The Ambassador is in his daily meditation period, sometimes spanning three hours, sometimes only forty-five minutes. Brevity is of the essence. He's required more supervision as of late, having come back from his most recent mission with a pamphlet instructing him to "love his brother" which he takes to mean harassing the Ensign.
The Ensign is currently occupying the viewing screen to learn more about the Ambassador's favorite music in an effort to find common ground and avoid more racquet incidents. As loudly as the Ensign complains about his lack of coordination, the Ambassador seems intent on introducing him to racquetball, usually with said sporting equipment to the face.
The Commander and Cadet are off on their daily missions. The Cadet's shuttle has returned in full repair, however the Commander's shuttle is in desperate need of re-registration. The Commander's communication device is offline, so our only hope is that he recalls the secondary mission was registration.
I am updating a sorely neglected log in the midst of preparing for the Starbase upgrade in sixteen Earthdays. I daresay the galley in the new Starbase will be very bright and cheerful with all the pieces of plastic I've discovered in the inventory. I was unaware the color "blue" came in so many different uses: to hold sponges, spoons, magnets... It appears only to be a matter of time before I find even more old oddities, such as my nametag from the Academy.
Speaking of, I have elected to spend part of my mythical spare time in continuing my certification for Engineering. I am fully aware my reasons are petty; the main reason for continuing learning would be, when I need personal space, I can simply point our I have homework and that is always respected. Again, rather cruel, however necessary.
And the fifteen minutes allotted for log time have ended and I must resume preparations before the Ambassador "revives".
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Stardate 20161231.2327
Another solar year on Terra is ending tonight, and the tradition of reflection upon the last year is not altogether a foreign one.
There was much death. The supervisory board had some fractures, resulting in a feeling of impending civil war. But the war never came. Instead, the fleet is doomed to be forever shared between two separate entities, maintaining what pretenses of normalcy we can. This has been a source of much pain. There was an unexpected assignation of a new Ensign to the crew, a lengthy separation for our Ambassador's first solo mission with repeated shorter intervals, and an emergency boarding of a Cadet. The Commander has finally accepted the usage of multi-linguistic abilities onboard, a source of much contention in the past, and he is now even to the point of willingness to learn. And just in the last 24 hour period, the Commander's father had a medical emergency and is confined to planetside for the time being; even with the scientific abilities on their side, we feared we might lose him and there are no certain answers available to us yet.
What is handed to us as our mission may not ever be what we have desired, what we encounter in our journeys may simply be the result of our own decisions or the butterfly effect of others. But the grace and determination required to continue on in this is exemplified by our Admiral, trained and drilled into us, and will be the proof to our time spent here in the dark wild. For that is where we are: wrapped in the darkness, surrounded by countless bright spots.
This is our continuing mission: to explore our strange world, to seek out new life and new understanding, to boldly go where no crew has gone before.
Prior Log Entries
Stardate 20161122.1502
The team has contracted an alien virus. It seems to be targeting the males of the team with different symptoms in age groups. It appears to be a highly advanced virus, utilizing boogers to glue eyes shut, causing rattling coughs, and making the males extremely grouchy.
Stardate 20161122.1654
The alien virus has released its hold on the youngest of the crew, however the older males symptoms appear to be exacerbated due to lack of sleep. The virus seems to be evolving against all known medicines, with new symptoms of hyperactivity in the younger and low-grade fever in the older. More testing is necessary, but it appears the only relief for the males is hot tea and VapoRub.
Stardate 20161123.0735
After significant research and testing, I have determined this is no alien virus but simply a weakness in the male genome which appears particularly vulnerable to something called "the cold", known in formal scientific circles as "the onset of winter". The symptoms experienced are non-transmissable, and appear to be reduced by sleep and decent amounts of food. We are currently approaching a holiday known for its extreme food festivals spanning the better half of a week. One crew member has been deployed for participation in this festival with a diplomatic envoy. The other two remain behind for a unified front against the evils of sweet potato casserole. It must not be allowed to persist in its domination of the table. It must be eliminated with my trusty fork!
Stardate 20161123.1321
They tell you in Command School at the Academy to "sleep when the Ensign sleeps", meaning the inexperienced members of your crew need you the most. What they don't tell you is what the Ensign doesn't sleep until time is extremely limited!
Stardate 20161124.0113
We have docked for the evening, having successfully celebrated the opening of what I shall call the Food Festival with several comrades of mine. The Ensign of course was quite the womanizer and I fear I shall have to reprimand him at a later time when he is perhaps less squishy, squishy being the technical term. After a necessary "food coma" (as is the colloquial term), we shall resume the festivities.
Stardate 20161125.1030
Just received the official communique that the diplomatic envoy is returning a full 30 hours before originally scheduled. It appears the ambassador has had a health complication and will require a visit to sick bay for diagnosis upon arrival. The ensign has returned to his food coma, and the first officer has been dispatched on a mission since 0615. The first officer is returning to resupply, then will continue his mission until the tentative end time of 1500. The official day of celebration for the food festival has passed, but as we were taught in the Academy, "Eat until it's gone"... I believe the locals call this custom "eating leftovers".
Stardate 20161127.2129
The Commander spent the first half of his morning replacing the viewscreen on the bridge, delaying our arrival to the traditional gathering on day one of the week. The Ensign was finally able to meet his Aunt Cassie, and Aunt Lauren had a special backpack prepared for the Ambassador (pictures of which are on the Commander's personal device to be retrieved later). The cause of the Ambassador's unusual behavior and eating habits has finally been discovered: there appear to be fresh lacerations in his mouth from new natural weapons. The Ensign is still suffering from a lack of object permanence recognition, creating red alerts whenever the Commander or I leave the bridge. This has caused a massive drop in repairs throughout the station, the consequences of which now have me laid up with a dislocated patella. Even so, the ship still runs, the crew has still been fed and loved. This day has been a success.
Stardate 20161130.0916
The Commander has accompanied the Ambassador for his medical exam and reports that they will be completing a blood test for iron levels. With the rather unusual diet of the Ambassador, I am sure he has eaten enough minerally-organic material such as rocks. The Ensign is home, diagnosed with a critical medical condition known as "the sniffles". The Cadet on board has begun studying the Tenth in her "Foundations of Whovian" at the Academy, and spends much of her time raving over historical figures such as Bucky Barnes and a Strange doctor of some sort. We have decorated the plastic coniferous bush-sized tree in the dining area using paperclips as ornament hangers, and it appears rather festive.
Stardate 20161130.2010
We have begun the documentation process necessary for a Starbase upgrade. As the Commander is still completing a presentation at this time, I have been instructed to begin what he calls "window shopping" for potential upgrades. In an effort to weed out undesirables, I selected a price range and when asked why I did so, I explained that the lowest available upgrades visible could not even qualify as upgrades and quite potentially provided multiple health risks. The Commander then followed up with a quote from a classic song: "So it's a bit of a fixer-upper..." Unfortunately, he appears to have dodged the projectile I launched in his general direction and is sitting there rather smug as I update the logs...
Stardate 201612012.0814. Send caffeine-enhanced sustenance and a temporary officer to leave in charge of the conn. While the early accomplishments are noble, the crew is sustaining heavy damage due to lack of rest. As usual, we shall power through while the Commander is on his away mission.
Stardate 20161209.0637
The end of year festivities have begun earlier than anticipated, with hardly separation between the festival of food and a rather odd conglomeration of a celebration of lights, trees, and fat men wearing red. The Ensign and Ambassador seem to have very little interest in the events of the season, going so far as to ignore the tiny tree that has been placed in prominence in the galley. The festivities appear of particular importance to the Cadet, the Commander appears relatively indifferent for now. Meanwhile, having not participated much before, I lack the apparent "holiday spirit" to do the season justice. We shall have to delve into the mysteries of brightly colored boxes.
Stardate 20161219.1012
I keep meaning to speak to Engineering. They installed a "planetary synchronization system", where the starbase will emulate the meteorological occurrences of the closest notable city on a local planet. However, I fear the system may be malfunctioning. It took us from a very moderate climate to that akin to the Abominable Snowman's natural habitat in a matter of hours and it has not yet restored. The override system is fully functional on two decks, but the other decks are seeing a twenty percent failure rate in maintaining the override. We do have an exact date slated for starbase upgrades to begin, however, and I remain optimistic that this will be an easily rectified situation.
The team has contracted an alien virus. It seems to be targeting the males of the team with different symptoms in age groups. It appears to be a highly advanced virus, utilizing boogers to glue eyes shut, causing rattling coughs, and making the males extremely grouchy.
Stardate 20161122.1654
The alien virus has released its hold on the youngest of the crew, however the older males symptoms appear to be exacerbated due to lack of sleep. The virus seems to be evolving against all known medicines, with new symptoms of hyperactivity in the younger and low-grade fever in the older. More testing is necessary, but it appears the only relief for the males is hot tea and VapoRub.
Stardate 20161123.0735
After significant research and testing, I have determined this is no alien virus but simply a weakness in the male genome which appears particularly vulnerable to something called "the cold", known in formal scientific circles as "the onset of winter". The symptoms experienced are non-transmissable, and appear to be reduced by sleep and decent amounts of food. We are currently approaching a holiday known for its extreme food festivals spanning the better half of a week. One crew member has been deployed for participation in this festival with a diplomatic envoy. The other two remain behind for a unified front against the evils of sweet potato casserole. It must not be allowed to persist in its domination of the table. It must be eliminated with my trusty fork!
Stardate 20161123.1321
They tell you in Command School at the Academy to "sleep when the Ensign sleeps", meaning the inexperienced members of your crew need you the most. What they don't tell you is what the Ensign doesn't sleep until time is extremely limited!
Stardate 20161124.0113
We have docked for the evening, having successfully celebrated the opening of what I shall call the Food Festival with several comrades of mine. The Ensign of course was quite the womanizer and I fear I shall have to reprimand him at a later time when he is perhaps less squishy, squishy being the technical term. After a necessary "food coma" (as is the colloquial term), we shall resume the festivities.
Stardate 20161125.1030
Just received the official communique that the diplomatic envoy is returning a full 30 hours before originally scheduled. It appears the ambassador has had a health complication and will require a visit to sick bay for diagnosis upon arrival. The ensign has returned to his food coma, and the first officer has been dispatched on a mission since 0615. The first officer is returning to resupply, then will continue his mission until the tentative end time of 1500. The official day of celebration for the food festival has passed, but as we were taught in the Academy, "Eat until it's gone"... I believe the locals call this custom "eating leftovers".
Stardate 20161127.2129
The Commander spent the first half of his morning replacing the viewscreen on the bridge, delaying our arrival to the traditional gathering on day one of the week. The Ensign was finally able to meet his Aunt Cassie, and Aunt Lauren had a special backpack prepared for the Ambassador (pictures of which are on the Commander's personal device to be retrieved later). The cause of the Ambassador's unusual behavior and eating habits has finally been discovered: there appear to be fresh lacerations in his mouth from new natural weapons. The Ensign is still suffering from a lack of object permanence recognition, creating red alerts whenever the Commander or I leave the bridge. This has caused a massive drop in repairs throughout the station, the consequences of which now have me laid up with a dislocated patella. Even so, the ship still runs, the crew has still been fed and loved. This day has been a success.
Stardate 20161130.0916
The Commander has accompanied the Ambassador for his medical exam and reports that they will be completing a blood test for iron levels. With the rather unusual diet of the Ambassador, I am sure he has eaten enough minerally-organic material such as rocks. The Ensign is home, diagnosed with a critical medical condition known as "the sniffles". The Cadet on board has begun studying the Tenth in her "Foundations of Whovian" at the Academy, and spends much of her time raving over historical figures such as Bucky Barnes and a Strange doctor of some sort. We have decorated the plastic coniferous bush-sized tree in the dining area using paperclips as ornament hangers, and it appears rather festive.
Stardate 20161130.2010
We have begun the documentation process necessary for a Starbase upgrade. As the Commander is still completing a presentation at this time, I have been instructed to begin what he calls "window shopping" for potential upgrades. In an effort to weed out undesirables, I selected a price range and when asked why I did so, I explained that the lowest available upgrades visible could not even qualify as upgrades and quite potentially provided multiple health risks. The Commander then followed up with a quote from a classic song: "So it's a bit of a fixer-upper..." Unfortunately, he appears to have dodged the projectile I launched in his general direction and is sitting there rather smug as I update the logs...
Stardate 201612012.0814. Send caffeine-enhanced sustenance and a temporary officer to leave in charge of the conn. While the early accomplishments are noble, the crew is sustaining heavy damage due to lack of rest. As usual, we shall power through while the Commander is on his away mission.
Stardate 20161209.0637
The end of year festivities have begun earlier than anticipated, with hardly separation between the festival of food and a rather odd conglomeration of a celebration of lights, trees, and fat men wearing red. The Ensign and Ambassador seem to have very little interest in the events of the season, going so far as to ignore the tiny tree that has been placed in prominence in the galley. The festivities appear of particular importance to the Cadet, the Commander appears relatively indifferent for now. Meanwhile, having not participated much before, I lack the apparent "holiday spirit" to do the season justice. We shall have to delve into the mysteries of brightly colored boxes.
Stardate 20161219.1012
I keep meaning to speak to Engineering. They installed a "planetary synchronization system", where the starbase will emulate the meteorological occurrences of the closest notable city on a local planet. However, I fear the system may be malfunctioning. It took us from a very moderate climate to that akin to the Abominable Snowman's natural habitat in a matter of hours and it has not yet restored. The override system is fully functional on two decks, but the other decks are seeing a twenty percent failure rate in maintaining the override. We do have an exact date slated for starbase upgrades to begin, however, and I remain optimistic that this will be an easily rectified situation.
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