BBS 06-01-04 Personal Logs |
| Gr'laH | Static in the Void |
2004 Apr 21 |
The Log begins with a staticy Klingon trefoil, flanked by the emblem of the KDF and House Gr'laH. The image flickers and loses its clarity before finally winking out. It reveals Gr'laH on a smoke-filled bridge, live wires sparking from the ceiling, Stations are blackened from overload, whole systems down, and the bridge is crawling with Klingon repair crews as the Captain, his armor fire blackened and violet with spattered blood, consumes his bloodwine. The whole of the log is interspersed with flickers, fades, faulty audio, and occasional skips. "Captain's Log, IKV Gharas, low orbit over Ha--" The image flickers "--Stardate 54035.6." "I live." "Senator Kassus has--" another break in the feed as Gr'laH's face is caught in a sneer "--and elements of that powerbase hold fast to the claimed systems. Bal'duk is still in unrest. Ha'toria is reclaimed. I fought on the ground personally. Many are dead as a result of the shockwave from the obelisk's wounding. It destabilized the planet and unleashed a rio--" Another static break as the image loses cohesiveness and the audio falls to a shrill sound. It clears a few moments later. "The Sta'TORuk have attacked. They struck at me during the battle against the Obelisk. The Cho'daQ has been destroyed, and most of my escort fleet will remain at Ha'toria to be refit by the Kang. Krotar is dead. Qa'rinQ will approve of my choice to secure Ha'toria, but Bal'duk remains uncertain, and I cannot risk--" More static. "--without putting the Alliance itself in jeopardy. I must return to 419 or--" The image grows black, briefly replaced by the Trefoil symbol, and once more to the log. "I proceed without escort. The Gharas is the least damaged ship in my fleet, and the word must get through. With Graves in command of the allied fleet, I do not know if the Romulans will remain. If they do not, nothing will stop the Obelisk. Or Kassus. Or the Sta'TORuk." "Let us see, now, if they can stop me!" Gr'laH gives a growl and slams his bloodied fist to the arm of his captain's chair. He barks an order in Klingon and the crew sway a bit as the ship lurches to life. "I am coming, Imzadi."
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| Palra | Current affairs |
2004 Apr 21 |
The symbol of the RSN can be seen floating on a black background, then it fades to show Palra sitting in his quarters. He is wearing his full dress uniform, his face is showing a considerable amount of anger. "Computer begin recording :Personal log, stardate 54035.8. " He sits quietly for several minutes. "The Preator is missing, possibly dead. Senator Kassus has declared himself Praetor and attacked several sectors in the Empire." he says vehemonetly "We suspected he was up too something but I never would have believed he would try to overthrow the Empire." "Maril dissapeared a week ago, I have heard nothing back from anyone I contacted. I fear that she is trapped in his fist. He will try to use her to gain the support of the Senators Va'reah, for they are two very strong votes to have in the Senate." he stands and starts to pace in front of the camera. "Hold me in your heart my love, know that I will rearrange the entire galaxy to get you back." he stops and turns to the camera and for a brief second you can see the love he holds for this women on his face then the anger returns. "I will try to contact Admiral Tovan for he is the only one I can trust. Hopefully he can give me the advice I need to figure out my part in what is going to happen in the weeks to come. It is only a matter of time before The snake turns his eye on the Dulcais sector and the Federation." "I will trust in the teachings of D'era and keep my loyalty to the Empire intact. For the only thing I have left to me is my Love for a women and my loyalty to the Empire. Computer end log.
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| Nertora | The Storm |
2004 Apr 21 |
<Encrypted Transmission 54035.8> I send this message as quickly as possible. The events of tonight are of extreme importance I believe. The meeting was proceeding on pace, there was much dodging by the Romulan commitees and none of the other groups had recieved word or Praetor Neral's status but had questions about the communications blackout. But more on that later, the Federation wishes to pass out that in order to defeat the virus mentioned in the previous communications was to supplement local environmental systems with a Nitrus Oxide formula, I do not have the scientific studies and will request of Ambassador Medor that we obtain them for transmissions. However they report that the assault conducted on the Obelisk has injured it and slowed it if not crippled it. HAt this point in the meeting, the surprises began. We recieved a communications message from Ambassador Gr'lah of the Klingon delegation. He had been off station recently with the assault. And his news was dire. The Romulan Star Empire is in Civil War. They have exceeded their borders and some of the fall out includes the destruction of the UNA, which I believe will correspond with the reports recieved from Nausicaa III. It was strange then, things began to fall apart. The Sub-Lieutenant, he was irate, shamed. One must pity them for their embarassment and yet....the truth remains. They lied openly at the diplomatic meeting. Did they believe they could hide the fact that their empire was in civil war? On the corollary of this the delegation decrying neither one side or the other may prove that they themselves are not allied greatly with each regime which may come useful en ensuring continued relations despite how the power settles. I will transfer more information as it becomes availible. But for the moment, I forward my suggestion that we withold the assistance of the 7th Order's support vessels until the matter is settled. The Federation representative believed that the subspace tears appearing in the Dulcais sector were somehow related to the Obelisk's shrinking...perhaps, but my own personal assessment of current information is that there is a high probability of a significant presence of Romulan vessels, that were damaged and moved to the Dulcais system therein suffering catastrophes that created the subspace tears. However, I am not a space science expert still considering the logistics of the actions I believe it is more likely a Romulan threat than a new threat from the Obelisk. I hope my assessment will prove useful. End Transmission. Computer, Encrypt and send Cardassia Prime. High Priority transmission.
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| Ghorev | A brief checklist |
2004 Apr 21 |
"Personal Log, Commander Akeen Ghorev, Stardate 54036.2" "Another Tuesday comes and goes in which I get to spend no time in my quarters. From start to finish in my office, the Ward Room, and a few brief minutes in Operations. Let's review." "A space-born metallophage is still infesting three decks of the station, which infestation has been stalled by the evacuation and freezing of those decks at temperatures low enough to drive the phage back into stasis." "The Eater of Worlds has entered the edge of the Sandstorm and is ... eating it. I am surprised. Shocked and surprised." "A coup has taken place in the Romulan Star Empire, which has sent shock waves into Nausicaan space." "Said coup has also destablized fringe elements in Klingon space, and even now Ambassador Gr'laH is requiring an escort home after an attack which has left his ship in distress." "On the eve of my efforts with Wendy Tyler to convince Starfleet Command to come clean about the existence of Timefleet, and its purpose, with at least our Klingon Allies under the Temporal Activity Extension Codicils to the Khitomer Accords, these political doppler-shifts threaten to destroy the alliance in ways that stagger the imagination. Even now, we have reason to believe, the Romulan Star Navy is *deserting* the alliance, and the alliance fleet which has been working against the Eater-of-Worlds. The Ferengi are taking advantage to make more aggressive stances with regards to the Nausicaans and the Kunra. We could be in a five-way war by the end of the week, if cooler heads do not prevail over the angry mob and the opportunists." "The Rapid Response Team and Senior Officers of Gladius have had their sentences proclaimed." "The Rhana may or may not be fleeing the Sandstorm." "Oh, and Golden, Takamura, and Turtledove are apparently alive." "Yes, it was a Tuesday, alright." "Computer, end log. Seal with maximum encryption code Ghorev-Axiomatic-Seven-Hlest-Seven, and archive under file 'Why I Hate Tuesdays'."
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| Taevan | When Silence Will Suffice |
2004 Apr 21 |
The dual eagles of Romulus disappear, giving way to the face of K'net-mauri's adjutant. The relatively young Romulan looks downright haggard, his assembly-line hairstyle somewhat ruffled, and lack of sleep evident in his features. "For all intents and purposes, the Romulan government has ceased to exist. My purpose here is to aid K'net-mauri in representing the Romulan government. In his absence, I am to represent the Romulan government. So last night I found myself representing that which does not exist." "When faced with the inevitable questions regarding the turmoil at home, I followed Mauri's maxim to the letter. I did not lie; the truth served. With a healthy dose of silence." A pause. "There /is/ activity in the Othan sector, that has surfaced on Romulus. There /is/ a communications blackout. The situation /will/ be resolved. And so I did not speak untruth to the Andorian and Betazoid last evening, save for news of Neral's death that I may have misplaced among my notes." "If Kassus should come to power, things will not be so bad for me. Nor will they if the Proconsul ascends to the Praetorship. My professionalism will be my refuge; taking sides at this juncture, with so little contact, so little to offer, and so much at stake, is nothing but foolishness." He reaches out to kill the recording, but pauses with his hand over the button. "I should muse at a camera more often. It clears the mind." And then the log is abruptly over.
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| Malloy | Personal log |
2004 Apr 21 |
The Federation logo fades out to show Malloy sitting in front of his desk in his quarters, leaning back while sipping from the mother of all orange juices...that's at least a quart glass. "Personal log, RRT MO Craig Malloy." he pauses, sounding just on this side of contemplation. "I. Was. Right." A smirk, the glass raised in a toast to the camera. "Computer, end log. Seal with encryption code Malloy-Alpha-Papa-Whiskey-Tango-Four-Niner-Five-Oh-Zulu." The log ends, all that is left to see is the Federation Logo.
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| Gwen Poole | Start and Stop |
2004 Apr 21 |
Personal Log, Gwendolyn Anne Poole, Stardate 54037.0. Audio log only. Security clearance level seven. "I was going to write my log about Cadet Torin tonight... I was going to ramble on about responsibility and how -she- hasn't taken responsibility at all for her actions. In truth, she hasn't. And, if she'd stop in her worship of Akeen and herself a moment, she'd see it. If she had been held accountable, she wouldn't be with the fleet." "But that is the start of a ramble. An unimportant ramble about a friendship which has been utterly and irrevocably lost. Torin will have his second chance. And that is good." "But the shocker of the day wasn't Lieutenant Laco's flip-flop on his vote. It was the sudden arrival of Dylan, Hiroshi and Tera. Alive and whole." "I thought the Ensign was joking with me... I was -about- to give him waste reclaimation duty for three weeks, but then Legate Cerene hailed. Dylan spoke with her through their imzadi bond. They were alive. And when we investigated the sickbay, it was true. There they were." "I've seen some amazing things... though I'm certain when I see my daughter for the first time, that will surpass the awe I felt last night. But until then, I must say that I have never seen anything quite as beautiful as those three people's faces last night." "Computer, end log."
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| Havaris | The Tense Future |
2004 Apr 22 |
"Personal Log, Lieutenant Havaris Medes Kusto, 419 Operations, Stardate 54038.9." The Log opens to Kusto seated on the couch in his quarters, flipping through an old fashioned photo albumn. Mostly shots from Medes' hobby camera. "I found out at the Senior Staff Meeting this week that the people responsible for nearly killing my wife are none other than the servants and agents of a Vedek. That Vedek is known as the Mother of the Resistance. Vedek Londar Nai. We'd thought it was Vedek-- I'd thought it was Vedek Parva, Prylar Taimol thought it was Vedek Parva, but no. Vedek Londar. An institution on Bajor. A figurehead to the resistance. Behind Kai Opaka, the most beloved figure on all of Bajor when I lived there. And today? Today she is probably moreso." Kusto turns a page in his book slowly, eyes downcast. "I asked Umanah Lon once, why he felt the need to resist. He laughed at me -- he always did -- and he said, 'Kusto, if you haven't figured that out yet, you're not paying attention. We're all Bajora here. Brother and Sister, now, to the same Caste. You're the son of a farmer and a tailor, and I'm the son of soldiers, but now we're all the same. The Kai did that for us. The Kai is the vessel of the Prophets' will, and so this is the Prophets' will. It's only scary if you think about it.'" "It's that last part that's stuck with me. I come from a planet where religion isn't a hobby, isn't a philosophy, isn't a cultural sidebar. It's part of every moment of every day of your life. Your job has religious importance, your name has religious importance, your family has religious importance, where you live has religious importance, the way you speak has religious importance, the way you dress has religious importance. I've lived in the Federation now for eight years and nothing permeates their society on that level. Not citizenship, not science, nothing. Bajoran Society has revolved, for millenia, around the principles of Prophet Worship and the infaliability of the Prophet Will. The solemnity and sanctity of the Kai and the beneficent auspices of the Vedek Council." "For millenia, that was enough. But the Cardassians showed us not only that the galaxy was a dark and forbidding place; they showed us that we are a part of that darkness, too. We can say -- and I have said, so many times -- the bombs I made and planted I had to make and plant. And I may even be correct in that. Was that the Prophet Hand? I have consoled myself with the notion that the slit throats and charred corpses of that war were not our idea, simply our necessity, and I know that to be a lie. We had the option to succumb, to obey, or to die. We chose to resist. We chose to fight. Because they changed our way of life, they violated our sanctity, they reminded us of the ugly truths; that behind the solemn eyes of pious men burns the bitter heart of something much more sinister. A person. We are all people, before we are Bajora. We are all squalling, shrieking things when there's no food, no water, no air, no space, no time left to us. We all fought, or gave in, and we all had the choice." "My reward was that I was sold out to the Cardassians, exiled from my planet, and forced to flee to the Federation. Worse fates exist, certainly. But the hypocrisy of it only became truly apparent this week. I willfully bloody my hands in the resistance to free us all, to help install a government of Bajora for Bajor, to reinstall the power of the Vedek Council, to once more empower the Kai. I succeed. The First Minister of that Government? Shakaar. The first Kai to follow it? A liar, a viper. The good Vedeks? The Toralina? The Bareila? They die. They fall away. A government put in place by bloodied hands, covered in the bloody fingerprints of decades of war. Some of them with bloody hands themselves. And now? Now some of these same said people are turning their weapons on me. On my family. Out here in the furthest corner of the Federation from Bajor. Because, it would appear, we haven't suffered enough yet." "My only question now, is why; why they want us to die. I was willing to die for them once, after all, I can conscience it again if there's need of it. But there isn't. In my mind, it's one of two reasons. The first, they want to bring Bajor back to what it was. Hand it over to the conservatives. Let this generation die out and the Occupation with it. Pretend it never happened, hide away once more in pious denial that the Fire Caves are just an analogy for our condition as sentient beings. The second? We remind them too much of themselves. Our seed mingling into mongrel children, our tongues wagging to foreign dialects, our blood shed for the good of other species, other worlds." Kusto closes up the albumn and finally lifts his gaze up to the camera. "If only everything were that easy."
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| Gellan | Can you feel it? |
2004 Apr 22 |
"Personal log, Lieutenant Gellan, YaSharra. Stardate 54038.5" Voice activated, the log opens to display the quarters of Counselor Gellan. The once 'wild' nature of her quarters has been tamed; Plants and vines still populate the room, but they are much more contained, given way to the obvious presence of a child. YaSharra is seated at the end of a new, wider sofa, wrapped in a warm bathrobe. And laying next to her, between the sofa back and herself, her adopted daughter Illiara is snuggled into Sharra's favorite thing, the robe gifted to her by Gr'laH. The child wears a blissful smile in slumber, and Sharra speaks softly lest she wake her. "Would that I could sleep so peacfully," she begins, and her gaze is all for the sleeping child. "But too much goes on. The station..hums. That is the best way to describe it. Excitement, fear, anticipation. Emotions that have always been a part of it in some manner, but lately..I'm reminded of a classic guitar string, strung so tightly that it may spring if played too roughly." She grins softly at the anology in wry humor. "Or perhaps, it is my own emotions that highten the feeling. But. HE is coming home. Imzadi. Her 'Grah'," she adds with a softer smile. "Illiara has been so excited today..she will likely attack him the moment he arrives." A chuckle follows that. "I would. If decorum allowed. But." A shrug. "There will be time." A longish pause follows, as Sharra gathers up her thoughts before adding to the log. "I've been promoted to full Lieutenant. All of my worrying over exams..but, I found where my weak areas remain, and where to concentrate my training." A brief smile flashes. "And..Semok is back among us. To my relief. They may claim a Vulcan doesn't make a good counselor all they like, but Semok has his ways..and I desperately needed someone else in the office." She reaches over and lays a gentle hand on the robed child's shoulder, following with a soft, contented sigh. "He's coming home, Impling. Very soon. Computer..end log."
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| Idrani | Personal Log |
2004 Apr 22 |
Personal Log: Stardate 54039.9 After who knows how much planning over how many years, Senator Kassus has made his move. The scattered whispers, manuvers and other information that I've been able to track has pointed to this conclusion. Though, I have to say, openly attacking the Dominion was something of a surprise. So now, we stand by and watch as the Romulans play out their internal drama. Of course, we cannot interfere in the internal affairs of another government. If Kassus is able to bribe, convince or threaten the Senate into voting him Praetor, however, we could conceivably have open war on our hands. On the other hand, if Kassus becomes officially the Praetor, the wisest course of action may be to simply stand aside while the Dominion exacts retribution for the destruction of their Embassy. One doesn't need to look very far to see what happens when you put yourself in the path of the Dominion fist. The evil, cynical side of my personality must point out the irony in the Romulan presentation of the facts. When there is a Federation internal issue, or a Klingon internal issue, the Romulans tend to be at the forefront, wanting explanations, disclosure. However, when the boot is on the other proverbial foot, they close their mouths, tell us it's an internal matter and, by the way, keep out of their space. It could be argued that the Romulans are only this intrusive when the internal matter has spilled over governmental boundaries, but that same critera also applies to this Romulan matter. One only has to look to what is left of the UNA to see that. So, the meeting was very interesting and it was somehow gratifying to have the intense scrutiny of the diplomats pointed elsewhere for awhile. Watching Taevan squirm was also mildly amusing. He really didn't expect us to believe his explanations, but then, it doesn't matter what one believes, only what one can prove. I worry for Palra and K'net-mauri, however. Taevan is Kassus's little toady. I don't expect Palra or Mauri to support this coup. Taevan could have much to gain by eliminating Kassus's enemies. We should have sent Taevan packing when we had the chance. In the meantime, I won't be shaking hands with him, especially if he is wearing sticky gloves. The political pressure Damra used on Kassus, as a result of that little mishap, is probably worthless now. Well, lesson learned. There was one good thing to come out of the meeting. Some very good news indeed. The hard part now is being patient. End log.
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| Zuh'raah'do | Destination Unknown |
2004 Apr 22 |
Fade in...Zuh'raah'do is sitting in his favorite chair, his large frame draping over the poor resting spot like a casually-tossed bear rug. No drink is in his hand. No cigar is lit. His hair is loose, with more than a few grey strands hanging down the front of his face. His breathing is regular, if a bit fast. Deep and rhythmic, with a bit of a growl as he exhales. Black mandibles clack together and his left knee bounces ever-so-slightly. Both signs of excess energy, nervousness, or both. Large hands hang to the floor over armrests too small for his body. Caveman-like, knuckles down. Black eyes stare across the room. Fixated, yet not focused. When he speaks, it's in his native tongue. "Computer, begin recording audio only." The Nausicaan Ambassador clears his throat quickly, then begins to speak with a clarity and confidence that in no way are reflected by his posture. "Attention all vessels fleeing the Romulan invasion and occupation of the United Nausicaan Alliance. This is Zuh'raah'do. Set course for Dulcais Prime. Do not move under cloak unless threated by forces of the Star Empire or Ferengi vessels. If you are hailed or approached by Federation vessels, broadcast your ship identifier, compliment and intended destination. Inform any Starfleet vessel if you need assistance or are threatened. They are bound, by their laws, to render assistance. If you encounter resistance, be peaceful. Claim refugee status under Intergalactic Law. Request the vessel captain to contact the Federation and UNA diplomatic missions on Station 419. Do not enter Klingon space, as they have their own problems. Do not seek or accept assistance from Ferengi vessels. Render all assistance to any Dominion citizenry you come across. This will be seen most favorably by myself, and President Gr'raak'ta, who is regrouping UNA forces to throw the Romulans back. The Bel'im'az Fleet is battle-ready, and President Gr'raak'ta will assume leadership soon" Zuh'raah'do pauses a moment, sitting up in his chair. "Rebroadcast this message as your situation dictates. This is Ambassador Zuh'raah'do of the United Nausicaan Alliance." "Computer, broadcast message in the clear, towards the Neutral Zone Triangle, Nausicaa III, United Nausicaan Alliance. Rebroadcast in 4 hours and 8 hours." Zuh'raah'do pours himself a drink, then he reaches for his cigar box...Fade out.
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| Fischer | Reflections with the Innerself. |
2004 Apr 24 |
ooc: I used the room description of the holodeck to set the mood. I would like to thank who ever wrote it. Its a wonderful description and I mean no harm in using it only wish to use it to expand my personal log. Thankyou. The roar of rushing water echoes throughout this mist-filled chamber, echoing in the high, domed space. The chamber is tall, octagonal and angular, the floors, wall and high domed ceiling are composed of dark Centauran marble. Glittering, impressionist mosaics decorate the walls, set with strange gemstones. The floor is dominated by sprialing pattern in alternating blue, green, and silver, starting from a small arched, stone doorway and winding into the center of the room. Opposite the doorway, the far wall is not a wall at all. Apparently, this shrine has been built behind a waterfall, because the open side of the chamber is blocked by a cascading curtain of water that casts swimming blue-green shadows all about the room. Mist drifts along the floor and spray cools the air, but the marble seems to be treated somehow to keep it from becoming slick and slippery. Aside from the diffuse, watery light, several braziers sit around the corners of the chamber, each providing a heavy, musky aroma in addition to the dark indigo flames. It is dark, cool, and silent save the white noise of the falls. A perfect place for meditation or prayer. Fischer looks around and quickly settles into her all familiar stance of meditation. Slowly she relaxes letting the stress of her day exscape her. It takes a moment and she is takken to her subconscience to deal with things. "Why do I tend to fall for people without knowing them." She asks herself deep down. Silence is her only answer for a moment. Then it comes to her. "Because you long for what you read about, Romance. Its not a bad thing but its something that you need to control." Wanda thinks about this for a moment and then looks at her innerself more closely. "But its now two guys, I am starting to feel like a hussy." "Once again I point out to you that you crave romance. It may not be what you need but its what you crave." her innerself answers. Wanda sighs and looks around more. "I guess so." She slowly starts to come from her meditation and looks around, "I guess I should contact Brin." she says to the cave that surrounds her. "No," Comes her inner voice, "Don't complicate things Just enjoy his friendship. Thats what he wants you to do and its what you should do." Wanda once again reflects on what her inner self says. Her parents always told her that the answers where in her but this was beyond that. She was telling herself to get over her feelings and just to enjoy something. Its not how she works, She analyzes everything to death and or distruction. Why can't this be the same its safe for her. "Because deep down you want this to work," Her innerself replies almost meanly. "So just relax." Before Wanda can reply the holodeck arch appears and the doors open, "Hey...dinner?" comes an oh to familar voice.....
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| Shamash | written contemplations |
2004 Apr 24 |
Written entry: Well, this has been an interesting week so far, I am sitting here on the couch in Noralas livingroom and watch her do her ballet exercises ..and feel content. But, to tell from the start: For the first time since I was posted to this quiet station on the outskirts of Federation space, something out of the ordinary happened. An Acid based mold started to meld through and with the deck plates of the station, mutating with it and becoming one with it and I even included two previously unknown compounds. Can not say I did not feel proud when I send the data of the discovery to the FSC, getting academic recognition and in turn back into the loop of researchers and scientists. And speaking of recognition, it was actually the first assignment Laco let me undertake by myself without hovering around me and in turn smothering my free thinking. I'd wish he would let the reins longer more often or even invite a frank comment, he should know that, he is a scientist as I am and maybe he will see that it is possible to undertake a project with more leeway. And even more good things came from this mold: While my own quarters are effectively uninhabitable for a few weeks - I hope my antiques will survive the cold - I took refuge with Norala. We have basically been living together for this past week, longer than we ever shared rooms before. From my insuspicious place on the couch, I can watch her usual day to day routine and learn constantly more than I was able to get out of her with simple questions that were most of the time answered by her dazzling smile. Aiden, her brother, is also camped in these quarters and I very much doubt my presence here is appreciated by him the least. I can only try to present myself in best behaviour as to soothe his suspicion about my intentions and to give all indication that Norala and I are just friends. Not that it is made easier through what happened the day before yesterday: When I woke, on the couch I found her cuddled together at my feet, sleeping. I could not bring myself to wake her, so I sat up and simply put my blanket over her. .. well, that and my arm. But when she woke, it was again one of these frustrating moments where she just smiled silently, leaving me in the dark as to what transpired, letting me wish once more I knew more of what happens in her mind. ..I was just glad she woke before Aiden saw us this way, though. I have several indications, that the whole situation must be rather stressful for her, and the time when we three can go their respective separate ways will be a relief for her, I guess. Caleb mentioned, he saw her crying. This is not good. Not good that she hides the fact from me, nor that she hides the reason from me - even if it is probably myself. Norala mentioned, I interpret too much into small gestures or subtle change of habits. Considering that it is all I can work from, what can I do? I'll see to that all decks are cleared and back in operation ASAP. We promised to take our time, not to rush things - and it is the time to ease back once again and wait. I want this to go right. I want it to be special. Written log ends.
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| Brin | Personal Log |
2004 Apr 25 |
Personal Log, Lt. jg Andral Brin, Stardate 54045.5 Well, another night spent in the infirmary. Only this time, I'm under observation for medical reasons, rather than just displaced. It's been rough for the past few days, having to evacuate my quarters before I even really get settled into them, but I put up my standard brave front and try to make the best of it. I've been keeping up on the progress Scinece branch has made with the mold problem, and I suppose I'll be back in my quarters in a few days. Personal reminder, ask one of the Ops personnel about station policies regarding pets. Dad's new litter of kerra'vein should be weaned in two months. It'd be nice to have one here. A bit of companionship. I guess that's really what's on my mind right now: companionship. I'm making lots of freinds here, like I have before in the Acadamy and on the Salk. Most of them are around my rank and age. The most interesting thing to me is that almost all of them are married or engaged or pregnant. I still suspect something in the station's water supplies *chuckle* I guess that it's seeing all these...couplings, these romances...It's just a stark reminder of what I've given up, what I've foresworn. I see the joys of life all around me, and I feel like the old Terran myth of Tantalus; condemed in the afterlife to always be hungry and surrounded by the most delectable food imaginable, only to be just out of reach. Cadet Lanie says that I can't live my life by 'what if's'; and I suppose she's right. Life in Starfleet is all about risks, as I re-learned well on my first away mission here. But I accept the risks, and I know that even if I die, it will be in a good cause; maybe even saving lives. But to tell a Centauran woman that if she wants to devote her life to me, she must abandon the hope of ever carrying her own child? To tell any woman that life with me will eventually mean her becoming a caretaker in my dottage? How can I ask anyone to do this and still claim that I love her? Still, like Tantalus, there are temptations. Cadet Lanie seems determined to play matchmaker and set me up with available women. And yet, despite my protests and cries of celebacy, there is one woman who seems determined to become closer, become more than friends. Ensign Fischer is shy and reserved at times, yet at times she shows a tenacity to rival a kerra'vein pup holding onto a haka fish. She even asked me to show her how to play jeran; just because I told her I played it as a child, probably. I keep telling her that we can only be friends, maybe as much for my benefit as hers, and she agrees. But after her agreements, I get the feeling that she wants this to be something more. Something I cannot give Maybe I should stop this now, end my friendship with Wanda. I want to spare her the eventual pain that will come when I have to end it, prevent the relationship from advancing further so she can find a man who loves her and can give her everything she deserves. But there's still a small part of me that wants to find a mate, consequences be damned; as hungry as greedy Tantalus. I have to be strong and resist that part of me. Or else my burden, my curse, will become a part of the life of someone I may love.
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| Novairen | Personal Log - 54033.3 |
2004 Apr 25 |
"Lieutenant Laura Novairen's personal log, Stardate 54033.3. "It's days like these that drive a girl to drink." Laura Novairen is about halfway across her living room when the log begins recording. Reaching her couch, she turns around and falls back onto it. Feet get pulled up onto the cushions and she throws her arms over her face. "I've come to the conclusion that I can't win. My theory is that the anomaly out there emits what I like to call fantastical radiation. The longer one remains aboard Station 419 the farther and farther they get from reality. Acute exposure can be identified by alcoholism and a loss of the will to live. Prolonged exposure results in a stupid effing grin plastered to the subject's face, dancing, poor command decisions, and ultimately clinical insanity. The only known cures are either a transfer from Station 419 with prolonged exposure to normal people or several swift strikes to the skull with a hydrospanner. Unfortunately, the survival rate of the last cure is only approximately three per cent. Entirely too high if you ask me." Slow laughter of the not-really-laughing type follows and then, "Oh...These are so going to be played as Government's evidence come my court martial." A minute or two of silence follows before she flings first one arm forward and then the other, letting them both smack into the cushions at her side. She then draws one leg up and begins unlacing her boot. "So. After spending something like three weeks drilling repeatedly in the holodeck doing the same repetitive tasks over and over again as the XO tells us we're not doing it good enough, I get bumped on the eve of the mission in favor of Lieutenant Kepler. No reason, naturally. Just that I'm suddenly not going. I mean, I understand the tactical officer doing tactical stuff, but when we're literally saving the galaxy, maybe we shouldn't be putting someone on the guns, who had trouble qualifying mind you, when it's their first live run." The boot comes off and she wings it across the room. It tumbles end over end and smacks into the blood stained Cardassian battle standard hanging on her wall. "What a load crap." She sets to work on the next boot. "I've kind of heard through the grapevine that the mission was a success. They're not all dead so I guess it's a success of sorts. The fleet didn't stop the cursed thing though. It's merrily going wherever it's going. I heard it's heading toward the Sandstorm." The other boot comes off, but this one just gets dropped onto the carpet next to the couch. Socks follow. "Commander Ghorev called me the other day. He wanted to let me know that another complaint has been filed. I thought it was kind of odd considering I'd been working out of my quarters for the entire week, but apparently it's an old one just coming to light. Lieutenant JG Doctor Craig God Malloy MD has apparently taken offense on behalf of Doctor Haven for me telling her that trained surgeons had no place on the front lines. Not corpsmen, not medics, but surgeons. The ones Starfleet invests many years and much resources into. I didn't even tell her that in an official capacity. It was in the Enn Zee while we were discussing scheduling her tactical test or something. I could have sworn it was just me and her, but if I understand the XO correctly, Malloy, Park, and someone else invited themselves along to be personally insulted by me. But rather than come to me or to Rann, they go to Edwards. So, Commander Hero gets all offended and apparently now the Old Man has taken notice. Which is fantastic because the XO says Captain Balin is going to personally write my Tier III because of this." Like a woman possessed she leaps to her feet and raises her hands into the air. "Hot damn! I am so screwed." The hands quickly drop. "I think I'll just pin some chevrons onto my collar before showing up for duty tomorrow. It might save everyone some trouble." Now that she's on her feet she pads barefooted over to the dining area. "I told him I was thinking of filing a counter complaint of harassment. I'm not sure if it'd accomplish anything, but I'd probably better wait to see what happens. I'd rather not be the one to make a mountain out of a molehill." She reaches a small cabinet and pulls it open. Inside are some real plates and silverware, but more importantly a few bottles. A moment is taken to consider the choices, then out comes a bottle of clear glass and blue contents. "One good thing did happen at least," she says as she pulls out a glass. "I was told I'm being given command of the Thomas Paine for a mission. I have to go rescue that old Klingon Ambassador or something. It sounds like they tangled with something they couldn't quite manage so I have to go watch him limp home. Not exactly glamorous, but still, my first starship command. I just wish it didn't feel so much like a damned consolation prize." She fills the tumbler about halfway and then returns the bottle to the cabinet. "But what can I do?" She picks the glass up and starts to bring it to her lips for a sip. "What can I do?" she continues to muse. Right before the lip of the glass reaches her mouth she pauses and says again, "What can I do? Huh. Computer, records search." The computer chimes its acknowledgement. "Display listing for Quality Assurance, Bureau of Personnel and main listing for the Office of the Inspector General." The glass of Romulan Ale gets set down on the table untouched as she walks back out to the living room to consult the viewer. "Computer, begin subspace message. File request for realtime transmission. Destination, USS Sovereign, Fleet Admiral Marcus Novairen... "Computer, end log."
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| Crayn | Just Effing Lovely |
2004 Apr 25 |
Jo sits at his desk, staring blankly. "Computer, begin Personal Log, Stardate 54046.2." He sighs and stretches in his chair as the computer chimes in acknowledgement. "Guess what? I'm not getting promoted this year. Who would've guessed?" He chuckles.. "Disregard the fact that I improved greatly on my tactical scores.. or the fact that I studied my posterior off so that I could raise my originally dismal OER scores.. Or the fact that -all- I do is work, really." He shakes his head.. "Nope. Forget all that, and the fact that I was fighting personal demons all by myself. It seems that my incident with Ambassador Gr'laH's ship is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I'm being punished for it now, I guess. It's said that I can't make decisions under high pressure. Exactly -how- many high pressure situations have I been in on this station? ONE! The same one I had just referred to. How many away missions have I been on? ZERO. For crying out loud, I've been here for over six months now, and I hadn't been picked for one single mission. How the hell do they know how I react under high pressure, if I'm never put in that situation?" He sighs and shrugs, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. "Jim made Lieutenant Jay Gee. That's great. I'm glad for him.. But do you know why he got it and not me? He's the happy social type. Makes friends wherever he goes, where I'm the quiet, stay-out-of the-way, do-my-job type. I'm not saying that Jim doesn't do his job. No.. he's a great guy. But he doesn't have to go through Command Training.. Specifically where it comes to being social... How the hell are they going to train me on that?" He shakes his head.. "It's not the XO's fault.. He seems to be a stand-up guy. Tried to lessen the blow, but I just don't think someone's making the right decisions. I mean, I only met the Captain once, and that was at the golf showdown with Lieutenant Laco. He seems to be a pretty cool guy. I don't know anymore. What the hell am I supposed to do? Step up to everyone I see while on patrol and shake their hand? I.. don't know if I can do that. I'm still trying to stay out of people's way.. and not, like, step on people because I can't see them." He smirks.. "Oh well. Time to head out on patrol again. Maybe I'll compose a letter to send to Jadzira, later. Let her know how I'm doing." He swallows and sighs.. voice shaky.. "Computer, End Log."
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| Nevaren | I dropped the Ball |
2004 Apr 27 |
Nevaren paces back and forth, grumbling under his breath. He doesn't appear happy. He isn't furious, it seems, either. He just seems annoyed. Back and forth he walks. From the Window to the inner bulkhead, and back again. After a few minutes of this he finally sighs and stops, somewhere in the middle of his living room, and shakes his head. "Computer," he calls out, "Open Personal Log. New Entry, Stardate 54049.9." The computer chirps an affirmative that it is ready to record, as compliance to his request. The bald albino straightens a bit and turns to walk over to his window and just.. peers outside. "We're supposed to be a team," he says, tiredly, "We're supposed to work together. That’s the point of being an engineer. You work together to solve a problem if you can. /So/ you can." "I'm the assistant chief of Engineering, but that doesn't mean I run everything. I know that. I have /always/ known that. It may mean that I have ranking seniority over everyone on most every occasion, save the Chief himself, within the department but by no means does it imply I am in charge of every project. I am /not/ an all knowing engineering genius, either. Oh, I know my abilities. I know I'm competent. /More/ then competent, actually. I have my strengths. I also have my weaknesses." "But that just isn't me, alone, either. Everyone in Engineering is like that. There are a lot of things I am better at then most everyone else.. And in turn there are things I know for a /fact/ that other engineers are way better suited or more a lot more knowledgeable or experienced in." Nevaren straightens up a bit and closes his eyes. "Thus, we work as a team whenever we can. That is, as I said, our nature. If I can't do something, I will sure as hell concede the fact, yet keep trying to help. If I am wrong, I will /definitely/ give someone their just due and respect and attention, learn what was wrong and in the process not only better myself but the whole department. If someone has a suggestion or criticism I will sure as hell /listen/ because, more often or not, our lives can hang in the balance and to not get things as right as possible the first time could mean we all end up dead. And that just isn't acceptable." He sighs and turns around, sitting against the small ledge beneath the window, crossing his arms against his chest. "If someone other then me has been put in charge of a project, especially an important one, I will more then bow to their leadership in the given task. I will support it whole heartedly. I /have/ supported it whole heartedly." Grimacing slightly, Nevaren continues "I came up with an infeasible plan. I more then admitted it too. So I offered what may have been a viable alternative. If that proves not to be as viable as I hope then I will of course try again, listening to constructive criticism while makin points of my own when others put forth a suggestion. But when people are so willing to give their criticisms still on my /first/ idea while I have already /rescinded/ it, yet haven't contributed a /single/ idea I am aware of , or have seen either documented or presented to the group as a whole, then what?" He pushes off the ledge and walks directly towards the terminal, leaning over until his half scarred, half smoothed pale face is looming in the screen. "Then we are not the team we are supposed to be. And not only have others dropped the ball, but I have as well...And I mean /especially/ myself. Since /I/ should have made sure we were a more cohesive department then we actually are. And that means I haven't done my job good enough. Computer. End Log."
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| Turtledove | I'm a livin' in a box |
2004 Apr 27 |
Personal Log LTJG Tera Turtledove Stardate 54051.5 Classified Level 7 <text-only, TimeFleet encryption> I have a moment's peace, and I'm alert, so I'm going to record the thoughts of the past few days, for personal reasons. It feels unusual to care, but I'm not going to dispute that, at least not at the moment. CMDR Edwards was in last night to finish my debriefing. Since our return, I have seen him more frequently than I've seen anyone else, which, perhaps, explains why his presence has been so welcome. I have always liked him. He combines constant strength and sincere authority without the need for absolute control. Perhaps this is the thing that has changed most, in this respect --- how I perceive things that have been there all along. I keep thinking of the situation that led to our meeting. Deck 18, the mall, I was fresh from graduation, making the rounds for Security. He was assaulting a young ensign, a growing acquaintance of mine. He had perceived the ensign as a threat, and had reacted violently, not realizing who she was, even though they were actually very good friends. The ensign was Wendy Tyler, and she was wearing her TimeFleet uniform for the first time. The Commander's distaste for Timefleet had been obvious, then. Now, if I am to understand correctly, he has been filling Dylan's shoes, in our absence? What has changed? Has anything changed? The kind of person that he was, is, as I perceive it, wouldn't engage in subterfuge. Actually, he'd probably ask me to define subterfuge... then rip the definition out of the dictionary and shoot it with a Type II. But. I'm not forgetting why he returned to s419, in the first place. Still, I find that I am happy for his presence here. And I do hope for positive circumstances in this respect, for many reasons, but mostly for his sake. I haven't said anything, but I am curious, so I will wait and talk to him later. I believe that he wouldn't begrudge me a question, but I'd rather establish pre-determined boundaries and make the most of the conversation. Regarding the team, regarding everyone who thought that we were dead. Regarding being back. It's been a haze, out of phaze, the time away seeming to have passed like yesterday. I know that I haven't really considered how people may have dealt with my passing. I suppose I believe that they would've been able to, after a time, accept it and move on. We've been dead for months, so life goes on, so things change. Me, I'm really starting to miss people. The warmth of the team, a handful of friends. For that matter, I need to know how they are doing, but I will be patient, I will wait. I was able to replace that, forget for awhile, but I am not the huntress, here. Here, I am Tera. Here there are people with active intellects, hearts, and souls, and we go well together, and I miss them. The impact of our return is probably somewhat overshadowed by the circumstances of our return --- and, in this, I'm being wry. It doesn't translate as well in a written log, alas. I would like to talk to Tak, privately, soon. His personal sense of honor is an uncompromising animal. I suspect that it might be nipping at his heels presently, somewhat. Dylan seems to be busy, perhaps dealing with the situation that is likely gripping everyone else. The end of the universe, coming a little early. If it is my place to rest in sickbay in the meanwhile, so be it. They have my faith, and I wish them well. There has been no sign of CMDR Ghorev, here. I don't expect any. Still, I would like to see him. Perhaps when I am released from Sick Bay... In the meantime, Meg was nice enough to deliver me a copy of the book that I was reading before the Locus mission, while I slept. This, plus the medical attention, and more questions to answer, means I should find myself adequately occupied for the next few days. Pending the end of the universe. <Log terminated>
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| Donavon | Twists |
2004 Apr 27 |
Personal Log, Stardate 54051.7 Classified Level 7 with Timefleet Protocols These months of grief, anguish, and heartache have past. Months which have strengthened my resolve. With the loss of three teammates, we were left with a hole. A bleak hole which had reminded me every day that no longer did I have Lt. Golden, Tera, or Tak to depend on. All this time instead of learning to deal with the situation, I would go to one of them to handle it. These months I was forced to find my way through this questionable stage of doubting myself. Luckily, I did have the positive support of my other teammates, mostly Stewart, when friends who I had thought would didn't. I was cold and sharp with people. Hurt that they decided to doubt me; pained that I was described with the likes of murderers, thieves, and pirates. When I forced the guards up, I let no one inside. I decided it would be easier not to care. However, in a week I learned that no matter what I'll always care and hope for the best. Last night I sat with Commander Edwards. I admit now I am far more open to his orders and advice than I was when he first was put in command. I think not only have we as a team opened his eyes, but he has done the same for us in little ways. I assumed Commander Edwards would be on the 'other side'. Immediately judging us without knowing the truth, but that isn't the case. He stood up for us at the Senior Officer's Meeting. He stood up for me with Lt. Havaris and Ensign O'Carroll. He finally understands. In turn, I understood what he meant by my insubordination. I do not require validation from my 'friends', loved ones, or anyone for that matter. Some people will never know the truth. Know that we are here protecting them silently behind the veil of classified levels. I don't need a medal for that, just the knowledge that every mission is another step to protecting the Federation and its standards. I've learned how to forgive myself, how to better myself without beating myself down. Despite that grief of their loss, I believe fate conspired this moment. In the end, these lessons have improved me as an officer and enlightened me. For that I will be grateful. As to the future? Taking it one day at a time. Can't wait to tell Tera and Tak about Cadet Lanie's Cooking Lesson. Excited to come home and brighten my husband's spirits. I can do this now, because I believe in myself. And that's all I need. Faith.
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| Spect | Personal Log |
2004 Apr 27 |
"Computer, begin log. "Well, I don't get a promotion this time around. I should have called in a favor from Va'tol or Nolte to do my Peer Eval for me, I guess Mulwray was to busy to do it for me. It is not like I deserved one anyway, I have been very quiet around here lately. I have work piled up on my desk and we haven't even had many away missions of late." Spect walks by the camera in full uniform. He has his head down in his PADD, as he goes out of view again he starts talking, "Catching up on reports I came across one stating how we have been disrespectful to RRT? I would like to know what that was all about. I mean my old Junior Officer Briganti hated them, but I went straight to Golden to see if there was a problem, there wasn't at the time." Spect walks passed again and quickly goes out of view once more. "I went down to the NX today for the first time in a while. It was good to just be there and get a beer.....I will finish later, I am not in the mood right now. Computer, pause Log."
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| Cross | Looking at the days ahead. |
2004 Apr 28 |
<audio mode engaged> Personal Log of Lieutenant Michael Cross Stardate: 54052.2 Michael's voice comes in over the audio softly as the recording starts. "Hello Old friend. Yes, that's correct. Lieutenant, not Lieutenant JG. I have been promoted. I'm still coping with the new rank and what it means. One of the consequence of the new rank is that I'm going head to head even more with Liuetenant Laco. We were already at odds because of my activities aboard the Aegis, now it just seems to get worse. Well, if he doesn't like me now, he is going to practically hate me with what I have requested." Michael pauses for a few minutes before continuing. "Ever since I spoke to Prylar Taimol in the Warp Core, I keep thinking ahead, keeping thinking about the looming dark. I can save everyone. I keep thinking what will be the cost? Agent Duncan has informed me what he has seen. All those possibilities and probabilities, it just seems hopeless. What element that I can create that will change it all? Do I have to die to create this element? When the Prylar told me that the Prophets will be waiting to recieve me...that thought has weighed heavily on my mind. "With everything that has been going on lately, Casya and I have been distracted about the wedding." There is a pause before audio reciever picks up a low mutter. The only audible words are Bloody Hell. "Computer, set up an alarm to remind me to set up a letter to the parents." A sigh comes across. "See, distracted. We'll get back on track." The audio goes quiet for a few minutes before Michael speaks up again. "I had a long talk with Gwen today." He releases a sigh and pauses again. "It just seem like two conflictng matters. I'm being asked to keep that barrier up to watch and stay away from..., but at the same time.... My friends. Maybe it's just another sacrifice. The universe is demanding its balance and for me to pull off the impossible, I have to give up everything one by one." A break of silence. "Gwen is my best friend. She was there when everyone else turned their back on me. I trust her. I have faith that she will protect my family as much I would protect her own. She wouldn't do otherwise. I know she will when Casya becomes her yeoman when Katie graduates and becomes a Lieutenant JG. She wouldn't be anything less for graduating top of her class. I am a good luck charm after all. Maybe I should add guardian angel as well." There is a sigh. "Well, I should get to bed. I want to keep an eye on the sandstorm before I have to go over to the Aegis to run more tests. The day is never long enough." <<Log ended, Clearance locked and Data encrypted>>
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| Haven | The Negatives |
2004 Apr 28 |
The recording begins with Loni standing before a mirror talking to herself. "So, here you are, Loni. Another year has passed, another round of OERs and where are you? Right where you were before. That's not so bad, really. You've moved up in rank, if nothing else. Where do you stand personally? People that were your friends..don't talk to you anymore. The two that were your *best* friends..don't talk to you anymore. Secrets discovered..remain untouched. Skills learned..remain untried. And while you're adding up your negative list, add your birthday, which has come and gone, without a word or thought from family or friends. I think that last hurts more then the others, really. Nothing says 'We don't care' more then noone remembers the day you were born. Tomorrow, pull your head out of your backside and work on the positives.. They are there. Promise. Keep your chin up, kid. It'll get better. It has too, right? Much worse and you have to ask.. 'why are you here?' or ask 'What are you doing wrong' because there must be /something/ wrong with you. I would have been nice if /someone/ in the counseling office had gotten back to you. Guess you'll have to figure this too out for yourself." The recording ends as abruptly as it began.
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| Brin | Personal Log 54054.5 |
2004 Apr 28 |
Written Entry, Stardate 54054.5 Well, I checked on the pet restriction, and a kerra'vein would be too large. Dr. Haven has hora cat which is almost as large, but it was grandfathered in before the new size restrictions. Oh, well. Maybe dad can start breeding smaller kerra'vein for shipboard pets; he could probably make a fortune. So far, Dr. Haven has been pleased with my performance, although she just says that she gives credit where credit is due. If so, I should do well here, so long as I focus on my duties. Dr. Haven (or I guess I should get used to calling her Loni, since she seems to prefer being informal) even offered to help me on my Ralek's Syndrome research. More so than the Salk, I think the Station personel are a real family. They may exist in cliques and groups, but I already feel very accepted here. So far, the most confusing person I know is Ensign Fischer. We went swimming in the holodeck the other day. And there were some moments...well. I just hadn't felt that way for a long time. I didn't even think I could feel like that again. But I pushed it away, tried to keep things on the level of friends. Maybe not the smartest or healthiest thing for me to do, but it's what I should do. Yesterday, we were fine, acting like close shildhood friends. Then today she came into the infirmary. Twice. For injuries she got from a Klingon battle sim on the holodeck. She said she needed to work out her frustrations, because she still has a crush on Agrim that he doesn't return. When she said that....I guess I felt like I was the consolation prize, or simply the rebound catch. What surprises me the most is that I feel like that at all. This is supposed to be a friendship, nothing more.
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| Medes | Aftermath |
2004 Apr 28 |
"Personal log, Alethea Ruth Medes, stardate 54054.6. Audio only." A long pause follows, and theb Thea speaks again. "I've always considered myself a woman who wasn't prone to superstition. Still, I've got to wonder if there isn't something to it, sometimes. My first command was on the Levy, and it went... " A pause. "Poorly, to say the least. I know that in the eyes of the only two people who really matter -- my husband and my CO -- that I did well in a bad situation. No matter what anyone else says about it for the rest of my career, I can listen to them and let it flow over me, remembering how /proud/ the Captain looked when he handed me my half-pip." "Nothing anyone else can say about it matters. /I/ know what the Captain thinks. I know what The Boss thinks. I know what my husband thinks. Anyone else is peripheral, their opinions... frankly... unimportant." "But enough about that." Thea can be heard to shift slightly on her chair. "I just hope Nathan does okay with the aftermath of his first command. On the Levy. He was there for mine. I was there for his. I just hope he does... okay. With the aftermath." "He's my friend. I worry about him." A long silence fills the log's next segment, and apparently Thea thinks that says it all, since she follows it only with "Computer, end log and save."
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| Cristobal | Aftermath |
2004 Apr 29 |
Cristobal sits behind the desk in the Operations Office. His face is pinched, and dark circles rest under his eyes. "Personal Log," he says in a weary voice, "Stardate 54056.2. I've been over the logs. About a dozen times now. There's not a single thing I can point to that I could have done differently. Nothing." "The maintenance? Who in the quadrant would expect a Starfleet engineer to /forge safety inspections?/ A lazy engineer is almost a contradiction in terms! Most of them /like/ puttering around, fixing things." He shakes his head in disbelief, "This wasn't even one report to cover up being late or something along those lines. This person engaged in a systemic pattern of falsified records. Unthinkable. No, we assume that when someone says they've done their job, they've done it. Because, this bizarre incident aside, they have." He reaches over to his desk and takes a sip of something from a mug. "In any case, 'checking all the equipment to make sure the engineer hasn't lied to you' is not part of command protocols. When the equipment failure occurred, we had to put the ship down, and we did, in the only place we could. Once there, we couldn't /not/ respond to the distress signal. Once inside, despite being told that the air was fine, I even made the /right/ call by ordering that everyone keep their suits sealed." He laughs hollowly, "The one thing I might have done to prevent what happened, I /DID/ do, and it didn't matter. My faceplate went when I was attacked, Shamash's when his tricorder malfunctioned, Thea's when she accidentally tore it." "I wasn't sure about Harris, until I checked out his suit. Microfissures in the seams, to small to see on the routine check Thea gave us before we transported over. He was getting his dose of the gas slowly, but he was getting it. It explains why he was so quiet." "I could have, what, dosed us all with Brin's medication? Why would I do that? No reason at all. Leaving Shamash on the Levy wouldn't have kept the rest of us safe. Same result, only with Shamash not being infected in addition to Brin." "Poor maintenance and accidents aside, things were getting done. Thea was getting into the computer system, I'd stunned the apparent murderer. 419 had re-established comms with us not long after we arrived in the mining installation, so we would have been entirely fine without that damned gas. No, I'm convinced that there was nothing that I could have done, that I could have been reasonably expected to do, that would have prevented this. The only blame that can be pointed anywhere is at Chief whatshername. I hope her quarters are on deck eight so I can reprogram her replicator, sonic shower, et cetera." "I. Did. Nothing. Wrong!" He scowls at his terminal and asks, angrily, "So why isn't that /helping!/" A sigh and a shake of his head. "End log," he spits out.
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| O'Carroll | Personal Review |
2004 Apr 30 |
"Personal log; Stardate 54057.7." The living area of Quarters 808 is visible, centered on the couch and it's redheaded occupant stargazing out the viewports at the anomaly. Silence fills the log for a few moments before Alley finally begins, her pale blue eyes still locked on the stellar events. "Sometimes I hate the anomaly. It reminds me that I'm spinning around in circles and not getting anywhere. Bugs me to no end during those times of dislike. Not speeding around the galaxy, which is what I thought I'd be doing way out here away from everything I've ever known. 'Starfleet'. I guess I wasn't thinking to include base stations in that 'Fleet' bit." a pause and a content sigh escapes her form, "Live and learn, I spose." An arm raises, her elbow resting on the back of the couch so that she can tilt her head to the side and rest her cheek on her palm, "Well. Jo isn't getting his promotion. That bugs me a bit. All he really needs is something to go right for once in a long while. I know the feeling, honestly." her words, being smooshed up aginst her cheek, are a bit more sluggish sounding than normal, "Apparently some incident where he shot an Ambassador's ship is still nagging at him. One of the reasons he didn't get it. Sort of answers my rather non-existant question on the status of my still pending review." "I've had my share of 'incidents'. Let me recap for, well, myself. Let's see, shortly after arriving on 419 I wandered onto the USS Aegis. Which was a big no-no. Don't ask me how I got aboard if it was so 'secured'. Must be that natural stealth I have. Anyway. Reprimand for that." a soft chuckle, "Got off to an early start I guess. A bit after that, I came," she stops leaning aginst her palm to look at the recording device, her other hand snapping up to form a miniscule amount with her index finger and thumb, "This close to running the Flemming into a suddenly decloaking Romulan. I knew he was there. I just.. didn't.. know where exactly. I guess. Oh. And that was /after/ nearly plotting a course into the Neutral Zone. Following which I plotted a course /through a star/." short pause for effect, "/three times./ Right." a soft chuckle escapes her as her eyes focus back on the anomaly and a silence settles. "And then another incident on the Flemming in which I made a serious communications failure. I don't know what that was. Or what I could do differently to make sure it doesn't happen again. It's just one of those things that shouldn't have happened and I have no explanation for." an indifferent shrug on the matter, "The last two tasks I've been set to have gone decently. An impressive run aginst this 'Eater of Worlds' thing, followed by a good rescue mission to pickup the crew of a crashed combat shuttle. Just took some time to get into the swing of things. It's at the point where I can look back and laugh at my mistakes. They were still mistakes, but not ones I'm going to make again. I don't fear them, for I have mastered them." uncertain pause, "I hope." "Combine that service record over the last 9 months with the fact that there are no JG billets open in Ops." another pause as her lips draw to a frown, "Except customs, I spose. Me? Inspecting cargo and the like? Ha! Right. I'm a pilot, that's what I do. Even if I'm going to be a Career-Ensign. If piloting is the only thing I'm good at, and I've made mistakes over even that subject, then I don't know it as well as I'd like. And I'm going to get better at it." The anomaly slowly slips out of view and O'Carroll directs her attention back on the recorder, "Christine's been bunking with me the last few days. Weathering out the mold stuff that's being removed from decks nine and ten. Not a bad choice of a roomate, actually. The silence that normally fills this void isn't what it used to be.. but.. oddly, I don't mind it. She hasn't managed to step on me toes yet. All in all, I think this experience has been a rather pleasent one. I just hope the lasses shoes are alright, lest she have some sort of breakdown. Traumatized for life no doubt." "I spose I should stop rambling. Computer, save and end log."
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| Gwen Poole | Signs of Life |
2004 Apr 30 |
"Personal log, Gwendolyn Anne Poole, Stardate 54056.3." Poole, of the Gwen variety, is seated in her quarters. The lights are dimmed and there doesn't seem to be anyone else about. It's quieter than a tomb. When she speaks, its after a pause and a look at the camera. "Computer, access musical database. Play Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 in G." The computer chimes in compliance and the sound of strings filters in to fill the quiet room. "The past couple weeks have been harrowing, between her growing and wanting to be born... to the civil war in the Empire. Nev's been moping this past week." There's a pause there before she says, "I don't remember when the engineers aboard this station stopped working as a team exactly, probably around the time certain people were promoted into higher positions that they may not have been ready for. As it is, its rather sad now." Gwen looks out the viewport, as she lays on her loveseat and watches the Anomaly come into view. "Mauri got mad when I tried to sooth him. His wife and children are out in that maelstrom across the 'Zone. He's remarkably composed though... I would have been halfway to Romulus by now if it were me in his place." Sighing and shaking her head, she continues, changing the subject, "I finally spoke with Michael about the letters. Thank the Maker, he's listening to reason. ... Casya deserves better than to be treated second best." "And, let's see. Laco flipped on his vote and Torin will be staying, though he's switching branches... All I can say about that is thank God. I was afraid the case of mini-dictator that had seeped into the members of the panel was fatal. If it had been Kirk himself on trial in front of us, they would have drummed him out of the Fleet for 'disciplinary problems.' Scary." Gwen's brows furrow and she lays her hand on her tummy, attention drawn from the viewport to that instead. "Easy... darling.... easy. No more about Thea. I promise." As if the child even understood that. Right. "The best news of all though, has been that Hiroshi, Dylan and Tera are alive. And we know how to destroy that thing in the Sandbox. And our greatest friend and enemy is on his knees, and really needs our help, despite not asking for it... and somewhere between now and July 1st, I'm having a baby." "Rising from the dead. An Eater of Worlds that is going to head to Earth. The Romulan Empire in shambles. And Naya-girl is coming. One could see the apocalypse in all of this. I just see life. Albeit, life on S419, but life all the same." "Computer, end log, classify to security clearance level seven."
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| Shamash | Another week passes |
2004 Apr 30 |
Again, a written log: Another week draws to an end. It did not start out well, a routine repair trip I came along went awry when shipboard systems failed and we almost faced a core breach. We managed to get out of this one and could have done some simple repairs when our CO decided to investigate a century old distress call - not that it could have waited a little longer but then, I can not understand why a little preparation goes against the ideals of Starfleet... Anyhow, our group went in and suffered one clumsy mistake after another, ripping our EVA suits open. Heck, I even managed to break my own Tricorder - aside from failing to access a century old computer - something I should be able to do in my /sleep/. I do not remember much of what happened then, but when I woke in the infirmary to the gentle touch of Norala it felt like someone cared about what had happened. Chances are, the mission was a failure and I wonder if Command will let me on the second try to repair the relay but I think I'd accept Nathan as CO again but this time, I should voice my disagreement with a little more force. It is also the second week Norala and I are living together. Well, that sounds different from what it means. We were thrown together through reasons beyond our control and I doubt I would be sitting here if circumstances were different. Last week I heard, Norala was crying. This week I saw it myself. A friend said the situation is stressful on her - yet it is so hard trying to leave when she is near, when all around me reminds me of her presence. I said she was sad, and yet... And yet was she smiling as we broke our agreement to be just friends. It helped. helped to reduce the stress, both my own and hers, judging from her overall more relaxed behavior. I stepped out of line, broke my own promise, yet.. I do not want to change what happened and I want to continue. I noticed how difficult it is as I started to offer to brush her hair, sought out phoney reasons for a quick squeeze or a hug - resulting in one of those ~we need to talk~ conversations that had a rather surprising result. She brushed off what happened quite lightly asked if I did not like what was happening, and, on my denial, asked why we don't continue. So... we tossed out accord overboard and continued! - Still, my conscience is nagging me, I should still leave, weak that I am I agreed with myself on a compromise: I will leave. but if she seeks me out afterwards, I will not leave again. Oh, Norala has a small kitten now. a grey furball by the name of Opaka, a cute little thing and so clumsy. Need to thank Taimol Edan for that. I do not know what I enjoy more, watching the kitten or watch Norala cuddle it. Yesterday, we ended up sitting very close together on the couch, the kitten trying to walk over our legs. That was so funny! Hmmm... That is also something I look forward to. to both. Further, I started to create a curriculum of instruction for new Lab Technicians, mostly as superior officer for Cadet Torins benefit but I also realized that I can use this as a suble way of showing Norala what it means to be a scientist. She wants to help, and maybe she can bring herself to voice a wish to be taught. I would like that, as for all I can see, she is not dumb. First, I thought to have the instructional PADDs laying around, but then i realized, it is another way to be able to spend more time together besides being more fun, so I asked her if she could join me to proof what I was trying to teach. As this week draws to an end, I wonder what I have learned. Learned of myself, learned of others and what others might have learned about myself. I have learned that there are many things that can go wrong on a mission, Others have learned that I am a klutz, I have learned that things could have been done differently, Others have learned that I did not speak up. I have learned that I like to teach, Others will fail to appreciate this. i can brush all that aside... what matters is, what I learned from the past week around Norala: Little.
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| Takamura | Personal Log |
2004 Apr 30 |
Personal Log: Lieutenant jg Hiroshi Takamura Stardate 54055.3 The Starfleet emblem dissolves to show what looks like an infirmary. Takamura sits on a biobed, thumbing through a book. Looking up at the camera, he begins to speak softly. "It's been almost a week since we've returned to our own time. A week of endless poking, prodding and questioning. And still we are stuck in the Aegis sickbay. I've been told that they are trying to get us out as soon as possible. But for me, it isn't soon enough. I want to sleep in my own bed and see Mauno whenever I want. I want to get back to duty and work with my teammates again." He closes the book, patting the cover. "At least my teammates have been coming to visit. Stewart came by and gave me this book." He holds up the copy of Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" for the camera to see. "Meg has come by almost every night since our return. And Foster escorted Jiasha and Mauno up for a visit." When he mentions the last two names, Takamura sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Jiasha's visit was very emotional. It was wonderful to see her and Mauno again. To hold them in my arms and just be with them again. But then the inevitable happened. Jiasha and I started talking. And the conversation went downhill quickly. She asked where I had been and what I'd been doing. I told her that it was all classified and couldn't give her specifics. I reminded her that I made it clear early in our relationship that I couldn't share what I did for a living except that it was for the best of the Federation. And what did she do? She questioned my integrity, accused me of betraying my ideals. I think some of her Ambassador friends have fed her lies about what we do. And she bought into it. It's one of the things that annoys me about her. She'd sooner trust K'net-Mauri or Lux than trust me. Doesn't exactly make for the basis of a strong and long-lasting relationship. I would leave her and let her live her life without me if it weren't for the children. Mauno is my son too. And I should help raise him. And I adore Nua and think she feels the same way about me. My concern is what kind of household they would be raised in if Jiasha and I stayed together. Right now, it doesn't look like a healthy one." Sighing again, he lowers his eyes to the floor. "I really don't know what to do about the situation. I really need to talk to a few of my friends and see if they have any suggestions." "Computer, end log and encrypt using RRT protocols."
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| Medes | Family |
2004 May 01 |
"Computer, begin recording personal log, stardate 54061.5. Audio only. /Lieutenant/ Alethea Ruth Medes." Silence follows, as often does at the beginning of her personal logs. "I suppose I ought to be really, really bouncing off the walls at my promotion. I imagine that in a little while, I will be. But right now... " "Right now, I'm looking at these wonderful drawings and fingerpaintings I got from my niece and nephew, and the little gifts and note that my sister-in-law sent, and I'm feeling really, horribly guilty." She sighs heavily. "I haven't been to see my cousin since he was let out of the brig. I barely ever see Jiasha. I haven't seen Nua since she hailed me so worried about Tak. And Tak... I... he's alive? I mean. Hold that thought." "I grew up with my aunt. I barely knew my parents -- always off on some ship or another. I don't think motherhood was what my mother thought it would be. I don't think she really wanted a child once she knew what having a child would mean to her career. Once she realised she'd have to stay home from missions to be with me while I was young. That this would be expected of her." A heavy sigh. "No siblings. No real family other than my aunt, until recently." "The truth of it is, I don't know how to have a family. I don't know how to be a part of one. I know how to be Kusto's wife, though I'm not always sure that I do so great at that, either. I know how to be an officer -- this promotion proves that much. And stuff like this... it makes me wish I knew how to be part of a family. My family deserves that." "I just wish I knew how to be what they deserve." "Computer, end log, save, and locate Havaris Jiasha."
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| Idrani | Personal Log |
2004 May 02 |
Personal Log: Stardate 54061.9. "This puppet show is drawing to a close and we're starting to see the strings. I fear that it may be too little, too late. Moreover, I fear the chaos that will come of this and the consequences of /that/. "Otha. Apparently the Othan thorn in the side of the Star Empire was backed by Kassus, or probably more accurately, Kassus and the Sta'TOR'uk. They destablize the very formidable Kang holdings and make their land grabs. We, thus far, have not been attacked and I think it is only a matter of time. If Kassus wanted to keep us out of this by calling it 'internal' matters, he wouldn't have attacked the UNA. Unless he was expecting the ... ahem... story about the UNA volunteering to return to the Star Empire as a client species, to stick. Of course, he may not have counted on Gr'rak'ta escaping. I have to hand it to that Nausicaan. He does appear to be a difficult one to kill. "Contingency plans are being made for eventual conflict. I think that's a wise move. It's only a matter of time. When it does come, and if they need me, I will be there. "Kassus was bold, moreso than I expected. But maybe that is a weakness to exploit. Instead of a quiet takeover behind the wall of silence of the Star Empire, he's stirred things up with the UNA and the Klingon Empire. Maybe that is something we can work with. If he does manage to solidify power on Romulus, we'll be at war with the Romulans within a year or two, at most. This has to be stopped now. "K'net-mauri and I have barely spoken. He is still angry with me and, to an extent, I suppose I'm still a little irritated with him. Right |