Captains Personal Log

[Crash Calestorm 0]

This log takes place late evening after our 11.15.10 Sim…

 

"Captains Personal Log, October 02 2258, Calestorm Recording”

 

“The sector of New Topeka continues to recover from the incident involving the USS Enterprise and the M5 tactical computer, while myself and my crew offer assistance where needed. The Comanche Creek maintains station keeping at the orbital docks while most of my officers are either tending to repair duties, regular duty shifts, or have deployed on detachment duty to aid the Enterprise or the M5 situation.”

 

Crash paused the recording manually and took a swig of warm coffee from her mug; she swallowed and cast a glance down at her desk, frowning. The surface was littered with empty energy ration bars and cereal bar wrappers, and energy drink and water containers. She hadn’t been eating regularly since the M5 incident, the last couple of days a whirlwind of caffeine and fast and quick meals intended to keep her going. She’d have to be more careful as it wouldn’t do for her to, well, ‘crash’. She jabbed a finger at the inset keyboard on her desk, releasing the pause continuing the personal log.

 

“The inquiry board has located evidence that suggests Dr. Daystrom somehow encoded aspects of his own personality into his M5 unit, ultimately resulting in the units destabilization. The software equipment that he employed appears to have been legitimately manufactured by the MicroWare Cyber Corporation, though heavily modified via black market encoding. A malware subprogram has also been located within the software, enabling information to be sent to an outsourcing marker. We have no way of knowing as yet what confidential materials might have been swiped from the Enterprises memory banks and the implications are disturbing.”

 

She moved from her sitting position in the desk chair, hissing through her teeth as tension filled shoulder and back muscles protested the movement. Doing a slow walking circuit back and forth in front of her Ready Room picture window, she stretched out the kinks while continuing her running commentary.

 

“According to submitted preliminary reports from the computer techs working the case, the signature encodes showing within the programming may be traced back to the pirate tribes that haunt the frontier dead lands, specifically the Were-Wire Clan. I’m not real happy about this possibility of the Dead Lands pirate involvement, they’re a tough bunch. And I’m definitely not right fond of the Were-Wires -- the lot of them are nuts. Fusing tech and grafting it directly to skin and bone, defiling their bodies…my initial run-in with the Were’s left me in a hospital recovery ward for two weeks…”

 

The middle aged officer paused, waiting for a few seconds until she was sure the annoyance – and concern – had leeched from her tone, running a hand through regulation length silver-blond hair. She didn’t go any further into detail about her involvement; personal log aside, the mission that she’d been injured on was still listed as classified and she was bound by non-disclosure orders.

 

“Regardless, we currently maintain our watch, helping where needed with patrols, repairs, medical and salvage recovery. I assume the possibility exists that the ‘Creek could be deployed to the Dead Lands…if I receive the ‘go’ signal from the First Threat Response offices and Starfleet Command, I’ll inform my crew of the situation and pass along the necessary Intel.”

 

“End Log, timestamp 23:35 hours.”

 

“Computer, encode level five, Calestorm Alpha Charlie Fifty Nine…”