14 July 2011, 12:52 CDT - Roaring and Returns

I've gotten maybe four hours of sleep in as many days. There's this insane, huge-ass roaring noise coming from somewhere on the station. (Platinum DJ Bentley D, MC, PhD, must have had some bad chili.)  It almost sounds mechanical, like gears grinding, but I can't think where we stored a couple eight-hundred-ton gears. It's keeping me up at night. And the rest of the crew, too, except Nosemeal, who's basically in a coma. I don't think it's any kind of medical issue; he's just locked down from fear.

And Iron Man's been returned to us. He looks, uh, not that bad, actually, except for one tiny little flaw in the overall image of perfection. His eyes. They're gone. Not clean empty black sockets where his eyes should be like you see in the movies, but like someone took a chainsaw to his skull and ripped out his eyes. The scary part is, from what he's frantically mumbling and the way his hands are trembling, I think he gouged them out himself. Meaning that there's some serious shit hitting some serious fans right now.

Huh. Maybe the noise is coming from a big old fan?

Red October, over and out.

9 June 2011, 14:53 CDT - Work and Wobbling

I'm not going to mention that I found Iron Man's stash of wine. Nope. Not gonna mention it. And I'm definitely not drinking it right now.

Maintenance duty's a bitch. When I say "maintenance," you think "engineering work" or something, right? Think, maid. I'm a maid. Very maidy. Cleaning. More like...maidtenance. So while I'm down or up or left or right on my hands and knees washing the floor or wall or ceiling or other wall, Iron Man's drinking out of his secret stash of wine that I didn't find and am not drinking.

Actually I won it from him in a game of cards, but I don't think he knows it yet. I'll be sure to tell him what he owes me. And then, oh no, no wine, what do I do? And I'll say, fuck off, because I drank it all already, except not right now.

Fucking hell. All the cameras are looking like eyes and the wires are looking like trees. I'm going fucking crazy. Or maybe it's just the alcohol. Which I'm not drinking.

Red October, over and out.

20 May, 2011, 22:54 CDT - Bereavement and Blame

We've just lost all of our observational data and about half of the rest of it. Houston, we have a problem, and Iron Man is pinning it all on me. As if I could tamper with it. They don't let me near the computers any more than they let me into Club Alpha back home.

Nonetheless, something's gone wrong here. The only video we've got left is just static. Static, static, static - hey, what's this? More static. Say - you there, nonexistent reader! Did you see anything funny during the Endeavor launch? Maybe something on the YouTube Q&A session? I was busy during most of it. Platinum DJ Bentley D, MC, PhD, King of Games, doesn't know what happened either. Perhaps something suspicious in the background? And we've got no more wine. That was good stuff, while it lasted.

I had the same dream last night. Only this time the sun turned into a giant eyeball and its pupil into the silhouette of a tree. Looked very similar to the constellation-tree, really.

What's this, dalies and mentlegen? Iron Man has suggested that the problem is external. See you after my spacewalk, I suppose. I wouldn't be surprised if he disconnects me from the station, the bastard. Have I made that clear? Iron Man is a BASTARD.

Red October, over and out.