Personal log, Stardate 40937.68
Posted on 13 Aug 2020 @ 3:36pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 13 Aug 2020 @ 3:44pm
Fire detected in Deck Twelve astrophysical laboratory. Please evacuate the area. Damage control teams to Deck Twelve. Fire detected in Deck Twelve astrophysical laboratory. Please evacuate the area. Damage control-
Orange and gold like a sunset on Vulcan. The reddish sand glows, and it’s hot when she fills her hand with it. She’s covered in the sand, becoming buried as a dune slowly forms over her body. It’s crushing her, and it’s hot enough to burn.
"Move the debris! Get it out of the way!"
"One life sign detected, it’s Vulcan-"
"The plasma fire is spreading to the corridor, get the suppression systems back online."
"Has anyone seen Alice? Where’s Alice?"
Orange and gold shimmers above her head like a nebula forming a new star. It ripples and dances in unpredictable ways, before it turns a bright red and arcs across the ceiling like a lightning strike. The plastic exterior of the roof melts away to reveal deuterium that also begins to glow red and disintegrate. She’s pinned under a large metal sheet and a series of bars, a pile that seems to grow as various pieces of debris drop into the pile. It’s crushing her, and it’s hot enough to burn.
"Get her out of there!"
"I can’t get a lock, we have to get closer."
"If we can’t get her, we have to vent this deck, the conduit is about to blow-"
The beach is calm. There are no waves. The reflections over the water are bright red, orange, with hints of gold. Suddenly a gust of wind pulls the air out of her lungs as the sea draws itself back away from the shore, gathering into a tower of water several meters high. The sunlight beams through it in sections to break it apart, but not enough to interrupt the looming shadow of the tidal wave. She can’t breathe even before the water hits her and pulls her under, burning her skin as it passes over her body. The pressure is crushing her, and the water is scalding hot. Only the bright sunlight passes the surface of the water to shine directly into her eyes.
The Vulcan wakes up in her bed, simply opening her eyes while still on her back. She turns to look at the console on the table next to her cot, and apparently it’s only been an hour since she layed down.
“Computer. Begin personal log, stardate 40937.68.”
The Vulcan sits at her desk in a soft, orange robe with writing in script along a band of embroidery. It’s well worn, and drapey, clearly the fabric is very old. She hugs it around herself like a blanket.
“Kyr expressed a desire to be my t’hy’la. I, of course, accepted him. Au nam-tor t'nash-veh pudvel-tor. Au nam-tor t'nash-veh ashaya, it would be illogical to refuse. I even discussed with him my Romulan ancestry. It did not alter his feelings.”
She folds one leg over the other, and leans into the arm of her chair. Ironically, her face is the most emotionless it’s been in a while.
“I did not expect such. Blind tolerance. Or acceptance at all for that matter. He said that-”
Kyr pleads to her, standing in the water a few feet behind her. The holodeck makes the water convincingly cold, it’s causing her legs to shake involuntarily.
“That is wrong T'Char, you are my deepest concern-” His antennae are bowed, and fidgeting. He’s clearly worried for her.
“Please don't shut me out T'Char-”
The Vulcan wipes her face with her sleeve, while her voice becomes coarse. “..That I am, not alone. That he would be there for me. That he is there to support me. I found it... comforting.”
She fiddles with the fabric on her arms, folding the cloth between her fingers.
“I even shared with him the Khreya I am experiencing. Though I suppose that was an inevitability considering-”
The sunset on Trillius throws red and gold flares over her head into the sky. She grimaces, biting her lip. Kyr calls out from behind her, speaking in words hard to make out. The blood rushes to her head as the coastline bordering the sunset gets too bright to look at directly. It seems like nowhere she points her gaze is safe as the light reflects into the water to spread like a fire all around her. It’s suddenly hard to breathe as her body psychosomatically reacts to the memory of stimuli, and she finds herself chest deep in the holodeck shallows. Kyr’s hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present.
“-the… sudden onset of vokaya thorshkaya while participating in a holodeck program. I must remember henceforth to avoid programs that take place at characteristic sunsets or sunrises, lest I humiliate myself again.”
T’Char inhales slowly as she pinches her eyes shut for a moment, taking the time to relax. She manages to relax enough for her shoulders to droop, an unprecedented level of control for the unusually stressed out Vulcan.
“I took a risk explaining Khreya, considering that he may report such a condition to the medical staff onboard, or.. to a commanding officer. If this were a Vulcan vessel, I would be stripped of my commission and sent to the homeworld for an official court hearing. I am unsure of the consequences Starfleet applies to this situation, but I am certain they must be similar.”
Her eyes dart to the script sewn into the fabric. It’s a string of poetry based on a journey to study the logic of the desert, the Vulcan equivalent of a classical ballad.
Tra' nam-tor ozhika svi' ek' vel. Ek' aushfa ma lof. Ek' vel nam-tor ozhika fai'ei ozhika nam-tor ek' vel. Ik tor olozhikaik
There is logic in all things. Every animal serves a purpose. All things are logical because logic is all things. That is logical.
It occurs to T’Char that anyone who isn’t a Vulcan would have a hard time understanding the nuances.
“But, I trust he will not do so. I place a great deal of trust in him, in fact. His presence is balancing to my, rather unbridled emotional state. A-as well as being... reassuring.”
She remembers each time his arm came around her shoulders during the projection of the Trillius beach. The Andorian is taller than she is, so the gesture seemed very casual, all he had to do was reach over. His touch was warm, or was it just that she became acutely aware of her own warmth when he touched her? Her memory is clouded by the perfumey and almost minty smell characteristic of most Andorians. The cobalt hemoglobin was almost impossible to sense unless you were very close, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“He mentioned his experiences during his last posting. He was witness to many deaths, deaths he had no way of preventing. We share that in common.”
The Vulcan tugs at her sleeves to ball the fabric in her fists.
“Though perhaps I am not.. the best of teachers, I would like to share with him my meditation practices. It may benefit us both a great deal. Perhaps even, a meld-”
She flushes green in her ears as the thought of sitting alone in a room with Kyr and sharing unfiltered thoughts telepathically rushes into her head. He’s also not wearing a shirt. That’s illogical, she mentally puts it back on.
“-would be..beneficial. In several ways. For us both, to clarify. I should.. suggest that to him. At a later date.”
T’Char ruffles her carpet of a robe, shaking it out as she readjusts in her chair to get more comfortable.
“On a more, unrelated note, the package my sister had sent from Vulcan is due to arrive this month. She has refused to describe the contents of said package, only that quote, ‘it will relieve my emotional duress to some degree.’ Perhaps she has sent the seeds I was forced to leave behind on Vulcan when I left for my posting on the Kent. It would be… pleasant to begin a new floral aeroponics laboratory here. I feel comfortable enough on the Boston for that, at least.”
Her computer blips slightly as she receives a notification. It’s a subspace letter from H’esti. Speak of the devil.
“My comfort has certainly been under constant redetermination as of late, in almost all aspects of my lifestyle. I am not sure precisely how comfortable I am here, as with most things there will always be a measure of uncertainty. But I can at least confirm that I am comfortable, for however long that will last.”
She taps her console to open the wall of text. There’s also a series of images of her enthusiastically smiling sister posing with her sha’amii herd. One of the mothers had a litter, and about seven of the six legged, four eyed, and goatlike mammals with long silky fur trot around aimlessly in the background as H’esti holds up one of them no bigger than her own hand. It forces T'Char to break a small grin before she continues.
“The crew of the Boston have been..welcoming to me. It is appreciated. While perhaps in many ways I am still an outsider to them, I am.. familiar to my surroundings. I will either acclimate and adapt to them, or them to me. It is only a matter of time before a median equilibrium is established. Computer, end personal log.”
The red dot flicks off on her console with a faint beep to confirm the request. T’Char uses a finger to scroll down the console screen to scan her sister's communique. Another series of images shows the beaming Vulcan holding several wiggling sha’amii in her arms, feeding them bowls of vegetables, and one of the desert at night. It’s the Sas-a-shar, the Forge, where the two of them practically grew up. It’s calming to look at, the blues of the sky against the milky way shadowed by dunes that stretch for vast kilometers. For the first time since the Academy, she actually feels homesick.
