Personal log, Stardate 41390.5
Posted on 21 May 2021 @ 10:49pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 21 May 2021 @ 11:04pm
41387.7 || May 21st, 2364, Time: 22:09
The Vulcan sits in a facade of patience at her desk, arms crossed, leg bouncing anxiously, as she waits for the familiar chime of the subspace communication alarm. The call is late, by exactly three minutes now, how very typical of her older sibling. T’Char restrains the urge to exhale passive aggressively, despite not having an audience to admonish.
The moment passes quietly, save for the errant snoring of a certain fuzzy animal laid out on the couch in exhaustion due to the hundred or so laps run through T’Char’s quarters just a minute prior. And then another moment, and another, five total minutes past the expected call time. If it were anyone else, perhaps T’Char would not be as infuriated, but the elder of the sisters knew very well how punctual the younger liked to be. This was a deliberate act of sabotage. A coup-de-gras of superiority. A test of wills, a-
||~BiBip~||
The desk console lights up with an active link on standby, signaling to T’Char that H’esti is awaiting her response. The Vulcan furrows her brow and taps a button to open the feed. She’s greeted by another Vulcan, more heavyset, and beaming through a face covered in rough sand. The resemblance is uncanny. Minus the dirt, of course.
“Hey there Tish! Sorry, had to corral the Sha’amii, we just got a bit of a windstorm out here.”
The stockier Vulcan gestures behind her on the screen, waggling a hand at what appears to be a cluster of tall, goat-like animals with six legs and copious amounts of wooly fur.
“You know how they get this season! Rowdy whenever the air pressure turns up a notch. How are you! I feel like I haven’t seen your face in ages!”
T’Char exhales, slowly, before responding. “You have not, as a matter of fact.”
H’esti emits a soft giggle, nodding. “Suppose that’s true!- Aha! New pip!”
The elder sister leans into the screen and points at the solid pip on T’Char’s collar, gleefully.
“When were you gonna mention that, I wonder!”
T’Char tries very hard not to simply tear off her uniform jacket as a means of avoiding the topic.
“It is not a matter of importance. As the chief science officer onboa-”
“Chief?!”
The younger Vulcan winces. She may have ‘forgotten’ to tell her sister about that, too.
“As I.. was about to say, it is not a matter of importance. It is simply an addition to my acceptance of the role. I am a senior officer on this vessel, and that privilege comes with the responsibility of rank.”
H’esti whistles, clapping as she replies. “Fa Lith’ik! Little officer climbing the ladder huh? Congrats Tish! Seriously!”
“I am neither small nor in the process of ascending a distance using a ladder. Your analogy is flawed.”
T’Char knew full well what the expression meant, but in the presence of her older sibling, being petty took full priority. H’esti didn’t seem to notice, or even care for that matter.
“You’ve been busy out there I guess.” H’esti grinned through the screen. “Well you deserve it anyways! I still think they shoulda made you chief on the Kent.”
“The sentiment is appreciated, if not illogical.” T’Char relents for a moment, accepting the praise reluctantly. “Have you made the appropriate arrangements for the clan branch in the central database?”
H’esti sighed, though a sudden change in topic was hardly unexpected whenever her little sister got uncomfortable. “Yes, I did. L’utaah is a Le’el now, for all the good that will do.”
“Most agreeable.” T’Char nodded, leaning back into her seat as some of the tension she’s been carrying evaporates. H’esti is unimpressed.
“And you think I’m the illogical one for staying at home, while you galavant across the universe making tel-tor katravahsu with Humans you get attached to, adopting a surrogate son into the clan without me-”
“He required a family. I offered one.” T’Char closes her eyes defiantly, tucking her chin upwards.
“Yes, fiiiine, but you could have at least told me about it before you-”
“I was in an expanse of space where communication was unavailable. It could not be avoided.”
H’esti inhales deeply and holds out her hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Fine. He seems like a nice kid. Far be it from me of all people to argue in favor of tradition.”
T’Char opens one eye, hesitantly. “You are.. Not angry with me.”
Her mood shifts, and the older sister offers a reassuring smile as she reaches out to put a finger on the screen. “No. I’m not. I promise. Of course I’m not mad. I’m just worried about you all the time. We don’t exactly spend a lot of time together y’know.”
T’Char relaxes, releasing the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and moving her own finger to tap where H’esti’s is on her end.
“Ni'droi'ik nar-tor.”
H’esti rolls her eyes. “You’re forgiven. But don’t expect me to not be worried when I get off this call. I’m allowed to be worried all the time.”
“While I cannot control your emotions for you, I suggest you make the attempt.” T’Char lifts her eyebrow. “It may be beneficial to your health.”
“Don’t start that.”
~
T’Char folds open the top of her uniform, slumping into her seat as she relaxes her composure.
“Computer, begin personal log.”
A short beep from the desk console signals the recording process to begin.
“Stardate…” The Vulcan looks at the console briefly. “41387.9. 23 hundred hours and 43 minutes.”
She wriggles her way out of the jacket to toss it over the desk favoring the less stiff material of the standard issue tank top. Starfleet issue garments rarely seemed designed for Vulcan skin, and the uniform could be incredibly restrictive after wearing it all day. It made the chenesi in her lower back ache terribly.
“Upon my promotion to Chief of Sciences, I have created a general issue schedule I intend for the department to follow while not on direct mission assignment. While I expect officers to have personal projects they wish to follow, the department must have a unified disciplinary tract by which to measure productivity.”
T’Char pushes her lower back into the cushion of her seat to ease the mild soreness that tends to reflect the amount of stress experienced in a single day. The relief is minute, but welcome.
“To encourage said productivity, I have researched several mediums by which to offer incentive, of which I have tested for effectiveness. The humans seem to respond best to the ‘sticker’ method, where work is awarded with positive reaffirmation through the gifting of small paper adhesives, purely aesthetic I should mention. Though it seems that lettering on each ‘sticker’ stating a positive message such as ‘good work’ or ‘well done’ seems to be more effective by some margin. Further research is required.”
The Vulcan looks up at her screen, narrowing her eyes.
“On subjects of a personal nature I am.. troubled. I am, to use the expression, stuck between a rock face and a deep valley. I cannot scale the rock face without the very real prospect of losing my footing, and the valley- There is a river that I might survive the fall, but I could easily drown during the attempt. Kyr has-”
She stops herself, frustrated and unable to speak the words she desires to say.
“Kyr… is determined. And headstrong. And though I wish to support him fully, the path he has taken is not one that I understand. The only means by which I can follow him is to leap into the river as well and hope to cross unscathed. I do not want him to drown though I... fear he already has.”
There’s a long moment before she speaks again.
“It is coming to a point where I will have to choose or my path will be chosen for me. If ever I was in need of guidance, now is the time. Were I blooded more Rihannasu, I would pray to the elements. But, as the Humans say, “Tough Shit.” End of log.”
