This is a Forum-Only Station. Do you have an inactive character that you want to write about? Is your character being transferred somewhere else, or fresh out of the Academy? This is where you write logs or start something creative with your fellow players either on Spacedock, orbiting Earth, or elsewhere in the STE universe.
Sun Jul 06, 2014 12:26 pm
Sara had always been a risk taker. She was a fighter pilot, after all; you didn't strap yourself into a diminutive Kaneda fighter and fly through massive D'Deridex superstructures if you were averse to risk. She had spent nearly the entire trip back to the Rho wondering, however. At the time, she had been sure she'd been doing the right thing, but it not long after the Romulans left, she'd begun to take stock of what had happened.
She had gambled, and gambled big. Not only had she put the lives of her crew at risk, she'd also risked the lives of the other Starfleet crews in the area. She'd risked the lives of those on Oann. She'd risked countless lives in both the Federation and the Romulan Empire by nearly inciting a war. Now, in hindsight, that seemed like too much. The pragmatic thing to do would have been to back off from the system, monitor the situation with the Tal'Shiar, and apply pressure to the Romulans to relinquish control of the system back to its settlers.
It wouldn't have felt right, though, and that was the crux of her problem. Was she more required as Commanding Officer to do the right thing, or to look after the safety of her crew? She knew which answer she wanted it to be, and as she replayed the events, she had become more confident that she'd made the right decision. Still, she'd spent nearly the entire trip back to the Rho waiting for a message from some Admiral chewing her out. She'd also been crafting her response: she'd contacted Starfleet Command, asking for advisement on the situation, and none had come. She had been given command of Taskforce Epsilon, so hers was the highest local authority. In the absence of orders from someone higher up, what could she have done beyond what she'd felt had been right? If Starfleet felt so strongly that she'd erred, perhaps they'd be more prompt with their responses next time. Perhaps they'd reconsider placing a 28-year-old, newly minted CO in charge of an entire taskforce.
After a week on anxiety, however, no rebuke came. On the last leg of their journey, she received her new mission orders, and the first thing they'd said was 'good work.' It had felt a bit more vindicating than she would have expected, and she briefly thought to highlight that to Sutak in response to the complaints she knew was coming. She wouldn't though. She understood his point; she had risked big, and any error could have had disastrous effects.
No, Sara would take his complaints. She would forward them to Starfleet Command personally, in fact. But she couldn't help, taking into account the acknowledgement from Starfleet, and taking into account her estimation of what her previous Captains would have done, but to feel like she had a handle on her post, perhaps for the first time since receiving it. She had followed her instinct, and it had worked. It may not stop the second-guessing after the fact, but it would steel her resolve in future situations.
Sara Sumner, Commanding Officer. For once, that didn't feel like a joke.
Sat Aug 16, 2014 8:50 am
"The time is zero four-hundred hours."
Sara had already been awake for some time before the wake-up call. She wasn't sure how long; she hadn't slept well since Thalev had left, and her grasp of time had slid some as a result. She thought, briefly, of all her crew had to do that day, with three Starfleet vessels needing repair and refit, trade negotiations involving the Ferengi (something that never goes smoothly), a 600,000 year old T'kon cruiser that needed to be scanned and catalogued, and a new batch of Cadets to break in. Needless to say, she didn't envy her science or engineering crews, and felt that she'd gotten the better end of the stick, Ferengi swindlers notwithstanding.
With a habitual sigh, Sara crawled out of the covers, stretching out the stress-induced soreness in her shoulders. She found herself looking to the unused side of the bed, and, once again, thinking about the man who had left. She shook her head slightly at herself, tired of feeling this way. She had to accept that he was gone, and that, for all intents and purposes, he wasn't coming back. She couldn't afford to keep mourning the future she never got, with the wedding and the children; she was the Commander of Sigma Rho, a posting that had seen its strategic importance skyrocket in recent weeks, and the responsibility of Command had become very real for her.
She couldn't help but feel a little angry as she dressed. She was angry that he'd left, of course, but also angry at herself. She had made herself too dependent on him, too reliant on his support. She had nearly fallen apart when she'd read his letter, and it was only her natural toughness that had gotten her through it, a toughness she had earned. She had been the one to support herself and her brother as their family had disintegrated. She had been the one to put in the extra hours at the Academy to become one of its top pilots. She had been the one to stand toe-to-toe with the Tzenkethi and Romulans in the same day and win. Somewhere, in her dependence on a blue alien and sudden concern for her career, she'd forgotten just who the hell she was.
That ended today, she thought to herself as she applied her typical messy eyeliner. No more pouting. No more insecurity. No more wondering if she was good enough for this job. This was her station, her crew, and her life. It was time to show them all how it was done, Starfleet included.
She threw on her uniform jacket as she stepped out into the living area, and glanced to the wall, where the shiny black Rickenbacker bass he'd given her hung. For the briefest of moments, she contemplated taking it and smashing it on the floor, as some measure of revenge for the pain he'd inflicted on her. She managed to restrain that urge, however, and simply pulled it off the wall, opening one of the empty cases sitting beneath it, and indelicately closing it in. As she headed for the door, she spared a glance to the bookshelf; she'd have to do some packing later, she decided. With a steadying huff, she stepped out into the corridor, heading for ops, ready to raise a little hell, if only for its own sake.
Sara Sumner was back, and she wouldn't be going away any time soon.
Sat Aug 16, 2014 1:20 pm
That was an awesome log, CJ! Good go see Sara is back.
Sun Aug 17, 2014 4:30 pm
You go girl!
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