USS Sentinel

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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Chief Medical Officer's Log supplemental

Posted on Fri Apr 1st, 2016 @ 6:09pm by Lieutenant JG Jas Etelen D.O.

She looked like a dart, unwillingly still, hanging there in space parked alongside the McCoy. There were service craft and men in EVO suits moving about. Lights from the workbee played along her hull, arcs from bipolar torches sealing the docking portals in place. I was struck by her beauty.

A new home.

A new ship to call home.

The excitement, it appeared, never grew old. Or I never grew out of it.

I'd been monitoring logs from the moment of assignment. I knew as much of what was going on aboard the Sentinel as anyone not currently aboard. I already felt sentiment toward this crew.

Markinson's dogmatic work ethic, pulling double and triple duty, seemingly determined to pay penance for something I, honestly, could find well-justified.

Stone, a good officer acting suddenly erratic in a way that made me question the true cause of his problems.

Nyx, my travelling companion. Whom I had grown quite found of.

The Bannings - truly commendable in every way. A family making a life in Starfleet work.

The young Banning clearly destined for greatness.

Parents already having achieved it.

Tyr worried me. Serving with other Bajorans has only ever gone one of two ways with me. The fast camaraderie of two refugees meeting on the road that is the unfortunate inheritance of all children of the Cardassian Occupation, OR infantile zeal usually followed by an attempt to beat the love of the Prophets into me. It was important to me that we have a strong, pliable, refractory working relationship. But it was equally as important to me that he understand that while his opinions would be valued for his experience and his command respected for his position... I reported to the Commodore and took the safety, physical and mental health of the crew as my direct and only real imperative. There was no room for any potential petty power struggle.

And the Commodore himself...from everything I'd read in the logs, service records, commendations and evaluations, here, finally might be a commanding officer really worth following. And I hoped that was true, had been possessed of that feeling for days. Approaching the ship, seeing her there hanging in space begging to be set free and allowed to run to high warp carrying care and relief to the people of three worlds in the Arbazan system, I was filled with optimism.

There she stood, ready to fly, willing to soar, begging to be unfettered.

And I felt the same way.

I knew there was trouble ahead. I would, if the Prophets allowed, be part of salving that pain.

In all honesty the situation seemed impossible.

And I felt wholly equal to the challenge.

I knew the Captain of the McCoy, and I knew the crew and bays of the Sentinel were all being put to better, more urgent use than facilitating MY arrival. I also knew my time could be better spent learning as much as possible about the course of the illness facing the population that would soon be relying on me.

I hoped that Janshen Tyr would be able to see past the fact I don't wear a D'jar pagh.

I hoped that Banning was equal to the challenges ahead of us and really was the man his record seemed to suggest he was.

Sentinel. Posted guard, set to keep watch, a vanguard. We would be Starfleet's vanguard in this crisis, a Sentinel for the people of Arbazan when they needed us most.

She looked fast. Begging to be set to the open vastness and carry her precious cargo to people clinging to hope.

I hoped we would be equal to the task.

I knew I would have to hit the ground running.

I hoped I would be equal to the task.

 

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