A Few Words About Last Night’s Incident...
Team,
As many of you are aware, I am not much for words, and prefer to let my deeds and actions speak for themselves.
Unfortunately, last night my deeds and actions may have said some things that were not entirely up to our usual code of conduct aboard this craft.
I understand the orbital sound system should always be used for official messages, alerts, and other necessary communications. I am truly sorry for blasting The Screaming Trees and TSOL (post punk, vintage dark period of course) throughout the one hundred and eighty-one decks of this space-station, at extremely high decibels that caused many of you to legitimately question if there was a hostile life-form invasion or other potentially catastrophic occurrence—and I can say, no, this wasn’t the case. Only a very drunk man reliving times now long past.
Yes, I over-indulged. The Nublosh whiskey was… exquisite. Perhaps too exquisite. A gift from a grateful (or possibly sarcastic) envoy, its aroma hinted at plum, ozone, and regret. I accepted it in a spirit of diplomacy. I consumed it in a spirit of despair. Somewhere between the second sip and the impromptu wrestling match with the navigation console, I lost track of myself.
I am told that I gave a stirring 18-minute speech to the waste chute, declared war on my own shadow, and attempted to rename the ship The Moist Celestial. I have no recollection of these events, but I do not dispute them. Nor do I condone the ceremonial hat I fashioned from protein rations.
Professor Chu, I am deeply sorry that I placed you in a headlock. And gave you a wicked nuggy. Again, my apologies.
It appears it was I, who repainted the emergency shuttle bay door with what appears to be a wolf in a leather jacket, labeled “Captain Freedom.” Truly sorry. I suppose I must find a clean-up crew at some point to remove this unique & bold display of creativity.
Anyway, I digress. To those I startled, confused, or accidentally promoted: I offer my deepest apologies. To the rest of you, thank you for your patience, your discretion, and for not uploading the footage to the central archive (as per protocol and basic decency).
There are moments in command when the weight of responsibility grows heavier than even gravity can bear—when the stars we chase feel less like destinations and more like distant witnesses to our unraveling. Last night was such a moment. And I must, with no small amount of shame, address what occurred.
This ship deserves a steadier hand. I intend to provide it, starting now. The whiskey has been jettisoned. The shadow has apologized. And the waste chute remains a loyal, if silent, ally.
Carry on. And please—if you must toast anything tonight, toast quietly.
Respectfully,
Captain Jake
Commanding Officer
