USS Darmok Briefings and Logs
||The duty logs, weekly status reports and sim logs of the USS Darmok.|
|Captain Zachary Taylor, SD|
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Captain's Log, SD 201812.20
Captain Zak Taylor, USS Darmok
.__ “Computer, record Captain's Log, Stardate 201812.20,” Captain Taylor began as he flopped into the chair in his Ready Room. He needed a moment to steady himself so he'd stepped off the Bridge of the USS Darmok into his private office.
.__ The computer trilled its response and the Captain continued, “Patterson and his Away Team have not officially reported in, though Relok seems to be receiving telepathic communications from Dr. K'Trevala. That's a useful ability that we ought to look into using in the future. Too bad not everyone has the capability.”
.__ Taylor rubbed his right foot's arch through his boots, squeezing his toes, then continued, “Hines, flying the Cerberus in Delta Flight, is holding Phase Line Alpha, waiting either the 'withdraw' or 'engage' order. Honestly, I think he and the other Pathfinders would just as soon I cut them loose to attack than sit there and hold their breath, like the rest of us are doing. I don't want to start something though that the Zephyr has to fight through to get back. I'm not sure how well the Darmok would hold up against a concerted attack by Kyrathians. Sure, we could probably outrun them; last intel says their ships are barely capable of Warp 5, and the Darmok can sustain Warp 9.9 if needed for as long as our fuel holds out, but I'm not sure of our defensive capabilities should those energy-draining pods attach to the shields and Kyrathian Soldiers and Gatherers start tearing at the hull.”
.__ He shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the video logs of the huge holes ripped in the side of the Android's old ship, the Romulan D'deridex Warbird, the ISS Reciprocity, at the first encounter with the Kyrathian Swarm nearly twenty years ago.
.__ He switched to his left foot and started rubbing. “Relok said he detected six Soldiers …€Â“ six! And then, after the Zephyr had docked and the Away Team was committed to the mission, he tells me that Shadow said there were twice that many. How can my Science Officer be so far off on his report? He said his first number was …€Â˜just an estimate'. Well that estimate was the basis for my determination to go forward with the damn mission! If I'd known there was that many …€…” he trailed off, stamping his foot to the floor in frustration.
.__ He let out a sigh, trying to calm himself. “I know it was just an estimate. He couldn't get good readings because all the lifesigns look too similar. I made him give me numbers, I don't think he wanted to at all. And then, on top of all that, Hines reports there are five ships incoming, four of which look like fighter craft and the other some kind of cargo transport. And we've only got a half-dozen or so Recon Craft hiding among the asteroids. Sure a few of those might make decent fighter craft, piloted by skilled Marines, but I know they're not fighters. The Darmok is a recon vessel, not a warship!”
.__ He lurched to his feet, pacing again. “Well, at least Shadow reported some good news. The new biosuits MacArdry and Riedinger developed seem to work against the gods-cursed Plant Spores. I don't know the details yet of just how they tested that hypothesis. God, I hope no-one deliberately put himself in danger just to find out! That sounds like something Patterson might do, but he's not wearing one of the suits, just his tricked-out Combat Armor.”
.__ He stepped to the replicator in the corner of the room. “Coffee, hot, sweetened,” he ordered. The computer buzzed and said, “Replicators are offline under Condition Grey.” He cursed under his breath and considered overriding the condition for a cup but decided not to. He reached under the replicator to a cabinet and slid it open. There were four plastic bottles of clear water that Dr. Thibodeaux and Dr. K'Trevala had insisted he needed to drink. With a grimace he grabbed one of them and flipped the lid, squeezing a measure of the horrid substance into his mouth and forcing himself to swallow.
.__ As he went to close the cabinet he also caught sight of a glass bottle filled with a dark brown liquid. An image of an ancient sea pirate with one foot on a wooden keg beckoned to him. He muttered, “Not right now, Captain, but I'll definitely visit with you a bit later.” He closed the cabinet, forced himself to down another mouthful of water, and turned back to gaze out the windows at the asteroid field.
.__ “You know, if it came to a dogfight, doing it in an asteroid field might just give us an advantage. The Recon craft and the Darmok herself are agile and fast. But, those damn Kyrathians aren't called a Swarm for nothing. They'll come at us with dozens or even hundreds of energy-siphoning pods and tiny, one-person craft bringing their damn Soldiers and Gatherers to rip open our hull. And they don't mind sacrificing a few dozen of their own to achieve their ends. I don't want to give up even one of mine.”
.__ He contemplated a moment. “No, I don't want a firefight. We need to gather some intel, anything more than we have right now, and get the hell out of here!”
.__ He forced another mouthful of water then said, “Why the hell hasn't Patterson reported yet?” He planted the half-empty bottle of water on the corner of his desk with enough force for some to splash up from the lid, unnoticed, and stalked back towards the Bridge.