By Christina Moore
Captain’s Log, Stardate 53290.4…
Six weeks after our arrival and still Sanctuary is not fully operational. Grafydd was right when he said that there were bugs in all the systems—the engineering and operations departments have had their hands full chasing one system malfunction after another. I have to say that I am just as frustrated as my chief engineer, because it simply doesn’t make sense for our diagnostics to tell us that the system is working, only to have it turn around and fail. Master Chief Zram has privately spoken to me that he suspects sabotage, but as we can’t get all the security monitoring systems to work, we can’t catch anyone in the act—if his suspicions are even correct. With all the problems we’ve been having, though, I have to admit that his paranoia is beginning to rub off on me.
Guess we’ll just have to keep our eyes peeled.
Captain’s Log, Supplemental…
The USS Trident was scheduled to head our way starting yesterday, and they’d have been here at month’s end—which I was looking forward to, as we’ve only Dr. Messar and Karejah Kirek in the way of trained medical staff, and even after all this time, my Starfleet people are still rather uncomfortable with being treated by Cardassians.
However, I’ve just been informed by Captain Kimura that her ship’s computer systems suffered a cascade failure just after their launch. Apparently, the older computer system was not capable of handling the increased demands required by the upgrades they received. Their options are to remove the upgrades—which Kimura clearly did not want—or remain in drydock another three months to have no less than one third of their isolinear data transfer relays replaced with bio-neural gel packs. She assures me her engineers can get the work done in less time than that, and I sure hope she’s right…
…because I need doctors here on the station. Captain Wallace and the Triumph cannot be here all the time, and quite frankly I’ve about had it with people who cannot act like the adults they’re supposed to be. Most of the older Starfleet crew are refusing to be treated by Dr. Messar and will wait for the Triumph to stop in to see Dr. Madhu even though I have told them time and again they have no choice.
The newbie ensigns and enlistees are acting more mature about our situation than some of the more experienced officers and some of them have also seen battle. It reminds me of a phrase I once read from an Earth book, in which something along the lines of “And the children shall lead them” was written… though on Sanctuary that has yet to come to pass.
Personal Log, Synnove Natale. Stardate 53304.2…
Well, we have bodies to do the work, but the work keeps piling up. Not only does the work keep piling up, but so do the number of people pouring into a space station that is nowhere near fit for permanent habitation. Hell, it’s not even fit for temporary habitation. My crew and I have no choice but to stay here—it’s our home now, whether we like it or not. But why in the stars does Starfleet have to send every person in the fleet waiting for a transfer to a station that is in no condition to host them?
I take that back—somewhat. It’s not the officers’ faults that they’re being sent here. They’ve no choice in the matter. It’s frackin’ Starfleet Command, who’d rather have them dropped off in the middle of nowhere rather than spend the extra few gallons of deuterium to get them to a proper starbase. Well, at least more bodies means more hands. I’m going to make use of my authority as captain to put all these people to work, make ‘em earn their keep. Won’t that be fun?
I guess I should be thankful that at least all of the security, operations, and engineering staff are here finally, even if the scientists and medical crew—the ones from Starfleet that is—are not. Not that the scientists could get any work done, seeing as the labs are out of order. And the doctors—they’d have their hands full with heat exhaustion and other stress and work-related issues. The senior counselor arrived as well, brought in by the Ireland, along with the last batch of shiny new ensigns and enlistees for Grafydd and Zram to whip into shape.
I have no idea what sort of magic the woman possesses, but Roijiana’s certainly got something—I mentioned something to her about how I’ve had trouble getting the Starfleet crew to accept Dr. Messar and Karejah, and I’m guessing she’s been talking to them. Whatever she said seems to have had a better effect than anything I’ve tried to drive into their thick skulls for the past six weeks, because I got a memo from Dr. Messar about how she’s seen an increase in patients in the last couple of days.
So you know what? I don’t give a targ’s behind that she went rogue in the middle of a mission and joined the Maquis or that she spent time in prison—Roijiana’s alright in my book, as long as she doesn’t pull the same shit with me. I’ll keep an eye on her, of course—no captain in their right mind is going to give carte blanche to a “reformed” terrorist. But unless she stops doing her job, breaks regs, or goes off the grid like she did before, I got no problem with her.
I do, however, still have a problem with Zram and Kirek. Eton, not Karejah. Karejah Kirek has actually been rather a joy to get to know the last month and a half—total opposite of her father. The dal, on the other hand, has toed the line of my patience more than once. He speaks to the Starfleet crew with a tone of voice that is barely civil and just this side of contemptuous. But unless someone besides me starts complaining—officially, that is—there’s nothing I can do.
And Zram… I’ve grown to love the guy, really. He’s kind of like an older brother. Watching him with his niece, who just so happens to be Brian Wallace’s chief engineer, is such a treat. It’s clear that he loves her as if she were his own. That love even seems to extend to all the greenhorn ensigns and enlistees he’s been given to work with—I’ve seen him with them, he treats them like they’re his pals when they’re just hanging out, and like a stern father when he’s in boss-mode, even the couple dozen who have more than a year’s service under their belts.
But Zram has absolutely no love for the Cardassians. He’s almost as bad as Kirek when it comes to dealing with them. He’s abrupt and snide and I’ve heard him be blatantly insulting more than once. And he’s not at all happy that a mere fifteen of his ninety-nine security officers are Cardassians—he actually filed a formal complaint. What am I supposed to do about that? As Eton Kirek pointed out on day one, it’s a Cardassian space station. If they insist on having some of their own on the security team, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’ve spoken with Roijiana about Zram’s problem with the Cardassians as well, but sadly he seems immune to her charms. Whatever she said that got our people to be more accepting of Dr. Messar and Karejah has had absolutely no effect on Dilik. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him and Eton, I really don’t. Sure, there are Starfleet people on the crew who aren’t happy to be working with the Cardassians after everything that went on during the war, and neither are the Cardassians entirely happy that we’re here to help them. But Zram and Kirek are the worst of the bunch, and I’m afraid that their tempers are going to erupt one of these days and they’ll try to kill each other.
Of course, that’s if I don’t end up killing them first.
Man, did I just say that? And egads, have I really been ranting for over half an hour? Maybe I need to start talking to Counselor Roijiana about me instead of the rest of the crew. Or maybe I’ve just had way too much on my plate and needed to off-load it, even if only to a recording. I guess I do feel a little better for having let all this out. Don’t get me wrong, I love my work. I enjoy being a Starfleet officer and I’m proud of the things I’ve accomplished. But commanding the Georgetown was a cakewalk compared to the nightmare being in charge of Sanctuary has been so far.