Personal log, Stardate 40851.36

Posted on 10 Jul 2020 @ 5:17pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 20 Jul 2020 @ 5:55pm

A short, tan Vulcan walks into frame, sitting down in front of her screen with a placid expression. She taps a padd in her hands twice and looks directly at the camera, starting to speak.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Char. Personal Log Stardate 40851.36, USS Boston. Assigned as an exobiologist.”

She pauses, glancing at her padd and clenching her jaw slightly. La' etek hal-tor va'ashiv suddenly flashes across her mind. Here we go again.

“I have been recently transferred aboard as a result of my request for a new assignment. Captain Rockbell of the Kent expressed disappointment at my decision, but I feel it was necessary to consider the crew. His reaction was anticipated, Humans are unavoidably emotional beings.”

Ni nam-tor du wuh duhsu. So are you the fool.
She winces, taking a slow inhale before continuing on while shoving the thought away.

“I have arrived during a brief interlude of shore leave on Trill Prime. The.. ocean was intriguing to witness. If I had learned how to swim I may have been interested in exploring the water. However the.. tidal forces were intimidating.”

The Vulcan taps her padd again as she looks down, raising an eyebrow. She inhales before speaking again.

“I have made the acquaintance of the Operations officer Moi’ra Kilrai, a trill, and the Assistant Chief of Security Kyr th’Vovass, an Andorian.”
She looks up from her padd to address the room.
“Computer, set reminder for 20:00 hours to contact H’esti for her Plomeek soup recipe.”

A short beep and a click registers the command in her personal database. T’Char turns to address the screen once more, her face beginning to soften. The tension in her shoulders lapses as she leans forward just a tad.

“Lieutenant Kilrai has expressed an interest in Vulcan cuisine, I promised to give her the formula for the dish my sister has devised. Ensign th’Vovass-”

The tension returns to her shoulders as she leans back into her chair, crossing her legs. The chair swivels to the left with the movement, putting the plasma burn on the woman's face clearly on screen. It pushes the flesh of her cheek in aggressive waves all the way down to her neck.

“-inquired if I knew a professor at the academy of Xenovirology, a Dr. T’Mok. I replied that I did not, which seemed to alleviate his tension. Tension I had initially assumed was a result of the conflict between our species. I am pleased that our relationship will not be marred by the mistakes of my people.”

Tel nam-tor zherka-bosh. Bonds are emotional.

T’Char places her padd down and finally addresses the camera directly again, placing her palms together with her pointer fingers at her bottom lip.

“I hope to continue to create positive relationships with the crew. I have not previously been able to foster-”
Dungi du stau au u' muhl?

The Vulcan shoots to her feet, almost knocking the chair over. Her eyes are wide. She notices a small bead of sweat on the side of her face. T’Char considers that intriguing, as the room and her skin are cold.
She folds her hands behind her back and recovers her posture.

“Nash-veh bolaya kunli. End of log.”