The Bajoran man, often the target of cynicism and remark while in Starfleet, takes his seat at his desk. In the background, his service uniform jacket hangs on a hook with his new rank pinned on the shoulders and sleeves. He is wearing a new uniform shirt, white to signify the Command department. His mood is light, and almost cheerful; much different than in offerings from the past couple years when he was sullen and had very few bright spots to show for his life. As he sits, Kainon lets out a sigh and reaches for a cup of coffee.
Kainon's blog
Everything's fine... really.
"Computer, begin recording."
"You know what really chaps my ass?" This Bajoran seems to be in a rather foul mood. More foul than normal. "The fact that we're sitting out here doing who knows what with who knows who. It's fucking ridiculous, really." A mug full of coffee, steaming from the rim and emblazened with the USS Excalibur logo. "Gimme that," *slurrrp* "This really does fucking suck. No one, other than the Commodore, is allowed to know."
Personal log, stardate 76830.19
"Computer, begin recording."
With that, the video screens jumps to life and shows Kainon. He's in his civilian clothes and drinking a cup of coffee on the couch of his DS9 quarters.
"Fuck. This is a bitch. I never knew that administrative leave would be so hard on me. I know that I deserve everything that I got, but never knew it would be this bad." He takes a sip from his mug, this one has a DS9 logo on it, but he doesn't really seem to care at this point.
Second Officer's Log, Stardate 74918.74
"Computer, begin recording."
The screen opens up to see a Bajoran male with his hands behind his head and feet on his desk.
"Right then. Here we find ourselves knee-deep in the shit that the Borg have handed us. Last night was just something that we've never seen though. They were acting..."
