USS Cayuga: Resistance is Futile
USS CAYUGA: RESISTANCE IS FUTILE
Captain’s Log.
Exploration of the Azure Nebula continues. While the Chief Science Officer continues to tell me that this trip bears merit, I, for one, look forward to the day that I can look out of my quarters and see the stars again.
Part of me had hoped the blue of the nebula would make me feel like I was planetside but it’s not the case. While I have lost many an hour staring into the swirling mass, it has started to feel stifling.
Apparently though, I am not the only one. Under guidance from our counsellor, I have increased rest time for the crew as well as increasing provisions for community-based events within the mess hall. Hopefully that, along with some holodeck time, should stave any cabin fever.
Many of the crew are using the time to craft messages home for when we reach the far edge of the nebula. I know Security Chief Toren is expecting a new holonovel that they intend to share with the crew on the return journey, however I’m just looking forward to an update from the Federation News Service. We have missed the elections on Rathana Prime and I want to know if Tremorea managed to retain his premiership.
One thing this journey has accomplished is highlight how dependant my life has come on a constant uplink to Starfleet. Without the immediate influx of information at my fingertips, it definitely feels like we are alone.
Computer, end log.
- Captain Ziegler, Commanding Officer, USS Cayuga
[ Captain Anya Ziegler | Bridge | Deck 01 | USS Cayuga ] Attn: @Masorin @JosiahDorn @DocReno @Gadget @lisavw , Anyone else
Stepping from her ready room, raktajino in hand, Anya Ziegler surveyed the bridge. It was quiet, as it was often and although the main viewscreen filtered a lot, there was still a light blue hue to nearly everything. The large majority of the senior staff were in the Mess Hall preparing for this evening’s festivities. As such, the bridge was manned mostly by deputies or beta shift officers. Martin at Tactical, Deputy Bannin at Security, Will Stevens – relief Science officer at his duty station. Nodding, she called to the young man operating the, albeit currently limited, sensor suite on the Iroquois class.
“Mister Stevens. How goes the mapping? Still struggling with adequate resolution?” Anya knew the answer, just as she had asked when she came out to the bridge an hour ago. Still, old habits died hard. Ziegler brought herself to the centre chair and stopped, standing just in front of it. She contemplated sitting and spending some time with the junior officers, or she could just retreat to her ready room. In the end, she decided to wait until she had an update of each station before making her decision.
“Aye Captain. Computer indicates that we are still sub par. We may need to retrace our steps when we are operating fully again.” The astrophysicist called. Stevens was very young - Fresh from the academy. He had joined the ship just before the mission the Azure Nebula. So far, he seemed to be settling in well. Anya was pleased, the crew had bonded well since she took over command.
“Don't tell me that, Ensign. If I find out that you’re making us fly in circles, I’ll make sure that Commander West assigns you to official Piñata holder tonight.” Ziegler couldn’t help but smirk. She didn’t often engage in joking banter and as such, her deadpan approach could often be misinterpreted, much to her own amusement. Without leaving Stevens chance to respond, she moved on with her check of the bridge.
“Engineering.” She announced, picking the station at random and turning to face the aft of the bridge. “The Chief was commenting that the port plasma vent was showing a fault in the last Senior Staff meeting. Has a team fixed the issue yet?”
“Captain…” Stevens’ voice was shakey, as if unsure of what he was going to say. Before he could continue, he was interrupted by a loud static crunch over the intercom. Turning back towards the front of the bridge, the image on screen caught Ziegler’s eye.
Paling, she stared at the ship now visible against the sea of blue. The coffee, now forgotten, tumbled from her hands and smashed across the deck. The sound of shattering ceramic was covered by that voice no one wanted to hear.
[WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR SHIP. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]
“Red Alert, all hands to battle stations!” Ziegler called, unable to look away from the cube. Using her hands alone, she guided herself into the command chair.
Never before in her life, had Anya wished so hard to just see empty space before her.