Arrival
Stardate Tuesday. After a fairly uneventful trip, we've reached Deep Space 9, the infamous station orbiting the equally infamous Bajor. As I said, the trip was pretty uneventful. Mari, unfortunately, spent almost the whole time in her shuttle with her experiments, whatever they are. I say unfortunately, because I was hoping to, I dunno, get to know her a little better.
Storvik was a bit more interesting. He taught me a card game he called "Vulcan Cut-Throat," which I found surprising. It seems a bit more competitive and, well, cut-throat than I'd expect from a game the Vulcans came up with, but he assured me it had originated with Surak himself. Weird. Whatever.
We also had a conversation where I made a calculated risk by referring to a possibly greater knowledge of the Murgatroid's activities than a civilian should. Of course, I've never claimed to be a civilian. I may not wear my pips, but...anyway. Something's seriously fishy about this mission of Storvik's. It's obvious by his reaction that he thinks something's fishy about me as well (though honestly, there are plenty of backchannels where one can follow the Murgatroid's course; it's entertaining if nothing else...), but it doesn't matter. Even if he checks up on me, all he'll find is records of an extremely unremarkable career, mainly in Starfleet catering. (Of course, if anyone asks me to actually cook...)
Anyway, we're here. The docking protocols are done and we're moving into a docking clamp in about a minute. Hmm. Wonder if this station deserves its reputation? Guess I'll find out...
Storvik was a bit more interesting. He taught me a card game he called "Vulcan Cut-Throat," which I found surprising. It seems a bit more competitive and, well, cut-throat than I'd expect from a game the Vulcans came up with, but he assured me it had originated with Surak himself. Weird. Whatever.
We also had a conversation where I made a calculated risk by referring to a possibly greater knowledge of the Murgatroid's activities than a civilian should. Of course, I've never claimed to be a civilian. I may not wear my pips, but...anyway. Something's seriously fishy about this mission of Storvik's. It's obvious by his reaction that he thinks something's fishy about me as well (though honestly, there are plenty of backchannels where one can follow the Murgatroid's course; it's entertaining if nothing else...), but it doesn't matter. Even if he checks up on me, all he'll find is records of an extremely unremarkable career, mainly in Starfleet catering. (Of course, if anyone asks me to actually cook...)
Anyway, we're here. The docking protocols are done and we're moving into a docking clamp in about a minute. Hmm. Wonder if this station deserves its reputation? Guess I'll find out...