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Evan Delano

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Everything posted by Evan Delano

  1. Great job, Cadet. Looking forward to seeing great things from you.
  2. I'm pretty open minded, but I think cultural acceptance has to have a few hard limits. Ritualistic murder and cannibalism (sort of) is one those limits for me.
  3. Bridge Commander is probably my favorite Trek game, followed by "A Final Unity," a TNG point-and-click adventure title. I think they came closest to capturing the kind of Star Trek I fell in love with as a kid.
  4. ((Captain's Quarters, USS Veritas - Around 0400 hours)) ::Sometimes, fate and the universe were truly cruel masters. Just a few months after Tristam’s Starfleet commission had been reactivated, the Starfleet Corps of Engineers saw fit to have him head off on assignment elsewhere in the Shoals--away from Veritas and away from Roshanara.:: ::It made complete logical sense of course. She’d probably have assigned him similarly if she were back on Earth looking over the Corps’ resources and seeing a components expert posted on a deep space cruiser that didn’t really offer him the same resources as say a Galaxy class ship or a starbase for research. More importantly, Tristam’s skills were vital to the Corps’ efforts (and the Federation Council’s stated commitment) to improve infrastructure throughout the Shoals.:: ::But she thought they’d have more time.:: Rahman: I know we should go to sleep, but I don’t want this night to end… ::Her voice was wistful, her head resting on his chest as they both lay in her bed staring up above. Tristam gave a quiet sigh, nuzzling against her hair.:: Core: The good news is, it’s still in the area. Rahman: Hmmph. Ketar? Karakka? Wherever they send you out here, it might as well be the Delta Quadrant. ::She turned slightly to look up towards him.:: Rahman: You know it could be months before we see each other again... Core: I’m not thrilled about it, either. But maybe it’s a good thing - professionally, I mean. Walker has everything tied down here. With everything else . . . well, I mostly fixed the com problem, remember? Rahman: True… and since that is what I presume you’ll be focussing on now for the rest of the Shoals, maybe finding a way to keep us in touch better is a pretty good incentive for you to do well. Core: Well, I’ll need numerous com tests. Veritas is equipped for that. Not my fault if the captain decided to take those calls. ::She chuckled, reaching back with her right hand to stroke his lightly-shaved beard with the back of her fingers. As she thought though of what their relationship was to become--long distance, again, and one sustained (inshallah!) by subspace calls--painful memories of her last experience with such an arrangement began to resurface.:: Rahman: Tristam, we don’t have to do this. ::He frowned a little, the hand that had been tracing small patterns on her arm now still.:: Core: I’m guessing you don’t mean halting my transfer to the outpost. ::He was trying to keep things light, fully aware of what she was trying to say, but unwilling to let it, or rather, his reaction to it, ruin a good day.:: Rahman: It’s just… I’ve been down this road before. I know how hard it can be. ::She stopped to correct herself.:: Rahman: How hard it *will* be. ::She closed her eyes as she felt them begin to water.:: Rahman: If it becomes too hard for you, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me. And if there’s any doubt, then maybe it’d be best to resolve it here, now--while we’re together. Not months or even years from now when we’re divided by a screen. ::He didn't want to dismiss her concerns. He had no intention to, not after the disaster that had been his time on Rodul. But he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t getting the whole story here. He thought about it for a few moments, hand resuming its patterns on her arm.:: Core: Is that what *you* want? ::She didn’t answer immediately. What did she want? Was she just trying to give him permission to break up with her? Or was she just too afraid of enduring a familiar pain again? Of loneliness and insecurity.:: Rahman: I want… I want you to be happy. ::She sat up a bit, propping her elbow on the bed and placing her chin now on her palm. She looked over at him as he continued to lie there, curious all-black eyes staring back.:: Rahman: I love you, Tristam. And I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re trapped or that you’ve been expected to hold up an obligation to us--to me. Especially when we’re not even married. ::She glanced down a bit, her voice quieter.:: Rahman: I don’t want you to ever become resentful because of what we decide tonight. ::He gave her a curious look, opting now to sit up with her, stealing a pillow to lean on.:: Core: I see it in that we have two options. Rahman: I’m listening. Core: We can call it quits here, if that's what you want. It's not what I want. Because I don't feel trapped. But I do have an obligation to us. And I might not completely understand your reasoning, but I respect you too much to make *you* feel like you're stuck with *me*. ::At that, her chuckle erupted into a snicker, almost an embarrassing snort.:: Core: Or, ::He said, smiling and tilting his head (perhaps a bit too far to the right by typical standards):: We stick it out. Being on Rodul was the hardest time in my life - and I say that knowing I have another two hundred years to go. I know we distanced ourselves then, and time zones were unbearable, but I regret us, or really, *me*, not telling you about what was going on. I think I can do better than that. I *know* I can do better than that. ::Roshanara sighed. The time Tristam had been away on Rodul had been hard for both of them, but she couldn’t fault him for needing to take the time to figure out what he wanted. And it had ironically been her own prodding that he finally go back and revisit his homeworld.:: ::It was more the feeling of being left out of a decision that affected both of them that had hurt her more. It was what had happened before with Javed, and what she feared would happen now, even if she were bracing for it.:: Rahman: Just… promise me one thing. ::She stuck out her right index finger and traced it along his bare chest in a similar pattern as he had been tracing on her arm earlier.:: Rahman: Just keep me in the loop about how you’re feeling as time goes by. About us. I know you don’t want us to part ways today. And maybe not tomorrow or a few months from now--or ever. But... ::She let her finger run in a spiral until she stopped it right over his heart.:: Rahman: ...anyway, let’s both be better than that. ::He smiled again, black eyes sparkling in the low lighting.:: Core: Of course, ervami. ::By now, the late hour had finally started to bear its brunt on the Kriosian, whose eyelids began to fall lower and lower. She drew closer to him and placed her head back against his now slightly upright chest.:: Rahman: Good. Mmmmmm. ::She closed her eyes, drifting towards slumber but not before whispering one final, barely audible remark.:: Rahman: ...if you ever break up with me over subspace, I’ll hunt you down, stuff you in a torpedo and shoot it into a blackhole… ::He chuckled.:: Core: It'd be a waste of a torpedo. Rahman: Shhh. Pillows don’t talk. === Lt. Cmdr. Tristam Core Components Expert, Starfleet Corps of Engineers C238803SB0 & Capt. Roshanara Rahman Commanding Officer, USS Veritas I238705TZ0
  5. Congratulations to all this year's awardees. It's been an exciting week, and it makes me happy to see so many people recognized for the amazing effort they put into making this group great. I'm already looking forward to next year!
  6. I always prefer it when characters have a chance to say goodbye, either indirectly in a scene shortly before the death, or as they lay dying. A shocking and sudden death can be an effective narrative tool when used effectively judiciously, but it can also be damn near abusive to your audience (I'm looking at you George R.R. Martin).
  7. I like this bio from one of our recent Academy graduates: https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Hunter_Caminos
  8. If you've never watched TOS before, I suggest using a guide like http://www.letswatchstartrek.com/ so you can get some warning about episodes that are skippable. Most episodes and movies are independent enough that it really won't matter whether you watch things in chronological order.
  9. As I recall, that's the situation we're all in, because even if you have TV service, only the pilot episode is actually airing on live TV. Basically, if you live in the U.S. and want to legally watch the show, you have to suck it up and get a CBS All Access subscription. Well, either that, or get a friend to do it and host some viewing parties for new episodes.
  10. Evan's never been big on ties, but he doesn't mind buttons - they've made a big comeback in the last 15 years or so. What was up with that leotard fad in the 2360s? So glad that's over.
  11. Welcome, Ensigns. Looking forward to seeing great things!
  12. Is the ship sentient, or just alive? If sentient, I'd be fine as long as it was treated as such. If not sentient, then I'd just require a certain level of respect akin to the way most people expect pets or livestock to be treated. The gross factor comes down to specifics. The 8472 Bioships were pretty nasty looking, but something like Tin Man looked like it could be nice.
  13. ((Sky Blake’s Quarters, USS Veritas)) ::Getting into contact with Veritas had been easy when the news spread like wildfire. Rosa Carrero had been killed in an altercation involving an unknown group in the governor’s “luxury” apartment. Not only had this happened when the Veritas was away - meaning Carrero probably would have found it pointless to even try to call for help - but the assailants had completely disappeared from colonial security.:: ::So understandably, the First Officer of the Veritas had been less than happy about the entire thing. The crew’s morale had dropped considerably - the trip back to Shadow’s Edge probably hadn’t been filled with any sort of joy, and the minute Sky stepped aboard, it was like being hit with a tidal wave of grief. Because the Veritas was the only Starfleet vessel out here, and communications and letters had sketchy and delayed timing at best, the crew had long ago dealt with any potential problems and meshed well as a family - a cliche description, but nonetheless accurate. Losing one of their own had been incredibly hard on them. The fact that they’d lost their commanding officer had only made it worse.:: ::Despite the problems in communication, Starfleet had been suspiciously swift in delivering a new command verdict. And when all doors had closed, and they’d ended their duty shift, the human had begun pacing her small living area, and now he was hurtling every last curse word at Admiral sh’Hiel, some of which she’d never even heard before.:: ::Zhou Tai-Sheng had throughout his career cultivated a reputation for being laid back among those who worked with him and later under him once he became a security chief and later a first officer.:: ::But today, he didn’t hold back. His anger was raw, and it had been looking for someone to strike. First it was of course the assailants responsible for the captain’s death. But next was the governor’s security detail and then the governor himself. The latest person to find themselves in his cross-hairs was the Starfleet admiral who’d recalled Veritas back to Esperance--to receive a new commanding officer.:: Zhou: We’ve been out here for how long now, put up with how much grief trying to get what she wants done no matter how unrealistic, and now she’s just going to swap in someone else who’s never even set foot in this region? Blake: The only way Starfleet want this to go down is by the book. That way the colonies are confident that the Veritas won’t be dead-set on simply hunting down Carrero’s killers and ignoring the other priorities we have. ::She hated being the middleman, trying to be the voice of both comfort and reason when in reality, she was just as ready to start a riot as he was. But someone had to maintain as much calm to keep things together - and given that the rest of the crew were having a hard time with that, and that she generally avoided being emotionally aggressive, the role seemed to have fallen to her.:: ::The first officer turned abruptly to glare back at Sky.:: Zhou: You’re damn right we’re going to hunt down the [...]s who did this! What other priorities supersede that?! ::Every time he got louder, she only got softer. She leaned against the table, putting her glass down and clasping her hands together as she kept eye contact with him.:: Blake: Do you know what Lieutenant Sands and I did today? ::Her sudden question, seemingly out of nowhere, finally made him take a breath.:: Zhou: Really? Blake: Really. ::He huffed, letting his shoulders relax, the tension having been building for the past several minutes.:: Zhou: Fine. What? Blake: Cheshire’s Run was attacked by four people with EM pistols, intent on harming innocent bystanders going about their night. While I pulled two Romulan refugees out of the line of fire, Sands took down three armed men in the span of five minutes as well as prompted the fourth to go down. ::He should have been impressed, and on any other day, he would. But now he just put his hands up in the air in frustration.:: Zhou: So now we’re the local police? Is that it? They can’t even take care of petty crime--and this is after Elis has been supposedly training the deputies for the past two months! Blake: That’s not the point, Tai. If we weren’t there, people would have died at the hands of Starfleet weaponry. That would have been pinned on us, ancient weapons or not. And saving the lives of a handful of people, no matter how we expect it to not impact anything, is better than wasting time chasing cold leads of murders. Carrero would want you to do the right thing - and the right thing here, is to continue with the job we’ve been given. Like it or not, but until such time we get a captain, you’re in charge, and I’ll be damned if I let you send us on a witch hunt. ::Of all the people, Sky Blake was the one now reminding him of his duty. He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his forehead. She was right of course. He had a duty, and it wasn’t to avenge the captain but to take care of the crew left behind in the wake of her death.:: Zhou: Do you think the attack is in anyway related to the captain’s death? Blake: It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if she called for help, there’s no way of knowing if any one of us could have gotten there in time. Not without the Veritas transporters. Zhou: No, I mean… do you think there’s a connection between the assailants? Blake: If I thought so, you’d have been first to know. But there’s no pattern - there wasn’t even a leadup. No tell-tale signs for me to go on. ::She shook her head.:: It’s too clean. ::He curled his fingers into fists, bringing them to his temples. And then he released the tension once more, taking another breath.:: Zhou: We have to leave now if we’re to get to Esperance in time, but some part of me feels like if we go now, we may never find who did this. You and I both know how many cases go unsolved here. Their clearance rate is a joke. Blake: When Command finally pulls strings and allows us to be involved, we’ll start looking. But right now, forcing our way into this will only create tension we don’t need. ::He nodded and then finally tapped his combadge.:: Zhou: =/\= Zhou to bridge. =/\= Bridge: =/\= Yes, sir? =/\= Zhou: =/\= Set course for Esperance and proceed at best possible speed. =/\= ::There was a slight pause as no doubt everyone on the bridge realized that they really were leaving, no answers in sight.:: Bridge: =/\= ...aye, sir. =/\= ::Once the com closed, Zhou looked back at Sky.:: Zhou: We should make arrangements for a service in the meantime. ::He shook his head again, looking down.:: Zhou: We don’t even have a body… ::Not until the colony’s morgue released it anyway.:: Blake: Do you really think she’d have wanted people to stare at her corpse? ::He looked back up at her, slightly annoyed.:: Zhou: That’s not the point, Sky. Sometimes… seeing the body can help bring closure for those mourning... ::His voice trailed off though as he realized Sky of course was no stranger to death, having lost her husband.:: Zhou: ...well, you know what I mean. Blake: For the sake of avoiding tears, I’ll pretend I don’t. ::She gave a weak smile.:: But I’ll see to the arrangements. ::Seeing that sliver of vulnerability from Sky made him realize that he was being selfish. The crew needed a captain now, and whether or not he was going to remain their captain once they got to Esperance, he’d step up until then.:: Zhou: Thank you. ::He reached out to touch her arm.:: They’ll get through this. We all will, I know. It’s a good crew… I just. I can’t let myself forget how I feel right now. I’m not going to let the captain became just one more statistic. Blake: Then don’t. No one is expecting you to have a typical Vulcan calm, no one is expecting you not to care. Every step we’ve taken here has been one fight after another - there’s nothing Command can throw at us that we break down to. We just . . . need time. To recover. By the time we get to Esperance, we’re all going to be yelling. ::He nodded. And so they would mourn and recover as one. And they would find those responsible.:: ::But for now, he had a eulogy to prepare.:: TBC… Commander Zhou Tai-Sheng First Officer, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Lt. Cmdr. Sky Blake Strategic Operations Officer, USS Veritas C238803SB0
  14. In my mind, the ship is extremely important to the overall tone of the sim, and should be treated like another character in and of itself. For the people who live and serve on that ship, it's home, work, and pretty much every other aspect of their every day lives, often for years at a time. For me, it's absolutely critical that the ship be treated as more than just a backdrop for a sim, or a vehicle to take our characters from one planet to the next. All of us spend months and even years helping to develop and shape a ship into what it becomes, and that's why it's often painful to see a ship be decommissioned or destroyed. I understand the necessities of change, but I do hope that people recognize the loss or retirement of a ship can have as big an impact on a character as the loss or retirement of a close friend or family member.
  15. I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. Thanks for nominating it!
  16. My brother and I used to love poking fun at Worf. He's an amazing character, but his Klingon-ness made him the ultimate straight man. The prune juice bit is pretty awesome, but I think the comedic one-liner of the series had to be Worf's "I am NOT a merry man!" line in Q-Pid. Also amusing was his reaction to Geordi's mandolin in the same episode. Classic!
  17. I'm a technical writer in the real world. This is pretty much my life (minus the medical officer part).
  18. Thanks for nominating this. I'm flattered!
  19. Thanks for all the compliments. The rest of you did a fantastic job as well.
  20. From: Commander Sean Gardner, Commanding Officer, Bernard IV Duckblind Research Facility Sent: 239008.07 To: Captain Elizabeth Zaks, Commanding Officer, USS Intrepid Subject: Resignation from Starfleet Dear Captain Zaks, I regret the need to write this letter; however, after much reflection, I’ve concluded that I cannot return to Starfleet in good conscience. I can’t turn my back on this world. Not while I know what’s happening here. As a Starfleet officer, and as a scientist, I have dedicated my career to the ideal of non-interference as enshrined in Starfleet’s General Order 1—the so-called “Prime Directive.” I now intend to violate that directive. As such, I offer you this letter tendering the resignation of my commission, and hereby renounce my citizenship within the United Federation of Planets, effective immediately. Due to the nature of what I must do, I haven’t informed my senior officers or anyone else under my command. Dr. Lysander, Lieutenant Gale, and Ensign Tralen and their staffs have all performed admirably. They deserve commendations. The last 18 months have been difficult, and they faced the daily horrors and despair as well as anyone could have. I have never worked with a more talented research team, and Gale and her security forces have run a tight ship. I’m afraid my plan takes advantage of weaknesses in our security systems I only know about thanks to her reports.What I do today is done of my own volition and without their knowledge. Please, do not punish them for my choices. Captain, I know you’ve never thought highly of me or my research into the people of Bernard IV. From your perspective, it will appear that I’ve simply lost perspective and allowed these people to get under my skin. At best, I’ll be seen as a misguided academic. That doesn’t matter. I need to document the decisions that led me to this point, at least as much as I can in this letter. I don’t expect you or anyone else to agree with my decision, but my story should be written somewhere. It’s unlikely I’ll have another chance. My career has been built on the study of the inhabitants of Bernard IV—The Paragons.I was a Lieutenant Junior Grade aboard the USS Turing when Starfleet first discovered an intelligent civilization in this system 20 years ago. I was arbitrarily assigned to oversee the deployment of the probe the Turing left behind, but over the months and years following, I published analyses of planetary communication and made a name for myself in many Starfleet journals. I eventually argued that the Paragons were on the verge of reaching planetary unity and discovering warp travel and that within a generation, they would make ideal candidates for first contact, and even for entry into the Federation. Within a year, I accepted transfer to a listening post in the sector in order to dedicate myself to a full-time study of the Paragons and their development. As an anthropologist, I have studied dozens of near-warp worlds, but the Paragons seemed to be living up to their chosen name. While nearly every other race in the quadrant has managed to unite after centuries of bloody war and apocalyptic scenarios involving weapons of mass destruction and genetic manipulation, the Paragons had enjoyed nearly a century of relative peace. The upper class Perfects, which had been dominant through most of the race’s history, had in the last few generations, intentionally redistributed wealth and power to the lower classes. While religious and cultural discrimination was still prominent in many parts of the world, wars were rare, and conflict brief. Even criminals seemed slow to resort to violence. I spent years lobbying Starfleet to set up a duckblind facility on the planet, but after the incident in the Briar Patch, that kind of study became anathema to the eyes of the Admiralty Board and the Xeno-Anthropology Department at Starfleet Academy. Perhaps out of habit, I continued to periodically submit requests, but they never really succeeded. You can only imagine my surprise when, years after I had given up, I received word from Starfleet that they had reconsidered my latest proposal—sent almost three years earlier— after the publication of a report on the development of the southern continent’s space program confirmed that the Paragons were less than 10 years away from breaking the warp barrier. I was promoted to commander and assigned a small team of researchers and other support officers to make my dream a reality. That would be when we first met. They say you can never make up for a bad first impression, and I suppose that trip to the Bernard system was proof of that. For what it’s worth, I offer a final apology for not coming to see you when I first came on board, or for not recognizing you as the captain when you came to my quarters. It was rude of me to treat anyone as poorly as I did you. I’ve always been too engrossed in my work, and at the time, I felt like I simply had too much to do to bother with “trivialities” like starship protocol. It had been over a decade since I’d been aboard a real starship, and had long forgotten most of the discipline my Academy instructors tried to drill into my head. After experiencing the burden of command on a much smaller scale, I fully understand why my behavior was so disrespectful. Following the military coup that removed the Planet’s General Assembly from power roughly 18 months ago, the beautiful, peaceful world and its people I had come to love all came to a violent end as a no-holds-bar civil war erupted between the Perfects and the Paragons. If you haven’t read any of my reports, I’ll simply remind you that the Perfects represent a kind of spiritual caste among the Paragons who can be identified by the curve of their horns. While most Paragons have a set of four pointed horns which range from roughly 12 to 15 cm in length, the Perfects’ have two horns which are considerably thicker, and which curl around the sides of the head similar to those of the ram on Earth. In addition, Perfects tend to be taller and, physically, more imposing. These are all the product of centuries of arranged marriages effectively reflecting a kind of cultural selective breeding. The Perfects are the ruling class of Bernard IV, but following a series of globalization-based reforms in the later part of the 23rd Century, most of the privileges assigned to them were removed from law. They continued to enjoy less formalized advantages over the rest of their species, but the formalized caste system was almost exclusively reserved for military service and spiritual worship. And even that was becoming less common. Two years into our study, our monitoring algorithms began to notice encrypted communiques between Perfect military units in cities all over the world. It took us time to decipher and translate, but we eventually learned that the planetary General Assembly was on the verge of passing legislation that would remove military privilege based on caste; effectively a formal removal of the last great power the Perfects held. For months, we watched with a sense of impending dread as the Assembly debate became public. Public opinion was overwhelmingly in favor of the legislation, but as each district voted in turn to adopt it, the Perfects planned a surprise attack. Bound by the Prime Directive, we were helpless to do anything to prevent the massacre that eventually ensued. Each of the planet’s five hundred general authorities were murdered. The few that survived the initial attack were forced, at the point of a rifle, to sign a referendum of martial law. They were never seen again, but we saw the Perfects’ internal documentation that confirmed their executions. Within days, every major city on the planet was under the strict control of the military. Protestors were shot or arrested as instigators, but in the shadows, a large resistance movement formed and a bloody, one-sided war commenced to tear the planet apart. For a time, it looked like the resistance fighters had a chance. They had several major victories and, six months ago, managed to consolidate a large portion of their resources in order to liberate one of the largest cities from Perfect control. Rather than negotiate for some kind of peace, the Perfects used a series of nuclear charges to destroy the city, and to cripple the resistance. We endured this all with the smug, self-assurance that that the Prime Directive was infallible, and that we, as Starfleet Officers, were bound to a higher set of principles than most. The Klingons or the Romulans or the Cardassians might have interfered, but not the Federation. We were scientists. We were sworn to observe and report, and never to interfere. When the orders finally came to prepare for extraction several weeks ago, I wasn’t surprised. My last report had indicated that the last major pocket of resistance fighters had been captured in the southern continent, and that the new Perfect government showed no interest in continuing the development of the Space Program. If the planet and its people ever recovered from this war, it would be another century or more before they could muster the resources required to break the warp barrier. I had been wrong. Worse, we had only days before learned that, after reinstating an antiquated, extremely strict version of the caste system, that more than 27 million Paragons—members of the lowest caste—had been summarily rounded up and shipped to death camps more efficient than anything I had ever read about. By last count, four cities have been converted for this purpose, and more than 40 million people have been summarily executed and burned in crematoriums that would make Earth’s worst genocides seem modest. Even now, I can see the distant plume of smoke coming over the horizon. Thinking about what it is turns my stomach. The world that once enthralled me is now an appalling nightmare. Instead of being known for peace, it will forever be known for this heinous, unparalleled crime against life, against the very universe itself. After I gave the orders to prepare for evacuation, days seemed to pass by in a blur. We retrieved probes and scanners and other listening devices we’d distributed throughout the planet. It wasn’t until I authorized Lieutenant Gale’s request to replicate additional power packs for our limited supply of phaser rifles—just in case the Perfects somehow found out about us—that I first thought about breaking the Prime Directive. It was late into the night when I ventured into the subbasement and idly looked through the objects in our industrial replicators’ database. Medicines. Weapons. Vehicles. Batteries. Rare minerals and metals. With even one replicator, the remnant resistance forces might actually have a chance against the Perfects. I tried, desperately, to dismiss the idea. It was treasonous. Blasphemous, even. The antithesis of everything I’d been trained to believe and uphold. But as the remaining days passed and we waited for your ship’s arrival, I was haunted by thoughts of the millions of dead Paragons who I could have saved. Worse, I was tormented by the ubiquitous understanding that I could make it stop if I would simply deign to step down from the pedestal I’d been standing on my whole life. After that, it was only a matter of time until I realized I had already made my decision. So, as I sit here writing this letter in the middle of the night, I’ve already located a small cave in the mountains of the planet’s polar continent. I’ve already replicated and transported enough components to create a few site-to-site transporters and a dozen or so replicators. I’ve also beamed most of the duckblind’s emergency rations of food and medicine, several crates of phasers, tricorders, and 40 terabytes of scientific, medical, and technological information that can turn the tide of this war. I’ve also made arrangements for some of that data to find its way into the hands of one of the few surviving leaders of the resistance. I understand that you may need to find me, and I won’t hold it against you if you try. You might even succeed. I’ve done what I can to mask my biosignature and those of the more unique alloys used in starfleet technology. I’m hoping that the interference from the magnetic disruptions at the poles will limit your sensors abilities to make detailed scans and the terrain will dissuade you from wasting too much effort on a manned search. And, of course, you’ll already be considering whether I’ve been misleading you with some of the details in this letter. It’s my hope that this war can be resolved within a few more years. I don’t expect to survive, but I believe the world that comes out of it will be close to the one I fell in love with all those years ago. It has been my great honor and privilege to serve the Federation and to wear the uniform I now leave behind. If I ever see you again, I sincerely hope it is a long time from now. Please thank my officers for their loyalty and service. I wish all of them the best in their new assignments. Sincerely, Commander Sean Gardner Commanding Officer Bernard IV Duckblind Facility
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