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Tachyon

We Do it for the Fudge

“We Do it for the Fudge”

Stardate 0605.10

Lieutenant Tandaris Admiran

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Their mission in the Ardent had finally borne fruit, but what sort of fruit was it? The lack of information, the uncertainty that surrounded this new enemy like a shroud of deceit and protection, unnerved him. As an engineer, he was used to the physicality of his problems. As a computer programmer, he was used to a logical solution to everything. As an experienced Trill, he was aware that engineers and computer programmers were usually deprived of the more illogical portions of society anyway.

 

The Ardent had another Vorta on board now—which was rather weird, since normally it would be the objective to subtract from, not add to, the sum total number of Vorta aboard one's ship. Taenix, however, was not just a regular Vorta. She was an ancient Vorta, one who apparently knew what she was doing. It was strange that they were placing so much trust in a species of clones. But maybe it was a testament to the Federation and Dominion's relationship too.

 

Tandaris looked over the half-baked ideas relating to defence from the Scorpiad technology. He almost wished for another encounter with the species, if only so that they would have more data to examine. So far it looked like they were able to generate tremendous energy, control it, and focus it. Their ships were marvels of engineering, and Tandaris felt a twinge of admiration. For such an old and experienced species to have survived this long, and stayed hidden . . . well, it was an achievement. He hoped the Federation would last that long.

 

No matter how far they came or how fast they could travel, it felt as if the Federation had plateaued. Prior to the Dominion War, most of the Federation had been complacent in their sense of collective enlightenment, enjoying their free time to contemplate the wonders of the universe, the peculiarity of Tellarites, and the fifty-five thousand different flavours of fudge on Carthag Prime.

 

To an extent, the Dominion War had changed that. The fudge shops on Carthag Prime were closed after the Dominion overran the planet (although lately they had reopened, boasting the fifty thousandth and one flavour); the Tellarites became less peculiar as they joined the Federation in the war effort; and the universe always seems less wondrous when it is doing its best to kill you.

 

That plateau was back after things had returned to status quo. Sure, some relationships may have changed, and the balance of power might have shifted, but were they really any the wiser? No. Nothing new has been learned from it. Tandaris could not shake off the dreadful feeling that they were about to be repeating their mistake from seven years ago. . . .

 

It was a confusing situation. If they moved forward into this trap they would be flying blind, in uncharted territory with a strange species and technology that they had never dreamed of before. But if they did nothing, if they stopped now . . . the Federation and the Alpha Quadrant might suffer more.

 

They are the front lines, the risk-takers. A Starfleet officer is someone who puts his, her, or its life on the line every day to maintain that “complacent enlightenment” that Federation citizens so cherish. A Starfleet officer upholds the principles upon which 55,001 flavours of fudge have been built. A Starfleet officer takes the plunge off the precipice in order to rescue civilization from the mud into which it sinks and restore order to the chaos. For all those reasons—all the right reasons—they had to move forward and confront this challenge. It would just be enough, perhaps, to get things moving once again.

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