On galactic date 01.20.3001, my son, Jonathan W. Ludwig Jr. will take command of the Intergalactic Cruiser, Liberace. He will be the youngest captain of the United Intergalactic Nation (UIN) ever, and I say with some reluctance, his quick ascension up the military ladder was due to the influence of my high standing and rank in the UIN Armada. It is my hope that this post will instill the same maturity that I acquired as a military officer, and aptly quash his childish antics that have so plagued his Mother and me for many years now.
Granted, his lack of experience is my greatest concern, second only to the possibility that I may be propagating his obsession with 20th century culture. In particular, he has long held the misassumption that service in the UIN Armada is similar to the fictitious 20th century cinema and television representations of space travel. Maybe a six month mission on a military cruiser will bring him to terms with reality and mold him into the man I know he could be. At the very least it will get him out of my hair so I can attend to my own duties during this very sensitive time for the UIN.
As a safeguard to protect my son from doing something grossly idiotic and thereby tarnishing my own reputation, I ensured that his first mission be so simple, a 1st year cadet could carry it out with nothing more than a solar-sail skiff and a base understanding of etiquette (which admittedly might be even more than my son has at his disposal). Johnny Junior has been delegated to an ambassador role where he will be the official UIN observer of a Paath relocation of their Terraquadonis mining community. Terraquadonis, once an abundant provider of ore has been tapped clean and the Paaths wish to move their efforts to a neighboring moon. Any veteran officer would recognize this as a baby-sitting mission, and really a waste of Armada time and resources, but it should be the perfect mission for my son to pop his cherry.
Johnny Junior, love him as I do, has yet to acquire a full deck of cards, so I have assembled an able body crew that can adequately accomplish the objective at hand, while at the same time they will not be missed by the Armada.
First, I assigned my former 1st Mate, Jean Sprat, to the crew as Captain's Liaison. I understand that there is no such position stipulated in the military annals, but it was necessary to create the title given the circumstances surrounding Jean. Some years ago, Officer Sprat was the best the Armada had to offer in leadership. She was fearless, headstrong, and extremely intelligent. Unfortunately, due to a freak interaction with a unisexual species, 1st Mate Sprat quite literally became a woman in a man's body. The mental battle with her (his) new physical attributes created strenuous internal conflicts with sexuality. Unfortunately, she (he) was in no condition to serve on a ship, and was discharged from the Armada. Sympathetic to her (his) situation, I hired Jean on as a family confidant. Tutor and nanny to my son, fashion consultant for my wife, and a partner in doubles tennis for myself, Jean has been a family friend for many years. I hope she (he) will be able to draw on her (his) former training and help guide my son on his own endeavors.
Johnny Junior's 1st Mate is Richard Beck, a bit of a cock-sure man who prefers to bludgeon first and ask questions of the survivors, but follows orders to the strictest sense. He came across my path a couple years ago when he was under review for the massacre of a primitive species in the Reticulum Solar System. Apparently while under orders by his captain, he vaporized the entire population, and then danced the jig in victory, again while under orders. Granted, the action was heinous, and Beck's Captain at the time suffered from delusions brought on by an allergic reaction to reticulum cumquats, but Beck showed me that he will follow orders even if they stem from lunacy. I have placed him as second in command only because in no way will he be making military decisions. Strict orders have been given that any and all command situations will be coordinated through me without my son's knowledge. This way, I will have some control over the situation.
The rest of the crew is comprised of particularly harmless individuals that will perform their duties adequately (all be it far from exemplary) and are unlikely to screw the pooch as the saying goes. There is Fran Rumson, Chief Security Officer, an Armada veteran of some forty years with as much bravery left in him as a cowering hen. Been around so long he's like a gun shy hound dog. I can count on him to never, under any circumstances, engage any sort of conflict that will place his own life in danger. Hopefully these cowardly, yet ironically constructive qualities will keep my son out of any sort of armed engagement as well. Mao Ling is in charge of communications and as I understand it, she is fluent in over three dozen languages. Her only draw back is that she needs the aid of an electronic voice box and because Ling is of oriental origin, the device tends to have a Chinese lilt.
As Chief Physician there is Dr. Timothy Leary XII (yes, a direct descendent of that Timothy Leary) and the pilot is Officer Juan Vasquez, a former child prodigy that never really overcame the debilitation of an extreme case of Attention Deficit Disorder. His psychiatrist assures me Vasquez is an excellent pilot, as long as he takes his meds. Finally, as Chief of Engineering, I have assigned a foreign exchange officer, Ped Varook of the Cretian species. I am told she is an able bodied officer, but honestly Varook is more of an affirmative action choice as a means to bolster interspecies relations. I need all the PR I can get given the special treatment I have allotted my son. No doubt, there will be some razzing down at the club from the other three four-star admirals.
This situation will likely cause me some stress, but I can rest easier knowing that Johnny Junior will be in the deep expanse of space, away from any real conflict, away from anything where he could cause real damage, and away from his Mother and I, who deserve a little holiday from our eccentric son. I love him, but damn, some days I just want to shoot that kid out an air-lock and be done with him.
