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Admiral Grunt, Starfleet Intelligence
Personal Log
Drake's charming turn of phrase is "come in from the cold." Not entirely sure of the provenance, but it seems appropriate. Now that the whole "rogue agent trying to kill us" thing is over with, and the Iconians have taken a direct hand, the crew has been recalled from the Latinum Princess (which I'm going to keep running as a merchantman, with a well-selected civilian crew) and returned to active duty. Our declassified records show we've been cleared of all charges, although my rank has supposedly been reduced to Captain. And of course we've been given a new ship. This one is, I think, a sign that someone in Starfleet has a sense of humor - the guys at Utopia Planitia have apparently been conferring with Ferengi design engineers, and come up with a variant on an old armed cargo hauler, a large, agile craft they're calling the Nandi-class. Guess what our ship is?
Since we're in the first group of captains trying this ship out, we get to name her. Rock's pushing for a reference from Terran classical music - he wants to call her the USS Mixalot. Whenever I ask about it, he grins and starts singing something about liking big butts...
Currently securing for transit. Our first assignment is to Starbase 234 - apparently intel indicates the Heralds are planning to hit there next.
Captain's log, USS Mixalot
Captain Grunt recording.
Been at this for three months now, and things are looking pretty bad. The enemy seem to be able to hit our territory at will, and half the time we get there too late to do anything except pick up the pieces. This isn't a war - it's a hunting expedition, and we're the prey.
Been some hints that the friends we've made in Krenim space might have some answers. I've never trusted temporal meddling, but at this point anything's worth a shot.
Captain's log, USS Mixalot
Captain Grunt recording.
Well, that was a proper mess. Good thing we were able to undo what the Krenim tried - a Romulus that's been wiped out by a channeled supernova explosion is far preferable to one that's been assimilated by the Borg. Something apparently went wrong when we returned, but according to sensor readings the temporal shielding failed and the new past became our past. We're still fighting the Iconians, which according to shielded records has been going pretty much as badly as we remember, but this particular avenue isn't for us - everything we tried just made things worse.
I gather the big brains here at Kyana are going to keep trying to figure out a way to use temporal technology in our favor, but we're headed back out to use good old high-energy particle beams.
Captain's log, USS Mixalot
Captain Grunt recording.
Been recalled to Kyana. There's something new they want to try - instead of making things cease existing in the past, they want to directly inject some of us into the past, specifically 200,000 years ago, so we can keep the last few Iconians from escaping the bombardment of their planet. This should prove interesting...
Captain's log, supplemental.
You know how it seemed for a long time that everything that went wrong was because of the Romulan empress Sela? Turned out we didn't know the half of it. Maybe it was a predestination paradox or something, but we found out the old Iconian "Empire" was really more of a protectorate, and the bombardment was from other races who were tired of being condescended to. (Wonder what they'd have made of the Q?) We had a chance to head off this war before it began, by preserving old Iconian records in a thing they call the "World Heart", but Sela just had to have her revenge. She killed the one holding the Heart, then kept it from the survivors until after the Gate they fled through collapsed. One of the survivors was a fellow, the closest they had to a warrior, named T'ket. Yes, that T'ket. He vowed his vengeance against Romulus, and against everyone else too. That's the entire root of this whole stupid war - bloodthirsty jerks vowing revenge for things that were their own fault, and not having the good grace to shoot themselves.
We managed to bring the World Heart back forward in time with us, which secured the cooperation of most of the Iconians. T'ket's still pissed. Not surprised. At least the war as such is over with, for what good that does us. Now I just have to finish writing the one hundred seventy-three letters of condolence for the personnel lost in our last three battles, including the one to reach the temporal portal. Sometimes I wish I were still playing merchant captain, gathering intel for SI - didn't lose nearly so many crewmembers then.
"So since we're looking at a minimum of six weeks of refits and evaluations," Grunt concluded, addressing the gathered senior staff of the Mixalot, "it's going to be shore leave all around. We'll still need a skeleton crew aboard, so coordinate with your departments, but be generous - this hasn't been easy on anyone. Gydap, I presume you're headed home?"
"Yes, sir," the Andorian helmsman confirmed. "Millin's got this new hormone treatment she's been trying--"
Roclak held up a forestalling hand. "I already know more than I ever needed about Andorian reproductive habits," the Klingon rumbled good-naturedly. "Please, for the brotherhood of combat we share, do not tell me more."
Gydap chuckled. "Okay, I'll spare you the grim details. What are you up to?"
"I think I might visit Vulcan," Roclak said. "There’ll be a symposium there in a few days on analysis of nonrotating neutron stars, and how to avoid their gravitic fields in starflight. I was just going to read the abstracts in the Federation Journal of Astrophysics, but it may be interesting to attend in person."
"And even more interesting for the Vulcans, I gather," Shelana replied. The Andorian security chief shook her head. "And here I was going to enlist you as a native guide when I go to Qo'noS to brush up on mok'bara and bat'leth techniques."
Roclak shook his head. "I’m still not welcome on Qo'noS," he said regretfully. "One day, perhaps, I’ll get to make a case for my re-commendation before the Council, but for now..."
"I still don't understand that," Grunt interjected. "You helped save Qo'noS when the Undine attacked. You fought alongside Kahless against the Iconians, for profit's sake! Doesn't that cut you any slack?"
"I fought," the Klingon said quietly, "but I didn’t die. And I didn’t slaughter the enemy single-handed. I may have earned my place in Sto'vo'kor, but not on my homeworld." He shook his shaggy head. "It’s all right, though. I’ve spent more years in Federation territory, and in service to Starfleet, than I spent on Qo'noS before the decommendation. I don’t really miss it any more."
"How about you, Captain?" Gydap inquired. "Going back to Ferenginar?"
Grunt laughed. "No time. Sure, it's six weeks - but I'm going to be buried in paperwork. Starfleet evaluations of the new ship, Intelligence reports on everything we saw, and the Treasury alone knows how badly my cousin Barg bollixed up the corporate finances while we were busy with the war. I'm just going to take a room somewhere nice and moist - New Orleans, maybe, and see how the blackened gree-worms at Sisko's are - and get all this stuff out of the way. Maybe take in the sights afterward; most of the fighting here was around Spacedock, Earth herself went pretty well untouched." He stood. "Anyway, it's time for you all to go set up the leave schedules for your departments. See you next month!"