Posted by Lieutenant Commander Kastarak (First Officer / Navigation Officer) in Happy First Contact Day (happy Birthday, Kastarak!) - Party in the Mess Hall

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Pawl Batario (Chief Engineer) in Happy First Contact Day (happy Birthday, Kastarak!) - Party in the Mess Hall

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Kastarak (First Officer / Navigation Officer) in Happy First Contact Day (happy Birthday, Kastarak!) - Party in the Mess Hall
The mess hall was louder than he preferred.

Kastarak stood at the edge, near the entrance, watching the crew intermingle like molecules in fluid motion – chaotic, but not without pattern. Someone had turned the lights down slightly, probably to mimic the softer evening glow of Earth’s western hemisphere. Simulated Montana dusk. Appropriate. Sentimental, even, someone might call it. Kastarak did not understand it, but accepted it.

He clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the fine edge of the formal robe against his wrist. He had selected it with care. Not his ceremonial robes – those were too austere, too bound to grief – but still formal enough to mark the day. And a rare occasion of him forgoing his uniform.

First Contact Day.

The words echoed in his mind as if spoken by another. He had known he would be asked to speak – the captain had gently insisted the day before. As the most senior Vulcan aboard the Chernov, it was expected. His short speech had been prepared with precision, revised four times, trimmed for clarity. There would be no improvisation.

He stepped forward when the murmur quieted. Crew members straightened in their seats, or standing, eyes expectant. He took his place on the small platform near the food dispensers. It was not a stage, but it served.

“Today marks the two hundred and eleventh anniversary of First Contact between Humans and Vulcans, according to the reckoning of time of humans. This was a moment often described as the beginning of a new era—not only for Earth, but for countless worlds that would later form the United Federation of Planets, and Starfleet, which we serve.

“First Contact began not with conquest or demand, but with observation, curiosity, and a willingness to listen. One species reached for the stars, and another chose to answer – not out of necessity, but because logic dictated that cooperation would yield greater understanding than isolation.

“There were challenges. There was hesitation on both sides. Misunderstandings, cultural dissonance, even hostility. Yet despite this, something enduring emerged: a commitment to dialogue, to exploration, to mutual growth.

“We remember this day not to indulge in sentiment, but to remind ourselves of what is possible when fear does not prevail. When difference is not viewed as threat, but as opportunity. First Contact is not a singular event in the past – it is a principle we can choose to embody in the present. Every encounter, every act of empathy, every bridge built across the unknown continues the legacy of that moment in Montana.

“As the only Vulcan assigned to this vessel in a senior capacity, I am aware that this day carries symbolic weight. I do not speak for all of my people. I cannot. But I can say that First Contact remains a cornerstone of our shared history. It was not perfect. It was not easy. But it endures.

“Let us commemorate not only what happened, but what it meant – and what it still can mean.” He had in his earlier drafts accidentally finished this sentence with to us that remain – a pointed reminder of the calamity that befell the Vulcans.

A pause. He looked over them – not as a commander assessing a crew, but as something else. A witness, perhaps.

He inclined his head, then stepped away.

He did not remain at the centre. He found his usual seat near the viewport and took it without comment. Someone had left a bowl of plomeek soup there for him. Thoughtful. Unnecessary. He appreciated it.

From his peripheral vision, he caught several glances toward him—warm, cheerful. Birthday glances. He knew that many of them had checked the crew roster. Humans had an obsessive tendency to commemorate birthdays, even when told not to.

“Happy birthday, Kastarak!” he heard a voice cry out. “Happy birthday, commander!” another one sounded.

It was a strange thing, to be born on this day, in the reckoning of humans. The irony was sharp enough to be Vulcan in origin.

He sipped his soup.

Once, long ago, his mother had told him the story of First Contact while brushing his hair, her fingers deft and warm. He remembered the smell of the garden outside their home in K’taal—dust and fire lilies. She had spoken of Zefram Cochrane with gentle distance and of Ambassador Soval with reverence. He had been seven.

Now the home was gone. His mother, gone. His father, brothers, sister, cousins, family, gone. Most of his world, gone – ripped apart by a singular madness, a Romulan miner and a star collapsing, and the slow, slow horror of genocide that followed. There were Vulcans, yes, scattered across colonies and stations and embassies, rebuilding with the unyielding force of tradition. But few. So few. The events of the Narada could easily have become a last contact day.

He felt the weight of it often, but never more than today. First Contact Day. The day when Vulcans reached out. And the day of his birth. The day his mother gave birth to him…

And now it was he who stood on this ship, in this century, offering words to humans and other species on the ship – offering a reminder of what once was, and what might still be.

He sipped the soup again, steam curling around his face like memory. It was well-prepared. Not his mother’s, but acceptable. It made him think of T’Aria and the soups he would drink with her when she was first officer on board. He remained acutely aware of her absence. It was an absence that, at this moment, and like many other moments he remembered her, brought upset to his gut, sometimes, even pain. This time, it was pain.

Outside the viewport, stars moved like a silent current. Endless. Indifferent.

Still, he sat with them. Still, he spoke.

Still, he remembered.

And he had become a year older. Now twenty-nine.

Another year without his family.

Another year without the planet which he once called home.

Kastarak, Lt Cdr
First Officer and Navigations Officer

Pawl coming in after all of the birthday wishes were given. Pawl walked into the room quietly not to bother anyone. As he moved to the table in the far corner out of the way and took a seat with a low sigh. Pawl was lost in though to see what he wanted to eat before getting in line at the food synthesizer. He decided on an old earth delicacy a foot long hot dog with chili cheese and onions and what they call them onion rings. with a bottle of ketchup. And a large classic coke classic. As he stood again and grabbed the proper cards for his selections. Pawl grabbed some napkins and silverware just in case he needed them. As he placed the cards into the food synthesizers for his selections to get prepared. As the machine hummed to life processing the order. He felt a presence in the room for a moment as he looked around for the source of it. the processor finished with a ding of a bell. and the doors slid open for him to retrieve his tray of food. As he forgot the strange feeling and moved back to his table alone.

[[Lt_Jg ]] [[Pawl Batario]]
[[Chief_Engineer]] [[Uss_Chernov]]

When seeing Pawl enter and say nothing, not acknoledging Kastarak, it causes in Kastarak a sharp sensation in Kastarak’s gut. Was it something he had eaten? Why did his body suddenly feel heavier?

Perhaps it was the memories of his home planet being lost… but then why did seeing Pawl provoke that sensation?

Kastarak, Lt Cdr
First Officer and Navigations Officer

Pawl was about to eat when a wave of discomfort came at him hard. as he looked around he notices Kasarak. Pawl sent a polite wave towards him. making it known he saw him. Pawl thought to him. ~ care to join me!~ not to try to press further into his mind. as he waited for a reply. He knew of first contact day a d the unpleasantness of losing one of the founding worlds of the federation hit a lot of people hard. Pawl was now lost in thought and could not emagine the major loss of a world to him was hard to say the least.

[[Lt_Jg ]] [[Pawl Batario]]
[[Chief_Engineer]] [[Uss_Chernov]]