Brian Graham

Security Officer's Classified Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Special Assignment, Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affiars, and Starfleet Security) Stardate 200511.21 to Stardate 200511.26 Brian was crouched behind several crates, just outside the landing area. He could see Garan standing about ten meters away from his ship, a small transport ship that looked like it had had an maintenance overhaul about the time Starfleet ships could only go Warp 6, and looked like it had been cleaned before even that. The ramp that led into it was still down so Garan could get into the ship when he planned to leave. Garan was looking over a PADD, just a generic one you could buy anywhere, probably going over his cargo list to make sure he had everything. There were no Corvallens in sight, they probably didn’t trust them either, not that the Corvallens could be trusted anyway. Brian looked at his chronometer, 0350, Garan would be getting ready to lift off soon. Nothing had gone like he had planned. Instead of an extensive examination of the area, Brian had ended up talking with Leena until 0300. He had some Starfleet stories, ship, Academy, stuff like that, and she had a few of her own as a galactic wanderer and secret Starfleet operative in her spare time. He didn’t regret it, she needed someone to talk to as much as he did, so it was a symbiotic thing Brian guessed. Brian quietly unholstered the phaser that was on his uniform. It should be simple, step out with phaser trained on him, tell him to give up, he does so since he has no alternative, take Garan in, justice served, the end. Brian came out from behind the crate, phaser right on his quarry. “Garan,” he called out. His adversary turned, “What!?,” he yelled in typically gruff voice, what one would expect from a person in his line of work. “On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I am placing you under arrest. Surrender, now.” Brian was stupid to think he would. No criminal of this guy’s profession, who had done the things he had done, would capitulate so easy. And he didn’t. He dove instead behind some crates. Brian wished Starfleet regulations would have let him just shoot the guy. Garan sprung up, disruptor in hand and fired, sending two packages of deadly energy hurtling toward where Brian had been, except he wasn’t there. Brian had taken the opportunity to take cover the moment Garan had. Brian leaned passed the edge of some stacked crates, sending a stream of phaser energy back, maximum stun. Missed, no good, Garan pulled back as the shot impacted several inches away, sending some sparks up. Up again, Garan fired, missed, but close, he had been in a firefight or two. Brian didn’t know how long this could go on, one of them was bound of screw up, or… Garan made the decision for him. Sending a salvo of disruptor blasts over as covering fire, Brian wheeled toward the other side of the crate, and caught Garan running for his open ship. Brian charged toward there as well, hoping to block him. They were moving perpendicular to each other but converging on the same spot. A few more meters and he’s be on his ship, before that, he would see Brian enough to be able to shoot him, and Brian couldn’t hit Garan, not with all the crates littered around. Instead, he kept up full speed toward the ship, set his phaser for a narrow beam, high power, and shot the ground in front of the ramp, sending up dust and debris as the surface exploded from the concentrated energy. Garan charged through the dust, hit the ramp, and Brian was already flying through the air, having dove for the ramp. Brian connected with Garan, throwing them both off the ramp. Brian hit the ground on his left side, and felt his heart stop as he felt the phaser fly out of his hand. Fumble, you’ve got to be kidding me! Garan was right next to him, already rolling to get up. Brian got to his feet, just in time to let Garan’s fist hit him in the face, then the chest, and then kick the side of his knee, sending Brian to the ground again. Brian waited for the pulse of disruptor to hit him, but noticed Garan didn’t have a weapon either. Instead Garan was heading back to his ship and Brian saw the disruptor laying near the ramp. Shaking the rest of the stars away, Brian got up just as Garan reached his weapon and scooped it up. Darn it Brian yelled internally and dove behind more crates as a bolt flew past him and one impacted the crate he was using as a shield. Brian looked to his right, seeing his phaser on the ground ten feet away. Garan would have him if he tried to get it, double darn it. But Garan had given up, Brian hood footsteps on metal and then the sound of moving machinery, Garan was getting away. Brian looked up just in time to see the ramp finish closing, with Garan inside and Brian stuck outside. Brian jumped to his feet and grabbed his phaser, already the engines throttling up. There was no way Brian could get to his ship in time and catch him, and his phaser wouldn’t be able to shut down that ship. The ship was slowly lifting off the ground, exhaust from the old engines whipping up dust and filling the pad with a deafening noise. No time to think about it, Brian ran toward the rear landing gear, working the phaser controls. He looked down and saw the red lights blinking on the power indicator. Shoving the phaser between some hoses, hoping it would stay there, Brian took cover, just in case fire started coming out of that engine. The ship began to ascend over the edge of the sunken landing bay. Moving toward the entrance of the bay, Brian braced himself behind the thick wall, he could hear was engines, though he thought he heard a high pitched, sustained whining noise, growing louder. The sound of the phaser he had set on overload.

Security Officer's Classified Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Special Assignment, Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affiars, and Starfleet Security) Stardate 200511.21 to Stardate 200511.26 Brian had made it there without incident, building 112, took the stairs to the correct floor, found the correct room, and hit the chime and waited. Nothing. He rung it again and waited. Nothing. He looked at the paper again, these were the correct numbers. “Hello there.” Brian whirled in the direction the voice came from, seeing his Risian benefactor once again. “Oh it’s you, hello.” “Hmm, what kind of a greeting is that?,” she asked, walking toward the door. She took out a card, placed it in a receptacle, which opened a keypad, and she punched a code into. The door slid open and she entered. Brian looked at the locking mechanism, again surprised at the security this place had. Then again, based on the buckets of sunshine he had seen that inhabited this place, a good lock was a fine investment. “Are you going to come in?,” she called from somewhere in the room. Brian took a deep breath. Secret meetings with strange women, in strange rooms, on strange planets, alone, was not something he looked forward to experiencing. But, carrying on a secret conversation in a hallway wasn’t a good idea either. Darn you, Jerowich Brian mentally cursed and entered, closing the door. He just stood there, unsure of how to proceed, finally walking down the small hall that led into a larger room. Brian just stood in the entranceway. “I hope you don’t mind meeting here, but it is more private than a crowded bar. Besides, there aren’t any Ferengi ears here either.” “No, I suppose you’re right. This is acceptable. What do you have to tell me?” “Boy, you Starfleet types are all business,” she replied. Brian nodded, “Yes, Garan could be getting away as we speak. I somewhat wished we had talked earlier.” “You have no cause to worry, Garan will stay on this planet until tomorrow at 0400 hours.” “How do you know that?” “Remember all those questions I asked you back at Grock’s?” “Yes.” “Well, I ask them to everybody, that’s my job.” “Sure, but Garan is that forthcoming with his information?” “With me he is. He’s been coming into Grock’s off and on for at least two years. He always talks to me.” “Ok, so did you get mixed up with Starfleet?” “I try to help out the Federation whenever I can.” “Most of us join Starfleet for that.” “I’m not Starfleet material, I couldn’t take the regimentation, the orders, the discipline.” “Still, how did you end up on a planet like this?” “You don’t think I belong here?” “I didn’t say that.” “You’re right, you didn’t. I left Risa when I was 21, and just like you said before, saw where the galaxy would take me.” “But this place?” “You can’t argue it’s exciting, far more exciting than a Federation world.” “At least Federation worlds have some form of order.” Brian figured she was finding out how much of a square he was. She shot back, “Well, than what is a clean cut Starfleet officer like yourself doing on a planet like this?” “The mission, what else?” “I figured,” she said, giving him a weird smile, like she was trying to figure him out. “So what has he done?” “Enough to warrant active attention.” “Hmm, you won’t tell me either, huh? Neither would my contact in Starfleet Intelligence. You guys are too secretive for your own good.” “Yes, well. About Garan…” “Oh yes, Garan,” she said with a disappointed sigh, like she was not to happy to speak business. “Garan is here to pick up a shipment of whatever from the Corvalens. They will be arriving here early this morning, they will transfer the cargo to his ship at Landing Pad C-15 and he’ll depart at 0400 hours.” Brian was satisfied, he had what he needed, Garan would be leaving five hours from now. “Is he alone?” “He’s always alone. When you get involved in the things he does, keeping partners is a good way to get yourselves double-crossed.” Brian couldn’t quite grasp that notion. A Starfleet officer, he had to trust people all the time, it was an odd idea to trust no one. “He trusts you.” “Not really.” “He gave you all that information.” “Only because he wanted me to stop by his ship before he left. He always does that.” “Oh,” Brian said, immediately understanding. “Do you ever go there?” “With that creep, no way!” “Oh, for a second I thought you didn’t like him.” “I don’t.” “But you are nice to him.” “I’m nice to everyone, it’s my job. Besides, they are more likely to give out information when they like you, and I can pass that information off to fellas like you.” “I see. Well, on behalf of the United Federation of Planets, thank you for your cooperation in this operation.” “You’re welcome.” Brian turned to go. “Hey, you’re leaving?” “Yes, I’m going to survey that landing site.” “You have five hours until he leaves!” “I’m not going to sit on my ship for five hours. And I’m certainly not going back to that restaurant.” “Good, I was hoping you would stay. Sit down.” Brian didn’t care for this idea too much, but he sat in a chair across from where she was. “Can I fix you a drink?” “Do you have water?” She gave him another one of those weird looks, but nodded. “Yes I do,” and she got up to get it. Brian looked around at the furnishings. Table, chairs, couch, plants, artwork (mostly of Risa). “You have a nice place.” “Thank you, it took me two years to get it the way I liked it.” Brian didn’t really have the ability to appreciate interior designs and stuff like that, but the place was clean, orderly, comfortable, all the prime facets of home. “Here you are,” she said, presenting him with a glass of water. For herself, she had a drink with blue on the bottom and orange on top, with some type of fruit on the ring of the glass. Apparently, in her line of work, you learned how to mix drinks. The water was good, a drink that he was more used to, and Brian was appreciative for it. He was thirsty, but drinking before confronting a ruffian like Garan was a prelude to disaster. “So, tell me about yourself,” she said. “I thought I did already.” “You told me about your alias.” “Oh right, well there’s not much to tell.” “I don’t mind. I spend all day asking the same questions to fifty different aliens, none who completely obey the law. I’d like to hear about those who only obey the law.” “I thought you wanted to get away from those kind of people, not exciting enough.” “Dull can be exciting when it is a change of pace.” “I don’t even know your name.” “Leena.” “You don’t seem like much of an operative.” "Why not?!” “You gave your name away pretty easily.” “I have a feeling I can trust you.” “You do?” “Usually, when you wear a Starfleet uniform, you can be trusted. And, since Intelligence sent you on this mission, alone, they must trust you too. That’s good enough for me.” “Alright, Leena, it’s nice to finally know who I am talking to.” “Well…” “What?” “And you name is…” “Oh, Tennille.” “And how far have you gotten in Starfleet?” “Captain.” “Hmm, Captain Tennille, huh? Brian started laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asked? “Nothing, it’s a dumb joke with a loose Earth reference.” “Earth? I would have expected to hear some Andorian material.” “I’m not from Andoria.” “You sure look it.” “It’s a long story.” “Tell me.”

Security Officer's Classified Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Special Assignment, Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affiars, and Starfleet Security) Stardate 200511.21 to Stardate 200511.26 Jerowich was right, this was not a regulation Federation planet. On the fringes of Federation territory and not a member world, Temecklia III was a hive of scum and villainy. Setting his shuttle down in one of the landing areas after getting confirmation from the city’s airway control, Brian took one step out, one look around, and promptly checked to make sure the ship’s lock worked. It did, giving Brian some relief, but he figured if any one of the fellas he saw wanted to get in that ship, they’d find a way. Brian was suddenly grateful the ship looked as dilapidated as it was. Turning his attention back to the situation at hand, Brian tried putting on a face that blended it with the Sunshine Crew that milled about the streets. Brian was thoroughly convinced: these guys were rough and the real deal. Brian could just see himself getting piled on by about five of these guys, getting robbed and then murdered. Quite an end to a career, and if it were to happen, Brian was certain Starfleet would have two deaths to investigate, his and his mother’s when she found out he had set foot on a planet like this. Making it look like he belonged, Brian pressed on, mentally going over the city map the ship’s computer had contained. Heading along the dirty and dark street, Brian looked up, noticing from the marker he had to make a left. Two blocks later he made a right and set on making his way down the seven blocks that would lead to Grock’s. The scenery changed little. Grey, industrial-like buildings greeted him, most of the lights non-functioning and instead, barrel fires burned in variable intervals along the street cluttered with refuse. Most of the sounds were the crackling of the fires, wind pushing the garbage around, and the occasional mutterings of the populace clustered along the streets in small groups. Brian was conscious to look straight ahead and not make eye contact, nor did he waver his expression, instead keeping a serious-looking demeanor. No one approached him nor hardly paid him any attention. Sometimes a got a stare, but only rarely and then the person turned away. In a place like this, few asked questions. He saw many species he recognized, though didn’t let them occupy his attention to long, instead attempting to look disinterested in everyone. “I know you!” A loud voice called from somewhere behind him. Brian’s blood froze for a moment, even to the smallest capillary, yet he talked himself out of it being him. It was a crowded street, so it could have been addressed to any one of the ruffians that literally surrounded him. Besides, he’d never been on this planet before, so it was highly unlikely that… That thought vanished as a hand gripped his shoulder, giving Brian a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It was probably the feelings birds got the moment they realized they were flying directly into a window. The hand yanked back and Brian was spun around, facing a Rigellian. Brian was about five inches taller than him, but if the guy had a disruptor, that didn’t really matter. “Don’t act like you don’t know me! Where’s that latinum I lent you?” Truthfully, Brian had no idea who this guy was. But, what he did notice was this guy was seriously sloshed, barely standing even. He was seriously swaying more than a maple tree in a hurricane, but Brian had to stay in character. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brian replied and turned to leave. The guy was clearly inebriated, it was dark, the guy could easily have mistaken him for anybody. Brian only got two steps away when the mass of the man slammed into him, sending them both to the ground. Brian rolled away and sprung to his feet, is opponent stood up as well, though it took him awhile. He did not look happy, but it was clear he was in no position to fight effectively, being disoriented as he was. The Rigellian threw a few punches, though Brian was able to dodge the drunken missiles easily. A fist came flying at him again, Brian sidestepped to the right, turned and pushed the brute off balance. Tilting for a second the guy regained his balance, obvious fury in his eyes. Suddenly, a second figure crashed into the Rigellian and hung off his shoulder, both of them trying to maintain their balance. “That’s the third Andorian you yelled at tonight.” “This one is him, I know it!” “Come on, let’s go drink some more.” “…Maybe he’s not him.” They both turned and headed toward a dim-lighted establishment, probably some dive, both of them singing some drinking song very loudly. Brian looked around at the crowd that was staring at him and felt suddenly self-conscious. Low profile indeed Brian fumed, turned, and started walking in the direction he had been traveling in. Farther down, he saw blinking and bright lights. Drawing closer, he saw they said “Grock’s Oasis” with a tropical pine tree in lights next to it. Brian was surprised a Ferengi had used an Earth tree, but thought it might be a familiar symbol so he had used it. Forgetting it, Brian took a look around and then headed in. Inside was a different story from the tumbleweed factory that the city’s streets were. Loud music, yelling and laughing patrons of all species and flashing lights greeted him. Brian walked in and shut the door behind him, moving to an unoccupied booth along the wall. The place was obviously very festive. There were some gambling tables, yelling, laughing, groaning, sobbing. Some were doing well, some were not apparently. There was a band in one corner, looked like a group of Tellarites playing…whatever it was Tellarites played, Brian didn’t know musical instruments very well. The bar area had several patrons, all drinking, and a Ferengi with a big Ferengi smile, probably because the place was packed and everyone had bought something. Tables were full too, some had food (a few of which Brian would certainly not be ordering), all had alcohol. “Can I get you something?” Brian looked up and was greeted by a, he’ll say it, gorgeous Risian woman carrying an empty drink tray. “Um…yeah…I’ll…um….” Oh jeez you idiot, say something, you’re supposed to be used to places like this! “Well…you see…” Wasn’t working. “I’ll come back later.” “No!...no, that’s not necessary. I’ll just have…,” Brian had no idea what a guy like him was supposed to order, and it looked like she knew it. He was blowing it, he had to say something. He went with the easy way out, giving her the best smile he could muster. “Whatever you recommend.” She gave him a smile back. “Right away!,” and she headed off, no doubt to fetch something. Dodged that bullet, Brian thought. Suddenly he realized anything could show up. Oh jeez, what if it was a glass with a live fish in it or something? Blood of whatever? There were thousands of possibilities in a place like this. Brian wished he had paid more attention to drinks when he had had the chance instead of drinking water all the time. No one orders water in a place like this! Brian was sitting there in his own misery when she showed up again, bearing his drink. “Here you are,” she said, presenting the beverage. It was green and had steam coming off of it. Brian faked interest, steeled himself, and took a drink, hoping he would plaster the wall with a spittake. Surprisingly, it was good! “Thank you, it’s terrific,” Brian said. “Excellent,” she said, obviously pleased. She immediately sat down close next to him and looked into his eyes. “Glad you like it.” This was highly irregular, Brian thought. Usually, if a waitress sat down on the job, she’d be out the door, though her boss didn’t appear to mind. Brian didn’t mind either, to tell the truth. “I’ve never seen you in here before.” “Well, I’m just passing through.” “Conducting any business?” “A little.” “Then where are you heading?” “Um…wherever the galaxy takes me I suppose.” “Well, there are a lot of places in the galaxy.” “True. Where do you think I should go?” “I think you should stay right here,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. Brian was so surprised it took all the control he had not to pull away and have her fall over. “Alright,” Brian surrendered and let her stay there. She didn’t say anything else, just seemed to enjoy being there. Brian didn’t know what to say so didn’t say anything. Five minutes had passed before she said anything, generic questions mostly, what he did, what he liked, how his drink was. “How many times have you done Titan’s Turn?,” she asked. It was so offhand, and Brian had been absently answering questions, he almost missed it. “…Enough,” he replied, looking at her, finding she was staring right back. The look in her eyes gave it away, this was who he wanted to talk to. “Good,” she said and smiled. Brian started to say something but she shook her head discreetly. “Not here,” she said. “Finish your drink.” Brian certainly wanted to get this mission moving but complied, finishing it. She got up, “I’ll get your transaction report,” she said, leaving. Leaving? What about the mission?! Brian fully pictured Garan’s ship lifting off this very second, getting away, with who knows what information. Feelings of defeat settled over him. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he could probably have apprehended the guy already. “Here you are,” she said, returning, holding out a small device with his bill on it. Direct transaction, Brian wasn’t going for that. He saw the price and fished a strip of latinum out of his clothes and handed it to her. She nodded and left again, returning several minutes with the slips that were his change and a hard copy. “Come again,” she said, and left. Get back here!, Brian thought. He looked down at the slips and the paper. I’m surprised they still use this stuff, Brian thought. He looked at the data on it, seeing some indentations in the paper. Turning it over, he saw some text written on it: R-112-308, what did that mean? He looked around and saw her talking to someone else. Brian fumed, cloak and dagger, secret messages, bars, what kind of game was this? He couldn’t just go over and talk to her, that would look suspicious, maybe it was a comm frequency? Brian guessed that was it and left the establishment. Perhaps this was a comm. channel to who he really needed to talk to. Brian reentered the street, dark as before, thugs all around. He needed to find a communication station. Wandering up the street, he found what looked like an information console. He selected the comm. channels from the menu and input the number when prompted. No frequency found the console displayed. Lousy planet, Brian hated this place more by the minute. He went to the Search field and input the number again, and waited for the results. A few seconds passed, and he got one, it was a general information paragraph that gave a breakdown of the number, but didn’t tell him anything about it. Apparently, the R meant “Residence,” there were other letter symbols on the list, I, C, A, S, etc. The second number was the building and the final number was the room. It was pretty simple, Brian guessed, and pretty organized for a place like this. Brian brought up the map and asked for building 112. The route as displayed from his current location to the building, not far. Brian made his way there, hoping there weren’t too many more drunks whose friends he looked like.

Security Officer's Classified Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Special Assignment, Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affiars, and Starfleet Security) Stardate 200511.21 to Stardate 200511.26 Brian sat in the co-pilot seat of a Runabout shuttlecraft the next day. He hadn’t expected to leave that quickly, but after accepting, whatever strings Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affairs, and Starfleet Security must have all pulled at once, because Brian was going through the wormhole back to the Alpha Quadrant in less than eight hours. A quick message to Admiral Day from some other Admiral, order signed, stardated, approved, and Brian was out of there. He didn’t even know what cover story they had come up with, but it must have been good because Station OPS had told him his shuttle was ready and hoped he enjoyed his trip. Brian didn’t really know what to say about it, so just said “Thank You” and walked down to investigate. There was Jeorwich, who told him to get in and less than ten minutes later they were entering the wormhole, heading toward the Bajor system. All Brian had was the uniform he was wearing. No luggage, no gear, not even a book. However, Jerowich had plenty of reading material for him, including how this operation was going to proceed. “Transportation, an appropriate wardrobe, and an alias has been arranged for you. You’ll proceed to the planet Rakon IV. It’s within Federation territory but is an independent world with a pretty rough reputation, so Garan will fit in fine. Hopefully, you will to. Anyway, there’s a large settlement at these coordinates, bazaars, shops, taverns, who knows what else. Our informant frequents this establishment, “Grock’s Oasis,” run by a Ferengi.” “He’s who I want to talk to?” “No” “Then who?” “I can’t give you that information beforehand. The deal is, you’ll take your ship, land there, and head to Grock’s. Make sure you are there by 22:00 hours local time. Sit down, our informant will approach you, they know who to look for. They will ask you how many times you’ve done Titan’s turn.” Brian knew what that was. He’d heard some of the cadets in his senior AP Piloting class talking about it, though no one ever got to try it during class, almost like a Kolvoord Starburst thing. It was something reserved for when no one was watching and you had the shuttle to yourself. Got caught and you pretty much lost your wings. Brian got back to reality and listened to the rest. “You reply, ‘Enough,’ that will be their signal to your identity. They will then tell you what they know. If we act quick enough, Garan should still be on the planet. Every other time we have come across him, he’d been hanging around the place about a week, probably seeing what the best job on the market was before moving on. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed his routine and you can have your chance.” “I look forward to it.” The shuttle got confirmation to land in one of Deep Space 9’s shuttle facilities. Brian had watched the goings on around the station the whole time as the shuttle made it’s way to it’s port. He was used to all of the activity that accompanied going on around a facility having been around Camelot, however he never passed up an opportunity to see a starship in flight, let alone several starships at once. As they drifted past the observations ports on the Promenade, Brian could have sworn he saw individual figures watching the shuttle. But just as quickly, the craft had gone by and moments later, all Brian saw was the interior of the facility. Quickly powering down, Jerowich flew out of his seat. “Let’s go.” Brian quickly responded and followed him. Leaving the bay and heading for the Docking Ring, Jerowich explained that Brian’s arranged ship was at Docking Port 2 and that everything he needed would be on it, along with coordinates, flight plan, equipment, everything he would need to accomplish the mission, except for a few hired goons in case a fight had broken out. Starfleet had forgotten to include those. Arriving at the airlock, Jerowich opened the two sets of doors and turned to face Brian. “This is where we part Lieutenant Commander. Good hunting.” Jerowich finished as he shook Brian’s hand a final time. “Thank you, sir,” Brian said, turned, and headed onto the vessel. It wasn’t very large, Brian determined that quickly. A small cargo hold an even smaller passageway with cramped and spartan quarters to his left and an equipment locker on his right. Directly ahead was an opened door, leading into the command area. There were two seats, one facing directly forward looking outwards through the viewport with a generic console, and an assistant’s seat three feet behind the pilot’s, placed up close and facing the port bulkhead, where there was some engineering, sensor, and navigation information, as well as a computer retrieval console. Taking it all in took 2 minutes, the ship was small, but perfect for someone wanting to play the role of a small-operations freelance trader/smuggler/mercenary/whatever. Brian settled in and radioed Station OPS for clearance to depart, while simultaneously looking over the piloting controls. Confirmation was given, and a safe flight plan was fed to his piloting console toward the station’s outer marker, from where Brian could then choose his own course. Giving the station a final farewell, Brian sealed the locks, unlocked the clamps, and pulled the ship away from the station. Using thrusters, Brian swung around 170 degrees and followed the flight waypoints at 1/8 impulse power. Opening the navigation system, Brian noticed his destination was a different color, giving the indication of where he needed to go. Starfleet Intelligence had made sure it was almost idiot-proof. Clearing the outer marker, Brian locked in his course and speed and engaged the warp engine. The ship jumped into warp, taking him away from the Bajor system. Getting up, Brian walked into the small living space he had provided. There was a bed, small table with a chair, and a stack of standard generic rations with no Starfleet or Federation markings whatsoever. His affiliation was definitely a secret. Then the realization hit him as he looked down, still in his uniform. Oh man, that will keep my loyalties secret, Brian thought sarcastically. He would stand out quite clearly to Garan wearing this. Brian walked over to a door, which guessed was a closet and opened the door. Inside was one, generic, mercenary, wardrobe. Dark gray with black highlights, the clothes included a pair of pants with multiple pockets, with a strap on the left knee, apparently a holster for an energy weapon. The shirt had a vest-like attachment arching upward to end in padded shoulders, giving Brian a broader-looking shoulder width than he actually had. Chest-length on the left side was a fold with a handle pointing downward. Grasping the handle, Brian pulled it out of the sheath, expecting to see a knife, possibly a big one, and maybe Klingon in origin. Instead out came a Type-2 streamlined phaser, definitely Starfleet issue. Brian was surprised that this was included, but the handle definitely looked like a knife. Brian figured no one would expect an energy weapon, especially when he had a holster for such a weapon on his pants. Starfleet had included this, obviously hoping Brian could catch Garan off guard. Returning the phaser to it’s compartment on the shirt, Brian suited up in the new clothes, stuffing his uniform under the thin mattress of the bed where he’d hoped it would never be found, though Brian didn’t plan on letting anyone on the ship anyway. Moving back into the cockpit, Brian dropped into the pilots chair and looked at his present progress, noting it would still be a few hours until he reached the planet. Suddenly, Brian realized he was uncomfortable. Shifting in his seat, he rooted through one of the pockets, bringing out a PADD that someone had concealed in there. “More cloak and dagger,” Brian mused, calling up the information. Apparently, they figured that was the safest place to hide it but had a good chance of Brian finding it. Scrolling through the data, Brian found it had some information on Garan, which he already had been briefed on, and some information on the ship he was currently in, mostly tech specs, with some history. Apparently this thing had been at the Zakdorn Federation Surplus Depot and had been brought out of retirement. Brian was surprised the thing hadn’t already scrapped, but he figured Intelligence or Internal Affairs had kept it around. Heck, maybe the Zakdorn quartermaster liked the ship, who knows. Brian tossed the PADD onto the console, set the proximity alarm and settled down for some sleep.

Security Officer's Classified Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Special Assignment, Starfleet Intelligence, Internal Affiars, and Starfleet Security) Stardate 200511.21 to Stardate 200511.26 Brian Graham walked out of the Security Office of Camelot Station. He’d lately been checking up on a few things with station security and was just finishing up his shift. Glad for a few hours, Brian entered a turbolift and headed for his quarters. As the lift doors opened onto his deck, he headed out along the corridor, balancing his attention between walking and reading a PADD. Rounding a corner, he almost collided with, Brian quick checked the pips…a full Commander! “Oh, um excuse me, sir. I’m terribly sorry about that.” Brian quick tried to move around him to get back on his way, hoping the superior officer would let it slide. “One moment…,” came the reply. Brian stopped walking and tensed a moment, dreading the lecture that was sure to follow. He turned around and went to attention instinctively, waiting for the blitz to begin. “Name, rank, and position.” “Graham, Brian. Lieutenant Commander, Chief of Security, USS Morningstar, NCC…” The Commander held up a hand, “That will do, Lieutenant Commander. Actually, you’re the one I’m looking for.” Brian was surprised and mentally got ready to defend himself, because he didn’t know who this guy was. Anyone could make a Starfleet uniform. “Me? I wasn’t aware anyone wanted to have a meeting with me.” “Well, I haven’t made an official appointment. Can we meet somewhere a little less public.” Now Brian was really concerned and it seemed this guy knew it. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything when we get out of this corridor.” “Alright,” Brian said, “my quarters are just up here,” and he gestured in that direction. “Good, let’s go.” The Commander replied, heading in the direction Brian pointed. That kind of caught Brian off-guard, him willingly moving ahead. Brian thought he might have made him go first. Regardless, Brian followed after. “It’s three doors ahead on the left.” The guy nodded and kept walking, not saying anything, probably enjoying making Brian worry so much. Brian felt himself hating this guy. Stopping at the door, the Commander waited for Brian to open it. Once he did, the guy headed right in. Once Brian had entered as well and the door had shut, the guy spun around. Anticipating attack, Brian got ready to chuck the PADD like a discus at the guy’s chops. But instead of a weapon, the Commander had an empty hand extended, ready to be shook, catching Brian off guard, again. “I’m sorry for all the secrecy stuff, but this is not something to be discussed in public. I’m Commander Eric Jerowich, Starfleet Internal Affairs.” Brian shook his hand sort of absentmindedly, trying to formulate what this was all about. “I’m sorry Commander, but you seem to be holding all the cards. What’s Internal Affairs want me for?” “Well, it’s not you they want, but they could use your help, if you are prepared to offer it.” Brian needed more information, but first he realized he was being a terrible host. “Please, have a seat Commander. What is going on?” “Actually, I’ll need that monitor over there, but you can sit down.” He walked over to the wall mounted display and started tapping some keys. Brian took a seat, eager to see what this was all about. Moments later, the symbol of Starfleet Internal Affairs appeared on the display, and text began to be decrypted. “First, let me make it clear that none of this can be discussed outside this room to anyone without Level 6 Security Clearance or above.” “Understood”, Brian said. That went without saying but Brian knew it was necessary. “Good, then we can get started. Two days ago, Starfleet Intelligence received information from one of their freelance informants about the presence of this man,” the Commander said, bringing up a photo of a rough looking individual. Brian could see right away the species this guy was: Andorian. “His name is Garan, and he has quite a record in the Federation database,” hitting another key, a list of charges scrolled into view. “Right now, he is wanted for attempted murder, assault, possession of contraband, weapon smuggling, thievery, hijacking…and 3 counts of first- degree murder.” “Three counts?!” Brian almost jumped out of his chair. “And we are just tailing this guy now?” “It’s more complicated than that. So far, these charges have mostly been consolidated into Starfleet Security. However, two days ago Starfleet lost contact with a Starfleet Intelligence officer in the Kobliad system. Later investigation found the officer, dead, and most of his information gone. Now, he can’t decrypt it, but Starfleet doesn’t want this information floating around either since nothing is unbreakable, given enough time or the right resources. We’re sure he doesn’t have those kinds of resources, but someone who does might want to buy it. That means he’s now wanted by Starfleet Security, Internal Affairs, and Starfleet Intelligence. Quite the following, don’t you think?” “Yes it would appear so,” Brian agreed. “But, with all due respect, I don’t understand where I fall into this.” “Of course, well, it’s quite simple really. One, your Andorian. Therefore, he may not be as on edge if you show up, as opposed to say, a Human or a Vulcan. Usually, when people think of these species, they connect them with the Federation. Besides, where this fella hangs out, Vulcans don’t go. Second, your being assigned to the Gamma Quadrant for some time has detached you from the operations of most Starfleet organizations within the Alpha Quadrant, so you’d be less likely to be recognized by anyone. Using one of our normal operatives, we run the risk or being found out. Third, your background training and experience in Security makes you suited for this type of mission. And finally…” Brian didn’t understand why Commander Jerowich had suddenly trailed off. “Finally what?” The Commander looked at Brian for a second, and then tapped the panel again, bringing up a Starfleet biography record, displaying a bearded Human male in his late thirties. “Do you know who this is?” Brian squinted at the figure for a minute. “Well, not really to tell you the truth.” “Here, how about now.” The screen split, the existing image moving to the left half and a new image appearing on the right side, the same figure but without the beard and about ten years younger. Brian recognized the man immediately. “Oh, I know him. That’s Phil. I knew him at the Academy. Why is he involved…oh no, he’s not in cahoots with the rogue is he?!” Brian couldn’t believe that Phillip would do that. Sure, it had been a long time since they had talked. They had met in the Academy, Brian’s third year. He was one of the five people Brian had actually hung around with during those years. They’d stayed in contact for about seven months after graduation, but then their different postings made communication farther and farther apart. To tell the truth, Brian had lost track of those five over the years for the most part. Jerowich shook his head. “No, that’s not an issue. Are you familiar with this man’s service record?” “Not really. I knew him at the Academy. I got posted to Excalibur, he got posted to the Persepolis, Galaxy-class. Last time we talked they were heading out on a one year mapping mission. I lost track of him after that, I guess he lost track of me too.” “Let me fill you in on the rest of the details. Persepolis returned one year later from it’s mapping mission. Then Lt. Enriquez was transferred to Starbase 338 near Izar. There he made some reports involving the Breen, good ones. That got him noticed by Starfleet Intelligence, who recruited him. He accepted, got promoted to Lieutenant Commander and was mostly being sent between starbases near Breen and Cardassian territory.” Some of it started coming together in Brian’s head, mostly by mental starcharts. “Kobliad is along that area.” “You’re right, very good. In fact, he was very near Kobliad. I’m sure you can come up with the rest.” It wasn’t too difficult now. “Yes, I can. Phil was the courier of intelligence reports of some kind, whatever they were, ran into this Garan who killed Phil and took the information.” “That’s basically it. So, we were hoping you would bring this guy in.” “Because I have a connection with Enriquez and revenge would assure I completed the mission.” Jerowich’s expression didn’t change. “That’s right.” “Fine, when do I leave?”

As in the collectable, posable Brian Graham Extreme Security Action Figure with Tactical Console Display Stand and exclusive trading card?! ::gets out the latinum::

Chief of Security’s Duty Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham Recording USS Morningstar Stardate 200511.02 Brian walked along the corridor of Deck 10. He had just gotten approval for an awayteam mission to retrieve any of the wreckage left over from the shuttle that had exploded during the Morningstar’s entry of the atmosphere of Al-Ucard and was heading toward the shuttlebay to take yet another shuttle ride. He had already summoned the other members of the awayteam and they should already be on their way to the shuttlebay as well. Rounding a corner, Brian was on final approach to the shuttlebay and when he got within range, the shuttlebay doors opened and he walked in. Several officers were attending to the shuttlecraft that were there, mostly to the ones that had just returned from helping the Morningstar make its landing. They were performing post-flight analyses of the shuttle’s systems, checking for any damage, performing some preventative maintenance, and going over the system and performance records of the shuttle and their respective systems during their flights. Brian figured once these men and women were done they would be cleared for shoreleave. Flagging down the officer in charge of the bay, Brian asked if the ship’s Runabout was ready for flight. The officer in the standard engineering uniform pointed off to the right and farther down the bay. Thanking him for his assistance, Brian headed over and started up the preflight checks. He was doing a walk-around of the shuttle when he noticed three figures approaching, obviously his other awayteam members. Turning to give them his full attention, Brian ushered them into the shuttle and took a seat in the pilot’s position. Swiveling his chair around so he could see everyone, he briefed them on what needed to be accomplished. Directly to his right was Lt. Baily, human female, science division. She had been on the bridge during the time of Morningstar’s landing so she had compiled the data of the shuttlecraft that was lost. She knew the position and the distribution pattern of the wreckage. Off to his far left was Lt. Jovan, Benzite male, engineering division. He had extensive experience with shuttlecraft. Finally, there was Ens. Mirwood, human male, also engineering division. He, basically, was one of the few engineers Brian could negotiate away from Chief Engineer Xavier, so he got to come along as well. Getting the coordinates of the shuttle from Lt. Baily, Brian contacted the Al-Ucard flight control center and (grudgingly) got clearance to use the air ways. Receiving the flight plan he was allowed to use, and with strict instructions not to deviate from it, Brian contacted OPS, got clearance to leave the ship, and the team was on their way in a few short minutes. Rain (apparently a constant feature of this particular world) pelted the viewports. It didn’t bother Brian that much, since he was mostly using the instrumentation to fly the shuttle. Besides, the programmed waypoints he had to follow looked pretty safe, although Brian kept an eye on the short range visual and topographical scanners just to be safe. Baily was looking over the logs Morningstar had gathered when the shuttle went down and Jovan was estimating what they expected to find. Mirwood was going over the equipment list of the downed shuttle to make sure everything that survived was reclaimed. About halfway through the journey, Brian got the assessment from everybody. According to Baily, the shuttle went down in a relatively unpopulated area of the planet, so having to deal with others wouldn’t be too much of an issue. Jovan’s analysis of the shuttle’s cause of demise, it’s speed, trajectory, and other factors, allowed him to estimate that 85% of the shuttle was gone, either vaporized in the explosion or had burned up in the atmosphere. He had also come up with a probable distribution area of the wreckage. They were set and as they neared the area, Brian turned on the landing lights and set the shuttle down. Everyone rose and collected their tricorders with Mirwood grabbing a PADD to document everything they found. Opening the shuttle’s hatch revealed the falling rain and already some pieces of wreckage were visible. Palm lights were quickly equipped when they noticed how gray the weather had become, making finding any small pieces easier. The team left the shuttle and dispersed. Brian and Mirwood headed left and Baily and Jovan moving right. They first set to work on the larger pieces that needed two people to carry and loaded them up on the shuttle. Mirwood catalogued everything that was retrieved and Jovan had found the shuttle’s recorder, much to Brian’s relief. This would provide invaluable information on what had occurred that caused the malfunction and explosion. Brian was busy collecting hull fragments when he noticed two figures approaching. Each was covered in a heavy cloak giving them protection from the rain. Standing there in a soaking uniform with water running down his face, Brian envied their preparedness. “What’s this?,” one of the figures asked. “Retreival,” Brian replied. “This is what was left of some of our equipment.” “Destroyed?,” the other figure asked. Brian nodded, hoping to make the shuttle sound as uninteresting as possible. By this time, Jovan had come over to see what was going on. Brian continued, “Yes, destroyed. We’re just picking up the pieces. We should be out of here momentarily.” It hadn’t worked, as both figures starting looking over some fragments. Brian was glad the biggest pieces were stowed in the shuttlecraft already, everything else left was pretty much uninteresting, but these fellas seemed quite interested. One more so, as one of the aliens bent down and retrieved a fragment. “What’s this?” Ours, Brian thought, though he knew he had to be diplomatic about it. He didn’t want any Federation material or technology becoming the property of anyone here without going through the required channels. “Probably junk, now. It’s had quite a trip. Here’ I’ll take it,” Brian said, extending his hand to retrieve it The alien wasn’t buying it though, and instinctively clutched it defensively when Brian had reached for it. “If it’s junk, why do you want it?” “The truth? Because it is clearly our property and has no value for you. I’m sure your people respect property rights.” “We know of them, however I think we will be keeping this.” Brian was not in the mood for this, but he also wasn’t in the mood for making a scene on an alien world. Besides, he had no idea if these guys were packing or not. “Fine, you can have it,” Brian replied. “Mr. Jovan…” Jovan turned to him, somewhat surprised this equipment was becoming the property of aliens. “Yes, sir?” “Please instruct these gentlemen on the proper radiation treatments needed.” The second figure whirled around, “Radiation treatments? We do not require those.” “You will soon, considering the rads that equipment is throwing out. After another ten minutes, you may receive a lethal dosage.” Jovan caught on and opened his tricorder, pointing it at the fragment. He manually imputed a command and the tricorder began going nuts. “What is that!?” One of the aliens demanded. Jovan replied matter-of –factly. “A radiation meter. You’ve picked up quite a volatile sample.” “Gah!” the one holding the fragment yelped, flinging the fragment away. Both of the aliens turned and sprinted away, obviously attempting to get as far away from the wreckage that reportedly was spouting radioactive isotopes everywhere. Brian and Jovan watched them run away, attempting to keep a straight face so the ruse would work. “Nice work, Jovan. The tricorder really convinced them.” “Of course, Lieutenant Commander,” Jovan said, as he picked up the fragment that had landed near his feet. The team continued to gather the final fragments with extra haste, before any other scavengers showed up. Locking everything down and a final tricorder sweep showing the area clear, all four boarded the shuttle and headed back to Morningstar, beginning their shoreleave a little late.

Chief Security Officer’s Duty Log Lt. Commander Brian Graham Recording USS Morningstar Stardate 200510.24 “Everybody got that?” Nods all around from the assembled pilots who were tasked with coordinating operations to tow the Morningstar to get where it needed to go and hopefully get some new dilithium crystals and get warp-capable again. “Good. Get to your ships, and I’ll see you all out there.” The group broke, all heading for their respective shuttlecraft. Brian watched them all for a moment as they dispersed, silently proud of them in their zeal and seriousness. Brian quit his admiration and headed for his own shuttlecraft, quickly looking over the exterior one last time and headed inside, settled into the pilot’s chair, closed the hatch and went through final preflight. He looked over at another console and it displayed the other seven shuttlecraft were ready and standing by. “Graham to OPS, requesting departure clearance for eight shuttlecraft.” “This is OPS,” came the response from the Bridge. “Clearance granted, you may depart when ready.” “Acknowledged, stand by,” Brian said, switching to the inter-shuttle communication. “Alright everyone, you have your designated launch sequence. Once you clear the shuttlebay head for your programmed target area and wait for further instructions.” Brian got the shuttle going and waited for the next phase. “Graham to Bridge, shuttlecraft ready.” The bay-clear signal could be heard, although somewhat muffled through the hull of the shuttlecraft as anyone not in a shuttle exited the bay. Once the all clear had been acknowledge, Brian looked forward and saw the shuttlebay doors open, revealing a view of a starfield through the open door. Brian raised the shuttle off the deck and headed for the opening. “Shuttle 1 beginning departure…” and after moving past the bay doors, gave the update, “Shuttle 1 has cleared the shuttlebay. Moving to target.” Brian held his course for several meters and then performed a upward vertical 180-degree course change and rotated the shuttle level again, heading toward the Morningstar’s bow area. While doing this he could hear the comm. Traffic from the other shuttles and see new contacts appear on his short-range sensor view as each shuttle exited the bay. Brian brought his shuttle flush with the rim of the Morningstar’s saucer section, 7 meters port of the center, and 20 meters forward of the hull and cut his engines, coming to a full stop and waited for everyone to get into position. He watched his display as three more shuttles moved near to where he was, two positioned themselves forward of the engineering section, and one moved to each nacelle strut. Moments later, all shuttles had checked in. “Shuttle 1 to Bridge. Shuttles are in position and will engage tractor beams in a few moments. Inform me immediately if any corrections need to be made to the positions of the shuttles.” “Acknowledged Shuttle 1. you are go for tractor beam use.” “Shuttle 1 to all Shuttles, engage tractor beams.” With that, eight tractor beams simultaneously latched onto the Morningstar. From Brian’s console, he saw a visual representation of each shuttle in relation to Morningstar and a tractor beam extending from each one. Relevant data was being fed to him by all of the shuttles’ computers. Also, some engineering data from Morningstar was also being continuously streamed. All of the beams looked good, now it was time to start to haul this thing. “All shuttles, begin to increase engine output to stated levels on my mark. Ready for 1/8 impulse power…3…2…1…engage.” Brian immediately throttled the shuttle to that speed and saw the others do the same. “Increase to 1/4 impulse in 3…2…1…engage.” Again, another shift in engine output, however Morningstar still wasn’t moving just yet. “Increase to 1/2 impulse power in 3..2..1..engage. Alright, 3/4 impulse power, 3..2..1..engage” Brian got some fluctuations from the beam stream and adjusted the power levels to compensate. Data from the other shuttles suggested they were doing the same. Good job everybody, nice reaction time. “Shuttle 1 this is Morningstar, helm indicates we are beginning to move forward, continue with present speed levels.” “Acknowledged, holding at 3/4 impulse.” Several minutes passed and Brian noted Morningstar continuing to gain speed, ultimately reaching 3/4 impulse. “Morningstar, are you ready for full impulse?” “We sure are.” “10-4, stand by. All shuttlecraft, full impulse in 3..2..1..engage.” Some more stress was encountered, but some slight modifications easily fixed it. After another minute, Morningstar was cruising along at full impulse with eight shuttlecraft arrayed around it. Getting a position indicator, Brian saw the trip was estimated to take 5 hours and 55 minutes. Brian gave all the consoles a final look-over and settled down for another six hours in a shuttlecraft, but happy to be underway.

Interestingly, this log has revealed to me how redundant shuttlecraft communication can by. My copy/paste button actually filed for overtime.

::Brian appears in a quick cameo:: I do see the logic... and don't call me Shirley!

Mostly I do thought logs where my character thinks about information that occurred on the past sim and attempts to make conclusions about the implicatiosn of what happens. I sometimes attempt to intermix some brief experience my character had, usually from the Academy, that helps with some character development. Or, I steal some stuff that I like from other genres and incorporate myself in the events, sometimes with the Holodeck, sometimes having it really happen. This gives a chance for me to do stuff I wish I could, but usuing actual sim-time may not allow for it. There are lots of possabilities.

What the heck is that supposed to mean!? Seriously though, I hope you can return Pickett. Look forward to simming with you again when you can return.

Bah, a victory is a victory! Continue the celebration!

Woo-hoo! I'm a Picard-captain! On a side note, this is the funniest quiz question I have ever encountered (even though I condone profanity): "Hah! You'll never get rid of me! You'll have to kill me first! You may even have to kill my *twice* to get rid of me, you bas*ar*s."

Cheif of Seurity Officer's Duty Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar Stardate 200509.28 With a few moments, Brian takes the opportunity to make an offical log entry as to the proceedings of the survey of Surmac. He is totally oblivious to the other political happenings that are occuring throughout this quadrant, or the galaxy. (Well, what would you expext, he's not a Q) "Chief of Security officer's log, Stardate 200509.28. The Morningstar crew continues it's survey of the planet Surmac for possible admission into the Federation. The security awayteam, still being hosted by Defense Minister Fylan of the Surmac, had completed its survey of the planet based facilities. Currently, the awayteam is located on the orbital platform, continuing with the tour. Our hosts seem friendly enough. We have encountered no animosity, hostilities, or anything of the sort. Our current impression is that this is a hospitable people, cooperative, friendly, and trusting, considering they have let us see highly sensitive equipment and facilities. I am however, aware that anyone can attempt to put their best foot forward to appear more appealing to those conducting evaluations. (I remember some times at the Academy). However, this is only conjecture. It is not wise to put faith in every word, but it is not good to proclaim someone guilty with no reason for that accusation. We will continue to observe and document and learn, as neither I nor the members of my team have no basis to make any accusations as of yet. We will continue the survey and remain vigilant. It is my hope that the other teams are fairing as well as ours is and that their reports will be able to shed light on other aspects of Surmac society that we have not been able to observe in the course of our assignment. Computer, end and transfer log to Morningstar database, specifically: Security files, Awayteam Duty; Morningstar Operations Log; and Federation Survey Reports, Security Division and save." There, that should give some reading material to someone, even to me.

Maybe I should try that university. Sounds like they are just giving diplomas away.

Chief of Security’s Duty Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham recording USS Morningstar (Currently on the surface of Surmac) Stardate 200509.21 Brian had found the past three days extremely enlightening. Touring the defensive capabilities of Surmac correlated well with his field of specialization so this aided in him keeping his attention on the information. Not only was this a new civilization, new world, new people, he also got to see systems and materials that interested him personally. Most of the places though had been a swarm of activity. Brian wanted to complement the Defense Minister on the diligence of the workers as they went about their tasks. The reality of Surmac entering a more broad arena (a galaxy instead of just the planet), the entire defense network had to be redesigned and rebuilt to deal with planetary and orbital defense, and it appeared that this was well underway. The Minister had been a bit disappointed over a few setbacks; however, for a project on this scale and so all-encompassing, such a thing could not be expected to run 100% smoothly. Brian reflected on the multitude of setbacks that had gone along with just developing a starship (the Sovereign-class for example, heck, even the small Defiant-class had its share) and broadening construction to a planetwide scale, problems were highly likely to occur. Nothing that time could not cure. The sophistication of the technology was about what Brian had expected, especially for a planet just stepping onto the galactic stage. No transporters, no tractor beams, no real starships even, but this was to be expected. The Federation wasn’t built in a day, in fact, in some ways, it was always under construction, continually having to be updated as new technology was discovered, as new member worlds joined, and just as time continued forward. But it was almost like living history all over again. Seeing a new civilization accomplish space travel, learning they are not the only house on the street with people in it, and finding new partners to aid them in the grand adventure the galaxy holds for one to explore and take part in, like Vulcans landing on earth again. And Brian was so thankful for these things. If it had been a hostile species that showed up first or if humans had just destroyed themselves before going “out there,” Brian wouldn’t be here today, seeing these people, associating with them, learning about them and in turn teaching them some things about himself and the literal multitudes of the Federation he was representing. And for that one fraction of a second, it had all made sense. Sometimes you have to be the follower, and sometimes you have to be the guide. And the mission continued. It was going on day three now, and it felt like Brian had walked the whole planet. The main defense coordination center at the capital, Defense Center #3A on the southern continent, the training academy with all its representative facilities for instructions and training for security personnel (they got to run one of the courses, which was fun), maintenance bays, and air control stations and though it all the Defense Minister was able to describe almost everything in the most minute detail. Some things he left out, security reasons, and Brian had understood completely, he would do the same in his position. Not even he would tell a dignitary what the current shield-frequency of the Morningstar was without proper authorization and then reporting the inquiry as per procedure. They had gotten to stay on the planet the whole time, accommodations had been arranged, they had even tried some of the food (some good, some not so good, which Brian had filed away in permanent memory). Three days immersed in a culture did a lot for one’s thinking. Brian had really only seen a small fraction to evaluate and report on, but that would be included in the cumulative report that would be part of determining the future of this planet with the Federation. The other teams were seeing their own fractions, and the wisdom in this was unassailable. Just focusing on the small sections allowed for a more comprehensive report, instead on one person seeing everything quickly and just getting only a small taste of a world, and the conference of these teams at the end would give a better picture. Brian, McKnight, Pickett, and the Minister currently were talking right now as they went to the last stop on the Surmac World Tour. A magnetized monorail provided transportation to a facility devoted to the construction, evaluation, testing, and staging of small atmosphere/space travel capable vehicles, in a word: shuttlecraft. Seeing this was something Brian had keenly anticipated, and almost annoyed that it was the last stop, meaning he had to wait three days to get to it.

Officer Kimaris has been thoroughly trained in the use of the Tactical console and capabilities of that station and is fully certified to function in that capacity if the need arises.

I'll quote something from the movie "Independence Day" that will deal with that subject. "You'll get your chance. You'll all get your chance." Don't worry, we will not forget you. (And by "we" I mean the other guys because I probably will forget!) *Funny observation* Tandaris's bio has turned into a small forum. Hopefully he won't charge rent.

Starfleet Officer Admiran as been trained in the use of the Tactical console and its operations. He is fully certified to use such capabilities if the need arises. Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham Chief of Security USS Morningstar Stardate 200509.12

Hey, I remember that! I never got a gift though. Thanks Seiben. J/k

::talks into shirt:: Did you get that, officer? Great. :D Busted Seiben, I knew you would slip up one of these days! Current bounty statistics: 1 for 1. Who is next on my list...? Ok, back to topic: As for the information in the first post...I'll copy that and e-mail it to every girl I know. ;)

Chief of Security’s Duty Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham recording USS Excalibur (USS Morningstar) Stardate 200509.07 “Computer, begin recording” “Chief of Security’s Log, Stardate 200509.07. The Morningstar continues en route to its destination. It has been several days since we began the journey from Camelot Station on our first contact mission. Actually, this is my first first contact mission, but the only way to get experience is to go through it.” “As regards Security, they are adjusting to the new ship quite well. There was some discomfort involving the rooming assignments, however it appears everyone is coming along with getting used to it. We have been familiarizing ourselves with the Morningstar’s fighter capability. Although not a standard feature of starships, I am looking forward to seeing them perform in the field if the situation should arise. We’ve also been having extensive training on the phaser turrets. Another thing that is not standard equipment, it is imperative the operator’s become familiar with their function. I must say though that using them is…fun to say the least. Definitely more involved than just tapping a console panel.” “The new additions to the crew are proceeding without any problems. Both Ensigns Helios and Pickett have completed their Standard physicals in accordance with standard Starfleet procedure and have been trained on Morningstar operating procedures, security protocols, and have thoroughly familiarized themselves with the Tactical station on the bridge. Both have been successfully added and integrated into the standard rotation and so far are performing their duties admirably.” “The same is true for the rest of the Security Division. I have no problems or concerns to note in the log. Business continues as usual.” “Computer; halt recording and save into Morningstar Operations Logs and Daily Security Record.” The computer chirped and carried out the request.

Hey, how come Pickett gets cookies!?

A transition period, after the liberation from te Romulans but before the Morningstar has cast off… Chief Security Officer’s Personal Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham recording USS Excalibur (Current Location: Federation Starbase Camelot) Stardate 200508.23 The last few days had been terrible. Not as terrible as the incarceration by the Romulans, but at the moment, Brian was facing an incarceration of a different kind. Having sustained multiple traumas to the head, one by a Romulan disruptor pistol handle and one by a disruptor rifle stock, Brian had been kept in sickbay for observation. Four days in sickbay for a medical officer was business as usual, this is where they worked, did their research, indeed, their jobs. However, this was not the environment Brian was used to. No weapons, no investigations, not even a treadmill for some exercise. Brian had tried just walking around sickbay a few times, which usually turned into pacing. His pacing appeared to make other patients nervous, and the medical personnel told him also that he should be resting. Not happy about it, Brian nonetheless complied. It was his flagrant disobedience that had gotten him two wounds in the first place. Though Brian didn’t think any of these doctors were going to replicate a baseball bat and start clubbing him with it, he figured sickbay was their show so he might as well not cause a scene. Chen was no help. His injuries were somewhat more severe, so he had been asleep or sedated most of the time. Pilot, Reno, Johnson, Delgado, they all had work to keep them busy and Brian didn’t want to bug them since he knew how agitated he got when others bothered him when he was trying to do his job. He wanted to make department schedules, go over weapons inventories and other security equipment lists, make training schedules, a lot of the things that occupied his time while on duty, but he couldn’t even do that because Excalibur wasn’t even around. Damaged, sent to the Alpha Quadrant for extensive repairs after having taken an extensive beating, everything Brian had went back with it. He was detained while the ship was sent back. His stuff; pictures, models, casual clothes, books were either still on the sip in his quarters (which he hoped) or floating around somewhere in Romulan-held territory where the battle had occurred if his quarters had been exposed to space. That brought about a funny image of approximately 30 model starships floating through space. Brian didn’t even have his regular uniform since he had gotten a new one replicated. His phaser, tricorder, even communicator, had been confiscated by the Romulans. Thankfully they had left his antennae; otherwise Brian would have even more problems. Oh well, sometimes it was better not to be tied down by material things. Jeez this place was depressing. Seeing sick and injured people coming in. It was fine for the doctors, they got the satisfaction of helping people. All Brian could really do was stand by and watch. He had taken the field medic first-aid course at the Academy, but the blue-uniformed officers were far superior in knowledge and practice. Brian would hate to be the cause of death to one of them if he had offered to help. It sounded nice, but death by laughter probably wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So Brian had mostly sat around, practically feeling his muscles atrophy. His brain was what was killing him the most. Sickbay reminded him of his own mortality, and the Romulans had done that enough. Then there was the awayteam debacle. Brian hadn’t stopped mentally kicking himself about getting himself and the other members of the awayteam captured, placed in danger, ready to be tried and executed, ever since it had happened. He had told no one of his feelings, he seldom did. Brian knew where that trait had come from: Dad. It had served him well though throughout the years, never betraying the thoughts he had. It gave him a certain distance and helped him stay objective and also made sure no one ever had any ammunition to use against him. He had gotten pretty good at it, seeing as he had been practically raised with it. So he continued to sit, berating himself, conjuring up how the next few days would go. Transport to Earth, Board of Inquiry, court martial, dishonorable discharge, parents disowning him, then a forced exile, Talos IV or some quarantined world. In retrospect, that was certainly overkill, but somehow it didn’t seem too farfetched. No one was talking about Excalibur either. Nothing about what happened to the ship or what the crew was going to be doing next. Were they going to be permanently stationed on Camelot? Sent back to the Alpha Quadrant? Remain in this quadrant and get a new ship? Be dispersed among the other operational vessels? Bah, trying to come to a conclusion with no evidence or clues was self-defeating. Brian had finally grilled some of the other doctors. The only lead he got was Pilot, who suggested he read up on a ship called the Morningstar. Figuring there must be something behind it, Brian got a few Pads and downloaded everything he could find on Morningstar that his security authorization could get him. Specifications, deck charts, Jeffries tube maps, Brian poured over the information, constantly drilling himself with the data, engraining it into his mind. If the crew was going to this ship, he might as well be familiar with it before he actually got on it, that way he could skip the tutorial and tours and just get to work. Brian had studied so much he almost thought he was in the Academy again, but it did keep his mind off the current situation at hand. There was a lot going on, and Brian knew they were all in the middle of it.