Yanrel Vex: Personal Logs Aboard Starbase 72
Aelle
Member
Chief Operations Officer’s Log, Stardate 75439.7
Lieutenant Command Yanrel Vex reporting.
It appears at last long my time aboard the Sirona has come to an end. I will not modestly make light of the work we have done and the things we have accomplished with this vessel underfoot. Many lives were saved, and many more rebuilt, under the reins of the captain and my fellow officers, and I count my time aboard this ship as one of the most rewarding of my many experiences as a Starfleet Officer across several lifetimes.
Now it seems my good deeds for the Federation have earned me a rich reward, and I can at last put such things behind me and focus on the fields in which my studies and personal interests are better suited, those particular areas of expertise being xenoanthropology, xenoarchaeology, and history.
Now more than ever, the Federation is looking to its peacemakers to end the litany of conflicts that are erupting along our borders and it appears they are wisely considering a delve into the vast history and varied cultures of their apparent foes to achieve this goal.
I certainly feel as though my own history is to play a part in this endeavor. Kirvad Vex was considered the foremost expert on Romulan culture and diplomacy among the diplomatic organizations of the Federation in his time and I would surmise Starfleet are attempting to apply those same explorative and inquisitive tendencies and fascinations with the history and culture of others to their efforts with the powers of the Alpha Quadrant. Between the Cardassians, the Ferengi, the Breen, and the Tzenkethi, there is certainly no end to alien threats that bare down on our borders.
Now as well, my old ‘friends’ in the Romulan Free State are causing chaos on the collapsed edges of Romulan space. Undoubtedly the tides of change are awash over the Alpha and Beta quadrants and it appears we must do all that we can to root ourselves to the soil lest we find ourselves being washed away.
At a glance, it may appear of such sentiments to be in some way aggrandized or overstated, though I dare note that the Federation does and always has sat precariously within the center of various volatile powers, not least of all between the Romulan and Klingon Empires in the Beta Quadrant.
Though the Klingons have long been our allies, and the Romulan Republic that was birthed out of the fall of their empire following the Hobus supernova are making strides in opening diplomatic relations with the Federation, the Romulan Free State and splinter groups within the Klingon Empire such as these… Hunters of the House of D’Ghor are certainly a cause for concern regarding the future of the stability of our borders.
The frontier of the Alpha Quadrant is equally as uneasy with regards to diplomatic relations and hostilities. The True Way, an extremist faction of the Cardassian Union, have declared all-out war with the Federation, the Breen are as always hostile and with little care or compassion for our desire of peace, the Tzenkethi are as quiet as ever and still show little to no interest in interacting with the Federation beyond opportunistic raiding, and though we may have cordial relations with the Ferengi, they must, as always, look after their own interests before all others, as selfishness seems to be a mode that courses through the veins of Ferenginar like a river that feeds a meadow.
Indeed, our list of friends is still worryingly short, given our chartered intent to discover and learn from others and hopefully foster bonds of peace and partnership.
I confess that though I do possess limited training with the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps, I am myself no dignitary and am unsure currently what my particular focuses in xenoanthropology and xenoarchaeology could possibly do to assist Starfleet in their current operations. Perhaps only time will tell.
The USS Sirona should be arriving at Starbase 72 within the next week or so for resupply. There I shall disembark, and take up my new residency in the undeniably more spacious and comfortable habitation section of the Stardock-class station. Candidly, I am looking forward to the leg room, and to having larger and more dedicated spaces in which I may work, though the lack of adventure and stationary position I will undoubtedly find myself in is less than favorable for the wanderlust that drove me to join Starfleet in the first place.
Oh what a duality of personage this symbiont brings me. Often we find ourselves at odds with ourselves, and to live successfully as a joined Trill is to learn how to compromise between yourself and your own varied memories, personalities, and desires.
At least the station is big.
Comments
Personal log, Stardate 75462.3
Lieutenant Commander Yanrel Vex reporting
I had seen a Spacedock-class starbase twice before. Viba had the pleasure of seeing one of the first ones completed in its orbit around Earth many decades ago, and I myself had seen just how grand and enormous it had become, with it’s many retrofits and expansions, when I first boarded the Sirona several years back.
Still, I feel as though nothing will ever truly prepare one for seeing it out of a viewing window once again, and the behemoth scale of the installation will never be something one would or really should get used to. To me, I would say the view is as the first time every time.
One quarter of docking bay alone was large enough to house the Sirona in its entirety and with copious amounts of room to spare. Stepping out through the gangway, which was windowed on either side undoubtedly for the view in which I am about to describe, I felt as though I were looking out over vast caverns of light and machinery. I felt so comically minute in comparison to the indescribably vast interior of the station’s upper section. Behind the Sirona, which itself appeared deceptively monstrous now that I was stood outside of it and looking back at it in full scale, various runabouts, shuttles, and even other Starships moved around the holding area with relative ease and wide berths. The blue light cast from the interior created an almost oceanic scene before me, as though schools of fish were swimming alongside great sharks that drifted elegantly through the waters.
Leaving the gangway and entering the arrival lounge, the chaos hardly subdued in any fashion. Starfleet officers of varying ranks and departments were exiting the numerous other gangways surrounding the central core of the upper station, and many more officers were suddenly materializing and stepping off of transporter pads as they went on their merry way to whatever obligations might’ve brought them to the station.
Overall, the experience was quite intense. I felt as though I were to be swept away in a torrent of red, blue, and yellow, particularly at one point as the crew of an Odyssey-class disembarked and filled the atrium on all levels.
None-the-less, I was finally able to navigate my way to the central promenade, a circular ring-like structure that surrounds a massive arboretum in the center of the station.
Though only a fraction of the structure itself, the sheer scope of the promenade ring could be that of a city in and of itself. With kilometers of shops, restaurants, venues, and public spaces, one could dwell on this station for years and still not see all this one ring has to offer. Indeed, lives could be dedicated to this central promenade ring and they would not end in any way unfulfilled.
I decided to set down my affects, packed tightly in a duffle bag, at a nearby pub and stop for a drink or two. Port has always been the poison of my choice and there are few places in the quadrant where legitimate alcohol is widely available. It felt rather good to enjoy the sincere taste of a good Portuguese fortified wine in my new home city, for a city it truly was.
Already my thoughts turned to the Sirona and its crew, and my time aboard that vessel. I considered those we had saved, remembered those we had lost, and utterly immersed my ever-compartmentalized mind in the experience off that vessel. Neither Burza, Viba, or even Kirvad could consider what we did there to be anything short of noble and miraculous, even in their combined centuries of time in and around Starfleet.
What now could I do here on Starbase 72 to further the advancements of the Federation and help protect its people?
My hope is that my endeavors are not entirely trivial in their results, and that my work with the xenoanthropology and archaeological departments will help us better understand those we call enemies, and may even allow us to find some common ground and forge truces or even alliances.
Perhaps though I am being utterly self-indulgent in these thoughts and pursuits. In truth, I would consider myself non-essential personnel at this point in time. Perhaps I ought to make peace with that, and consider instead that I am acting upon Starfleet’s chartered intention, to explore and learn of other civilizations, even here.
I decided after polishing off my glass that a single drink is enough. Though I’m assured alcohol consumption is perfectly safe for a symbiont, it is probably unnecessary to push that assumption all too often. Besides which, I have never been one for drinking too heavily.
Collecting my things, I made my way to the outlying internal tram system that connects the promenade to the residential area, the habitation section, below.
Much like the promenade, the habitation area of the station is a veritable city in scale. Different sections of the station are almost made to feel like separate neighborhoods, with quarters ranging in size from single-person, two-room abodes scarcely larger than those found on a starship to full living arrangements comparable to smaller homes found on planets for larger families to live in.
My own selected quarters were sadly closer to the former, and the accommodations provided are proving to be somewhat ‘pokey’. Truth be told, I don’t much mind though. I’m a simple man with simple needs. I’m sure in time I’ll have this place decorated and feeling far more homely.
Personal Log, Stardate 75473.4
Command Yanrel Vex reporting.
Yes, that is correct. Commander Vex is how I am now to be addressed, it would appear. I had scarcely been 3 days aboard Starbase 72 when I received a call to meet with Commodore Jalian at the Arboretum of all places. Seldom does the Commodore ask to meet specifically with certain officers, she being in command of and in charge of over 75,000 officers and civilians alike on any given day, so I was immediately suspicious that something significant was afoot.
Leaving my new quarters, which I had already begun to settle and decorate with the various articles of replicated antiquities and numerous plants that appear to follow me wherever I go, I made my way for the station’s central core, the innermost part of which consists of the dome-shaped arboretum in question.
Centered within a large holodeck that simulates a wide, open blue sky, the arboretum essentially acts as a city park located in the center of the station, encircled by the promenade. Though the sky and distant vistas are entirely artificial in nature, the flora and various bugs that dwell within are quite real, and my Trill sensitivities began to grow concerned for my own health, should I be bitten. Trill symbionts, after all, are exceptionally sensitive to insect bites, something their hosts certainly suffer for.
None-the-less, I dared to brave the savage wilderness of Starbase 72’s flower garden and made my way to one of the gazebos located in the third quarter of the park. There, the commodore stood upon the decking proudly as several other officers gathered before her and assembled in a semi-formal crowd. Joining them, we speculated on the nature of our summons. Some pessimistically assumed we were due for a reprimand for some past indiscretions. Others considered the possibility of us being assembled as the new crew of one of the many ships arriving at the starbase for refits, resupply, and restaffing.
The commodore did little to help ease the uncertainty and curiosity of the officers she had gathered there that day. In true Jalian fashion, her speech was long-winded and commonly off-topic in several places. She spoke of our achievements and the responsibilities we face as Starfleet officers, as well as the future and what unusual times await us. Finally, she announced each of our ascensions in rank alphabetically, with myself stepping up somewhere close to the end of it all (I believe only Wolsworth, Wellington, W’kazi, Young, and Z’tnoth proceeded me) to receive my third golden pip and the rank of Commander.
She did make the somewhat trivial remark of pointing out that I now ranked amongst the top 15% of highest ranking Starfleet officers currently on the station, a spectacularly benign point if nothing else. I’m hardly to be waving my authority around left, right, and center in the middle of an archaeology lab, not that I would ever feel inclined to do so.
With that said though, I am left to wonder about the timing of this promotion. My previous postings on the Sirona have driven me closer and closer to the captain’s chair, and I confess that I am not wholly averse to the idea. Perhaps this is the excuse Starfleet were looking for to push me in to a command position? Perhaps, we shall see.
For now, I’m going to try and enjoy whatever time I may in the laboratory. However short-lived my stint there may be, I am confident I can get a considerable amount of work done between now and whatever eventuality comes my way.
I decided after my promotion to take a stroll around the park. It’s various ancient-looking structures, beautiful flower arrangements, and incredible diversity in its flora give it an almost ethereal, fantastical quality. I do believe I will be spending much of my time at this place in particular.