Personal Log, Stardate 40799.7

Posted on 01 Mar 2021 @ 4:26pm by Lieutenant JG Rozhal Pril

The vibrantly coloured clouds of dust surrounding the very nearly stricken U.S.S. Boston stretched out before Rozhal as far as she could see. Her eyes were drawn to a small cluster of stars, whose light poked through the haze. She knew that for each star shining back at her, there were billions upon billions of people living out their lives and dying in complete ignorance of her, the Boston and the United Federation of Planets from whence they came.

"Computer, begin personal log, stardate... uh..."

The Trill glanced back at the chronometer on her desk, before returning her attention to the little cluster of stars.

"Stardate 40799.7. So, I finally got promoted. It took me long enough, right?"

Roz laughed a little, before continuing:

"Y'know, I feel like I should be happier. I've moved up in rank - Captain Demarcus said some really kind things at the ceremony - and my friends, despite the incident earlier today, are mostly unhurt. Tirik told me that there was one person down in engineering who didn't make it, one Ensign Glenn, I believe. Other than that, everyone survived. It got me thinking, though, about the danger of what we do out here. Just a few days ago I was thinking about how I haven't been home for a long, long time. Out here, in uncharted space, we are putting ourselves in incredible danger, every day, and our families are left wondering if we're coming back safe."

She turned away from the window, surveying the quarters she shared with her friend, Carmen, and seeing all the little trinkets and personal touches they had added over the last few years to make this space their own. Rozhal nodded to herself in affirmation:

"I know why we do this. My family at home is important to me, of course, but the crew of the Boston needs me too. Sure, I may have received a rather severe blow to the head earlier, but that's no reason not to try my very best to protect the people I live with here. The job we do is dangerous. We rely on each other precisely because of that. And I love it! Every day there's a new mystery, a new surprise waiting to make our lives worth living."

Rozhal sighed and paused for a moment, but went on:

"I know that's of little comfort to Ensign Glenn or his family. What I do know, is that what we do here - every civilisation we discover, every stranded ship we aid and every phenomenon we explain - is worth every second. We are privileged to be at the forefront of interstellar diplomacy and scientific advancement. Nobody here would trade that for anything."

Walking over to her desk, Rozhal smiled at the holo-photograph of herself, Carmen and Tirik taken on Hayara eighteen months previously, whilst she was completing the xenolinguistics specialisation programme. The table in front of them was covered in a spread of impossibly fluorescent dishes, and the grins on their faces were possibly the goofiest she'd ever seen. The Trill laughed upon remembering how she nearly covered her human friend in luminous soup that evening.

"And hey, these people are my family too."

"Computer, end log."

Rozhal approached the replicator and considered what to order. After all, life goes on.