Darkened Dreams of the Gloomy Horizon

[Tachyon 0]

“Darkened Dreams of the Gloomy Horizon”

Stardate 0507.14

Ensign Tandaris Admiran

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We were hurt, badly hurt. I wasn’t talking just about me, or Admiran, or even the crew. Excalibur herself was screaming in pain. She did not shed tears like a humanoid, nor moult feathers like the ornithopods of Drasun IX, but made her injury known through the simultaneous blaring of hundreds klaxons and the epileptic flashes of emergency lights. And when this happened, it was never good.

 

Things had been smooth at first. The shuttle had left the bay without much difficulty, and our cloak was working. Then things went wrong. A Romulan warbird decloaked and fired at the shuttle. Its beam struck our cloaked nacelles instead, and well . . . things quickly went from bad to worse. In my opinion, we were lucky to survive the battle. Now I’m worried we’ve yet to start the war.

 

There is no such thing as a safe place on Excalibur anymore. Every area bears the signs of our damage. Consoles blink from lack of power or damaged systems, ODN conduits hang down from the exposed ceiling, and everywhere damage control teams or medics rush to repair something or convey the wounded to sickbay. In the split second it took a disruptor beam to hit our nacelle, Excalibur was transformed from a symbol of hope to a living battlefield. And we were the casualties.

 

So what now? Even if we can repair the ship, we will have to confront the Romulans somehow. Our actions were technically violating their space, and no matter how illegitimate a claim they stake, they have the power to back it up. I don’t know if the Federation is willing to risk a war, but I think I need to figure out if I am willing to risk my life.

 

I am not naïve to the dangers of the universe. When I swore to lay down my life for Starfleet, it did occur to me that our peacetime galaxy may not last. Yet laying down one’s life is not an easy thing to do. There are actions to be considered, consequences to be weighed, but in the end, I wonder if it really matters or if it will all be meaningless.

 

Things are . . . confusing. I thought I had adapted to being joined, but this sudden rush of new experiences and adventures has brought on a new sense of doubt in my mind. I wish I had a moment to sit down and reflect about what is going on, but I cannot. The ship needs me, the crew needs me, everyone seems to need me, so I trudge onward—what else can one do?

 

The events at T-Rogora were not meaningless. They had a significance that shall echo down the annals of Federation history. Either way events go, the Federation is at a crucible that it has not seen since the Dominion War, and once again choices will be made that determine the fate of billions. I am right in the middle of this, but that is not such a good thing, because I lose touch with the big picture. For now though, the picture looks like this: if we fail, a light in the night sky will quietly flicker out and die. Then another, and another. And before long, our rosy corner of the universe will be a very dark place.