Personal Log. Commodore's Liaison, Jean Sprat. 05.08.3001
Part 1
I go over the last few days and I want to vomit. It hasn't happened yet. After running to the bathroom twice now, I've only come away with the nasty taste of acid reflux. Surely, someday, when I look back on the events that took place, I'll wonder if I didn't just run my head into the wall a dozen times or so and imagined the whole thing in some sort of comatose delirium. It's all just so bizarre and unbelievable it actually makes more sense that I was abducted and fed false memories. There are certainly species in the universe that have such abilities. Maybe I was out partying too hard with Dr. Leary. I'm sure there is a bevy of noxious fumes at Dr. Leary's disposal that could make me hallucinate for several days.
It all started at Regina Five. The Slurs, after colliding with us and pulverizing our engines, needed to tow us into space dock in order to repair the Liberace. Regina Five wouldn't have been my first choice, but it was the closest. The space dock is quite infamous for its ill repute ever since the Guinness Book of Universal Records honored Regina Five for most punctured eardrums due to interspecies misunderstandings of anatomy.
Luckily, I had found in a remote section on level five, a quaint little cafe and pastry shop. The owner was a Pendore-bat, a species known for its incessant and sometimes insufferable optimism. Of course, only a Pendore-bat would set up a cafe in Regina Five. I heard Starbucks tried to franchise there, but the entire shop was jettisoned into space by a customer with levitation abilities who had explicitly asked for a latte with skim milk and received whole.
I was sitting, enjoying a cup of vermouth mocha and a wonderful crumb cake when I happened to catch sight of a man entering the cafe. Right at that moment I was taking a sip, and I thought for sure I was going to snort mocha.
It couldn't be, I thought. It's impossible. For one, I thought I had imagined the whole thing before. For another, what were the odds that I would find him here in a remote cafe on Regina Five of all places?
There he was though. The same face, the same red hair, the same eyes that had stared down upon me several years ago. It was the only face that I could remember – the last face I saw before waking up and realizing that I was no longer a woman, but had been changed into a man.
There, unmistakably, was the red-headed Yo-Yo Ma.
