PatrickCumby.com Posts

Inspired by Mudd’s Women, a story by Gene Roddenberry and teleplay by Stephen Kandel.

TALOS is personal project, just for fun: a short-story retro-imagining of classic Star Trek original series episodes, told from the perspective of the unseen crewmembers down in the lower decks.

GOOD FOOD IN SPACE, IT AIN’T EASY. We got a bank of freezers for the real stuff just off the galley, but let’s face it, nothing tastes right after being frozen for months. We also got a big old pantry of dry goods, and when we hit a planet with food that humans can eat, I stock up on fresh veggies and sometimes even meat, but it never lasts long.

The food replicators can make anything that’s been programmed into their menu, but really, y’all? That stuff ain’t fit to eat. You know what it’s made from, right? Amnotic sludge stored in a tank down on Deck Eighteen. Order up a replicated turkey sandwich? It ain’t bread and mayonnaise and turkey and lettuce, no sir, it’s amnotic sludge from Deck Eighteen. Falafel and hummus? Nope, amnotic sludge. Wonton soup? Amnotic sludge. Mashed potatoes and red-eye gravy? Sludge. No matter what you order from that fancy computer, it’s just one ingredient: sludge. And really, nobody likes to think on it, but everybody knows how that sludge tank down on Deck Eighteen gets refilled. A starship is a closed system. Food gets eaten, processed by your gut, pooped out, then processed again by the ship’s plumbing back into amnotic sludge. When you eat a replicated meal, there ain’t no telling how many times it’s been eaten before.

Inspired by Where No Man Has Gone Before, a teleplay by Samuel A. Peeples.

TALOS is personal project, just for fun: a short-story retro-imagining of classic Star Trek original series episodes, told from the perspective of the unseen crewmembers down in the lower decks.

THE FARTHER I AM FROM HOME, the more I dream of it.

The ground is cool and dry on my bare feet, the air is pungent with ripening fruit. Alexi is chasing me along the dirt path between our barn and the wall of plinch that marks the edge of the east field. It’s harvest time, and the fruit is draping from the stalks in purple curtains. I snatch a rotten plinch and fling it in his direction. It misses. He laughs. I race for the entrance to the field, hoping to lose myself in the plinch maze, but Alexi just turned thirteen and his legs are longer than mine and he catches me and lifts me, twirling me akimbo until I’m upside down. I’m out of breath and can only gasp as he tickles me. He throws me over his shoulder and marches to the house.

The aroma of dinner floats out of the kitchen window, and I can see dad toiling over the stove, stirring a pot and staring sternly at its contents. He looks out the window and rolls his eyes at my muddy clothes and stick-infested hair. My brother, none too gently, tosses me to the grass like a sack of bones.

“Go get washed up, Pip,” he orders.

Inspired by The Corbomite Maneuver, a teleplay by Jerry Sohl.

TALOS is personal project, just for fun: a short-story retro-imagining of classic Star Trek original series episodes, told from the perspective of the unseen crewmembers down in the lower decks.

THE FIRST TIME I CLIMBED UP HERE a couple of months ago I was thrilled. I wanted to see what it was like near the engines, feel the raw intensity of the space warp field from close quarters. It only took climbing halfway up to realize why the ship’s designers put the engines so far away from the habitable part of the ship. I swore never to volunteer for pylon duty again, yet here I am once more, halfway up this damn tube, scratching and squirming and trying not to freak out from claustrophobia.