Cows, Chicken, Corn, and Care ...

[T'aral 0]

As T'Aral started her day, word reached her through rumors from the hold regarding their next mission. So: they would be hauling supplies to outer colonies: curious, given that such an assignment would be better managed with a series of transport tugs with the Comanche Creek providing escort. Starfleet, however, never seemed to have a good grasp regarding their resources.

 

While ship's maintenance prepared for livestock in the hold, T'Aral called the medical staff together. Although she was certain that all animals, grains, and medicines would be certified before they received anything T'Aral was determined that the ship's staff check it again. If anything was wrong with the inventory when it was delivered she had no doubt that they, and Starfleet by proxy, would be blamed. She wanted none of that.

 

It was a formidable task to say the least. All animals would have to be scanned for general health to confirm incoming certifications. Grains would have to be checked for molds, mildews, or other biological infestations. Medicines would have to be checked for purity. It wasn't that the tasks were that difficult: tricorders were already being loaded with the necessary programs. It was just the scope of the work which was forbidding.

 

No matter: the medical staff of the Comanche Creek was the best kept secret in Starfleet. They would endure this latest challenge, they would prevail, and the Captain would receive all the credit. Another officer might have considered this unfair, but T'Aral was not another officer. She was a Vulcan; her only interest was the success of the mission.