Captain’s Log 

Stardate 957471.8

At present we are halfway through our assignment to deploy a series of probes. Recent developments in the Klingon Empire have needed a more discrete approach, we are using pulsars as market points and plausible cover locations between the Roman Republic and the Empire . 

Leaning back in the chair, Vilgi Morr considered the star map, the deployment locations, the star they were at and the system nearby repressed the outer edge of the Republic patrol routes, for the next drop they were about to cross into the more exposed areas of space.

He reflected on his XOs diligence and personable nature in making sure tasks were complete, the crew kept a level of readiness, but also kept the mood calm, not an easy trio to keep balanced. Although it hadn’t all been smooth sailing, the second deployment had involved far too many ‘last minute changes’.

“Bridge to Captain Morr, Probe number five is online, stable and transmitting data. It’s also transmitting to probe number four.” Maverick reported over the comm line from the bridge, the budding watch officer of beta shift, he was thankfully beginning to lose some of the pedantry he carried with him into the assignment, no doubt thanks to Merrovas attentions.

“Very good Lieutenant, make one final sweep of the area, set course and move us to the next location, cruising speed will suffice.” He instructed, one last check of the area would be sure they hadn’t attracted undue attention, were less likely to be followed, and was just good practice.

“Aye sir.” Came the reply and then silence reigned once more.

“Computer play Bolian Popular Mix.” He instructed, which was followed by a trio of rapid beeps, and the the extended synthetic sound of a stretched piano notes, A# and B, settling back into the chair with a slight woggle of shoulders, and head wobbled as the notes changed rapidly and the second synth-key joined in. He called up two service records, Lieutenant Commander Wren and Lieutenant Commander Bakshi, both promotion candidates, having them displayed side by side. In the corner of a display he could see the star-field behind him,  he watched it stretch as the ship accelerated, then rubber banded back, as the engines cut out

Then blackness as the lighting went down.

Then silence from the automatic combadge tap. 

Then he felt himself lift from the seat. 

The desk remained fixed. But the mug. The display unit. Anything not clamped to the deck began to drift. Seasoned enough Vilgi grabbed the edge of the desk and pushed himself back towards his chair. 

Moments later gravity restarted. Mug crashed against the desk, as did the display unit, in the darkness there were a trio of thuds. Then the room was bathed in red lighting. Behind him the window showed the angle of the stars and showed a gradual tilt of the ship.

He’d been here before, alone in his ready room, events happening on the other side of the door, throw in a bridge full of junior officers, and he had yet another ghost of frontier day. He started seated for a moment or two longer, stealing himself for a bang on the door, it never came. Another moment passed as the bolian mentally prepared his next actions. 

Gather his emergency gear. Step through the door. Confront the situation. 

He pushed off and up from the chair, striding over to his equipment locker, gathered and attached his emergency gear, throwing out another communication request, just in case.

“Morr to Bridge.”

Silence.

Now fully equipped he moved to the door, Vilgi moved to the door, when it remained firmly closed He sighed. No comms and closed of access would make the next hour or so a challenge, hopefully now a deadly challenge. Depolarizer affixed to the door. He keyed a sequence and then pushed.