Personal log, Stardate 40882.65

Posted on 17 Jul 2020 @ 9:28pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 20 Jul 2020 @ 8:44pm

“Personal log, stardate 40882.65.”

T’Char walks into the view of the console, holding a small metal case in one arm and an orange jumpsuit in the other. She seems anxious, her shoulders are tense. She places the case down beside the desk as she speaks, beginning to fold the jumpsuit.

“I am limiting my discussion on this topic due to the nature of the factors involved, and for security reasons. Any recording in which I mention certain details is more or less a liability to the success of my assignment. Therefore I will only describe the minimum of what is required for a standard personal log.”

She finishes wrapping the jumpsuit, giving up on trying to fold it in some kind of organized way by tossing it on the desk. The Vulcan places both hands on the back of her chair and bites her lip, glancing at the door.

“I have been requested by Kyr-” She stops herself mid-speech, glancing at the door again.
“-Ensign th’Vovass, to accompany him on an away mission. My expertise in exobiology will be beneficial to the task we have been assigned. I am.. not sure how much more I am able to describe..”

She pushes the chair away and leans over the desk, pausing the log with her finger. She steps back, folding her arms. There’s another jumpsuit behind the boxy computer console, neatly folded. The same dirty orange, men's, much larger than hers. It’s been press-cleaned. Twice.

T’Char bites her thumbnail, lost in thought for a moment. Glancing at the door one more time, she goes to her knees and takes the metal box closer to her. A short passcode, a faint click, and it opens, revealing a very old piece of technology. It’s green, rusty, and has a small raptor insignia at the base of the handle.

The box is closed almost as soon as it opens. T’Char sits on the floor of her room, her fingers digging into the carpet absentmindedly. She remembers when her mother gave her the disruptor, the night she left for Starfleet Academy. A’ulu had scorned her at each opportunity, telling her how great a waste of time the experience would be. How little T’Char must care for her. How illogical and emotional she must be to make such a foolhardy decision. Before boarding the shuttle, she had given T’Char the case and said it was a gift from her great grandmother. That she would have been proud of T’Char. T’Char remembered thinking it was perhaps her mother beginning to understand. When she opened the case in San Francisco, she realized her assumption was incorrect.

A gift of parting as an insult is a cruel action. To a Vulcan, parting gifts are sacred, a means of staying with those you leave behind. Such things can never be discarded. Her mother meant to remind her that by leaving Vulcan she was abandoning her people for selfish pursuits, that she was an outcast and an enemy. Now A’ulu would always be with T’Char to call her a disgrace, in a feshelek Rihansu. T’Char considered the act clever, if not malevolent.

She stands and taps the console again to resume the log, speaking to her screen.

“I have procured replacement garments for Kyr and myself, as the nature of our mission requires any mention of Starfleet to remain onboard. Farius Prime is known to be a world where the Federation is.. unliked. To say the least.”

The Vulcan sits down at her chair with an exhale, using her hands to rub at her eyes. She sinks into the cushion, slouching as she forces her muscles to relax.

“I have also.. learned of the primary reason behind Kyr’s discomfort with my presence. His former… partner was a Vulcan. And as I am led to believe, it did not end well.”

T’Char wraps her arms around herself, shuddering slightly. She felt cold again, the environmental controls in this room must be faulty. She wished she did not have such a sensitive reaction to lower temperatures, it felt limiting.

“I shall endeavor to ensure his further interactions with Vulcans are more.. agreeable. Kyr was unusually kind to me on my first day assigned to the Boston. I wish to return the favor.”

From a Vulcan perspective, Andorians were very cautious to trust others, and a little paranoid by nature. This Vulcan felt she must’ve made an impression of some kind to gain his trust so easily. The last thing she wanted was to lose that trust. She noted how significant her desire to maintain a positive relationship with him was. Interesting. Besides, the way his antenna twitched whenever she entered the room was siyah petakov.
Sitting up, she smooths out her uniform, returning to her neutral stiff posture. The room didn’t seem as cold anymore.

“I will be working with him and Ensign Joe Harper. We have been granted a shuttlecraft that should allow us to ‘blend in’ with the surroundings, a result of Mr. Harper calling in some kind of favor. The craft is. To put it mildly, ramshackle. If we reach the surface in one piece, I hope to accomplish our goal with little interference from the local population. End of log”

Her eyes flit back to the box. Part of her wants to feed it to her replicator and reconstitute a nice vase. Maybe she will after today.