Personal Log, Stardate 40443.1
Posted on 20 Dec 2020 @ 10:12am by Lieutenant JG Sesenek T'Suk'tchol
Edited on 20 Dec 2020 @ 10:14am
"Personal Log, Stardate 40443.1
"... I may have engaged in some poor decision-making last night."
To absolutely nobody's surprise, Sen wakes up with a headache.
He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a long breath in and out, and then - with the kind of dogged composure that only a very hungover Vulcan can really pull off - gets out of bed to replicate himself a re-hydration drink.
"I am forced to admit that I allowed my emotions to dictate my decisions, and from there, became so inebriated that I lost all sense of propriety. Which led to being escorted back to my quarters by two very concerned colleagues.
"I correct myself - two very concerned friends. To whom I was extremely impolite.
"And then T'Char arrived."
Running a hand through his short, disorderly hair, Sesenek kneels down in front of the altar and closes his eyes. It would be prudent, he thinks, to meditate before attempting to deconstruct the events of last night via prayer. That way, he is less likely to allow embarrassment and shame to skew his thinking.
Also, his head is still spinning a little, and it feels disrespectful to approach one's god when there is a non-zero chance one is going to vomit mid-prayer.
"I made some... extremely inadvisable comments to her. I insulted her; alluded to things that should have been confidential between us."
The memories come anyway, and Sen tries not to wince. "Your logic is flawed. You only think this way because of Shi'Kahr." No wonder she responded as she did. Cardeshii. Cardassian. It disowns him and shames him in equal measure; you are not one of us, because you loved one of them. And, perhaps - although his rational mind now tells him that T'Char did not mean to imply this - You deserved what happened to you, because you loved one of them.
"Perhaps I should not have disclosed my history to her. It is a delicate topic, especially given the nature of this war. Perhaps I should not have intervened at all. I was arrogant; I assumed that our mutual pain also conferred mutual understanding, and interacted with her accordingly. I spoke to her as I would have spoken to myself ten years ago. Just as I had done with Shenet, I did not stop to consider that she and I were different people."
He tries to suppress the impulse to stand up and replicate a shot of something that would dull the memories of those Cardassian soldiers holding him down; of his stepson's corpse lying mere metres from the site of his shame. Oralius, give me strength. The packed bag is still under Sen's bed; it would be so easy to take leave and disappear from reality for a while. And then he thinks of Drakkar, and Grenkat, and their kind concern; he thinks of his training sessions with the Orkraul, the gentle understanding in his voice.
He owes them more than this.
"Last night, I took Dr Grenkat aside and offered my support. I see in him what I also see in myself and T'Char. And yet my reasoning tells me that I may not be equal to the task. How can I help others if I am also broken?
"... Computer, delete last sentence."
Sen knows he has a choice to make. What he does not know is whether he can bring himself to make it.
He takes a breath, clears his mind.
"Oralius, who is all things and the spirit that flows between all things. Though I am alone, hear me. I need your guidance."
"Computer - belay that. Delete log."
"Personal log deleted."