My response to a Lysator B7 mailing list challenge where we were asked how the crew would variously react to someone saying 'We've been on the Liberator a year today'.
"Do you know," Blake said, "that it's exactly a year today since we left Cygnus Alpha?"
"Only a year?" Avon looked up from his latest gadget. "Given the company I am forced to keep, it feels more like five."
"I do think that's a bit Earth-centric of you, Blake." Cally said. "One of the basic revolutionary tenets I fought for on Saurian Major was freedom from the pervasive cultural imperialism of Earth. Including its calendar."
Avon raised an eyebrow. "I would point out that a common galactic calendar is somewhat useful for trade, Cally, though one based on the orbits of one particular planet and its satellite—the latter sadly miscalculated—is illogical to say the least."
"Who cares? We ought to celebrate. Drink anyone?" Vila looked around hopefully. "A few nibbles on the couch?" Jenna glared at him. "Oh now look, I meant olives and nuts and crackers and pate, that sort of thing," he said hastily. "I for one am over the moon—" he smirked at Avon "—that Blake got me and Gan off CA."
"It's pronounced 'pah-tay', you grade-four ignorant," Avon said, missing the triumphant wink Vila gave Gan, "and your presence is undoubtedly one of the prime reasons for the slow perceived passage of time on this ship."
"Not from my point of view." Jenna folded her arms and gave Avon a hard look. "And it's also the anniversary of something else. Isn't it, Avon?"
Avon looked at her expressionlessly. "Yes. Pity. Perhaps I will have a drink. We can toast lost profits."
Blake, who had been somewhat puzzled at the last exchange, shook his head and sighed. "Thank you, Vila, for being the only one here with a sense of occasion."
Vila blinked in surprise, then grinned. "Any excuse for a party. It'll make a year with Avon almost worthwhile."
"I'll come and help," Gan said. "I'll get that barrel of real ale and those extra-salty crisps."
"And for dessert, some of those Lindor chocolate balls Tyce Sarkoff gave us," Vila said, getting up. "You know why they're called that, Gan? Exactly the same shape as the planet, those are..."
***
"You know," Vila said the next day, "Cally has a point. We ought to celebrate anniversaries for every inhabited planet's local calendar. Only fair. And it'll soon be a standard year from when we met Cally. We work it right, we could have a party every day."
Blake, who was severely hung-over, sank his head in his hands.
The end