What began as a standard diplomatic escort has spiraled into something far more dangerous. Ambassador Snow is dead—found in her quarters just hours before our rendezvous with Romulan authorities. Cause of death is still under investigation, but I have my suspicions… and they’re not leaning toward natural causes.

Starfleet command has reassigned me to complete the mission, but it’s no longer just about diplomacy. We’ve uncovered data buried deep in Romulan subspace transmissions—records, experiments, and ghost files tied to events the Empire swore never happened. If what we found is accurate, it could shatter the already fragile peace between our people.

The crew is unsettled. Some want to bring the truth to light, regardless of the fallout. Others argue secrecy is the only way to maintain stability. I was trained to defend the truth, not bury it—but war is a steep price to pay for transparency.

We are now less than twelve hours from the embassy. One decision—one log entry—could alter the course of galactic diplomacy. I didn’t sign up to play politics, but it seems politics just forced its way onto my bridge.

We carry the weight of truth. And the consequences it brings.

End log.