LOG BEGINS
"So, here we go again. And yet, not quite. I have my new command. Pathfinder-class. USS Mist Raven. Requested another Vesta, but none were available...or so they say. Not sure if I believe that. I mean, what the hell? I go from a top-of-the-line, veteran Science Cruiser to a Voyager knockoff? The hell?"
*Sounds of a fist hitting a table*
"And of course, most of my veterans are gone. That one hurt. We knew each other, goddamnit. 4 years we were out there, facing the black together. We were so good, so confident that we could do anything, that there was nothing that could touch us. Of course, if THAT were true, I wouldn't be making this log. So many dead, including half my senior officers."
*Pause*
"Maybe that's why Command won't give me another Vesta. I mean, what happened wasn't my fault. No one would have see that one coming. And the Court Marshal cleared me...which surprised the hell out of me. I mean, those idiots have wanted me out of the Admiralty since the day I got my first bar. Thank god for Quinn."
"But still. I mean, really? A Pathfinder? I never thought much of the Interpid line; too much engine, not enough dakka. Exploration and science are all well and good, but damnit, it's dangerous out there. Lots of people who don't like us. Janeway, bless her little homicidal heart, got lucky. Sometimes, diplomacy comes down to shooting the other guy in the head before he shoots you. Vesta-class is good at that. My kind of ship. And instead of giving me a Scryer, or one of those new Geneva-class Battlecruisers, or...I don't know...another Vesta...they give me a modernized Interpid. Lovely. At least they got the name right. Right out of the old Kiradoran tales. Maybe they're trying to mollify me or something."
"And now, I've been transferred. Out of Battle Group Omega and into the 7th Fleet. Heard about them. Tough, but a little nuts. Apparently, they have their own chain of command out there; treats every new arrival like a fresh-faced cadet-including the rank. Well, Mist Raven will teach them the difference."
"In theory. Realistically...*Pause*...we're not ready. Not yet. Half the equipment we were promised in the refit never showed up. And the crew...god...I'm not sure whom they hate more; the enemy, me or each other. Gallipoli was seen as a good, if somewhat dangerous posting. Here, other than my handful of Gallipoli survivors, it's like no one wants to be here."
*Pause, heavy sigh*
"Well, we have our orders. In two days, Mist Raven begins combat operations with 7th. God, I have a bad feeling about this. We're not ready, I've seen higher morale in Borg war zones, and we have no intel at all on the enemy. But, I've never run from the enemy before; I will be goddamned if I start now. End of log."
LOG ENDS
