Lieutenant Commander Etan Iljor - The Chair
Michael Meir-Wright
Mission Specialist's Log, USS Intrepid. Stardate 240004.17 and Stardate 6119.21.
Somehow we appear to have done the impossible. The rogue pulsar no longer threatens Gelf with extinction. Although the planet is not- as humans say- 'out of the woods', the worst of the crisis has passed. Yet I feel uneasy. We remain in the 23rd century with no clear way to return to our correct temporal coordinates. Perhaps naively, I had assumed that Nurse Rox would send us back once we completed our mission. The fact that she has not led me to conclude that we are here for something else. The question now becomes: what?
With Commodore V'Airu and Colonel Greaves on the surface, I command the Intrepid. Lieutenant Arlill and Doctor Kel are to assist me. The latter, however, gives me pause for concern. I am aware of his request to visit Starbase 12, and while I do not know the entire story, he is single-minded in his determination to get there. I am keeping a close eye on him.
(( Bridge, Deck 1, USS Intrepid ))
The melodic chirps and bleeps from the bridge's plethora of consoles were oddly soothing and reminded Iljor of the night call of the Alcorian Sorrowhawk. What had been at first an unwelcome distraction had quickly faded into the background, a barely noticeable soundtrack. The electronic cadence soon became lodged in the Mission Specialist's mind like an infectious earworm. Strangely, it focused his attention and kept his thoughts from wandering.
Sat in the centre seat with his legs crossed, Iljor signed the data slate that a crewmember had passed him a minute earlier. Handing it back to the Bolian, he nodded his thanks and gazed at the large viewscreen. The slender orb of Gelf stretched across the bottom of the vista while the now retreating pulsar grew smaller and fainter with each passing hour.
Etan: Location and speed of the pulsar? :: he said, turning to the science console. ::
Ordinarily, Iljor might not have asked for regular updates on the movement of a celestial body. But this was no ordinary pulsar. It had somehow jumped closer to Gelf, defying all known laws of physics. Nobody had been able to explain why and until it was safely out of the Intrepid's sensor range, he had opted to ask for regular updates.
Arlill / Kel: Responses.
Uncrossing his legs, Iljor got to his feet. Folding his arms, he nodded, acknowledging the report.
Etan: Anything on the long-range sensors?
Arlill / Kel: Responses.
Etan: It's oh so qui-
His sarcastic comment was interrupted by an urgent beeping from the science console. He turned, his posture stiffening in anticipation.
Etan: Report!
Arlill / Kel: Responses.
--
Lieutenant Commander Etan Iljor
Mission Specialist
USS 'Oumuamua
NCC - 81226
C2390203TW0