The Legendary Tales of Notch Johnston


Notch felt luckier than when he was ten years old and gramma gave him his first real meatstick a lever action 30-06 rifle. He decided it was time for a selfie and ran to get a camera.

He entered the wheelhouse and the computer screen had a popup saying that a wireless network had been detected and was asking for permission to hook up.

“Oh hell to the yea” Notch said as he jabbed his finger on the return key about thirty times until “negotiating with host… please wait….”appeared.

Notch was sure no screen had been stared at this hard since 56K internet came out. But the asshole who sold this boat anchor to the ship owner wasn’t lying when he had claimed this bitch was capable of finding service almost anywhere because Notch took back every thing he had ever said about geeks and nerds as downloading files appeared. The hard drive spooled up to speed and the red light glared as notch chanted “open open open”.


Filis saw the creature attending some equipment and then she received a request for contact, she looked and was astonished to realize that the ship had a crude A.I. that was attemping to make contact, she firewalled it to be safe and took a peek, it looked safe enough so she dove in and found a massive storage unit attached to a massively capable and very compact video data processor plus a mind boggling array of of miscellaneous programs that had never been even used as far as she could tell, she skimmed thru pulling data files containing audiovisual content and then found the holy grail. What appeared to be a dictionary cross referenced with pictures. She would be speaking like a native of his home system in no time.


“Hi” a voice said.”my name is Filis”

The speakers all over the boat were turned on as always so the voice sound like it was all over.

Notch grabbed the closest Mic pushed the button and said hello on vhf channel 16.


A texted sitrep report arrived from the brainship that made the admiral very happy, Angel was alive and expecting a full recovery in a few days. First Contact was now going far better than he had any right to expect. The only downside was the vast enemy fleet amassing right on there doorstep. The only reason they were still alive was because the vermin for reasons no one could fathom didn’t like to enter nebulas. And now that his daughter had sent the spacestation away it was unlikely that the vermin would sniff them out. How she managed that was not in the sitrep. But he himself had thought about the problem and the only solution would have been a crash landing dirtside. She had owned that station the longest and the admiral had lost track of were she had stashed it from those lesepeen bums that had tried to steal it for the old mud processor that Angel had salvaged repaired and lovingly installed. She had had a friend of a friend order the parts. The parts were delivered by outsiders along with the first of many orders for the super pure ceramics that were produced by that cash cow.

He monitored the exchange as well as he could but it was scrolling by so fast it was hard to follow. It took almost an hour and a half before he realized that cold hearted bitch wasn’t a team player. In fact she was asking it right now if it ever thought of riding in a spaceship. He screamed an oath that the translating software refused to translate. He then ran threw his own solders in his headlong plunge downstairs cursing in languages not in use anywhere in this galaxy and headed out the door.


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