Log Entry 140216.96

T'Roc was sitting at her desk, nursing her head in her hands. As I entered, she glanced up. She looked awful. Her usual healthy, olive colouring had a sickly, green hue to it. She looked drawn and I wondered when she had last eaten.

"I owe you an apology," she said.

It caught me by surprise.

"Oh!" I couldn't think of anything else to say.

She scowled.

"Don't make this harder for me than it already is." It was more of a plea than a reprimand.

"I don't mean to, but it's not necessary."

"I know it's not necessary. I just feel such a ... berk!"

"Berk?"

"Yes, berk!" she snapped.

"Why?"

She sighed deeply, grabbed a mug of raktajino that was sitting on her desk and leaned back in her chair. She played with the mug, running her fingers around the rim. I could tell she didn't want it. She even raised it to her lips a couple of times, but her mouth curled at it as her nose caught the scent.

"My head feels like it's full of cotton wool. I can't think straight ... I'm finding it difficult to restrain my temper. I was downright rude to you—"

"You were suffering the effects of gas."

"But I'm not now!" she bellowed and then bit her tongue. "Do you see what I mean?"

I smiled reassuringly.

"And I'm still trying to write this stupid petar'riak report!"

It was not an expletive with which I was familiar but didn't ask.

"What report's that?" I enquired.

"This whole Helvetian thing. They want to know what happened. My answer? I don't know! Ask my cadets!" she said in a silly voice. "Doesn't exactly sound good," she grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know. Think of all those people you can say I told you so to."

"What people?"

"All those admirals and commodores that mocked you for taking on the Misfits. But you saw something in us that they didn't. This just goes to prove that you were right all along. We saved the world when they couldn't ... well, a world."

T'Roc laughed and then recoiled in pain.

"Ooh! Don't make me laugh it makes my head hurt!" she cried.

"I know what you need," and I got up and went to the replicator. "Tulaberry tea, hot with a dash of Andorian wild rosehip."

A tall glass cup materialised filled with a pale, sapphire blue liquid that steamed gently. I placed it on the desk before her, removing the raktajino at the same time. She took it and sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled in suspicion.

"Trust me. It's something I discovered at the Academy. It's very good for a hangover."

"I haven't got a hangover."

"Not as such, but you feel sick and I don't suppose you've eaten since we got back. Try it," I urged. "What can it hurt?"

She growled under her breath, studied it afresh and gingerly took a sip. Her face registered pleasant surprise, and I watched as anguish and tension fell away from her. After a few more sips, she grinned.

"We didn't have this when I was at the Academy."

"We hadn't found the Delta quadrant then though, had we?"

She threw me a friendly scowl and sank deeply into the chair. She raised her legs, wedging her heels against the edge of the desk to make herself even more comfortable and nursed the beverage in both hands.

"Go on then," she sighed happily as she rested her head against the back of her chair. "What do I need to know?"

Log Entry 140209.95

It has been just two days since our original mission ended. I say original as it seems we have a new one. Under normal circumstances, the Earhart would have been ordered to report to the nearest Starbase so that the crew could undergo a full medical assessment, but there's been a complication, well, several actually.

One of the first things that soon became apparent is the Helvetians' ability to sight themselves beyond the normal field of perception remains. T'Roc and Jarrod had both been oblivious to Troy's presence on the bridge and crew members continue to express alarm when introduced to him, expressing the sort of surprise one does when a seven foot tall, black, bipedal dinosaur-like creature suddenly springs up before your eyes. Only Midas, Al, Rutter, Luke and I seem to be immune to the effect. I suspect that is due to our familiarity with him. Nevertheless, this has caused some tension among the officers of the USS Nebularis, the starship with which we had first contact after our reappearance into our home realm.

They are not the only ones with concerns either. Troy asked us to scan his home world to assess its status. The results were surprising. To all intents and purposes, it is a pre-industrial civilisation. How could such a race have developed space stations without industry? The answer was simple. They didn't, but none of their artificial energy sources worked in our plane of existence, so none of their technology functioned.

If that wasn't enough, as far as the Helvetians were concerned, their sky was now speckled with little white dots that they didn't understand. How would you feel if the solid blackness of your night sky was suddenly spotted with inexplicable lights? Might you think that the sky was disintegrating or something?

Troy desperately wanted to reassure his people as soon as possible. He had to return to the surface of his world, but the crew of the Earhart weren't in a position to do that. Our crew are suffering from the after-effects of diplohyozone doping: severe fatigue and difficulty thinking coherently. The severity seems to vary enormously from crewmember to crewmember with no correlation to species. Our captain, though, seems to be the most severely affected and although no longer behaving drunkenly, she is very much a bear with a sore head.

With this in mind, Admiral Brass (the guy who had called me captain), undertook that assignment. But when he met the Helvetian monarch, King Garda, and his Highness heard that it was not the crew of the USS Nebularis that had saved his people, but rather the crew of the USS Earhart, he had dismissed him asking that the true saviours of his world be presented to him.

So with that new directive, I am going to see T'Roc as her Cultural Advisor. I have no idea what I can tell her outside of my report, and I am rather dreading it bearing in mind her current temperament.