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Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 2
04-17-2012, 12:23 AM
(Junior Starfleet and Romulan officers serving in the Cardassian Reconstruction Force) (Ensign-Junior Lieutenant)

The first two hours of the shift just dragged on. Answering questions from the previous night's status reports, crewman evaluations, system checks, and reviewing the senior officer's duties for the shift. Tonight you were tasked with monitoring for ships travelling through Cardassian space. This seemed to be the most laborious station on the shift. All the crew ever saw were 23rd and 24th century traders passing through and with few breaks during the shift; the hardest part is staying awake to type a small situation report of stardate, time, ship name, captain, faction, and destination.

You were beginning to doze off when two pings abruptly brought you back. The scanner picked up something very different this time, it seemed as though the monitors usually dozed off at the same time; but now this ping saved you from the dreaded z monster. It also meant that this was more than the normal trader; Pings had been designed into the system to help "warn" of abnormal activities and as you peek at the monitor; your energy returns. Vessel names (this alone was abnormal as most traders travelled alone) UNKNOWN, Captains: Unknown, Vessel Types: Jem Hadar attack ships, faction Dominion, Destination unknown entering Cardassian space.

You attempt to hail the ships with no response and suddenly they disappear from screen.

Admiral T'vess was lounging in his small hovel enjoying a glass of Romulan Ale. Eventhough it was morning, noone ever checked in on this worthless piece of dust in the middle of Cardassian space. The Admiral found out early on what happens when you get on Empress Sela's bad side, it was worse than death.

T'vess had been stuck on Umoth Prime for three years now; no ships other than a squadron of Romulan warships blockading the planet. The Admiral of that blockade whoever it was now, would aquire the supplies through traders and one of the Romulan transports would deliver relief supplies to the dock yards.

It was hot outside, somewhere between 125 and 150 degrees Kelven; for twenty six hours each day (the rotation of the planets made the normal day here twenty eight). So, the Admiral and his senior officers just stayed locked up in their prison walls with all of the luxuries the blockade provided. It didn't much matter to him how the Cardassian settlers fared, they seemed ingenuitive enough living in their dirt holes and caves.

The last delivery the colony received was six months ago when the Romulan Star Empire delivered eighteen 22nd century Federation food replicators, bags of earth cement which seemed like just more dirt to the Admiral, and a dozen 24th century temperature control generators which lukily just enough to supply his crew. Of course if he cared he could have consolidated the crew to three enlisted or even two junior officers and been able to supply some of the generators to the colonists, but why. Just being here was punishment enough.

The front door creaked open slightly, the Admiral still heavily under the influence of the Ale slowly rose to his feet. Two shadowy figures appeared in the doorway and fired phasers killing the Admiral; now lying in a pool of ale with burns on his chest.