Word: Kaput

kaput

[ kah-poo t, -poot, kuh- ]

adjective Slang.

1. ruined; done for; demolished.

2. unable to operate or continue: The washing machine is suddenly kaput.

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               Chief Engineer Ken Fields pushed himself through the hallway, lit dimly with red lights. His body floated through the corridor, easily maneuvering through the space with minimal effort. There were a lot of things Ken knew, but there were two that were very important at that moment. One was that red lights were always bad. The second was that he should not be floating.

               He quickly arrived at his post, the engineering section of the ship. There he found Hank, his subordinate and the only other engineer aboard the ship. The large man was hovering, curled up in the fetal position and was sobbing quietly.

               “Hank? Hank! Pull yourself together, man.” Ken said.

               Hank slowly stopped crying and unfurled his hefty form. “Sorry, boss, it’s just…just…I think we’re going to die.”

               “Why? What happened?”

               “It’s the main power core.”

               “What? Did we run out? No, that can’t be. We should have plenty of energy left.”

               “Yeah, boss. Enough to get us from Betelgeuse to Alpha Centauri and back again. But that’s not the problem. The problem is everything else. The connectors are shot, the regulators have blown out. Even the modulator’s done fore. Hell, I’m pretty sure even the basic wiring’s useless now.”

               Ken floated over to the core and looked it over. Hank was right. Every single part save the core itself was well passed working order. The only reason the ship was not currently a bunch of space debris was because the energy simply had nowhere to go, so it just sat in its containment.

               “Well, have you tried replacing anything? Where are the backup parts?”

               “Those are the backup parts. Remember? We changed them out a week ago.”

               “Oh yeah. And the captain said he’d get them replaced, but didn’t. Even though we told him something like this would happen.” Ken said, grinding his teeth when he thought about their credit pinching “leader”.   

               Ken looked it over again. It he and Hank worked their butts off, they might be able to get another hour of power from the core. Hopefully before the emergency power failed and life support went dead. They might be able to get more out of it, but that was doubtful. There was only one thing he could do in this situation.

               He went over to the comms panel, thankful that it was still working and activated an all-ship announcement.

               “Hello everyone. This is Chief Engineer Kenneth Fields. I’m sure you’ve all noticed the lack of main power. This is because all parts that allow the ship to draw power from the core are either broken, worn out, or both. This is due entirely to Captain Bever skimping out on parts. He was informed that these parts are worn out and would fail. However, he chose to ignore this warning. As such, we are now stranded several light years away from the nearest port. I and Sub Engineer Hank Walters will be making every effort to get main power back online. However, nothing we do will make it permanent. I can promise one hour, and anything beyond that will be a miracle.

               “As much as it pains me to say, I advise all of you to…to go back to your quarters and make your Final Message. Good bye and prey to whatever god you believe in that we get picked up before everything breaks down.”

               “Boss?” Hank said when Ken ended the transmission. “I…I don’t want to die.”

               “I know. I know. Neither do I.”

               Faint sounds drifted down the hall. Shouting. Lots of shouting. The clanging of metal on metal, maybe a pulse shot. There was a mutiny going on. Not that it would do much good.

               “Hank, go back to your bunk and make your Final Message. I’ll get started on trying to jury rig this thing. When you finish, I’ll go and make mine.”

               “And after that?”

               “We get to work. We’ve got a miracle to make.”

********************************

Using Star Trek logic, these people will be: 1) rescued at the last moment by a friendly ship; 2) Rescued by a very unfriendly ship who will either imprison or enslave them; or 3) somehow pull some technobabble out of their butts and somehow make it to a safe port.

Which one it is remains to be seen.

Word: Staycation

staycation

[ stey-key-shuh n ]

noun

a vacation spent at home or near home, doing enjoyable activities or visiting local attractions.

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              Jeff had his legs draped on top of the couch, while his upper body was lying on the floor. He stared at the TV with glassy eyes. How long had it been since the season ended? Was it an hour? Two hours?

               “Man, this sucks.” He managed to utter.

               “What does?” Greg, Jeff’s roommate, asked.

               It took Jeff longer than it should have to respond to the question. “This. This whole thing that’s happening now. You know, not being able to do stuff?”

               “You mean the quarantine?”

               “Yeah, that. I mean, we’re supposed to be on vacation now, right?”

               “Yup. Had it booked last year.”

               “And now we can’t go. Because nobody can go anywhere.”

               “Hey now, don’t be like that. We’re still on vacation. It’s just a different kind of vacation.”

               “How is this any different than the previous months? I mean, we’re doing the same exact thing.”

               “Yeah, but now we’re doing it because we want to, and not because we have to.”

               Greg tried to sound cheerful, but it rang hollow for both of them. Jeff oozed off the couch and sat up.

               “That’s not true and you know it. When you’re on a vacation, you’re supposed to go out and do something that isn’t watch Netflix or YouTube. We haven’t left the apartment in months, and the only difference is we don’t have to do any online work.”

               “Well there you go. Vacation. And we can do stuff. We can leave any time we want.”

               “And do what?”

               “Well, we have the local art galleries and museums and stuff. That’s vacation stuff.”

               “Okay, first of all, the art galleries we have here are, on average, two room a piece. And the art sucks. And the only museum we have around here is that lame bottle museum that only real weirdos want to see. And second of all, all of those are currently closed thanks to the quarantine. So is everything else that’s even remotely fun around here. So explain to me again how this is a vacation?”

               This time Greg did not even try to respond. He was having trouble thinking of anything vacation like as well. Jeff sprawled on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

               “Man, we should be on the beach now. We should be soaking up the sun and be neck deep in bikini babes. Instead, we’re here. Doing the same thing we’ve been doing for months.”

               “Oh don’t be so dramatic. There’s plenty of women around here, even if they are fully dressed. And anyway, this is all temporary. The quarantine will end, we’ll be able to go out and do stuff. And we’ll have another trip to the beach next year.”

               “Yeah, but that doesn’t help anyone now, does it? We’re still here, still not doing anything, and I don’t know about you, but I’m still bored out of my mind.”

               “Yeah, that’s fair.”

               It took several minutes before either of them did anything. Jeff eventually let out a frustrated growls and stood. He marched up to the door.

               “Where are you going?” Greg asked.

               “Technically we’re on vacation. I’m going to see if there’s something to do out there.”

               He opened the door and left the apartment.

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Seriously people, don't be stupid. Just because the worst is over doesn't mean the danger has completely passed yet. If you do go outside, be safe about it.

lugubrious

[ loo-goo-bree-uhs, -gyoo- ]

adjective

mournful, dismal, or gloomy, especially in an affected, exaggerated, or unrelieved manner: lugubrious songs of lost love.

************************************

               “Life sucks.” Jack said. His head was resting on the table and his eyes held a vacant look that seemed like it had been practiced.

               His roommate, Kevin groaned. Kevin’s girlfriend, Sally huffed and rolled he eyes. Both of them had heard this before.

               “Oh, what is it this time?” Kevin asked. “Did you forget to wash your clothes and now you don’t have anything clean?”

               “Maybe he slightly overcooked his lunch, and that just made everything worse.” Sally chimed in.

               “Oh, laugh it up. You two don’t understand my suffering.”

               “Oh please, when have ever suffered in your life?” Kevin said. “The worst thing that’s ever happened to you is having to wait a while to be seated at a busy restaurant.”

               “Yeah, really. You’ve got it pretty sweet.” Sally agreed. “You’ve got a nice place to live, a good job, plenty of food. Really, if you weren’t single, I’d say you were living the dream.”

               “Shows how much you know. My life is utterly miserable.”

               “How so?”

               “Oh, you two wouldn’t understand. You two are just so happy with each other. Frankly, it’s disgusting.”

               The couple looked at each other with sudden understanding. Jack had gone on a blind date last night. Apparently, it had not gone well.

               “Okay, what happened?” Kevin asked.

               “Nothing.” Jack said heavily.

               “Come on, you can tell us. How bad was it?”

               “Terrible. Awful. The worst date I’ve ever been on.”

               “It can’t be that bad.” Sally said.

               Jack slowly turned to look at the other two. He blinked with controlled, almost agonizing slowness.

               “She was the worst person I’ve ever met. She kept talking about…things.”

               “Well, what was she supposed to do?” Kevin asked. “I mean, isn’t talking what you’re supposed to do on a date? That’s pretty much what we did on our first date. And just about every date after that.”

               Sally nodded her agreement.

               “Not like this. I could barely get a word in. Even when she asked me something, she didn’t give me the chance to answer. She just kept going on and on.”

               Sally hummed and held her chin. “Seems like she’s either way too talkative or just a case of bad nerves. I’ve seen some women do that when they’re nervous. Others do just like the sound of their own voice. If it was the former, then just keep at it and she’ll calm down. If the latter, well, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

               “Even so, it could’ve been way worse.” Kevin said. “If the worst thing she did was talk, then I’d consider that a mild irritation and move on. Not a reason to be so gloomy.”

               Jack muttered under his breath.

               “Wait, is this because you came home alone? I bet it is.” Kevin said with a smirk.

               “Oh, that can’t be it.” Sally insisted.

               Jack turned away from them.

               “See? It totally is. He was expecting to get some action, and now he’s all gloomy and bummed that he didn’t get any.”

               Sally rolled her eyes. “I doubt that it’s like that. I mean, you didn’t care much when our first date ended like that.”

               “Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting it to. Jack was.”

               “So what?” Jack said. “Isn’t that normal?”

               Sally stared daggers at Jack. “You’re disgusting.” She then stood up and marched to Kevin’s room.

               “What? What’d I do?”

               Kevin went up to his roommate and clapped him on the back. “Buddy, take it from me. If that’s what made the date bad, maybe you’re the problem, and not the woman.”

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Yeah, I don't have much to say right now. Maybe next time.