Blogathon 2007: Chapter 2.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post
The random and senseless deaths hadn't stopped there.
They'd had to line the already rattle-trap ship with mats that resisted electricity. Faulty wiring had caused a bad electrocution incident during a ship-wide celebration when an ice sculpture, one of three art forms still practiced from ancient Earth, had melted prematurely and a promising young ensign, who had been performing scheduled control panel duties, died a fairly terrible death.
The incident was etched in his mind.
He couldn't get that smell out of his head yet, a kind of chicken and mustard smell. The ensign had been wearing the latest fashion fad, a thin, metal gown which was lovely to behold and helped the wearer lose weight during the festivities through sweat. The sweat, the metal, and the water had combined to do her no favors.
Just another crew member lost to increasingly bad luck.
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Labels: blogathon
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 7/28/2007 08:58:00 AM
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1 Comments:
Yes, sad to say, it is always an ensign who buys the farm. I wonder where that expression came from. Any ideas?
By 
Will, at
28/7/07 19:11
