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Personal Log, Stardate 41447.4

Posted on 24 Oct 2021 @ 5:08pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el

“Personal log, stardate.. Uhm. 41448.3.”

T’Char sits gingerly into her desk chair, cradling a small bundle in her arms with as much delicacy as she can manage. Her expression is ragged, and rather expressively emotional for the Vulcan. The bundle stirs slightly as T’Char moves, and she pauses herself abruptly to wait for the movement to cease before continuing.

“Our vessel was sent to intercept a starfleet ship, the Pioneer, that had been determined missing after the local starbase lost contact with it close to the neutral zone. Romulan involvement was suspected.”

She glances at the bundle again, as if to reassure herself that it was still there, before leaning back in her seat with a long, tired sigh.

“Needless to say, it was not Romulans.”

The bundle emits a small cough and T’Char becomes instantly more alert, moving a side of the blanket away and subsequently revealing what appears to be a baby Vulcan, pointy ears and all, fast asleep. T’Char considers it may be shed fur from either feline now occupying the quarters that inspired the cough, and that it hardly warrants anything extreme. Her initial reaction was quite illogical. Perhaps the stress of the away mission was still weighing too heavily on her mental controls.

T’Char releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and speaks into the console screen once more.

“The ship was invaded and subsequently stripped of material and personnel by an unknown hostile force. The only remaining evidence of which was a sensor display of a perfectly elliptical.. Craft, of some sort, and-”

She hesitates, uncertain how to describe her experience. T’Char looks down at the fidgeting child, as if it will somehow provide an explanation not previously considered.

“...I cannot, with any accuracy, describe what I saw in the computer system. From my perception, the only adequate comparison would be a biological viral agent that somehow infects machines rather than other organisms. It behaved in such a manner that physical contact from my tricorder to a console screen resulted in a spread of infection, as a bacteria might.”

Looking out the viewport across the room, the Vulcan grimaces.

“It was a matter of basic luck that the Boston was not infected as well. Though I ensured the total destruction of any technology brought back from the ship.”

There’s a long pause as the Vulcan thinks, suddenly distracted by her bundle. She reaches out a finger to adjust the blanket over the chest of the infant, and subsequently allows the limb to be grasped. Orishansu gurgles faintly and tugs on T’Char’s hand in curiosity, breaking a smile from the older Vulcan despite herself.

“Qlar’hy? Du nam-tor kash-zakar t’nash-veh?” T’Char coos to the infant, forgetting her active log in favor of engaging the child. She leans back in her chair, finally relaxed enough to release the tension she’s been holding in her body.

“Oh- yes. This is Orishansu.” She glances over and notices the small red light on her desk console, returning to her log.

“She was.. left behind, and not by choice. I am now her guardian.”
The Vulcan grimaces, her mood souring suddenly without any conscious thought, before continuing. “-Temporarily, that is. I expect us to locate a relative with whom she can remain, for her developmental period. A Starship is not the best location for an infant, and- as much as it might cause me disruption, I cannot be the mother she deserves.”

Orishansu shifts in her blanket and makes a gurgling noise, curling into the crook of T’Char’s embrace. The elder Vulcan moves her arm in compliance, so as to not to disturb the tired baby. A moment passes as T’Char simply watches the infant in her arms, almost expressionless, save for a slightly perked brow.
She isn’t sure how she feels. The emotion is too unfamiliar. Protectiveness? Longing? Devotion? For a Vulcan- even this Vulcan- this sort of emotional awareness and recognition is difficult. T’Char considers to herself that she is both incredibly heartbroken and incredibly joyful all at once, which in some strange irony makes perfect sense. If emotions are truly illogical, this sort of contradiction would be a logical result of probability. So then, are emotions logical? Logically illogical? T’Char thinks Surak’s Katra is doing cartwheels right about now, hearing this internal debate.

“Bath’pa.” T’Char exhales in defeat, leaning her head back into her chair and closing her eyes.

“I will, for the time I have, accept reality for what it is. Kaiidth. I must take care of the child, and I will do so with grace. It is not the scenario I envisioned when I lay awake at night, wracked with loss over my inability to be a mother, but the universe has seen fit to rectify that mistake. And despite circumstances, I am…”

She looks down at the bundle, who seems to have finally drifted off to sleep in her arms.

“..I am happy, I think. End Log.”


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