Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 61034.2. "Captain." Captain Nicholas Rush. I thought I'd left the Service forever behind me, and yet now I find myself not only back in the Service, but commanding a starship.
The Universe is currently a beehive of activity. She's an Ambassador-class ship, registry number 37628. Funny, I've only been on her for a few hours, and I'm already taking pride in her. Not all crewmembers have yet reported in, but the final work is even now approaching its completion. I have spoken extensively with Chief Engineer Wray 283, and s/he assures me that we'll be ready to launch for Sector 332-J on the expected date. Wray is the first Zypoth I've ever met, and frankly, s/he's odd even for a Zypoth. But s/he definitely knows engines, and that's what counts.
I still can't believe I'm here. When I was a young "rebel" on my native Rizajor----battling the Senderians to try and drive those damned oppressors off my planet---I never dreamed of anything beyond the confines of my homeworld. It was Elizabeth Weir who came to me when we were on the cusp of winning our long battle with the Senderians. He saw something in me, something that he felt should be shaped and honed into a Fleet officer. I'll never forget when he told me of the famous Earthman, the Great Alexander, who supposedly wept when he realized that he had no new worlds to conquer. There I was, having accomplished the liberation of my people before I was twenty years old. Weir realized that if I allowed that to be the pinnacle of my life, that it wouldn't go well for me in later years. She's the one responsible for my seeking out my true destiny.
Damn the woman.
I try to live my life without regrets. I didn't regret resigning from Fleet, for it was what I had to do at the time. And now I'm determined not to regret rejoining. If nothing else, Weir was right about the reaction of Admiral Hammond. Upon learning that I had been given command of the Universe, with the mandate to explore the fallen Centauri Republic of Sector 332-J and provide humanitarian effort whenever possible. Hammond looked angry enough to shred a Goa'uld with his teeth. He's going to have to deal with it, however. That's his problem, not mine. My problem is to focus my attention on the job at hand, and not let my core impatience with the rigmarole and high-mindedness of Fleet interfere with my job.
Several major bits of business need to be attended to. I'm still awaiting the arrival of Lieutenant Soleta, my science officer. She's had experience in Centarui space. Even though Rizajor is on the Centauri/ Senderian border, I possess only a smattering of knowledge about the territory. Soleta has actually been into the heart of that notoriously xenophobic realm and lived to tell of it. Her view of things will be invaluable. She's currently in Los Angeles, teaching at the Fleet Academy, but she should have received her orders by now and should be preparing to join us as soon as possible. Of the rest of my command staff. Dr. Selar is in the process of getting life station in fully operation condition. It's strange. I've worked with Vulcans before, and I'm well aware of their notorious reserve, but Selar is remote, even for a Vulcan. So cold, so icy, so distant. I can't help but wonder if she's simply overly dedicated to her Vulcan teaching, or if there's not something more going on in her head that I don't know about. Her medical performance is spotless and she came well recommended from Weir, who in turn heard nothing but good things about her from her own CMO. Weir's word is general good enough for me, but to be blunt, Selar seems as if she'll have the bedside manner of a black hole, and I hope her presence here is not an error on my part.
Security Chief Jakar Thul is a Malon, and certainly provides a feeling of security. I constantly have to request that he walk rather than run, since his running tends to make an entire deck vibrate. I've seen mountain ranges that are smaller. And yet he's got astonishing agility for someone who's got a hide tougher than twenty Banthas.
Astronavigator Ronald Greer comes highly recommended for helmsman, but he brings with him major caveats. I've very quickly learned that, during any conversation with Lieutenant Greet, it seems as if he's either not listening at all, or listening to a conversation between two other people----neither of whom are in proximity. yet he never seems to miss out on anything that's being said; how his mind is able to multitask in that way is a complete mystery to me.
Operations Officer Vanessa James is recently promoted from Engineering. She seems very sociable....maybe overly so, as if she's trying to compensate for something. "Desperately outgoing" would be the term I'd use. I'm having trouble getting a "read" on her, and will be keeping a weather eye on her for the time being.
The position of first officer remains open. I'm finding the filling of that slot to be the most problematic area with which I have to deal. I have a number of worthy candidates, and have already interviewed several. Every single one has been eminently competent, knowledgeable, polite---and yet each of them seems a bit nervous around me. Intimidated, maybe. They focus on my scar, the one I acquired in my youth when a Senderian laid open half my face. They seem to have trouble making eye contact. And they act as if at any moment I might start carving my initials in my desktop with the sword I keep handy for sentimental reasons. I don't see why. It's my desk and my sword, and if I happen to want to carve it into kindling, I damn well will.
Hmmm.
Clearly I'll need a first officer whom I can not only tolerate, but who will also be able to tolerate me.
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