SD 12/04/04 - "The Wrath of Ironbottom" So much for our boring routine. My drudgery of going through day after day of a mix of monotony and aggrivation has been replaced by a mix of boredom of my current situation and anxiety of what might step through the door at any time.
One moment, I'm on the Bridge. The next thing I remember, I'm naked on the floor with a massive headache and pain in the groin. When I got dressed and tried to leave, I was stopped by a Starfleet Marine who told me I was confined to quarters, by orders of Admiral Ironbottom.
I don't know exactly what's going on, I can't order the computer to do anything. The ship's databanks are closed to me. Even the replicator won't work. The guard let one unfamiliar crewman in long enough to deliver a plate of food.
It would seem he has come to finally remove me of my command.
But why didn't he just simply take me off the ship, and be done with it? He's clearly up to something. Splitting us up and scrapping the ship as he's sometimes threatened? No, he would have put Orlan in charge, if he couldn't trust the others, and ordered the ship to dock.
What makes me even more anxious is I haven't heard anyone but the lunch server ask to come in. None of the other Bridge crew ever stopped by. Something tells me he's after more than just getting rid of me. He's up to something more.
And in this part of space so empty and vast, the nearest post is many days away, with no other eyes around, I have a bad feeling about this. Well, with Ironbottom, it's always at least a bad feeling. I'd call now a petrifying feeling.