Letters to My Sister

9 12 2009

What you are going to read today is something called “The Letter Game”. It operates on the basic principle of two characters, separated for some reason, writing letters to one another. Jennifer (my sister) and I decided to play together as a way to pass time and work out our writing muscles. So bookmark both my blog and hers and prepare for the adventure. I’ll be posting on Tuesday’s, Jennifer on Wednesday’s or Thursday mornings. Enjoy

Danika Cain
Pass # 26572
S.S. Sumpter
out of New Haven
bound for Planet 6 Beta


I had coffee with the Colonel yesterday and sorted out some of my complaints re security. It turns out that he is the doing the ONLY screening of our letters. He’s somehow worked it out to bypass both the gov regulations and IG’s internal security. For a colonel with a floppy mustache and a comb-over he has remarkable clout. But I’m glad that he’s the only one reading these (for the time being and until some horrid desk clerk at Com or at IG figures out we’re thumbing our noses at them). But that explains the delay. The poor man has plenty to do during the day and reading our verbose letters is NOT high on his priority list.

Re the Doses. If there is a precipitate at the bottom of the vial it probably means that the Passes have “curdled” it, for lack of a better term. Sometimes the internal shields in Pass ships malfunction ever so slightly. It’s not enough to hurt a human but it can affect the molecular structure of simple bio-vites like the Doses. It wouldn’t hurt you to take it but it wouldn’t do you any good either. I recommend slipping it to Garvey as recompense for the loss of the shampoo. It will give him a nasty purple rash on his neck and turn his urine black. Or should, if it’s the kind of Dose alteration that I’ve studied. I’ve sent ahead a fortnight’s worth of new Doses (courtesy of the IG stock room). Also a lovely purple sweater that I bought you since your cat won’t sleep on anything but the sweatshirt that I stole. Ha!

I will say nothing about the head shaving except I heartily disapprove and it’s a good thing you have a pretty skull.

What did you do to your CO to have landed meat-locker-purging duties? You better do a damned good job because those monks can smell flesh-tainted metal from two moons away. And they’re none to fastidious about where they spit during prayer so don’t stand too close to any of them.

And now on to me!

I DID go to the ball but I did NOT buy the velvet dress. I chose a white and gold brocade instead. It’s hopelessly old-fashioned looking but it suits my coloring and my legs. (If you can’t be pretty at least have a decent set of legs!) A car came and picked me up and I arrived just late enough to attract attention when entering. It’s no good saying anything about being a camera hog or an attention-monger. I’m not. Truly. I can’t help being too tall for life and people WILL stare no matter what I wear so why not show off a little leg? I danced six dances and spent the rest of the night either arguing molecular physics with two scientists from my old regiment or making eyes at a particularly attractive second leuitenant. (No, we were never introduced and it’s too bad. He looked a decent sort. He even had laugh lines and a dimpled chin!) Plus he had three medals one of which was for scientific valor!

The whole event was very pleasant but all it really did was make me miss the Force. Back in college it seemed like such a glorious way to serve and I joined up with very little understanding about Life. The military made an adult out of me and it taught me how to live for something other than myself. Granted, I was never in battle but I did my part and did it well, I think. The people in my regiment are the ones that made me Me.

Oh I don’t know what this is all about. I’m feeling hopelessly apathetic and full of ennui today. My job at IG is decent enough but it lacks any higher purpose. Who cares which generals and admirals and diplomats are immune to the Plague? Only a few of them actually leave Earth anyway! I just test and file and process and test and process and file and it’s BORING. Not that being back in the military would be any better…

What is an over-qualified bio-chemical engineer turned Lab mule to do? I mean, since I can’t go to space…

Ignore me, sister dear. I’m probably just suffering from dyspepsia from all the rich food at the party. Angelo and the fellows called earlier today to invite me to dinner at the restaurant tonight so dinner is on you, sister sweet!

The only other bit of news is that I am taking cooking lessons in my spare time. Not from Angelo, don’t worry. I know better than to take any attention away from the restaurant and whatever pretty girl he is chasing at the moment. I found a tiny little cooking school on Twelfth and Forest, third level. It’s run by a woman that I could literally pick up and put in my pocket. She is wrinkled as old paper and has a voice like a bird on helium. I thought of introducing her to my boss just to watch them interact but decided not to be cruel. Thus far we have done nothing but learn eighteen ways to prepare potatoes. Looking forward to next week when we start on leeks!

And if you want to see Lars blush, by all means mention me. We were involved in a rather embarrassing situation with our CO and two of his guests one night when we were supposed to be on guard duty. But by all means, mention me and ask him whether he “knows the password”.  Tell me what he says in your next!

Oh I must fly! I’m late for work and for all I know they draw and quarter employees for that at IG!





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