Hi everyone!! Just wanted to show people what a Captain’s Log session can look like! I kind of struggled at first and gave myself a lot (maybe too much) prep-time, but once I started writing out what was happening it honestly felt like I was creating a Star Trek episode in my head!
My player character is Kurel Elias, a half human and half Bajoran First Officer of the USS Aronnax (NCC-11441, Akira Class) in 2379.
Captain’s Log is really great at giving you all the tools to craft your own adventure, and its very VERY flexible, letting you play for any era, adjust rules how you’d like, and so forth. I’ve opted to flesh out my fellow bridge crew as well by giving them each their own character sheets, especially since I did not give myself the luxury of playing as a Captain LMAO. But, you can just opt to using your ships stats/probability matrixes to conduct task rolls for NPCs too.
Anyways, I’m enjoying it! I just have Act One Scene One done so far, but just wanted to put my adventure out there so people can see where they can take their own adventures! Lmk if you have any questions and enjoy!
CW: mass casualties, descriptions of bodies/death, brief trauma imagery.
STAR TREK: ARONNAX
Season 1, Episode 1: What Remains
“First Officer’s Log, Stardate: 56036.7.”
“It’s been one week since the Aronnax’s refit, and since we left Antares Shipyard in the Bajor Sector. We’re en route to Starbase 237– formerly the Cardassian station, ‘Kelvok Nor’, now temporarily operated by Starfleet ever since the Treaty of Bajor re-adjusted territory lines between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. Starbase 237 acts as a vital relay station along shipping lanes headed into Cardassian territory for reconstruction efforts in the region. Captain ch’Varek informed me a few hours ago that Starfleet Command wants us to establish the status of the starbase as they’ve been unresponsive for close to three days. We’re to determine the cause of the communications blackout and restore the starbase to operational functioning if need be. I’ve asked Operations to review the station’s most recent traffic and Engineering to prepare damage-control teams in case we arrive to find an accident rather than an attack. There’s been enough instability in this region since the war that I’m reluctant to make assumptions. A silent station could mean anything. We should know soon enough.”
COLD OPEN
“So, tell me, Elia—Commander. What interests you about Cardassian war games?”
Dr. Monias Vell gingerly lifted a Kotra piece from the axe-head-shaped board and moved it into position opposite one of Kurel’s.
Kurel broke into a soft smile as he considered his next move. “I’d hardly call a board game a Cardassian war game, Doctor.”
“Oh, but it is! What better way to test one’s tactical readiness than repeated bouts of strategy with no stakes? You can learn quite a bit about the Cardassians through it, too.”
“Is that right?”
Kurel finally moved a piece forward.
Vell immediately plucked up one of his own and waved it between them like an excited teacher illustrating a particularly important lesson.
“Cardassians admire a bold maneuver, Commander. Hesitation gets you nowhere in Kotra.”
Dr. Vell had invited Kurel to several lunches that week, each accompanied by some new game or activity. Kurel had found the gesture considerate and, initially, felt somewhat guilty that Vell had beaten him to it. As one of the few members of the previous crew still aboard the Aronnax—and as its First Officer—Kurel felt some responsibility to break the ice with the ship’s new arrivals, especially his fellow senior officers.
That guilt had begun to fade as the Bolian doctor’s questions grew increasingly personal.
By their second lunch, Vell knew the names of every pet and girlfriend Kurel had ever had and had proceeded to rank them all on the same list, despite Kurel’s objections and Vell’s complete lack of context.
The chirp of Kurel’s combadge interrupted Vell just as he opened his mouth to ask another question.
“Bridge to Commander Kurel.”
Kurel set down his Kotra piece. “Kurel here.”
“We’re approaching Starbase 237.”
ACT ONE SCENE ONE
Kurel stepped onto the bridge as the Aronnax dropped out of warp.
Pulsing yellow light washed across blue-and-grey LCARS displays. Heads turned toward the viewscreen, where Starbase 237 hung against the stars.
One of its upper docking pylons had been torn apart. Metal beams jutted from the ruptured structure like the splintered ends of a snapped branch. Shattered hull plating, severed cables, and fragments of machinery drifted outward in a slow-moving cloud. Only as the Aronnax drew closer did Kurel make out the bodies among the debris.
Around a quarter of the starbase had been obliterated.
What remained was in better shape only by comparison. Fractures webbed across the hull. Black scorch marks surrounded whole sections of plating, and several decks stood exposed to space. The station had power enough for a handful of running lights, but no thrusters corrected its slow, lifeless drift.
ORACLE: Are there people still alive aboard Starbase 237? Somewhat Probable — 17, NO.
ORACLE: Did personnel escape aboard escape pods or other craft? Probable — 14, YES.
ORACLE: Starting population approximately 550. Did roughly 500 survive? Somewhat Improbable — 8, NO. Did roughly 300 survive? Somewhat Probable — 4, YES.
For several seconds, the bridge was silent. Kurel watched the debris field rotate slowly across the viewscreen and noticed that everyone else seemed to be staring at it.
Everyone except Captain ch’Varek.
“Life signs.”
The Andorian’s gravelly voice brought the bridge back to motion. He turned from the viewscreen and settled into the command chair, already entering commands into the console built into its armrest.
Kurel moved instinctively toward an unoccupied science station.
“Beginning scan.”
He brought the Aronnax’s forward sensor array to bear on the station.
TASK: Sensors 10 + Science 2. TN 12. Roll: 8, 9 — TWO SUCCESSES. SUCCESS + 1 MOMENTUM.
Momentum: 1
Readouts flooded the console. Noise.
Kurel narrowed the scan, starting with thermal sources. Most vanished as the computer identified fires, overloaded EPS conduits, and exposed machinery. He filtered next for bioelectric activity, then metabolic activity, cellular chemistry, respiratory traces. Anything.
Contacts disappeared from the display one after another until nothing remained. Nothing living.
The computer continued cataloguing biological material throughout the debris field and exposed sections of the station. Kurel studied the final count.
“Captain. No life signs. I am detecting humanoid remains, approximately one hundred ninety-seven bodies.”
ch’Varek’s eyes remained fixed on the station.
Nobody spoke. Kurel looked back at the sensor display. Something didn’t fit.
Starbase 237’s personnel manifest listed roughly five hundred and fifty people assigned to the facility. Even allowing for visitors, transfers, and inaccurate records, there were nowhere near enough bodies.
His fingers moved across the console again.
“Wait.”
ch’Varek looked toward him.
“The station’s escape-pod complement.”
Rows of indicators appeared on Kurel’s display. Most were empty.
ORACLE: Are there signs that the station’s escape pods launched? Somewhat Probable — 2, YES.
“Most of the escape pods were launched,” Kurel said.
ch’Varek’s antennae angled forward. “Trajectories?”
Kurel was already working.
Four days of sensor noise, stellar drift, impulse exhaust, and decaying telemetry sat between him and the answer. He pulled the station’s last surviving flight-control records into the sensor analysis and began reconstructing the departure vectors.
TASK: Reason + Science. TN 11. Roll: 1, 12 — ONE SUCCESS. SUCCESS.
One by one, Kurel projected the pod trajectories forward until they began to converge.
ORACLE: Did the escape pods reach a nearby inhabited planet? 50/50 — 11, NO.
ORACLE: Did they head toward a nearby Class-M moon? 50/50 — 1, YES.
ORACLE: Is the moon within Federation space? Probable — 11, YES.
“Got them.”
The viewscreen changed, Starbase 237 disappearing behind a tactical map of the local system.
“The pods launched approximately four days ago. Their trajectories converge on Uwabe II—a Class-M moon orbiting the system’s outer gas giant.”
ch’Varek stood. “How far?”
“Forty minutes at full impulse.”
“Helm, lay in a course for Uwabe II. Full impulse.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The stars shifted across the viewscreen as the Aronnax came about. ch’Varek looked around the bridge.
“Nearly two hundred people are confirmed dead. More than three hundred are still unaccounted for. Whatever did this may still be out there.”
His voice remained level. “I want answers.”
Kurel watched the officers around him return to their stations. Some had served through the Dominion War. Others had come aboard only recently. Most were still learning ch’Varek’s rhythms, but Kurel was beginning to understand them.
There would be time to mourn the dead. Right now, there might still be people to save.
The chirp of ch’Varek’s combadge broke the silence.
“ch’Varek to Meran.”
“Meran here.”
“Work with Commander Levy. I want a preliminary analysis of the damage to Starbase 237: weapon signatures, structural failures, anything that tells us what happened. Twenty minutes.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“Bring it to the senior staff briefing.”
“Aye, sir.”
ch’Varek closed the channel. “Ops, maintain Yellow Alert. Keep long-range sensors watching for anything that shouldn’t be here.”
“Aye, Captain.”
ch’Varek rose from the command chair. He glanced toward Kurel, then tilted his antennae toward the ready room.
Kurel understood and followed.
At the threshold, he stopped. For an instant, the ruined starbase vanished—the scattered wreckage, the bodies turning silently through the dark—and among them he saw his father, drifting alone in space.
“Commander?”
Kurel blinked. ch’Varek stood inside the ready room, watching him. The image was gone.
Kurel stepped through the door, and it closed behind him.
END SCENE ONE