Attention Federation Auditors: The GMS Coastal Voyager is holding position above the Southport Sector this morning for an on-site training exercise.
Intelligence reports indicate that a Federation-class production unit established a forward base in Southport overnight to create what the local population calls a "movie."
Our mission parameters are simple: Ambassador Genome, supported by Communications Officer Joy, will observe and document the production from a respectful distance, then return without being noticed and without interfering.
Pre-Dawn Departure
Earlier that morning, Chief Anxiety ran the pre-mission checklist three times: once for assurance, twice to confirm the first run-through, and a third time because, why not?
"Captain Amy," said Five of Five, "the away team has left already."
"What the hell! Doesn't anyone on this mindship wait for my authorization anymore?"
"The chronometer records the team departed ahead of schedule," confirmed Officer Reason.
"Of course they did," replied the captain. "Especially with that airhead, Joy, on the away team."
"I suspect the Ambassador's Elevated Mission Anticipation had something to do with it," added Reason.
"At least we'll be ready when they arrive," the captain muttered. "Five of Five relocated the lower-deck remote sensor node to the Ambassador's equipment bag. Not my idea, but I approved it after the fact."
"The feed is coming in clean," reported Major Reason, "aside from what appears to be the edge of a granola bar that has, according to remote sensors, been in the bag long enough to achieve consciousness."
The Bridge Watches the Bridge
The Cape Fear Memorial Bridge appeared on the viewscreen as Coastal Voyager, a mile overhead, crossed the Cape Fear River.
"Beautiful," remarked Dr. Downer, who'd joined the bridge to watch the away team's work. She hummed a tune Five of Five couldn't find in its databanks, but it didn't question her; to do so would have been like diving headfirst into a rabbit hole on purpose.
"Morning light luminosity is nominal," said Major Reason, reviewing dawn-light spectra with the focus of a man who has found, at last, an assignment worthy of him.
"I've filed contingencies for fog, rain, equipment failure, crowd interference, and one specific scenario involving seagulls," said Chief Anxiety from belowdecks. "I'd like it noted I have computed no contingencies involving a ferret. The probability calculation was overtaxing the processors."
"Cadet Reginald has nothing to do with this mission, Chief."
"I'm aware, Captain. I'm simply establishing the record. I don't trust that ferret."
Captain Amy stared at the streaming video. Cables ran across the cobblestones like tributaries of an electrical river. Equipment cases were stacked with the logic of people who know exactly what they'll need. Crew members moved with the purposeful efficiency of specialists who've done this before and will find it no less meaningful for the repetition.
"It's perfect," Joy's voice was the first heard from the away team, and for once no one on the bridge could argue.
Perimeter Established
"Perimeter holding," Five of Five reported, mostly to itself, because presuming to be important is how Adaptive Intelligence systems stay sane.
"The Ambassador is filming," Reason confirmed. "Joy is providing…" he paused, choosing the word with visible care, "appreciative commentary. All readings nominal."
"Bag status?" asked the captain, who'd learned over countless reconnaissance missions to constantly check on the away equipment.
"Bag is secure," said Five of Five. "Bag contents are…" A pause is merely a pause, but a pause from an A-5 system is as concerning as a five-alarm fire. "Bag contents are in motion."
The Reginald Maneuver
"Somebody check the bag!" The instruction was reasonable, logical, and useless, arriving several seconds after the bag had stopped moving.
On the view-screen, something small, furry, and determined emerged from the equipment bag, paused to assess the production team, then set off across fifteen meters of Southport waterfront with the unhurried confidence of something determined to see what's up.
"It's Reginald!" said Joy, sounding almost delighted.
"That's a violation of Federation Directive Section F4, paragraph 2B," Reason declared. "Hail the Ambassador!"
"I don't think it will help," said Anxiety, with the terrible calm of a man watching a chess clock run out.
He was right. A production assistant wearing a headset dropped her digital tablet.
"Is that…?“
"Dook," confirmed Reginald, unhelpfully, on every channel of the feed.
"RAT!" shouted the woman, and the perimeter popped like a soap bubble, all at once and without ceremony.
"Sensor data indicates the Ambassador is no longer on the perimeter," reported Five of Five.
"I can see that."
"He is, in fact, now part of the story."
"I can see that too."
After-Action
"I'd like it entered into the log that I predicted this," said Anxiety. "Not the ferret specifically. But this random fluctuation in the quantum wave."
“So noted, Chief," said Captain Amy without warmth. "I feel so much worse now."
On the main viewer, the Ambassador was no longer recording production activities. He was handling his unscheduled celebrity, not well, and yet with tremendous confidence. He was laughing with the production assistant while Reason's "optimal shot window" datastream showed the cameras recording the kind of footage that can't be scheduled, and can't be faked.
"Mission status," Captain Amy dictated for the record. "The away team has made unauthorized contact with the observed population. “The Prime Directive of non-interference has been…” She paused, stiffened her lip, and set her chin. “…revised. By Mindfleet Cadet Reginald.”
Captain's Log, Supplemental:
Cadet Reginald's presence on the away mission was unauthorized. His methodology was unorthodox. His results were undeniable.
As per Federation protocol: Prime Directive has been compromised. The perimeter was breached, and unauthorized contact was made with the indigenous population. Mission TSITP is a failure.
Field Study Addendum:
Cadet Reginald, via MaT-1 Adaptive Translation System
The Captain logged the mission a failure, but what I do is merely my nature. It may be unorthodox, but failure is procedurally impossible.
The Southport sector is exciting. I plan to return. I'm not saying I have, but I may have already hidden something in the equipment locker.
Reginald out.
“Dook.”