Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in Foltan's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, November 14th, 2006
11:57 pm	"I'm all alone, there's no one here beside me...." Personal Log. I feel a little guilty for not helping Storvik, now that I know the situation. If only he had told me he was going after his daughter's kidnapper(s?), I would have taken him where he needed to go. I can't say I'm surprised, though. That's Starfleet for you; as soon as they're in a bind, they expect any civilian passersby to drop everything and work free for them. Once again, I'm alone on the Mustang. At least this time, I know where capt_terminal is, but who knows how long the Admiralty will be keeping him. Especially since this Admiral Krzyzewski is the same one who may have sold him out to Evil Janeway, according to the logs he gave me access to. I've got to get out of this (albeit nifty) tin can. Quark's Bar sounds like a plan. End log. (Comment on this)
Sunday, November 12th, 2006
11:23 am	Personal Log (OOC note: This post takes place before this one, despite being posted afterwards) I've finally located Terminal, who has been missing for two weeks now, apparently drunk ever since his "birthday" party. There's no telling how he managed to evade station security throughout two straight weeks of inebriation, but he seemed to finally be coming out of it when he showed up in Cmdr. Storvik's quarters aboard Deep Space Nine. Storvik is bringing him (or what's left of him) back now. I'm still not sure how I feel about being around Starfleet personnel. I know it's not the same Starfleet I spent decades of my life fighting and evading in my own timeline, but it's still hard to shake old feelings. I never was Starfleet's biggest fan before Saren's takeover, anyway. Sure, this Federation's probably the best of the big powers in this quadrant, but they're such a homogenizing factor in their space. IDIC.... yeah, right. And now I've invited a Vulcan over for coffee. This ought to prove interesting. I suppose it will be nice for a change to meet a Vulcan who professes real logic, and not Saren's paranoid "logic" that led to the slaughter of the Romulans and conquest of the quadrant. (Comment on this)
Monday, January 31st, 2005
4:17 pm	Takin' care of business.... Foltan groggily stepped out of his quarters aboard the Mustang. "Orange juice, no vodka," he stated to the replicator. "Morning," said Terminal, as Foltan seated himself next to him at the control deck. "I replicated some fried chicken. Want some?" "Maybe in a little while," Foltan replied as he sipped his juice. Terminal closed the e-book he was reading on his console. "You know, I was thinking. We both really need to find something to do with ourselves, or I may finally go stir crazy, and you'll never get used to this universe. Maybe we should go into business together." Foltan raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? What kind of business?" "Well, there's always work somewhere for freelance private security. We could probably do a little investigation work, too." "Do you have any experience with that?" Foltan asked. "I recall that you were an engineer, before the Resistance." "Yeah, but I was trained by the old Starfleet. Everyone in there was a soldier first, and their specialty second. I can get into to swing of things pretty easily. And between that and your background in security on the Vorzakk, we should make a good team." "Hmm." Foltan swallowed the last of his juice. "Well, I'm willing to give it a shot. We can always sell my runabout if we need some starting capital." "Great," said Terminal. "There's a station called Deep Space Nine, a few sectors from here. That'd probably be as good a place as any to get started." Terminal began plotting the course on his helm. A moment later, the Mustang was on its way to DS9. Current Mood: optimistic (Comment on this)
Tuesday, December 14th, 2004
6:04 pm	A conversation on the Mustang Foltan docked his personal transport with the Mustang and stepped aboard Terminal's craft. "This is an.... interesting ship," he commented. "What sort of design is it?" "A little of everything. Want a drink?" Terminal opened an overhead storage compartment above his control deck, which was full of bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors. He poured a blue liquid into a handy glass and offered it to Foltan, who sipped carefully. "Wow, Romulan Ale. I haven't had this stuff since the Feds wiped out Romulus." He began drinking the ale in earnest. "It's a bit hard to find, even here," said Terminal. "The stuff's illegal, though it's not enforced quite as strictly; it's just a customs violation, not an act of treason. I was saving it for next time I rendez-vous with the uss_murgatroid, but this is definately an occasion worth opening it early." Foltan sank into a chair. "I can't believe this is really happening," he said. "I've spent almost three-quarters of a century fighting the Federation, or running from it. And then, poof! I'm in some other dimension where the Feds are the good guys, and none of that ever happened. I just.... I don't know what to think." Terminal lit a cigarette and puffed on it. "I know. I felt the same way when they brought me out of stasis. Now that was awkward -- this timeline's Starfleet had been running the Vorzakk for several weeks before they even found out I existed. The crew wasn't too happy when Starfleet put me back in command, a couple months later." "I can't believe you would re-join Starfleet, after what they did to you." "Well, it's not like I was working for the same guys. Hell, this is the Starfleet we were fighting to bring back. Sure, they have as many issues as any other military, or whatever they like to call themselves. But I don't think these guys would run the kind of project that made me Terminal." "I hope not. I guess you would know better than I do. So how'd you get separated from the ship?" "Ah, the bastards tore it apart for the technology after the Dominion War. You know how it is. Can't let that kind of futuristic weaponry run around loose during peacetime. Anyway, after that, I guess they didn't have much use for me, so I've been on 'extended leave' since then. In other words, don't call them, they'll call me." "I see," said Foltan, swallowing the last of his drink with a gulp. "What do you do with yourself now?" "Whatever I feel like, really. I've made some friends on the Murgatroid, but mostly I ride alone, exploring this universe I've gotten myself into. You know, our Federation spread a lot of misinformation about this era.... well, I guess you know that, because you were around before the wars. But it's been interesting, finding out what this world's really like." [To be continued?] (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, December 1st, 2004
12:27 am	Out of the void.... Foltan regained consciousness on the floor of his battered runabout. For a few seconds he groped desperately at reality, not sure whether to believe what he saw. For the last.... well, he didn't know how long it had been, but for what seemed like days he had been trapped in some sort of anomoly, a pocket of unreality. He soon was satisfied that his surroundings were genuine, but was hit hard by a sensation that something else was wrong. El-Aurians are unusually sensitive to changes in the timestream, and this one was a doozy. "Unnh.... Computer," he said, struggling to his feet. "Search for time beacon." "Adjusting onboard time to Federation Standard time beacon. Current time is 18:24, Stardate 69534.514." "Scheisse.... the last thing I need is to be stuck in the past. What's the status of the anomoly we were in?" "The anomoly has dissipated." Foltan sat down hard and buried his face in his hands. "Okay, I may be stuck here for a while. Let's see. It's what? Around Earth year 2390?" "The Earth year is 2391." "Okay. So the First Resistance is on the run. The Feds are on the lookout for people like me, so I had better hide myself. First off, are there any other ships that may have spotted us?" "There is one craft in sensor range. A small personal transport. Its heading indicates that it also emerged from the anomoly." "Could be friendly, then. Okay, approach the craft. But let's go to condition yellow." "Acknowledged." Moments later, Foltan's runabout reached the other craft. "On screen," Foltan commanded. The craft was small, blue, and wheeled. It appeared to be a vintage Earth automobile. "That's fucking strange. Hail them." Seconds later, a familiar face appeared before Foltan.... a face he hadn't seen in three decades, but didn't seem to have aged a day, despite being from a short-lived race. "This is Captain Terminal of the Mus-- Holy shit!" said the face. "Terminal? Is it really you?" "I was about to ask you the same thing! Oh, jeez.... I'm still in the unreality pocket, aren't I?" "I'm pretty sure we're out of it now. I was stuck there too. We'd better get moving -- this is not a good time period for us to be in. The Feds could show up any minute." "The Feds?" said Terminal. "Oh, of course.... Foltan, there's something you need to know." (4 Comments |Comment on this)