Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 2278.48

Posted on Tue May 5th, 2015 @ 9:17pm by Captain Aidan Rackham

It is incredibly difficult to record these words. No sooner is my friend, my mentor, my idol, Captain Elsa Gunning departing on her final voyage back to earth and to her family's loving embrace, I have been thrown into the deep end.

Word reached us by subspace message this morning that today, only three days after we found the Captain dead, I am expected and required to take on the duties of the Commanding Officer of the USS Farragut. I have been promoted to Captain and given a series of access and command codes which I am still unsure what to do with.

I'm not an idiot. I know that Elsa was preparing me for command with this mission. I assume she figured that if I could survive five years stuck in a tin can with her and her cohorts then I was bound to be ready for my own ship but this: this is something else.

Today I will walk into the recreation deck of the USS Farragut and try to act like I know exactly what I'm doing. I will try to carry myself with the same grit and the same single-minded dedication to the job as Captain Gunning did and I will fail to do so.

Not only am I woefully under-prepared for the rigours of command. Perhaps that's not the right way to put it. I am woefully under-prepared to command a five year mission. A patrol vessel or a scout ship, sure, I could probably manage but this is entirely different.

This crew was selected by hand by Elsa. She knew each and every one of her senior officers and had a hand in picking a fair few of the junior ones too- now I have to convince them that I'm fit to lace her boots.

Truthfully I doubt I'm even fit to be trampled by her boots.

I am expected and required by Starfleet to all but forget the loss of the one person who I knew had my back and further to that I am required to hand back control of the investigation into her murder to the bumbling police force of a relatively new Federation colony and some supposed expert sent by Commodore Slayton. I don't like it one bit but the trail was cold and Starfleet weren't willing to wait one damn minute longer.

The time has come. I'm due on the Recreation Deck in five minutes to address the crew. Christ knows what I'm going to say.

Computer, end recording.