Tag: sto mission logs

  “I thought Cardassians had eidetic memory,” Joza joked, not turning from the job he was doing searching crates. 
  Miv didn’t look up from the pad she was using to “cheat” calculations for a code lock, “I thought your back was turned. I always forget how good your hearing is, my friend.”
  “Not as good as it used to be,” Joza’s tricorder whirred and beeped away as he worked, “too many close calls with grenades on away missions. My new doc is good, but he’s getting tired of stitching me back together, so let’s try to avoid that this trip, ok?”
  “Don’t worry, Captain,” Miv finally turned and gave Joza a slight wink, “I’m planning to get you back safely. Only slightly singed at most. Besides, do you think my first officer would have let me come if it was anything more than a dull, routine, utterly safe research mission?”
  Joza raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know, Admiral Koril, you could have pulled rank for all I know.”
  “Very true,” Miv nodded sagely, “you really never can tell with me.”
  “That’s why I never ask,” Joza replied dryly, returning to his task with a hint of a smile, as much as he ever showed. 
  Miv smiled too. It was good to be working together in the field again. There was no one she trusted more to have her back than the curt Bajoran.

Freighter Vana Captain’s log
Day 371
M. Koril

Tovan has re-connected with a few friends, and I have made myself useful assisting with colony building and research. It has felt really…good…to help for a change. Also, it has allowed me to keep my “ear to the dirt” for any more information about the Tal Shiar or my missing contact. So far, my efforts have yielded little more than some data about glowing rocks and floppy water creatures. I will be assisting with the Klingon scouts tomorrow. I don’t expect to get any more out of them than I have from the Romulans, but it should prove to be an…interesting…experience, if nothing else.

Freighter Vana Captain’s log
Day 365
M. Koril

I shuttled down to the meeting point on New Romulus, right on time. My contact was late, but I didn’t think anything of it at first. Very few people are ever punctual. But he never showed. I waited for hours in a warehouse of supplies for the new colony, feeling a bit strange and suspicious down there. Thankfully, my reputation as a cargo hauler has superseded any other reputation and no incident occurred. But the disappointment…

My mind entangles itself with the possibilities of what could have happened to my contact, and why. This secret is holding fast to itself, and swallowing its keepers whole.

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 364
M. Koril

I never thought I’d be here, again. The Romulan Flotilla. Tovan does not suspect anything, and thinks that we are here to deliver supplies to the new Romulan homeworld. I find it increasingly difficult to lie to him. He has stood by me through so much. It seems really unfair to keep him in the dark like this, but I also know that he has been so much more at peace with himself lately. He has seemed almost happy for the first time since the Jevonite. I don’t want to upset that balance and drag him back into the mess, not until I know that it’s worth it.

A captain does not always have to explain herself, not even to her first officer. Not even to her best friend?

I have contacted the Romulan officer who claims to have detailed information about the Tal Shiar’s attack on the Jevonite. He claims that he will give them to me in exchange for my firsthand account. We have set up a meeting for tomorrow.

My hands are shaking, but I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that I could soon know exactly what happened that night.

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
M. Koril
Day 357

I have met with every Romulan contact along our route, spacing out my conversations as far as I can for discretion’s sake. Most of the Romulans have denied all knowledge of anything useful to me. One suggested that I return to Romulan space, that there was an officer at the Flotilla who held files which may be pertinent. Her only other suggestion was a Ferengi trader who worked with the New Romulan government, who might have contacts who had heard something. I am loathe to work with any Ferengi, but both are leads that I would be willing to follow.

Now I only have to convince Tovan to return to New Romulus…

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 312
M. Koril

Something continues to bother me. I haven’t slept. I can’t leave it alone. Tovan is trying his hardest to move on, and I am trying my hardest to respect that, but I can’t leave so many questions unanswered. I can’t find comfort in this mundane life the way he seems to. In the endless hours of dark space between bases, in the waiting times while cargo is loaded and unloaded, in my every waking, breathing moment…my mind is working. Wondering. Taunting me. Asking me if there was more I could do for my crew, for his sister, for everyone who we have lost. If I really have turned over every deckplate, or however that saying goes.

So maybe Tovan doesn’t have to know if I continue my inquiries. Chances are, none of them will lead to anything. Call it a hobby. I simply feel that I must do something. I need to go as far as I can, or this will eat me away. Then, I truly may lose myself.

Of course, if my hobby gets me killed and he becomes captain, at least this log may be a feeble attempt to explain my thought process.

I’ll start with the Romulans.

Freighter Vana Captain’s Log
Day 304
M. Koril

We were about to dock at Starbase 24 to deliver a load of cargo, when the cargo bay doors inexplicably failed. I was on my way to check the cargo at the time, thank the Elements for emergency force fields. Most of the cargo was retrieved via transporter, but we never found three of the barrels.
Starbase 24 was very grateful that we saved their shipment of stem bolts.
Tovan is still shaking, and will not stop asking me if I am all right. I am not going to tell him that this was the most fun I have had in months.
What am I doing out here?

“Aren’t you going to use a phaser, Starfleet?”

    Miv turned, slinging the lirpa that she’d brought from across her shoulders. She eyed the Klingons. They had seemed very uneasy with her ever since they’d met. I suppose it makes sense. Klingons and Cardassians have not historically been the best of friends.
    She raised her head, but before she could reply, another Klingon interrupted.
    “Won’t that Vulcan toy be too heavy for you?”
    At that, Miv hefted it into a sweeping blue arc in front of her and shouted back, “are you going to stand around talking, or are we going to fight?”
    The Klingons grinned, and she thought she saw a nod. Together, they marched forward, almost running. Miv’s footsteps blended into the sound of Klingon boots. A feral sort of excitement flamed up inside of her, stoked by the footfalls and fanned by the air rushing past her face. The energized Vulcan blade sang as she leapt at the enemy, and everything became a blur of blue streaks and Klingon battle cries. For an instant, she was not the captain of a vessel, not a diplomat or an ambassador. She was a general. She was a soldier. Everything else fell away and the chaos became a simple matter of survival. Her versus the enemy.
    Then it was over. The giant fell, crashing nearly on top of the warriors, scattering them. They dodged the pieces and regrouped, yelling, breathing hard and noisy. The air was charged and Miv felt the rush in every cell of her body. Klingon fists pumped her back and Klingon voices cackled in her ears.
    “Perhaps,” said one, leaning in close enough to shout into her face, “we will make a warrior of you, yet!”
    Miv laughed in reply, but not scorn, “point me to the next one, and we can find out!”