Tag: sto mission logs

M. Koril
Day 195

We are being held at Earth Spacedock. I am so tired of sickbay. I am tired of Federation medical officers poking and prodding and trying to be coy. I am tired of replicated Earth food and cold air. I finally convinced someone to bring me something warmer to wear, and they provided me with this sleek, black, vaguely sinister tunic. They claimed that it was designed by their resident tailor Ghemik Telur, a Cardassian. I loathe his sense of style and humor, clearly his time living here has twisted him. At least the tunic keeps me warm.

Nurse Bennet continues to greet me every morning with a maddeningly persistent optimism. She is convinced that other escape pods must have made it, and that Starfleet will find them, and she will not let the matter drop. It has been nearly seven weeks since Tovan and I were snatched out of the cold emptiness of space. If there were other survivors, they could not likely have survived.

Somehow I find that I can’t tell this woman the horror of the one chance they had survived, to have been captured by the Tal Shiar still patrolling the area. Either way, I mourn them.

M. Koril
Day 188

I remember being naive. Believing that the Romulan Republic who gave us orders would also stand behind us if things should go wrong. It took me just over six standard months to find out how wrong things could go. Lying here under the watchful eye of my Starfleet “rescuers” in a secure Romulan medical facility, I am forced by my own mind to recall many unpleasant things. The past is always alive to me, but recent events have made it even more vivid. My nightmares are full of flames, and the wings and talons of birds. Search teams have been apparently dispatched, but there is no news yet of any survivors. I do not hold out hope that any others from the Jevonite have survived. 

Starfleet wishes for Tovan and I to make statements while they debate what to do with us. Technically, they are within their legal rights to prosecute us for interfering with the Painting Fiasco. However, they aren’t certain that this is the best diplomatic choice, since there are still so many questions about what happened that day. Still others want us to be held at a Federation facility and interrogated about our dealings with the Tal Shiar. I can think of things I would rather do.

I remember saying once that this was not our fight, not our war. But the Romulans have made it personal. The Tal Shiar will pay. 

End log.

From everything I’ve read and heard, I thought Vulcan would be unbearably hot and dry, but it is actually really pleasant. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. The wind wraps around me like a comforting embrace, and the dirt cushions my feet as I climb. It’s difficult to imagine anything bad happening, from the warmth and solitude of a high place on Vulcan. 

“How soon will we be on Vulcan, Jalyr?”
“Not long, now, Captain.”
Nyco grinned privately behind the Bajoran’s seat at the console, remembering how not so long ago, they were both practicing at the Academy flight simulators for hours.
“Don’t crash it.”
Jalyr Sol tossed an irritated glance back at her, before wiping it back off his face in favor of his more professional, concentrating stare, “Of course not, Captain. I’m an excellent pilot.”
“I couldn’t resist teasing you.” Nyco took her seat next to him, “after all, I remember the first time we flew together in the holodeck.”
Jalyr groaned, “don’t remind me!”
“Hey, Sol. It’s just us here for the next half hour or so,” Nyco smiled at him, “Relax. This assignment is going to be a breeze compared to the last one.”
“It better be,” Jalyr grumbled, but the tension left his forehead, “the last one put me in sickbay for a week. Not that I am complaining. It was my own fault for saving your life. Prophets know I’d do it all again. Don’t think I wouldn’t. In fact, I probably will have to, at some point.”
Nyco frowned, “don’t go looking for trouble.”
“Of course,” Jalyr shrugged, “like you said, this mission should be easy.”