Personal log, Stardate 40887.52

Posted on 26 Jul 2020 @ 4:35pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 26 Jul 2020 @ 4:38pm

The air is thin, dry, and cold. It holds nothing except for the violence of the three suns watching the desert, and even then the heat dissipates almost as soon as it arrives. The difference between sunlight boiling the water in your blood or giving you a mild sunburn is a matter of how close the nearest shady outcropping is. It could be a meter to your left or three thousand kilometres south depending on how deep you get lost into the Forge. The holodeck recreates the experience accurately.

A Vulcan in short robe without sleeves crests a dune, shaking the sand from the hem of her capris. Her tan skin glows in the sunlight, throwing a shadow down the hill over a landscape torn by jagged rocks, and not much else. She finds herself sitting cross-legged, leaning back and pushing her hands into the dune to feel the soft particles of sand sifting through her fingers.

“Computer, begin personal log, Stardate 40887.52.”

A short blip from the computer echoes from seemingly nowhere, confirming T’Char’s request. The first sun dips below the horizon and casts a red glow on the cloud layer.

“The events of yesterday are.. not easy to consider. It seems I placed a great deal of faith in an individual capable of great harm.”

T’Char looks down as she plays with the sand absentmindedly. The texture is pleasant. It helps clear her thoughts.

“The Cacivus was destroyed with all hands, including the commanding officer, Vrius. Every Romulan I had helped to care for is now dead. Commander Lejlak is responsible.”

The second sun begins to crest the horizon, adding a touch of orange to the red above the Vulcan. The sky seems to ripple with heat.

“It is… disturbing to think that a man I sat in agreeable company with not a few hours before to discuss the relations between our two peoples is capable of creating such unnecessary violence and death. In fact, I think perhaps I may be complacent in enacting this death by simply association to Lejlak. In my selfish and illogical pursuit for-”

She bites her lip, and consequently her tongue. T’Char lets the air out of her lungs and tosses a handful of sand down the side of the dune. Most of it drifts away in the wind. She slowly inhales before she continues again.

“I had misjudged the character of this Romulan, perhaps deliberately in order to secure communication with my relative. I cannot help but feel responsible for the deaths aboard the Cacivus in some way. Perhaps that is illogical. Perhaps I truly am a magnet for death, as the evidence of my experiences would seem to suggest.”

The second sun finally dips below the horizon, followed by the third and smallest one to begin its descent. Alice Hurke smiles at her from across the bar of a sensor panel as Cassidy begins to vanish into a bright light that burns T’Char’s eyes. It paints the walls of the science lab orange and red like a brilliant sunset.
T’Char feels a small pang in her heart, causing her breathing to short out for a moment. Her hand comes to her stomach to clutch the organ instinctively. Her eyes snap away from the desert vista as she begins to hyperventilate.

“C-Computer, set program time index to 03:00 hours.” The Vulcan pushes the words out with urgency and very little air.
The sky suddenly shifts and the Forge is covered in darkness. Stars blanket the sky as the view of the milky way shimmers in various colors, a bright strip of cosmic debris. T’Char regains her breathing, slightly. Her hands go back to feeling the sand, digging her fists into the dune.

“There is a great deal of frustration involved in watching others die and not being able to stop it. Perhaps one of the reasons I dislike acting as a medical officer.”

A small group of sha’amii trundle out from a rocky outcropping in the distance and dig around through the dirt for insects. The chirping of ohluk starts to become audible as the absence of sunlight allows the life of the desert to awaken. T’Char can hear the howling of a sehlat to the east, a den-mother calling to her pack.

The Vulcan clambers to her feet and raises her arms out by her sides, taking a deep breath of cold air to fill her lungs all the way. As she slowly exhales she allows her arms to fall to her side, releasing the tension in her shoulders. The wind brushes her robe, causing it to flutter and cast off any remaining sand. T’Char feels cold as the air passes over her skin.

“I must endeavor to ensure that none of my crewmates are victims of my influence. It would seem that my ignorance, guided by a selfish desire to form relationships, leads more often than not to negative consequences. If I had been more aware, I could have relayed my observations of Lejlak’s unstable nature to the Captain before the Cacivus was destroyed.”

There’s another push of wind against the Vulcan, stronger this time. It makes her shiver.

“Logically, I could have worked to prevent this disaster. I did not. Therefore I must be partially responsible for the deaths of the crewmen.” T’Char’s voice is unsteady as she dictates to the computer. She begins to stride down the side of the dune, kicking sand up with her feet.

“The solution is to consider a measure of detachment from my crewmates to avoid distraction in the future. That would be the logical answer. However, I cannot help but feel… unwilling to do so!”

Halfway down the dune she starts to run, sending dust into the air to be carried by the wind. A small cloud follows her all the way to the bottom with a small avalanche of sand from the disturbance her dash has caused. T’Char doesn’t stop until she reaches the lip of a small cliff a few meters from the dune, catching herself at the very edge.

Slightly out of breath, she slumps to her knees, sitting on her legs. The wind catches up to her and sends the tail of her robe over the edge like a pennant. The cloud of dust passes by underneath her as the gust throws sand down the cliff, building a new dune and eroding the ledge. Even on the holodeck, the desert is always changing shape.

“I am greatly saddened by this turn of events. I do not know how to continue without… doing something, but what exactly can I do? There is no direct action for me to take, I cannot help those who are lost. I have done all I can while they were alive have I not?”

The question is asked to the wind, as if it could answer. The only reply the Vulcan gets is another small gust, causing her to shiver again.

T’Char stands up with some effort, gazing at the horizon for one last long moment.

“I do not wish to harm anyone.” T’Char forces herself to speak, but her voice is coarse.

“If I have any fears, it would be that I could do great harm without my knowledge or intent. I am..afraid that is what has occurred. There is no resolution to this, no realization or contentment I can make of this situation. I have only a heightened uncertainty of the self. End of log.”

The computer beeps once and the Vulcan is left in the silence of the desert. A sehlat to the east wails again, as if to express some great emotion with its voice.

“Computer, end program.”

The visage disappears, and is replaced by the cold metal of the holodeck walls. T’Char gathers her robe in her hands, and turns around, striding through the arch into the hallway.