Entries for November, 2010

Below you will find a basic psychological prolfiling survey form. These questions have been designed to allow us to evaluate any potential issues that might be triggered by various factors such as prolonged time in an enclosed environment, HSDS, interpersonal interactivity with fellow crew members, cognitive function and other stressors. Please answer these questions as thoroughly as you are able. Your answers will be viewed only by the the Global Health Organization's phsychologist on-staff at Isley.

Thank you for your cooperation.


1. If you could wake up tomorrow anywhere in the galaxy, where would it be? Why?
            That’s easy.  At the helm of my own ship.  Anywhere in deep space, with no planets around, no asteroids, no wars, no people.  Just peace.



2. What’s the worst thing or person you could be trapped in a room with?

            Probably a ship with no engines.  Or my idiot uncle.


3. What would be the hardest thing, person or aspect of yourself for you to give up?

            My freedom, I think.  Having my personal choice being taken away, being tied down.  That sort of thing.  I guess you could possibly read this as a fear of responsibility, psych-analyzer.


4. If you were a character on a soap opera, what would be a shocking twist about you that would precede a commercial break?

            Maybe that I was almost directly responsible for the death of the entire crew of the Hemmingway.

            Or that I hate soda.


5. List three things you want, but are so unnecessary you would never buy them on your own.

            I want a signed Emmitt Smith rookie card, the original workprint of Star Wars, and a cruise of my own.


6. Tell about a time when you felt the most:

...happy.

            The day I passed my flight test.


...scared.

            My first blind atmosphere re-entry.  No instruments, no comm, just praying that my math was up to speed.


...angry.
            The day my Dad took my car away because I failed chemistry

           

...sad.
            I don’t know.  I don’t think I’m sad very often.  I think it’s kind of a useless emotion.  No point, doesn’t help things, ever.           



7. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
            I think I kind of have a horse-head.



8. What’s a surefire way to elicit a good reaction from you? What about a bad reaction?
            A good reaction?  Tell me a joke.  A good one, and not just one that’s dirty.  Or make me a huge, greasy meal.  Like one that would be served at a diner. I love that stuff.  A bad reaction, well, probably insult my abilities.  I’ve been known to throw a few punches for that.

9. What is one of your pet peeves?
            I only have to name one?  This is the easiest psych profile I’ve ever taken.  People who call me flyboy,  but in that derogatory way.

10. What is the quality you admire most in yourself?

            I’m a survivor.

 

Posted by DrHeat on November 15, 2010 at 06:40 PM in Harlan Lincoln | 1 comments

Dear Mom,

 

 

How are things back home?  Did Fisher finally buy that gravbreaker he had his eye on for the last five years?  I know he wanted that thing so badly. 

 

I miss you guys.  Things are okay up here.  Our studies and stuff are really kicking up, with graduation in a month.   We’ve done a month-long tour around the system, Earth to Jupiter and back.  A couple of guys lost it and had to be put into stasis-comas for the rest of the trip, but I made it through okay.  I also did my first solo flyby and docking at Eden Station.  That was amazing.  Oh, yeah!  I also got the top score in my first blind atmosphere re-entry. It was kinda terrifying, though.  Maybe the most frightened I’ve ever been.

 

I’ve made a few friends up here.  There’s a kid who’s a real whiz with the navigation software that the ships run.  It’s neat, we really work well together.  His name is Jordan.  There’s also a cute girl in my class, her name is Fusey.  I think she likes me, who knows, maybe I’ll ask her out.  There’s also a really great pilot name Alastair, here.  He and I have a sort of friendly rivalry.  We get along just fine, we just like to sort of rag on each other, goad each other into performing our best.  The four of us are usually together, we get chow together, and spend our downtime together.  Call ourselves the Four Horsemen.

 

I know it’s really corny.

 

We keep hearing people talk about a war coming.  I don’t know, it kinda scares me.  I guess I just want you to pray that it doesn’t happen.  They also talk about inertial negation and mass suppression drives, so you never know what to believe.

 

Anyway,  I have an astrometrics class to go to, so I’ll write you later.

 

 Love you, tell everyone I said hi.

 

 

Harlan.

Posted by DrHeat on November 15, 2010 at 06:41 PM in Harlan Lincoln | Add a Comment

Dear Mom,

 

I know it’s been a while since I wrote you.  But a lot of things have changed.  War is here. Fusey and Alastair are dead.  Almost everyone in my entire graduating class is dead.  But, I’m okay.  So is Jordan.  We actually serve together, now.  We’re on the same ship.  We’re on a Georgian class cruiser, the Vigor.   

 

I actually think that he’s most of the reason I’m still alive.  Of course, he’d say the same about me.  We’ve been through some tough stuff.  War is scary as hell, Mom.  Battles are terrifying.  It’s not like pew-pew lasers of the movies.  It’s ships ramming each other in the dead of space.  Gyroscope craft spin huge spiked balls that slam into the enemy, tearing hull away.  Some have jury-rigged blades that slice through your hull and vent air, so your entire crew is sucked out screaming into the void.  And boarding operations, where you can hear your men being blown away and slaughtered, before you have to initiate massive gee-force maneuvers to pulp human beings inside your ship and hope the tug crews and repair teams can clean it out.  There are magnetic mines that are blown out of airlocks that attach to any foreign ships hull and blow the hell out of it.

 

It’s bloody and horrible and the stuff of madness. 

 

Doesn’t bother Jordan, though.  I think if it wasn’t for him, I would have gone AWOL.  It sickens me, now.  All the killing and fear.  It gets to you.  But, you know what, Mom? We’re good at it.  Jordan and I.  We’re the best.  No one can beat us, and we’ve whupped everything they’ve sent after us.

 

And then, there are times when it makes me feel alive.  That rush of adrenaline and terror make you feel like there’s nothing else in the world that matters.  I have a purpose, I have meaning.  I’m a soldier, a pilot. I keep my people alive.  Sometimes that’s good enough.  To know that I’m not alone, and that everyone else around me WANTS to be here, they ain’t some snot-nosed draftee.  I serve with enlisted men.  As much as I hate it, as much as it scares me, I think I belong here. 

 

Love you,

 

Harlan.

Posted by DrHeat on November 15, 2010 at 06:44 PM in Harlan Lincoln | 1 comments