Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 75058.9.
I spent last evening meeting with newly assigned engineer Commander Teelis Tei. I found her to be a strict observer of protocol. She seems to be a most impressive officer, one whom I am proud to welcome aboard. Yet, I have been most concerned about the reasons behind her transfer and what to do with her now that she's here.
The image of Governor Trent L'vralus fades into view. "My fellow citizens," he addresses in a pleasant and calm bass-baritone voice, "It is a tremendous honor to be able to address you all."
The view shifts to a desolate looking planet with an Alamo-class station in the distant horizon. "Several years ago, I was asked to study the plague on Beerax IX that kept all life from returning there. With an amazing team of my fellow citizens and Starfleet officers, we were able to cure the plague."
"Computer, begin recording."
The previous was said off screen, as Larel appears with a glass in her hand. She sets it down, then takes a seat.
"Stardate 74993.5? .6? Yeah. So, I learned something last night. It helps to know the right people. I mean, I'm sure everyone knows this, buuut... I can't believe Ken saved us from The Admirals. Not that I don't like them, the ones I've not had the pleasure of meeting sure seem nice, but the debates were on, and I'd already missed that gala because of that whole borg thing.
"Citizens of the Galaxy Alliance, I extend to you warmest greetings," Lishan Noryl says as his image appears on the viewer. He is seated behind a desk set just in front of a pair of windows that gives a striking view of the Bajoran countryside.
"Computer, begin recording"
The visual feed starts, showing the seated form of a Trill in his engineering uniform. Teral looks towards the little computer terminal doing the recording and starts
"Chief Engineer's personal log, stardate 74942.77."
"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..."
Captain's Log, Stardate 74912.6.
I have been tasked with the unpleasant obligation of relieving my first officer, Commander Jason Reed-Maguire, after he ordered the use of an anti-proton cannon against the Borg. Though he had the best intentions of preserving the Alliance, the use of anti-proton weaponry has been made illegal. By his own admission, Commander Reed-Maguire willingly violated the provisions of the Treaty of Terran Recovery and the direct orders of Vice Admiral Lathrop and myself regarding the use of the APC against the Borg.
As the camera attached to the wall unit activates, it finds a middle aged Trill slumped in a chair with a glass of some beverage in his hand
"Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 74897.43"
There is a pause for a moment
The view focuses on a blonde Bajoran woman wearing a plain grey t-shirt. Her hand runs through her slightly muffled hair, trying to straighten it out a little.
"Personal log, stardate 74890.6. I actually slept better last night for the first time in what seems to be a month. The ship came out of drydock finally and we were resupplied by MSS. Now we're just waiting. Waiting, wondering, watching..."
