Personal Log 9 - Relax

Posted on 30 Jun 2018 @ 4:30pm by Commander Aren Ban

528 words; about a 3 minute read

Aren looked up at the computer. “Computer, start log.” He said with a slight sigh.

“The Galileo is just about ready to depart. We have the last bit of crew aboard and we are finishing the last bit of the system checks before we take her out of spacedock. These last few weeks have been exhausting, tracking down that few bugs and reconfiguring systems, but we are just about complete. She is a great little ship, and I am looking forward to putting her through her paces here in the next weeks.” He said as reached for something off screen, which took his focus for the few moments. A look of relief, touched with exhaustion, flashed across his face.

“The last of the plants for hydroponics have been delivered and are in the process of being set-up.” He said with the small shake of his head. “I was a bit worried that shipment wouldn’t get here in time. There are a few rare species of plants that were are bringing along and being in stasis for too long will destroy them.” He said as he leaned back, making a wincing motion as he did. “Computer, end log.” He said as he stood up to stretch. “I need to get some exercise.” He said as he shed his uniform and put on PT gear.

-----

Aren staggered back into the ropes, fighting to return air back into his lungs. For a moment, he looked like he would puke, but he managed to straighten up. Pure rage crossed his face. Aren heard Eddie Futch voice near his ear. It felt like an echo of previous training: “Don’t ever fight angry. That’s not what this is about.”

He moved back into the ring, his gloves protecting his face. His opponent was ready. One fast straight punch to Aren’s unprotected stomach caused his body to fold, all of his momentum carrying him forward. He was barely able to protect his face from the swift undercut that followed.

With effort he staggered backwards once again, and strained to straighten. The tall dark man, whom the crowd was shooting, “Ali!” roared around the two men. With a smirk, the man known as Ali approached and moved to strike his stomach, yet again. Aren moved to block but fell for the faint. Another fast punch struck him, but this time it connected with his face. Aren’’s head snapped around, feeling as is if his head had connected with a brick. Aren fell to the to the ground, in a daze. “One….Two….Thre--” The referee shouted as he slapped his hand on the mat next to Aren. Slowly he stood up, by sheer force of will alone. The sound of the bell rang throughout the ring, and the crowd roared. Ali moving to his respective corner and Aren staggered to his own. Both men look beat, but it was clear Aren had taken the worst of it.

“Computer, pause...program.” Aren weezed. And the scene froze, a scantily clad human women reaching for a card with the number 8 on it. “I think….I am done. Computer, end program.”

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