Two months since Rudy did a flying Dutchman when his safety line snapped while he was out working on the external antennae array, way up high there where there were no safety net floating forty meters out, where the beacons were all turned off because otherwise they could interfere with the signal. He should have remembered that his beacon was off and flipped it on, but maybe he was hit by a piece of flying debris when the smaller array came loose and swung on him. If it had been turned on, it would have automatically started broadcasting a mayday when both his boots let the surface of the station for more than a 120 seconds, but it was turned off. Laura and Grant kept going, because what else do you do? You go to work, you come home, you comfort your surviving spouse when she breaks down in tears in the middle of dinner, you sleep in the bed and try not to think of how empty it feels with only the two of you in it.


Inspiration: Trying to think of story ideas for the 4th Street Fantasy storytelling circle, wanted kind of a retelling.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: And then the flying Dutchman ship comes to the station just out of reach, demands supplies, mysteriousness ensues, Laura goes over because she believes Rudy is there, Grant is stopped, finale later he does make it, on some other station, or at least that's the rumor. There needs to be other plot stuff here, too, to make it truly interesting. Like what makes the spaceship a flying Dutchman, and are they pirates or under quarantine, or what?

The eight jobs of Mama Koi were legendary around the station, even though nobody knew what the sixth, seventh, and eighth were. She wouldn't tell you, just smile a little and say, "Maybe you find out someday." Nobody knew if that was a threat or a maybe-if-you're-good. Turns out the sixth job of Mama Koi was a little bit of both. The first job of Mama Koi was in the hydroponics, where she grew big orange tomatoes so delicious that you forgave all the strange bulges and just bit into the little sun in your hand. Never failed to lift a person's mood. The second job of Mama Koi was backup ship captain, which nobody knew until the voyage had been underway for--.


Inspiration: Reading a writing article, "The 8 Jobs of Modern Writers."
Story Potential: High!
Notes: Man, I love this title. And I don't know where this is going, but it's got simply scads of potential.

The shipboard life was not a glamorous one, at least not on a ship like this. He'd signed on with dreams of being--if not a passenger--at least one of the servants, so suave and polished, that he'd seen on the advids. He'd known, intellectually, that he wouldn't find a job like that at a small port, and that even if he did he wouldn't qualify for it, but he hadn't really let go of the dream. And assistant ship accountant had seemed a respectable enough position, if not something like head steward or coordinator or--well, he wasn't actually sure what all the titles were. He hadn't expected it to mean shoving around cargo in the hold and counting things. He'd bought nice suits special before he--

Inspiration: Listening to The Vor Game, in a bit about spaceships.
Potential: Medium.
Notes: I like the character, but this needs something else to make it interesting. Oh, and obviously, as assistant accountant he discovers something terribly awry.

The mrbrppthing sound came from underneath the console. For a minute, he stared at his hands, resting lightly on the wrist bar. No, he had not accidentally hit some strange combination of buttons. He hadn't touched the board in the last two minutes: the undock procedure was handled automatically by the station's managing artificial intelligence. All the lights on the console were green; there were no problems that should be setting off unfamiliar alarms. The sound came again. This time he was absolutely certain it was coming from the console--or rather, from underneath the console He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, certain that he didn't want to know what it was--and then he pushed his chair back slowly away from the desk and stooped to look beneath it, his hand drifting to the sidearm that he'd strapped back on as soon as he was on his ship again and not under the aegis of the peacekeeping legislations on the station.

Inspiration: The cats beneath my desk.
Story Potential: High, mostly because it can be played so many different ways.
Notes: As observed above, this can be played so many different ways! Cute alien, evil alien, murderous alien, taboo life form, holy life form, etc. One can either play to the standard "cute stowaway critter" or subvert it (as Star Trek did on one particularly memorable episode that I've never even seen but which has certainly lived on in cultural lore).