Personal Log 002

Posted on 31 Aug 2014 @ 7:51am by Chief Warrant Officer 2 Vasily Sokolov Ph.D.

577 words; about a 3 minute read

Computer, begin personal log.

Today is ninth day of mission, which seems more like Ninth Circle of Hell because ship is on orange alert. Vasily is not conducting Starfleet Performance Review, but still suggesting maybe ship should not have to change alert status on ninth day of sitting in space doing nothing while orbiting haunted mine and letting furry little shits overtake whole fucking ship. Now we are sitting in space with warp core offline, weapons offline, environmental systems at half power, no transporters. All for furballs that coo and screw themselves a lot. What if Gul Verrok decides to shoot at ship? We tell him to please wait while weapons are brought online from cold shutdown?

But this is just opinion of one lowly engineer, hm? Starfleet says Vasily is "too unstable," "too irrational," "too violent," to assume command of starship, so okay. I just sit here and watch while whole ship falls apart because green lady and big scar-face captain do not want to vent furballs into space. Okay. That is fine. Vasily knows where nearest escape pod is.

But for record, nobody says, "Do not vent Borg into space," when they are taking over ship because they are life-form to be respected. Oh no. We vent all Borg into space second we see them; set phasers to kill and shoot others. But tribbles? No, no. Let them chew on ODN junctions and interphasic wave converters, what's harm in this? "What do you mean they are attacking ship, Vasily? They are just so cute and cuddly, why are you always trying to kill everything cute and cuddly?"

When Vasily sees more than two tribbles, he says to Chief Pretty Boy, "These things must be killed." Chief Pretty Boy nods and smiles, like always. Big man in command seat says "no, no, they are life form" and green lady is too busy turning fancy quarters into bordello to notice anything. So, now is day nine and ship is falling apart because whole thing is run by weak-willed scientists who are too squeamish to fire handheld phaser at obvious threat. Assistant Chief Pretty Boy refuses to give Vasily access to weapons, so instead Vasily sits at work station all day watching damage reports roll in.

"Vasily, we lose power on Deck 3. Primary systems are compromised by tribbles."

"Oh, compromised by tribbles, you say? Maybe you should try hugging them. They like to cuddle. Maybe then they just all leave ship instead of clogging up warp nacelle and making ship crash into mining colony."

Oh... Wait.

Maybe this is big solution to mine problem.

Fill ship with tribbles until ship loses attitude control; ship crashes into colony and destroys haunted mine; Federation tells Cardassia, "Sorry, ship was full of tribbles"; problem solved. Maybe too elaborate plan but it will finally complete mission. They can put memorial on surface: "They died respecting tribbles." This will bring great comfort to families of dead people from ship and boost recruitment to Starfleet: "Young people, you, too, can die for tiny fluffy creature with microscopic brain - sign up now!"

Biggest personal concern right now is environmental controls. Minor system, you make think, but ship is hotter than walls of hell and Vasily's roommate, Dr. Coleman, sweats like Ysirian piglet. It is only matter of time before her white blouses turn translucent enough to blind Vasily.

There are some things in universe that should never be seen.

Computer, end log.

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