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Yep. My original idea is that they're extinct, but we could do anything. Shall we say they're endangered?

So we've evolved to the point where we can create anything?

All right, I'll stop making fun. It's clearer to me now and I like the idea. As long as there's a cap on things it should be very fun.

What kind of rates of pay are we talking about here, or will that vary across profession, level, etc?

So instead of points we buy raw materials with credits or whatever and then use them to make things?

You get a bilge pump

I put in a gazelle carcass...

...oh wait, wrong topic 

This has a lot of big words that I would usually take as an insult since I don't understand them. I have nothing to contribute here. If it's fun I'll do it...that's as cerebral as I get!

Its when JK changes it so when he's next on I suppose.

Thanks buddy!

You get hill green turkey tee.
I PUT IN AH LAZER!!!!!!!!!!!11

You get the ancestral Lannister Valyrian steel sword, Brightroar.

I put in a ribeye steak.

Just a general question, and sorry if it's been addressed before. How long does it take the rank on my ID card to update from one dot to the correct two?

[Do you DESERVE to fetch me another drink?]

=/\=Personal log=/\=

I'm not the only one getting promoted. Laura just sent me a message: what we had recently interpreted as a 7-9 week pregnancy is actually at 13 and a half weeks! Our baby has gone from a grape to a peach. A peach is a popular hand fruit so I am even more disconcerted by the food comparison. For example, the other day I saw a lunk from Engineering happily munching on a peach in the mess. Soon, however, the baby will be the size of a lemon and people eat those less often.

Speaking of the mess, you'd think those people have never heard of a man needing a decent meal. Back home we usually ate as a family and Laura does not require as much food as I do, so I ate less. Here on the Gettysburg, however, there is no one to stop me from eating my fill and I've been busily tucking in whenever I have the time: mounds of eggs, bacon, and carafes of coffee for breakfast, a healthful salad with plenty of seafood or chicken for lunch, and of course steaks, chops, and roasts for dinner. Being an asocial lifeform I usually dine alone in my quarters but once a week I go to the mess to remind the riffraff who is in charge.

So one of the flotsam who serves food, a humanoid female of indeterminate species, glides up to me and takes my order and comes back with my synthahol whiskey on the rocks. She then stood there and waited, looking at me.

Such people have to be kept in their place. I owed her no requisite conversation besides giving her my order so I let her stand there. Seconds stretched in to minutes, and still she waited, tray held against her body, looking at me intently while I drank and ignored her.

When my drink was done she prompted, "Another?" I wondered if this was some new level of service Starfleet is providing, to have a person wait on someone one on one. I fixed her with a look, as if to say, Do you DESERVE to fetch me another drink? but I just nodded.

"You must have wanted to know why I was standing here?" She asked.

I gave her a noncommittal shrug.

"You order the same thing, week in and week out. We have access to the replicator records, as well. You eat meat, meat, meat, vegetables, vegetables, vegetables. Occasionally a piece of fruit. Never a sweet. Never a drink besides water and a bit of hard stuff. That means Á¢â,¬Ëœsynthahol."

I was about to tell her I grew up in rural Pennsylvania and knew what hard stuff really was, not synthahol, but I still didn't speak. I wondered if snooping into someone's dining habits was against the regulations somehow.

"My people do not consume animals, only plants."

How fascinating. I continued to stare at her, looking through her, really, past the bulkheads, the hulls, and through space and infinity, right to earth, to where my woman and babies were, not here in this starship having to deal with this nonsense.

"I said Á¢â,¬Ëœrocks.' That means ice." I held the glass out. "Now go fetch it and cease your witless prattle, you preachy piece of flotsam."

She snatched it from my hand with a level of violence bordering on a violation of regulations and stalked off behind the bar. I saw her talking to the head bartender, a tough old man, civilian but resembling a great big vicious ape that had learned how to mix with polite society. When he began to move toward me I stood to as if to leave.

The ape quickened his pace to intercept  me and as he moved closer and closer I spotted a couple of engineering lunks ahead of me sharing an enormous platter of crabs. Always hated the things-

Timing it perfectly, when the ape was almost to me and opened his mouth I adroitly swiveled a hip as if to turn to face him-

I had meant to only hit the platter of crabs but I miscalculated and bumped the table with my hip, knocking the platter, some drinks, utensils to the ground-

One of the lunks stood, angrily cursing-

The other was flinging away steamy hot crab juice from her hair-

The ape, propelling himself forward with his bold old gait, stepped on a crab and slipped, acrobatically whipping a leg up in the air-

A sharp jab from my shoulder into the chest of the standing engineer crewman as I dodged away from the slipping ape was all it took. The lunk fell into the table and his female companion and all of them fell to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and stinking shellfish-

I ambled out of the mess like I owned the place. Everyone glared at me as I left but what were they going to do, throw me in the brig for spilling some crabs? It must have looked suspicious but to hell with that riffraff.

I returned to my quarters stinking but feeling triumphant.

You get a giraffe-spotted onesie.

I put in a rotting salmon carcass.

You get an angry 19th century stage coach driver

I put in a handful of marbles

[resistance is futile]

=/\=Personal log=/\=

More news from the homefront: my little boy is resisting all attempts at potty training or sleeping in his own bed. As parents our (Laura's, as I'm sitting here in my quarters, not on Earth) usual response is desperate resistance is futile but my son is as stubborn and inexorable as any Borg drone. Might be time to ease off the little guy for a bit. He does have a lot to adjust to: my being away and he's about to be a big brother.

I really miss him and told him so the other day. It's amusing, Laura says we're more like brothers than father and son. Sometimes it really seems like it'd be easier to be a toddler than have to be here on the Gettysburg.

Oh, I shouldn't say so. Things have been getting easier. Everyone is starting to get used to one another, except for the new medical officer.

Ensign XoranÁ¢â,¬"excuse me, Trisha, as she prefers to be calledÁ¢â,¬"is the most unusual officer I've ever met in my career. Some part of her reminds me of my wife. She's very sweet, eager, but also very troubled and I think a bit insane. I'm talking more than your average Starfleet officer, by the way. Sometimes she looks a little glazed and will come to a moment later, looking very dazed. This is also something she has in common with my wife.

I will never understand why some officers go through the Academy and then insist on being addressed by their minions as if they were playing billiards. Oh well, it takes all kinds I suppose...

Congratulations! Another 14 years or so and we'll have a new recruit!

Can I just get my Recruitment Ribbon now?

Congratulations!!!! When is it due? (Sorry if that was already asked but my tablet makes surfing the site a pain)

It was not asked. And my iPhone is the same way...August 23rd!

Well surely you have him enrolled in Star Fleet Academy, right? 

Jedi daycare (where the daycare worker is Yoda) for one and Starfleet Academy for the other

Congrats! Have you begun setting up it's future Star Trek themed room yet? 

Thank you...we have a Cars themed room so maybe Star Trek is the way to go! No, my girlfriend abhors the Trek and loves the Wars so if anything it'll be SW themed...which I have no problem with!

I don't know, I can see respecting how its made. Star Trek is holy to me. But more than I respect anything holy I have a need to have things over people. So for me to be able to truthfully say, "I was in a Star Trek film" would be worth having some of the magic ruined.

Star Wars I wouldn't have a second thought about...that series has become so marginalized and a parody of itself there's no magic left.