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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 8, 2015 0:02:33 GMT -5
--------------------- Acting Captain's Log //// U.S.S. Clairvoyant- Training Cruiser //// Stardate- Oh crap it's morning again, feth, wait, is this recording? //// Supplemental
Begin Recording. |||| "Where are my boots. No. No.... okay maybe I left them,.. ah here. Feth this blasted thing is still recording. I should never have brought my data-pad on shore le " |||| End recording.--------------------- Acting Captain's Log //// U.S.S. Clairvoyant- Training Cruiser //// Stardate-91846.51 //// Supplemental
Begin Recording. |||| "It's nine.. hours.. past noon. I have a few short days left in this leave, surely enough time to find some suitable trouble before returning to duty. Damn my sensibilities that I keep winding towards match-making or over-selling instead of enjoying proper spoils. Ah well. It has been an interesting leave if naught else. I've had the amusing, if somewhat curious chance to observe a few other crews also enjoying some respite. A rather attractive assortment from the U.S.S. Pilgrim shared some drinks tonight, though most seemed rather caught in their own matters. I keep coming across random crew of the U.S.S. Sentinel as well.. my heart goes out to them. They seem a truly strong crew, who have clearly weathered a lot, and it seems, will continue to. One such crewman spoke of a matter to which they're currently investigating... which for clearance and classified sake I'll not mention here. If but only to say, I do not envy their task. The ability to trust one's crew and one's society is all too important for a strong sense of security in life, matters which put such at risk.. are most dire indeed. All the same, I had the pleasure of speaking at some short length with one of their Commanders, one Commander Asada I believe. What a delightfully fascinating, ripped man. We shared some short tales of service, though I fear my forward foot-in-mouth tendencies got the better of any more advanced pursuits. A shame, though perhaps I'll come across him again before leave is up. He said nothing of intimacies on a second date... Though perhaps I ought simply take veteran Lieutenant Tuun's advice and invest in one of those 'horga'hn' statues. It seems such a cop out for proper investigative trouble making, but feth if I could not use -some- respite before I have to meet my intended in a few weeks. What kind of good wife would I be, if I fail at, as my human bunk-mate used to say, 'sewing' as many 'wild oats' as I possibly can, before settling down? Perish the thought I'd give my future husband some droll traditional prude. Such a woman might even befit a politician. Or historian. Feth if my parents would stop giving me the run around on his profession...*chime* .. hold. Hold recording. Yes? Yes this is she, go ahead. Pardon? But I have two more days of ... yes. Of course sir. Understood sir, indeed my 'tan' can hold for a few hours break sir. Thank you sir. Reporting right away for new orders to the nearest star base, sir, Oradar out. Ah blast... I thought I had this reprogrammed to voice commands already. Computer, erase last ." |||| End recording.---------------------
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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 12, 2015 19:23:31 GMT -5
--------------------- Acting Captain's Log //// U.S.S. Clairvoyant- Training Cruiser //// Earth Date-07.12.15 //// Supplemental //// Confidential Personal Security Protocol Alpha
Begin Recording. ||||
"This will be my last log as acting captain, here, on the Clairvoyant. I was able to haggle a somewhat unorthodox deal with Admiral Kieve, (thanks to my esteemed noble family lineage- and spirits curse me for actually politicizing), that will allow me to thankfully continue my command training with the Clairvoyant in between missions for my new active duty posting. But for all intents, she'll be in the hands of Lieutenant T'yeda and Veteran Lieutenant Tuun now. Speaking frankly, this whole deal is suspect. One- That I was called in from shore-leave for this new assignment. Two- That I was only a short year away from reaching tenure and an active duty command position of my own- either a small exploration cruiser or first officer on a heavy cruiser of choice. Three- That before said shore-leave I'd never heard of the U.S.S. Sentinel nor her crew. Four- That I've never expressed interest in an escort class ship nor mission. and Five- That I happen to be a Betazoid who was present while half her crew was intoxicated on their first leave in what must have been too long a while, given their talk. I'm not even certain of the posting on the ship I'm being directed to, the transfer forms vaguely mentioned engineering and operations. It was clearly hastily thrown together and with zero regard for my service record or career trajectory. I'm not specialized for an escort class vessel, let alone one that has clearly seen so much conflict. Not that I worry about my ability to adapt and rise to the needs of the job. Just that the entire thing is permeated with that feeling I used to get before Mother gave us pop quizzes on our family lineage. The ones where she hadn't actually taught us the answers yet and expected us to fail, so she could assign us more chores because the help just quit again. She never was good at keeping help. And Starfleet is miserable at hiding things between shuffled papers. Meanwhile, Jh'ovia and T'yeda have been fully briefed on my new arrangement, and have agreed to remain 'on standby' for 'special training exercises' should what I suspect will be dicey, gets dicey. It's been a privilege learning and working command with the pair of them these last several years. And at least one terribly pleasant mistake has already come from this semi transfer. Lieutenant Bentin Rogg- the tawdry Bajoran fellow in engineering, was waiting at my quarters when I returned from leave. Wearing his intended attire for my coming nuptials this year. I must say, he looks spectacular in traditional Betazoid wedding attire. My wedding will be well worth it if only to get to see him standing at full attention, once again. He managed three formal parting salutes last night. I never knew he was so patriotic about transfers... But then I could carry on. And I have a transfer physical to attend, and a duffle to pack. Feth, a Defiant class, I'll likely be pressed into a shared bunk again. It'll be like the dorms all over. May my new bunkee forgive my snoring... and ought else. And may unraveling this mysterious transfer come with zero casualties. Imza guide me. |||| End Recording.---------------------
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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 13, 2015 21:50:48 GMT -5
--------------------- Personal Log of Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar //// (New) Chief Operations Officer //// U.S.S. Sentinel //// Earth Date-07.13.15 //// Encryption Security Protocol- FETHBegin Recording. ||||
From here-on out, and likely for the duration of my tenure aboard this ship, I'll be recording my logs using the new encryption methods I've nearly perfected in my off time tinkering. They are not star-fleet standard, as I doubt I would ever get my apropos acronym approved for any standard of procedure, though feth if it isn't perfect for my day today. Encryption Security Protocol FETH, (which fully expressed stands for: Fuck Everything To Hell,) is meant to be for strategically dire circumstances anyhow, and nigh nearly undecipherable. Especially for non telepaths, the logic matrix would make zero sense for species unaccustomed to the fluid and transitive flow of information common to those whose primary communication is mental. And as telepathy comprehension is HIGHLY specific to the individual, well. Good fortune to any brave enough to try and pick my brain. My personal logs will make an excellent test therein for this experimental encryption. Additionally, I think I'll keep them on my personal datapad, and maintain it's 'dysfunction' that I 'continuously struggle with as a hobby' where-by it does not connect to any external holonet or ship system. Since it also contains the voice-nuance protocol program I've been tinkering with, it's an easy sell to keep it separate from any official system. The last thing a Starfleet Captain wants is a computer that can adjust mood lighting and hallway fragrances based upon the emotional vocal tonality of a ship's crew. Now to the quick of it. This assignment is by all matter and means unacceptable. Beyond the inconvenience that the first officer is a (rather attractive) male that I washed out flirting with on Risa, .. The poor crew is clearly largely over their own heads in stress for their circumstances, and lack any protocol in terms of disseminating sensitive information. There is a clear disconnect in information distribution, and from all I can tell, the multitude of problems this vessel faces are being addressed informally, and with multiple fronts of pursuit. The palpable atmosphere of fear, exhaustion, and distrust give me deep concern to the crew's ability to hold fast and unravel everything that seems to be going on. And my arrival into the crew was additionally unsettling for them. I did my best to lay them at ease for my intents, as feth if I am not eager to unravel the circumstances that would segway my entire Starfleet career path. However it is clear, at least amongst some of them, there is a latent discomfort around telepaths in general. It's not unusual, certainly, though it is clearly compounded by the nature of the issues at hand. Issues which I'll talk about when I better understand exactly what they are. The gist I've garnered so far is complex, if not straight out of some olden science fiction literary work, with possible multiple fronts of conflict. Some of which- are internal to Starfleet. Hence my new log protocal. FETH. I'll report more again once I finally sign in with the Captain. I got clarification on my role, after some pressing with the Admiral. I'll be replacing their Operations Officer as Chief Operations Officer. Not at all in accordance with my career trajectory, but perhaps, the best position I could be in to help them. On a small positive note, it will let me get a much better active sense of ship energy consumption and how it works for escort class vessels. And with fortune, will allow me to buck for a replicator on the crew-decks for beverages if not else. Fething Defiant class skimps. Until later. |||| End recording.---------------------
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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 20, 2015 15:21:27 GMT -5
--------------------- Personal Log of Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar //// Chief Operations Officer //// U.S.S. Sentinel //// Earth Date-07.19.15 //// Encryption Security Protocol- FETH
Begin Recording. ||||Alright. So here is what I've gathered so far. Some time ago the ship had an encounter with an unknown, telepathic, shadowy alien race, that was being held by a Starfleet research facility. There was an attack on the facility, the alien escaped and caused havoc, and several crewmembers were injured, possibly separated from the crew for a time. It is unclear if Commander Asada's coma occurred in this incident or another, the same with Miss Walker and crewman Endel. Just that this incident is clearly the impetus for the current issues. Returning to present- Miss Walker, Crewman Endel, and as observed last night, Commander Asada, each show symptoms of memory loss, the former two showing signs of clear medical tampering. The latest verbiage from young miss Walker's fiance is that she seems to be making a remarkably swift and unexpected recovery of function, since her shift of position to Strategic Operations. And if I overheard correctly, the doctor has put crewman Endel on a temporary leave, for study. I must say, being shifted out of a command position is taking some adjustment. Not having truly met my new Captain yet has me mildly concerned, though she is a parent of a young child. As we're not yet underway, her absence is not overly alarming. That said, I could not but take some small liberty in 'suggesting' reasonable courses of action based on my observations. As delicately as I could I requested the Doctor take a closer look at the Commander's memory, post coma. It's likely, and I am hopeful, that his memory lapse is merely and mundanely injury and absence related. Her decision to remove Endel of duty seems belated compared to the symptoms of low-function I witnessed while On Risa, but sound all the same. Additionally I ..'gently' pressed upon Lt Cameron the idea that he and the doctor ought invent a new piece of regulation jewelry for miss Walker, to discretely monitor her vitals and hormone levels, as her remarkable and sudden recovery seems highly suspect. With miss Walker now in position to supersede and ill advise the ship's crew in military matters, my malaise with this assignment has only grown. Why in ever some paper pusher might place a woman with confirmed medical memory issues in charge of military strategic operations... is beyond me, and yet another foul waft of err in this conundrum. I pray Lt Cameron is able to convince miss Walker swiftly to the small social tea I requested with her, so I can get a better more direct sense of the damage we're facing. Or at the least, rule out any telepathic intervention in her current state. I've only read about such disgusting incidents of innocents placed under the telepathic control of another, and with the known physical brain rewiring the poor woman has undergone, well. I do truly hope to rule out such a perversity. Such is my new utterly unofficial work. Now, onto more pleasant matters. Last night I was able to relatively confirm my suspicions regarding the ship itself. I did not mention it last log, but ever since moving aboard, I've noticed periodic empathic 'pulses' that seem to be emanating from the overall vessel. Lieutenant Brand.. a recovered Borg Human, was kind enough to answer my query on nanites. As the Chief Engineer is much the same as him, it's likely she's employed a substantial amount of borg nano-technology throughout the vessel, which would account for the stray wafts of, for lack of a better term, mild sentience, that I've been experiencing. It is both deeply fascinating, and utterly disorienting, as if periodically having the sense one was swallowed by a earthen-whale. I greatly look forward to a lengthy conversation with the Chief on this matter, as understanding this is essential to my new position as Operations Officer. Lastly, last night was also my second meeting with the kind Commander Asada. He is presently the only other telepath aboard the vessel, though his skills are highly untrained and undisciplined. I.. was able to successfully, regardless, clear the air of my .. indelicate advances towards him whilst on Risa. He seems a truly kind-hearted and definitively intriguing man. In another life, and were my engagement not so eminent, I would avidly pursue an interest in the officer. Given his position as my direct superior however, and the aforementioned, I shall settle instead for whatever friendship I might establish. It was a deep relief to discover last night he does possess the capability to speak telepathically, though his pacing is that of a former crewmate- whose only method of communication was a rather imprint-style instantaneous telepathy. I suspect he will take to an adjustment of a slower conversational speed sufficiently well, and find the nuance and flavor of Betazed based telepathy quite enjoyable, given his humor. He has consented to regular 'lessons' to hone his telepathic control, lessons that would be essential for shear safety protocol reasons alone, in earnest... Regardless of my personal interest in learning more of the man. His ease and demeanor is truly a breath of fresh air in this comedy of errs. Alas. |||| End recording.---------------------
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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 27, 2015 12:59:25 GMT -5
--------------------- Personal Log of Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar //// Chief Operations Officer //// U.S.S. Sentinel //// Earth Date-07.26.15 //// Encryption Security Protocol- FETH
Begin Recording. ||||
*sound of mug clanking on a counter, followed by an exacerbated sigh.* One thousand.... seven hundred... and fifty two. This is the count of the "EVEN" 's I currently "CANNOT". As if my current situation was not already over complex. I... no. perhaps it would be best if I record this log when I've sobered. And rested. Tonight I'll simply recount small blessings. My new Commander is kind. My new crew is friendly and well intent-ed. My intended is beyond regulation attractive, and pleasant. And my mother is several thousand lightyears away. There. Yes, that is enough for tonight. Tomorrow I can report on the fething shite-storm of coincidence and suspicious circumstance which has been my week. |||| End recording.---------------------
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Post by Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar on Jul 27, 2015 17:31:57 GMT -5
--------------------- Personal Log of Lieutenant Vareiya Oradar //// Chief Operations Officer //// U.S.S. Sentinel //// Earth Date-07.27.15 //// Encryption Security Protocol- FETH
Begin Recording. ||||
Alright. So, here is the short end of where things are now. I met my intended this week, much by chance, as it turns out we are both in Starfleet. I could write a short novel about my mother's errant omissions and manipulations, so I'll simply state here... her misleading on this fact was low, even for her. To omit the basic fact, to myself and his parents, that we both were pursuing a career in Starfleet.. is simply too much. She told them I was a school-marm, of all things! As much as it is very much her, it is also very un-Betazoid of her. Omissions meant to perpetrate falsehoods to her own ends. I knew she was displeased with my choice of Starfleet, but this.... *sound of rapid huff* I still feel bashful about the whole happenstance meet, I presumed at outset he was part of some jest, or hazing ritual my new crew had put together. Life would have been easier certainly if he were, I'd have shown them up and shown him one rather flexible and exciting night... but as it turns out.. well. The alarm and surprise was quite authentic for both of us. As was the pleasant relief.. admittedly. He is as far from some fat, library laden historian as can be. I believe I told Doctor Spencer he rather resembles the physique of one who had stepped fresh out of a regulation tactical replicator. I would wager him to rival our Commander in many aspecs.. and admittedly he already surpasses him in the aft regions. And I am also relieved the attraction seemed pleasantly mutual, at least prior to him learning I was to be his wife. Time I suspect will tell the rest, though at the least, we both seem to share a pleasant, forward manner. This unexpected meet is far from the most concerning coincidence of the week, however, as it also seems- he will be assigned to the Sentinel, with me. The coincidence of this new posting is simply too much. Someone, somewhere in Starfleet is covering bases. Someone with racial presumptions about telepaths, I would wager, as the only connection my intended and I have shared till now is on files. Shipping him in not weeks after my erroneous sudden transfer.. is far too suspect to ignore. I must admit to some considerable guilt in this matter, had my curiosity not bit me so harshly while on Risa, neither of us would be in this predicament. Still, his temperament is such that he looks to it as a challenge, I sensed as much eagerness as trepidation from him as I explained the circumstances. Or rather, had Lieutenant Cameron do so.. I cannot mimic his emotional urgency to convey the truth of the goings on here. I will say this at the least. Whomever decided to quarantine anyone who might know anything about this mystery onto this one ship, has made a vital error. Placing two telepaths aboard with objective views and a genetically disposed link, is a swift way to put an end to any such mystery. I pity them, once the pair of us help get this conundrum unraveled. But first... well. Dinner. I will have to marry the man, after this all. Imza calm my nerves... I was so banking on another few months yet, of .... distraction. Perhaps the Commander is right, and my fondness in his direction is a defense mechanism. Imza guide me. Feth. |||| End recording.---------------------
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