Updated – December 1, 1998
BEHIND LINES
Chapter 1 - Part A
Ship’s Log Stardate 18611.19
Captain John Samarra reporting. We are currently in route to Starbase 28. We estimate we should arrive in two days. Ship status is excellent.
Captain’s Personal Log Stardate 18611.19
Starfleet has ordered us to set course for Starbase 28 in the Karebam System. Karebam lies only a short distance from the Federation/Klingon Neutral Zone. I cannot imagine what Admiral Devaney has in mind. He seems quite confident to pull us off our patrol of the Romulan border. Whatever he has in mind, I doubt he’s planning to improve the fragile peace we currently have with the Klingon Empire.
John Samarra sat back in his chair, scrutinizing his console’s screen.
“Computer. End log.”
Restless, yet weary, he looked up from the desk’s console and placed his hands through his light brown hair and sighed. As his eyes rose above the door to the hallway, he paused on the chronometer.
Unlike virtually every other chronometer of the day, it was of the old gear and spring design, the type found in the pasts of many planetary cultures. It put to use three pointers, representing hours, minutes, and seconds. Representative of Federation Standard Time, it used numbering from 1 to 24 around its circular wooden faceplate. Around the plate was a long dark wood box that held two sets of pendulums on each side. It had silvery, but clear, glass plating, allowing views of the pendulums’ movements. As a final touch, much to Samarra’s delight and due to it's mechanics, it made a soft and subtle ticking sound as the second hand moved around the face. While some of his officers found this sound somewhat irritating, it brought images of times long since past to Captain Samarra.
John Samarra was ecstatic when he had encountered this “treasure” while on Lafey VII. He wasn’t on the planet to shop, but he had decided to go out and wander through one of the capital’s marketplaces. As he passed one merchant selling various used items, he saw it. The chronometer was fairly damaged…and dirty…and worn out. Suffice to say, it was junk to any sensible person. To John Samarra, it was an opportunity to rejuvenate a piece of antiquity. He had figured it would take him a week of trial and error to restore it. He was wrong. Luckily for him, Katherine Moore agreed to help him and saved the project from the reclaimator. Being the engineer he wasn’t, she filled in the blanks where his knowledge of antiquity just was not enough. He came out of that experience with a stronger feeling of respect for Moore and an even stronger attachment to her.
Thoughts of Katherine drew Samarra’s mind away from the aesthetics of the chronometer. He found that Katherine’s face came to mind and a smile fought passed his weariness and out onto his face. It sometimes amazed him that his relationship with her had become so intense. For that fact, that despite their differences, they were together. He genuinely enjoyed the differences of attitude and perspective. Some, including Dunnedy, had tried to warn him off the relationship. It was troubling to them to see him so open to a person so closely connected to his strongest antagonist, Devaney. It just didn’t matter to him, sort of a blind trust. He had been more concerned with what was expected of him as a captain. Could he be seen as impartial and in love? It seemed that this mattered less and less to him now. Who really cared, right? He was content to just have her in his life. At least that was what he said to himself, but that concern was always there.
Unfortunately, the troubles of the present quickly resurfaced, as always. He was loathing this 5 day trip to Starbase 28. No orders. No mission. No work. He felt like he had become superfluous once he had the set course. He looked back down to his console again and reactivated the log.
Captain’s Personal Log Supplemental Stardate 18611.19
Well, I thought I’d continue to muse on the current events now surrounding my crew and myself. While I have had the feeling of being useless, it really isn’t true. As Starfleet reminds me, I have a number of reports and studies due. Also, I have the responsibility of keeping tabs on my crew. The problem is that my concerns are poisoning my work. For example, I’ve been temporarily banned from the science labs. I thought I’d check on my Science Officer and ex-best friend, Meg, or as I’m required to call her now, Lieutenant Commander I’m Leaving Now. Some days I really get tired of her humor. In her words, I was irritating her and being a general nuisance. So that avenue for discussing my concerns is closed. Additionally, my First Officer, Commander Kara Dunnedy, is busy, trying to make use of this opportunity to use the bridge for simulation training of officers who are coming up for promotion reviews soon. I could go over my worries with Skye or Doc Stewart, but no, they can't help either. I suppose that the answer doesn’t lie in these people who have become my closest friend. A friendly conversation is not what I need or want, the fact that I am cut off from Katherine and any information about what is going to happen to her team is…difficult. Whenever their is a mission like this, silent and covert, the ship’s…my Prime Team…I am given responsibility for their lives and…
At this point Samarra sat back again.
“Computer. End log.”
God, he was feeling ridiculous. He was actually sitting there venting into the computer console. He shook his head and stood up from his chair. How long had he been sitting there? He glanced up at his chronometer.
“Two hours, thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds. Well that only leaves two day, six hours, Fifteen minutes, approximately.”
Chronometer watching was getting old fast. He had to get out of his office, fast. He looked down and gave himself a quick inspection. After nearly two years of command he still half-expected to see a blue, science specialty, shirt on his frame when he looked. He shut the clasp on the high banned collar on his uniform’s red shirt. All of his anxiety over this cryptic mission had began to make him feel as if his shirt collar was strangling him, but it was time to go back onto duty. He paused for a moment, looking at the door to the hallway and then to the door, on the side of his office, that lead to his quarters. Samarra reasoned he could go out into the ship and end up irritating someone else…or he could just go into his quarters and try to straighten out his thoughts out. He decided to go into quarters. Besides, he couldn’t stand being banned from more of the ship. He picked up his gray uniform coat from the back of the chair and went to his quarter’s door and stepped through the doorway as it opened.
*****
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