at him lopsidedly and giggled, almost choking. He slapped the table, knocking his empty glass over.“Ye-ss, I am! Don’t ssup-pose you – think I co-uld ssit here an’ calmly wait t’die – dýou? Weee-ll, not ssob-er anyway. Ha ha ha.”Disgust and hopelessness were swelling inside him. He felt like punching that drunken face till it was either sober or unconscious.“Damn it, Captain! We need you – the crew needs you! You’re turning your back on them – in our most desperate time!

Christina Engela

Now he sat alone; on a disabled starship about fifty years from anywhere on conversion drive – assuming he still had that. Insurance was a good thing – a very good thing - but it wasn’t going to help him much out here. The highlight of his afternoon was going to be staring at the blinking bridge instrumentation – which just happened to be running on the emergency batteries and actually blinking, like for real. Moreover, since his mutinous crew had made off with the Short Shit, the ships only shuttle, he was facing quite a problem

Christina Engela

Sabotage isolated them from their home, thwarting any hope of outside help. Frantic, unreliable sightings of frightening things – horrible things - led to chaos. The crew, terrified, opted to die fighting and went hunting for their attacker. Kaine’s only regret was that they found it. It killed them all.Systematically.

Christina Engela

Calm sailing doesn't come from calm waters, it comes from having a good navigator; a good crew and a good vessel.

Anthony T.Hincks

Quinn came forward and Sam pulled him aside. His old friend looked tortured and sad.“What’s up, brah?” Sam asked.Quinn couldn’t speak. He was choked with emotion. “Dude . . .”“You want to stay in town.”“My crews . . . my boats and all . . .”Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Quinn, I’m glad you found something so important to do. Something you really like.”“Yeah, but . . .”Sam pulled him into a brief hug. “You and me, we’re still friends, man. But you have responsibilities.

Timaset didn’t need a ship – especially not a flying museum piece! And as far as he knew, a dodgy plasma injector could drop you smack into a wormhole ending somewhere on the other side of the universe with no way back. Well, he could always sell the damn thing. Couldn’t he? He could use the money. Damn, he could always use the money! Maybe the crew would want to buy it over from him?

Christina Engela