"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..." his face strains to find the right word, "weird." He shifts a bit, moving one foot over top of the other. "They were -telling- us to retreat. Really? Since when do they say shit like that? It's usually this 'resistance is futile' crap that they always say. Almost seems like they are getting a conscience. Not the collective kind... but almost like they wanted us in one piece for when they returned." He shrugs and reaches for his coffee cup. "Smug assholes. If that's even possible."
Now, he finds himself standing, almost pacing as he twists and turns his earring. "This is tough. When I was on Bajor with the Militia, it was all so different. If you see it move, shoot the bastard. If it quits moving, drop a charge on it to make sure. Don't get me wrong, I love this ship, this crew, this job. There are always new challenges, new tasks that we have to perform, new ideas to instill in our people. But lately," the pause is very apparent. He takes another drink from the coffee to settle himself. "Lately, it's been a stretch. The people on the ship aren't all that different from the folks in the platoon. Just a little more focused on their different jobs. Security has their thing, engineering theirs. Our Chief Science Officer caused a ruckus today. If this were Bajor, we would have had it out behind a large oak tree, then drank ourselves stupid laughing about it later. Something weird though. There are some that I don't feel that connection with yet. I'm thinking that Raul is one of those people. I don't think he's a bad guy, just maybe... maybe we aren't on the same page, or we see things differently. I wouldn't mind having a drink with him, find out what he's about. I must admit, I haven't read all that much about him. Fuck me, he might be just like me on the inside. Bah, later."
Kainon finds his way to his couch. He sits on it comfortably after a second, after a couple movements. He looks down, showing the small dressing on his head. "Oh well. I guess that there are going to be some things that I have to learn with this job. I've heard that the Ops position is one of the harder ones. And Second Officer can be even harder. Fill in for this, get the stuff for that. Right, it's -way- different than I'm used to. I'm not trying to fool anyone. But this isn't the Militia... and I'm not quitting for shit."
"This is Kainon Essa. Chief of Operations and Second Officer aboard USS Astraeus. Computer, End recording."
The screen lights back up... "Wait a minute. Computer, restart."
Now Kainon looks upset about something.
"One more thing. Whoever isn't letting me defend that Beer Slamming belt, is a cocksucker. No late applications my ass. Something tells me that Morn and the Nausicaans that visit DS9 now don't want to see me there. Morn because it's too much beer. The Nausicaans because they know I'll outdrink their sorry asses anyday of the week. Whatever, I'm done. Computer, really end recording."
