05/10/2018 at 21:52 #32632Adele MundyParticipant
Personal Log, Lt. Cmdr. Adele Mundy, TSN Sabre, 2nd Space Fleet, 4th Lt. Div.
There have been quiet discussions among the Senior Officers about what our next missions might bring. But because those possibilities fell under the definition of Classified, there has also been attention paid to the restructuring of the exam system for Cadets and for specializations, both when applying for a permanent post on a ship, and leading to promotion to Lieutenant. I know the bureaucracy of the TSN keeps changing, but I can’t help feeling guilty that I only took two of the exams, myself. I suspect that if I’d had to take a Helm exam I’d never have made it to Lieutenant. Dammit.
We started with a simulation, as usual: acomplex attack on an enemy base. In the course of which, Sabre being in the vicinity of that base, with the opportunity to drop Marines aboard to take it, the Fleet Captain decided to pilot the shuttle himself. I suspect he was trying to make sure I wouldn’t have to take the shuttle, since we were short-handed on the bridge and couldn’t spare our Helm, Weapons or Engineering officers. I shouldn’t criticise, really. I mean, I would probably have ended up equally sim-dead. Possibly more sim-dead. I’m sure there are degrees of death in sims, maybe related to the size of the sim-pieces one’s sim-body ends up in. Anyway, the Fleet Captain flew into the mines I was just warning him about, the ones that were coming into self-generated (CIC-generated) existence around the station, and blew himself up.
There was some banter on the bridge at that point. And when Cmdr. Aramond asked for orders, I had to relay the news that the Fleet Captain was currently dead. But it didn’t end there, because it seems that my remark about nominating the Fleet Captain for a Sim-Purple Heart was overheard by some Ensign or Cadet, and relayed onwards. It used to be an accepted fact on board sailing ships, that there was no such thing as privacy: you were travelling in close quarters inside a wooden sound-box, and anything you said would be heard by somebody. The same thing seems to hold true of our ships… So I wasn’t too surprised when I heard that my suggestion had actually been picked up and presented before the Disorderly Committee.
The Disorderly Committee is an open secret, because we’ve all been Cadets and Ensigns, and if we didn’t participate in the Committee in our time, it was because of duty commitments or personal choice: there is no restriction on membership, other than too high a rank. And after this shift, the youngsters were definitely in need of something to take their mind off the new unknowns… Yes, we’ll get to that, Computer. Anyway, not only was my suggestion presented to the Committee, but some of them came up with much better suggestions for an award name, to the point that they had to put this to a vote. And this is where Cdt. Nakamura came to me, looking all concerned, to show me three pieces of paper, on which somebody had written: “Collateral damage becoming of an overconfident shuttle pilot”, “Innovation award for the Wise maneuver”, and “Destruction award for the shortest shuttle shimulation”.
“Other than the fact that some Jr. Officer can’t spell, what’s the problem, Nakamura?” I asked her. She hesitated, but replied,
“We think somebody is trying to copy your handwriting, Ma’am.” I couldn’t help it, Computer, I put on my most bureaucratic manner and counted out,
“One: if they are, they’re doing a terrible job of it. Two: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Three: how do you know what my handwriting looks like? Oh, and Four: who is ‘we’?”
“Uhm, that’s Cdt. Song, Ma’am. She said you hand-wrote a recommendation…” I had to stop her there. Yes, I wrote a recommendation for Hamilton. Dammit. It wasn’t supposed to be something the cadets would find out.
“So I did. Fair enough, Nakamura, that isn’t my handwriting. But, again, why is that a problem?”
“Well, Ma’am, we didn’t want it to look like you might have…” That I might have forgotten what it’s like to be a cadet, and taken part in some harmless fun? Great-Aunt Adelaide used to tell such stories of the kind of things she did when she was a cadet! Of course, I didn’t say that.
“They’re better suggestions than the Sim Purple Heart. Even though that was spur of the moment, and I hadn’t had time to come up with anything better. Still, I would hate for anybody to think I’d spell “manoeuvre” like that, so thank you for your concern.”
“So… is that it, Ma’am?”
“Of course it is. Off you go, Cadet, don’t you have some votes to count?” I sent her on her way, though she looked a little puzzled. I hope they come up with a good name for the award, after all this.
But just to satisfy my curiosity, I ran those pieces of hand-written paper through a scan, and I’ve identified the fingerprints on them. Excluding mine, Nakamura’s, and Song’s… Well, Computer, we are a high-spirited lot on Sabre, it seems.
The sim was a fairly complicated affair, involving a jump to Hjorden, hostile transports, hostile stations, clouds of fighters. Honestly, it all pales into insignificance next to the Fleet Captain’s gallant sim-death. Also, the fact that it left me in command of Sabre while running both Science and Comms, with Xansta being the only other member of the regular bridge crew, meant that part of my attention was on Ens. Bubba, in Engineering, who actually had to be told when to increase or decrease power to which system. No wonder Sabre felt sluggish, dammit. Act.Ens. Rakaydos on Helm did a creditable job with the power and manoeuvre he was given.
Which reminds me, awards, actual ones, not the Disorderly Committee awards, included the Officer Commendation Ribbon for the crew of Excision —- yes, Computer, the Top Brass have finally agreed that actions in the Mirror Universe can be considered for awards —- so, Lt. Parra, Ens. Fellows, and Act. Ens. Rakaydos received their ribbons. And by the end of the shift, Rakaydos received his overdue promotion to Ensign. I see in the meeting notes that Beaumont received his Practical Proficiency ribbon; I could have sworn that happened last shift, but I may just be tired. Computer, double check the records and update as needed.
We took a break from simulations for the latest news, and then went to our briefing. I’m sure ONI will make it sound all momentous and glorious. We knew it was going to involve working with the Hjorden, since our sim had been designed to test coordination between our systems and theirs. In more detail: we would be on a joint mission with the Hjorden in the System beyond the new Jump Gate, with the Hjorden providing supplies and logistics, while 4th Light provides security, and I quote: “based on our experience in distant settings.” Distant settings. As in, “you and your people survived without support in a different universe, Flt. Capt. Wise, you won’t have any trouble in an unexplored System, am I right? Jolly good, off you go then.”
Initial Science scans reported no signals that could be identified as coming from anything other than natural sources. So when we set out on Operation Mjolnir, heading Corewards into Hjorden Sector 3, we were the vanguard, checking that the way was clear into the unexplored System before the Hjorden supply vessels followed us, to establish a temporary base there. We were assured that communications with Command would continue through the Gate, and that we would receive regular replenishment of supplies. It is rather a thin lifeline, but we’ve been in this sort of position before.
All the life forms we encountered in the first sector we explored were xenomorphs, no civilised races yet. We still had plenty to do, because there were large numbers of Celestial Megalodonis moving in and out of the local nebulas, and we had to place several beacons so that they would be driven away from the Gate, and from the area where the Hjorden were going to build our shared station. There were a number of Draconis Colligator as well, and large schools of Dentosicus Scorpius, which are probably the greatest danger to the station, since they feed on metal. Viper dealt with most of the Dentosicus Scorpius, but all our ships were kept busy deploying beacons to repel the various beasties, until the sector was declared safe.
We also noticed a brief appearance by Kralien ships in sector C4, near the Celestial Megalodonis; and an even briefer appearance of an anomaly in C4.3. Another oddity was the radiation signature of the nebulas produced by the Conceptus Plicatus we saw: the sensors picked up a considerable difference from the background radiation in the extant nebulas. To make that difference immediately noticeable on our screens, these Conceptus Plicatus nebulas show up as green, as opposed to the usual purple. Further investigation is strongly advised.
And, before I forget: the Draconis Colligator match the profile of the ones we met in Atlantis System while we were fighting the USF, which is interesting, given the distance between the systems. And also, because we read some kind of jump gravity well when the Draconis converged… which might explain how they got from there to here.
We returned to the temporary base for a brief rest, before setting out again to deploy equipment at determined points, in order to set up a reliable comms network in the sector. Of course there was more wildlife to fend off with beacons. And then all the reports to collate and present to the research departments; those are finally done, too.
I shall now make my way to the temporary Bar, and take advantage of the fact that our Hjorden partners have brought plentiful supplies of Hjocoa.
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