Captain’s Log Stardate 79277.75

Posted on Wed Feb 4th, 2026 @ 3:06pm by Captain Steven Jenkins

402 words; about a 2 minute read

It’s been a year. Exactly a year. A year since Frontier Day. A year since I watched as most of the other Bridge Officers were turned into Borg Drones. A year since I watched Captain Shrak killed in front of my eyes. I still remember the feeling of his blood on my hands as I tried to perform emergency triage after he took that phaser blast… If Admiral Picard and his band of merry Mutineers hadn’t hijacked that old Enterprise I don’t care to think of what may have happened that day.

Starfleet Command in their infinite wisdom decided to give me Command of Yorktown after Frontier Day. A two step rank promotion from Lieutenant Commander to Captain sounds nice, but I’m not blind to some of the looks I’ve got over the last year at Spacedock while I’ve been overseeing the refit. They don’t think I deserve that fourth pip, and you know what? I agree with them. Unfortunately, after Frontier Day, Starfleet has a distinct lack of senior officers; in a hilarious twist of irony, myself, my mother and my brother all fall into that cadre now. My brother was thrilled for me when I told him about the promotion, but as for Mum… Well, she’s lost a Captain before. She knows what it’s like.

Now, though, I’ve got another problem. Yorktown is due to move out in a week. The ship is in prime condition; these Neo-Constitution Class ships are tough customers. Unfortunately, the senior staff were all re-assigned over the last year. Even T’Lek, who I’d banked on as my First Officer, has been transferred to another posting. This leaves me a week to come up with every single member of my senior staff, including a number one.

Captain Shrak, I never realised quite how difficult this job was before now. How did you do it? What made you pick me to come over here from Lexington?

Anyway, this melancholy exercise in self doubt won’t do anyone any good. A Captain must project an image of confidence and capability. To admit that I’m feeling anything else would be to jeopardise my position and the morale of whatever crew I have.

It’s time to get off my arse and find a command crew.

Computer, end log.

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