Personal log, Stardate 40867.56

Posted on 16 Jul 2020 @ 6:12pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 17 Jul 2020 @ 4:02am

“Personal log, Stardate 40867.56.” T’Char paces her quarters with a PADD in hand, scanning it absentmindedly. Her uniform is disheveled, and she’s not wearing any boots. She plods across the carpet of her room, leaving footprints in the fabric. Her hair is slightly damp, as if she’s just dried it with a towel.

“Yesterday was the primary simulation exam of this vessel’s capability to reach its theoretical maximum warp velocity. While reaching a successful warp factor of 9.4, the captain insisted on extending the speed to warp 9.6.”

T’Char finds herself sitting at her desk, almost falling into her seat. Her leg bounces up and down uncontrollably, a nervous tic. She leans her elbows on the desk and continues to scroll her PADD while addressing the camera.

“My task was to monitor internal sensors as the ship reached preceding warp factors. Among the exceeding number of issues during the acceleration process, hull flexing at warp 9.48 to 9.52 caused the sensor nodes located in the hull to dislocate from their positions. At this point, my readings indicated a number of alarms regarding hull breaches, hull fractures, violent decompression, tearing of the internal hull, and life support failure. There was no way to tell which reports were accurate and which were not, as the sensors themselves were no longer capable of giving accurate information.”

The Vulcan leaps to her feet and begins to pace again, swiping at her PADD with agitation. Her eyes have not left the screen once since she began speaking, and as a result she misses the low table by her cot. A rather un-Vulcanlike yelp follows her as she trips and collapses onto the bed, dropping her PADD to the floor in surprise.

“C-Computer pause log!”

T’Char is on her feet as quickly as she fell off them, adjusting her uniform and swiping at her hair to put it back into place. It gives her a moment to slow down, albeit forced.

She recalls that she hasn’t given herself any time to meditate recently. The substitute has been to dive as deep into her work as she can to avoid the many things she’d rather not think about. An effective if not entirely healthy strategy. She glances out her viewport at space being moved around the ship, causing errant red shifts and stretching. It’s quite chaotic, and yet extremely specific and orderly. The nature of manipulating physics to go faster than light. Another Vulcan might see some grand metaphor in the image for achieving kholinar, T’Char noted to herself. She could only see her reflection in the window.

T’Char finally allows herself to exhale, evenly, and sits on her now unmade bed. She finds a pair of socks on her pillow, tossed there in preparation for this morning’s duty shift. She dons them, almost as a mechanical action, there’s no thought behind it. She remembers her talk with H’esti yesterday. Her sister was surprised, and very sad. She could never hide her emotions well, not that she even tried. They both wept that night, and H’esti asked her to return to Vulcan for a time. T’Char told her it was illogical to do so, her duties should not be affected by her loss. But she didn’t mention how much she wanted to.

H’esti understood of course. The two of them shared a bond in that way, nothing needed to be explained to the other. She had said T’Char must not know how to manage her emotions at this time. T’Char agreed, begrudgingly. It was not often she agreed with her sibling. This was different. This was no longer territory the young Vulcan understood how to handle. Any advice from an elder, even a sister with expressive leniency on suppression of emotion, was appreciated.
It occurred to T’Char that her sister’s use of emotions must be a result of a very deep understanding of them, which made her almost envious. She could allow herself to be happy, to be sad, to express her anger. H’esti had expressed her fear for T’Char, her worry for her sister's well being. T’Char wished she knew how to express her fear for herself in the same way.

The computer chirped to notify the Vulcan it was 05:30 hours, taking her back to the present. T’Char sits up and tugs at her uniform to straighten it out, not doing much for the wrinkles but at least offering the illusion of being organized.

“Resume personal log.”

The Vulcan scooped her PADD off the floor and tossed it behind her as she scoured the room for her boots.

“When I contacted my sister H’esti, she notified me of a package I should receive soon by frigate. When I asked her what it was she refused to answer..ah.”

T’Char finds her boots under the table, pushed there when she fell over it earlier. She sits at her desk chair to shove them onto her feet with mild frustration.

“I had not expressed this to her but. I do believe extended shore leave on Vulcan would be healing for me. However, as I am a recent transfer, it would be illogical to leave the Boston so soon, lest I intend to forgo my time on this vessel altogether. Perhaps this.. package will be enough of a reminder of my home that I shall not experience…”

The Vulcan grits her teeth, furrowing her brow. “As the Humans refer to it, the homesick.”

She stamps her foot on the ground softly to tuck her other boot on securely.

“Despite the many flaws in Humans as a species, I cannot help but find them endearing. I do not even mind the smell. In fact, I rather.. enjoy..it.”

She frowns deeply at her own statement, sitting up straight. She is a disgrace to her people.

“Ish-veh tor ra ish-veh tor. Nash-veh wu mesh.” She shakes her head “Hi komihn nam-tor petakov.”

She leans over her desk to tap her console and end the log.