Commanding Officer's Log, Stardate: 140402

Location: SS Astraios

Posturing. That's the word. And that's what we had today, three full hours of posturing by Telik Bulretra, Tugladin Zeeya, and other supposed diplomats. Their words are sugary and full of compliments but their eyes are calculating. They are so busy counting up the profits they fail to see what is right in front of their noses. Starfleet went to great expense and many of our officers have come here and even given up their lives so the inhabitants of this planet and this sector can be safe. Does all that mean nothing?


You know, it's not that I don't understand what diplomacy and negotiation is all about. It's just that I know what is being said is very far from the truth, yet I am constrained from pointing it out. I have to stand, smiling, listening to half-truths and opinion presented as fact, and nod my head as though the speaker is eminently wise. And the sun passes over us and the day wanes into evening, while the air inside grows stale and my ears grow tired. Yet in my heart I know, while we are gathered here tossing words back and forth, outside the different factions are jostling for position, and some of them care not for politics, diplomacy, peace, or even life. What's the most frustrating is that the Astraionian Council, by opening the door to these... borderline factions, is creating a situation that they may regret, very soon. But they just won't see sense.

If I drank I'd have a large one right now.

Oh, I'll be better tomorrow after a night's sleep and a walk in my garden... I think.