The Good Ship Avilan: Tales From a Parent in the Time of COVID

The Good Ship Avilan:

Tales from a parent in the time of Covid

By Gabe Avila

I write this from aboard the interstellar vessel the Avilan, upon which I serve as quartermaster. I work closely with a staff sergeant, who is in charge of training new recruits, and the captain. However, due to an outbreak of purple spots we are unable to dock anywhere that is inhabited. If that was not enough, the staff sergeant was marooned when the docks closed. I have decided to document the results of this change for the flight record.

Two new recruits that used to be supervised jointly by the marooned staff sergeant are now under my command full-time. I am unused to having these petty officers with me so consistently, as they often work in other sectors of the ship. I don’t imagine it will be easy, though I look forward to getting to know them better.

Day 3. In order to alleviate the stress of our new team dynamics, I tasked the new recruits with studying a new chemical solution involving a semisolid powder and a stable liquid (aka cornstarch and water). This occupied the officers for some time. However, after I left the mess hall for a few minutes to acquire our daily rations and returned, I found the petty officers completely covered in the solution. It was in their hair. It was coating their arms. It was on our workstation. It was on the floor. Needless to say, I will be more mindful of my breaks in the future.

Day 11. The petty officers constructed wearable automobiles from bilayer fiberboard. Shortly thereafter, the younger officer ran out of the adjoining break room screaming, “Emergency! There’s a poop in there!” I immediately ran out of the bridge, horrified to think that one of the officers, or maybe even our furred interstellar delegate, might have defecated in the break room. However, when I went to the breakroom there was no evidence of defecation. The recruit looked at me and let out a burst of laughter, then ran back to the mess hall. The captain, confined to the bridge with far too much work, was well amused when I told her about this.

Day 17. The petty officers were so loud that I sent them to the edible flora sector to dig up some food items.  This is menial labor, but they seemed to enjoy it. The overhead watering system had recently been engaged however, so when they returned from their work they were covered in mud. A small price to pay for some silence. They collected a massive quantity of edible roots as well as worms, which they insist on calling chameleons. I’m not sure they even know what chameleons are but I find it charming nonetheless.

Day 23. Though I had a schedule for the officers, due to their extreme energy levels I threw much of the schedule out of the proverbial airlock. We now have designated a portion of the day as “free time,” which roughly translates to feral hour. During today’s feral hour, the petty officers reenacted a thunderstorm at excessive decibel levels, then, when feral hour failed to relieve their excess energy, did a field survey on a planet inhabited only by tiny, non-sentient arthropods. My coworkers surveyed every arthropodic hill we passed but thankfully kept their fingers to themselves.

Day 27. I think. The days begin to blur together. The petty officers completed written field reports while I was in the breakroom. However, upon my return they had spilled their ink and, with big grins, showed me their dyed hands. I wonder how long they will stay blue. Clearly I have not learned to be mindful of my breaks.

Day 42. I discovered the younger petty officer took up the study of art overnight and decorated her bunk. I suspect she stole her new writing implements from my office. I have returned the equipment to my storage compartments.

Day 57. We found an uninhabited planet today and went exploring. How peaceful it was to be with the new recruits in such a beautiful setting. They were happy to be off ship for a bit. We will definitely return.

Day 73. It has been more than 70 days now. We have visited more uninhabited planets than I care to admit, including one that had hundreds of tiny blue fruits which we picked for hours. We are getting to spend more quality time with each other than had before, for which I am thankful. Though only being able to communicate remotely with my staff sergeant (aka my kid’s teacher) is very difficult and being unable to leave the ship except for rare outings is quite monotonous, the new recruits and myself are adapting. I suspect we will continue to adapt.

I pray that we receive the all clear very soon. But I suspect this will continue for a while yet. To all the other ships, drifting in space, waiting for word, whether you have new recruits or not, the Avilan stands with you. May you have ample snacks and keep your smiles about you.