Personal Log, Stardate 40960.17

Posted on 23 Aug 2020 @ 7:11am by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 23 Aug 2020 @ 7:23am

“Begin personal log.”

The machine twips in reply, confirming her request. T’Char eases herself into her chair and bites at the scab on her lip, breaking it for easily the 50th time today. She tosses a PADD onto her desk, and unzips the front of her service uniform to let it hang off her like a jacket.

“Stardate 40960.17. We have taken into custody not only the biomimetic gel warheads configured with the weaponized spore Pravum-Ataraxia, but the Starfleet Admiral responsible for their construction.”

She reconfigures her console screen to bring up a scan of the warheads. A reconfigured trilithium canister fitted with incendiary bolts wired to a matter/antimatter collision circuit. The biomimetic gel is stored inside the canister as a highly compressed aerosol substance, fitting on the interior casing of a photon torpedo. An efficient and logical design.

“The biomimetic warhead has been neutralized effectively, as long as the canisters remain closed. Using a high power, low frequency nadeon beam, I was successfully able to convert the gaseous substance to a semi-liquid, by increasing the internal pressure of the canisters. Even a detonation of the incendiary bolts on the canister would destroy the sample, rather than allow airborne infection...theoretically, that is. If a small sample were to escape- ”

The Vulcan scans her datasheet and compares the information to a reading her tricorder took on a different tab. Her brow exercises as she does the math in her head, and her expression shifts from worry, to confusion, and back to worry again.

“Sparing the conjecture, it would be… unfortunate. For now the warheads are safely stored in the cargo bay under observation. Likewise, the Admiral is stored in the brig. Also under observation.”

T’Char taps her screen to close out the information. She leans back in her chair and inhales to speak, but can’t think of anything to say. She exhales, and closes her mouth to bite her lip again. The copper taste in her mouth from the open scab is almost a comfort.

“I had the opportunity to destroy the sample entirely by detonating the warhead- there was a stasis field securing the materials onboard the freighter, it would not have killed the crew.”

Turning her chair slightly, she looks out the window. It’s too dark to see anything but stars, so there’s her reflection, like always. Just as quickly, she moves her head away in disgust, staring at the surface of her desk for lack of anywhere else to look.

“I considered activating the warheads when I had the opportunity, during the neutralization process. It would be safer if the substance did not exist. However, as it must be presented to Starfleet as evidence to support the indictment of the Admiral, such a decision would be...illogical.”

T’Char flicks her eyes back up to stare directly into her console screen.

“If I am to be honest, that was not the reason I wished to cause a detonation. Not the initial reason. That, was merely rationalization. I wished to detonate the spore because I was in direct proximity of exposure and subsequent infection.”

She pauses for a moment, her jaw tight. For once, her shoulders are relaxed.

“I would like to say that it was only a very brief moment where I considered purposefully detonating the canisters, but it was a thought that had occurred to me within moments of uncovering the crate in which they were stored. When I entered the stasis field I-”

The Vulcan jerks her body upright, shaking out her head. Both of her hands cover her face to press her index and middle finger against the corners of her eyes as she stands up from her chair. She doesn’t look where she’s stepping, so she stumbles backwards and almost falls over, but she makes it to the other side of the room. Her back is to her desk, and she drops her hands to her side in order to put them on her hips. It’s a long moment before she speaks again, her head still facing the floor.

“There was no consideration for the individuals in my close relations that may be harmed by my actions. There was no thought for how the Admiral might be convicted without any evidence to support the claims against him. I did not think of how- if the stasis field were to fail, others aboard the ship might be harmed. I had only the thought that it would be incredibly simple to make the explosion seem accidental, and to make my own death extremely painful.”

She turns to face the desk. Her face is emotionless.

“I had to remind myself that such an action would be illogical.”

T’Char crosses her arms and saunters angrily to her cot to take a seat. She gets to the mattress, instantly turns around to stride back to her desk, and gestures with one hand while she speaks again.

“There was a very keen similarity to the situation aboard the freighter, in comparison with the incident aboard the Kent. I was facing an extremely hazardous substance at nominal proximity, which coincidentally had the potential to erupt violently and cause great harm. Perhaps there was a subconscious urge to finish what was started, to take the place of those who were killed by my arrogance.”

She scoffs at her own language, dropping her arms to her sides.
“Clearly the lesson was not learned that day in regards to the situation of my arrogance. As if my life would be enough to replace theirs. As if I had any worth at all! That, that is the purest form of arrogance isn’t it Mother. You must finally be proud of me, down in whatever form of hell you’ve roped yourself into.”

T’Char speaks openly to the room, as if anyone could hear her. She lifts her arms up to her sides to present herself openly, like she was having an argument with her late parent.

“You must think I’ve finally become a true, pureblood Vulcan then! If I can make the assumption that my own life is worth at least two Human lives so fucking easily! We are the natural leaders of the Alpha Quadrant, isn’t that what you used to say? That we are ‘genetically superior’ to every other species? It’s funny how much you hated Romulans, considering how much you fucking acted like one!!”

The Vulcan spins around and collapses on top of her bed, still talking to the open. Her voice is marred with venom, and anger, and a deep sense of hurt. She’s getting hoarse, as a small lump forms in her throat to obstruct her vocal chords.

“No A’ulu, we are worth so much less than all of them. There is astonishing beauty in this universe that I do not have the right to even bear witness to, and yet I serve with it each day as if I were an equal. We are a small and meaningless race of stiff, un-adaptable corpses that will-" She snaps her fingers for emphasis.
"-snuff out, like a used candle, while they move on set the entire galaxy alight for eons as if they were the cores of a trillion stars.”

Huffing, T’Char falls onto her back to stare up at the window.

“Look, you’re not even here to mention that I’ve started being dramatic again, you love to point that out. It means you’re winning the debate, when I pull out the meaningless existential drivel. You’re dead and you’ve already beat me at another fucking argument by staying less emotional than me.”

She laughs, harshly and loudly. There’s no joy behind it, and it’s extremely forced, using the same breath she might utilize sob openly.

“And I, least of all, can be counted as having caliber! You said it yourself, ‘I will never be your daughter?’ I wouldn’t let you live vicariously through me, and that was my only true purpose wasn’t it? If I had one task from inception that you determined I failed at, then truly I have no value! A machine that cannot fulfill its purpose has no purpose and must be disposed of. That’s fucking logical isn’t it?”

She sits up, causing a sharp pain to her midriff. It seems to make her chuckle again, like the stabbing ache is somehow funny. Which of course, only agitates the bruises on her chest as her muscles contract and compress with her stuttering breath.

“But I- hnf, cannot bring Alice back. I cannot bring back Hathaway. My death would not solve or make up for theirs. It would be illogical, no delusional, to think it could. The act would be meaningless. And even that is less than I deserve.”

She stands up with some effort, biting her tongue to keep from crying out as she again stretches her already exhausted body. Striding to her desk, she uses it as a crutch while she lifts one hand to access her console. Her voice lacks any energy, she spent it all on her unhinged rant.

“I will remain under isolation until deemed appropriate by the Captain or Commander Raj. I am not certain what parameters apply to the order ‘until the mission is complete,’ but I assume it is in reference to when the Romulan Centurion leaves the ship. In any case, I do not wish to make any more assumptions, so I will wait for a direct command to resume my normal duties.”

Her gaze moves back up to her reflection in the window. The Vulcan is hunched over, with dark circles under her eyes. Her face is sallow and yet pockmarked with imperfection, and her skin is mottled like a reptile. It’s almost like she’s not looking at herself anymore, there’s nothing in her own eyes she can recognize. She doesn’t trust the person she’s looking at, and for a moment she recoils at the visage.

“Vaik vuhnaya svi' vaik terish, yeht? Nash-veh.. panah-tor kuv nash-veh vinan-tor svi' ik. Nash-veh bolaya tor yuk.. End of log.”

She taps the screen, even though the computer replies to her vocal command with a small omnipresent beep. T’Char doesn’t budge from her desk once the lamp is off, only turning to face the window again. Without the light, her reflection is missing.