Personal Log, Stardate 40883.78

Posted on 20 Jul 2020 @ 11:56pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 21 Jul 2020 @ 5:04am

A Vulcan sits at her desk. The normal green flush in her cheeks seems to be absent. Her shoulders are more tense than usual, hunched at her neck. There’s a soft, flashing yellow light against her face and the walls, signifying a shipwide yellow alert status. It’s the only significant light in the room.

“Personal log, Stardate 40883.78, supplemental.”

Her hand comes to the back of her neck to squeeze it softly, finding tension. She bites her lower lip, and scolds herself mentally for allowing that to become a habit.

“We have encountered two Star Empire vessels.” She utters the title quietly, almost scared of speaking it aloud.

She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. “A T’Liss craft, having been abandoned inside a gas giant for the past ten years with the crew in stasis. And another unidentified warbird which had been en-route to claim the damaged T’Liss.”

T’Char reaches out over her desk to tap the screen on her desk display, pulling up a series of medical files.

“The majority of the Romulans aboard the damaged warbird have suffered severe radiation poisoning. Likely as a result of containment failure in whatever they refer to as a warp core. During the initial away mission to the craft, I was tasked with allaying the effects of the radiation in the away team. Now I am tasked with the same duties for the Romulans that we have.. beamed aboard our own vessel for treatment.”

The Vulcan winces at the statement, crossing her arms as she looks at the manifest of Seheikk’he. The sickbay is full of soldiers, ready and willing to kill for the Empire.

“It is unfortunate that I am relegated to tasks in the medbay, when my area of specific expertise is in ecology and botany. Though I am in fact a qualified nurse, it is not… what I joined the crew of the Boston to do. Certainly, I was not expecting the Sundered to be placed into my direct care.”

She readjusts herself in her seat again, becoming restless. Her leg bounces on her toes as she leans forward to put an elbow on the desk, resting her chin in her hand. The perfect position to bite her nails in. T’Char has to actively resist the urge.

“My.. disapproval notwithstanding, I will perform my duties as a medical officer to the best of my ability. Unlike the Romulans, I am not hindered by archaic loyalty to-”
The Vulcan glances at the metal case next to her desk.

She doesn’t remember much of her extended family. A’ulu was a very strict mother, and whatever didn’t meet her approval was excised, including her own blood relatives. T’Char leans back in her chair and glances out her viewport.

Her earliest memory is of two figures arguing in the room in front of her. She is twisting a Pleenok with the help of H’esti, who seems to be anxious. T’Char is too young to understand why, but the raised voices in the other room scare her. The Pleenok is too frustrating to complete, and she remembers becoming very upset. H’esti picks her up as A’ulu enters the room, followed by a figure much older than her. The figure is wearing very shiny silver clothes, it distracts T’Char from her puzzle.

“..an ideology of superiority. They have a history of aggression and conflict, and many Vulcan lives have been lost to their conquest for supremacy.”
T’Char sits upright in her chair, speaking to the window. She avoids her reflection in favor of the starscape behind the gas giant.

The Vulcan child finds the silvery cloth of the figure captivating, but A’ulu is upset by its very presence. She cannot seem to look at the figure, who speaks calmly in a voice the young Vulcan cannot recognize. It’s placated, measured with a sense of wisdom. Unlike her mother, who replies with sharp jabs in a language that is probably not Vulcan. The figure seems to plead with T’Char’s mother, only to be rejected as A’ulu storms up the steps of the dwelling. The slamming of her boots on the ancient wooden planks is startling, and T’Char hugs H’esti’s neck.

“Many Vulcans are in favor of reunification despite the offenses of the Empire. I do not believe these Vulcans realize that reunification in the eyes of the Romulan Star Empire is akin to an occupying force.”

The figure leans down on a knee to smile at the sisters, placing a gloved hand on both of their heads. Her brow protrudes like T’Char, but to a much greater degree. Her face is much more green, and there are many lines. T’Char feels comfortable with her, and instinctively smiles back. The figure laughs, and it makes the young Vulcan feel warm. She has never felt like this with A’ulu.

T’Char opens her eyes and sees herself in the reflection on the viewport glass. The confidence in her voice wavers.

“I… I cannot, and do not have hatred for the Romulan people. To have hate is to hate oneself, and it is a corruption of the Katra. But I am deeply uncomfortable with soldiers being cared for as if they are allies on this vessel. I am certain that we have put the entire crew at risk by allowing them to stay here. If the decision were mine, I..”

The figure steps back, and T’Char can see her bright green sash under her belt. The fabric is pretty, and she reaches out to hold it. It’s coarse, but silky. Slipping through her fingers as the figure walks away, towards a wall of sunlight. She likes the bird printed on the end of the cloth, and she reaches for it as it flutters behind the figure. T’Char smiles again, it looks like the bird is flying.

“..perhaps I would not make a different choice. To use a human expression, one of us must, ‘extend the olive branch’ before a peaceful dialogue can be established.”

The Vulcan finally allows herself to exhale evenly.

“Surely not all of Romulus is composed of soldiers.”

T’Char nods her head down and closes her eyes, shaking out her hands vigorously as she lifts them from the arms of the chair. It’s enough to pull her back to reality for a moment to be honest with herself.
"Perhaps I must clarify. I am more related to Romulus than Starfleet may be aware. Of course, as a Vulcan with a surname, my unique heritage is simply a matter of research, and not a controlled secret. There are records of the Romulan s'Le'al clan in the Vulcan and Federation databases respectively, the root of Le'el."

She forces the air out of her lungs. It feels like the gravity in the room was lowered by several g's.

“My great grandmother is a Romulan, as others in my family may be. She is in all probability still alive.”

Her hand taps on the desk as she thinks. Her leg still bounces uncontrollably.

“I desire greatly to see her again, as I do not know if she is aware A’ulu is dead. Though a tragedy, it may be the beginning of a reintroduction to my estranged blood relations.”

She stands up and pushes the chair to the side, looking at the camera on her desk directly.

“The Star Empire will consider me and my sister as impurities of Romulan genetics, we cannot travel to Romulus. But perhaps if I am able to convey a message in my place, I will have no need.”

T’Char straightens her uniform as she stands at her desk, prepared to head back to sickbay. Somehow she can’t get herself to leave yet.

“I am at a moment of great conflict. I am choosing to trust those who would see me dead for my very existence, in the hope that it will produce some semblance of family that I was never able to experience. Perhaps it is foolish, perhaps I am being too emotional. All that I am able to confirm with any certainty is that this chance will never come again, and that is reason enough to justify the attempt. Computer, end log.”

The Vulcan exits her room, turning off the light behind her.