BBS Archive of Personal Logs

Churas

Honor, Duty, Strength (Part Two)

Fri Apr 25

"Balduk was both more and less than I expected. My method -- a brief flirtation with one of the honorless dogs of the House that is no more -- netted us information, even if it did result in a brief flare-up of jealousy from Nathan." She snorts before taking a swallow and her baghol. A bit which dips down the front of her shirt is wiped into the fabric with an absent hand as she continues. "I drove my point home when it came up, however, and the matter was settled. That he doubted me after all that had passed between us is a point that I must admit rankles me still in idle moments. On a similar note, however, I must admit, it was somehow deeply gratifying to once again be in a section of the galaxy where I am, in fact, exceedingly desirable. Here, I know, I am viewed as an oddity, a novelty, a quirky cultural display. The denizens of the Federation display overwhelmingly time and again their subtle racism by the way in which they note the pursuit of me as 'amusing,' the way they laugh and shake their heads at Nathan when they do not think that I can see. If they would insult me openly, I would /answer/ them openly. But they are not honest enough to even admit their own biases. If they want their women to be tough, all the same, they should continue to /look/ delicate. A creature such as myself, in this place... I am appaling to most, rather than appealing. I think that most of them think I am not aware of this."

She rolls her shoulders. "I am. I am aware of the subtle veins of speciesism that run through a large portion of these erstwhile noble examples of inclusiveness. I am aware. So it was good to be there, despite being in the company of so many who were honorless, or, more sadly, puppets of the honorless, and even so, even so -- there, women like me /are/ the standard of desirability. Here in the Federation, I am an oddity. There, I was openly eyed, admired by males as I put on my display for the benefit of those from whom I wanted information, and... " she leans in to the recorder, growling her next few words as her swarthy face fills the screen, "I. Loved. Every. Minute. Of. It."

Laughing aloud, a raucous sound, the female sits back again, shaking her head. "I would prefer an hour with my Nathan to a thousand hours of such attention, but I would not for a moment do otherwise than to admit that this was... good. For me. It lifted my spirits, it gave me a palpable reminder that the standard of beauty on s419 is not that of the entire galaxy, nor, indeed, the entire Quadrant." Another swallow of baghol, and she sets the mug down on the desktop again. "We took our information, the Lieutenants and I. We progressed into the disgraced Manor House. We recorded their meeting -- I should say, the late Lieutenant Sulkat did that, though Nathan soon had a copy on his tricorder -- and we were to leave, when we were attacked by Nausicaan Devil Dogs. It was then that everything solidified. All of it. All of it came together. The words, the Dogs, all of it, and I saw for the first time how very deep their plans had run, and how many Klingons would be destroyed by the rooting out of this cancer."

Churas

Honor, Duty, Strength (Part Three)

Fri Apr 25

"That still does bother me, I must admit. Some who will be purged, like Gomk'Qa would have been, no doubt believed they were acting with full Honor! They have been deceived by those who are truly without Honor, and so they have been lead down the paths where the p'taQ have lead them. /I/ would not have believed my words, if I heard them out of nowhere. But the sins of the fathers are to be born by sons and daughters to the seventh generation." Churas stops there, for a while, and stares into her baghol. "It is now that I am thankful for the good fortune of my birth."

"The Lieutenant Sulkat. He died. Sacrificed himself. Surely he drinks with my mother tonight. Surely if there is any justice in the halls of Sto-Vo-Kor -- and there is -- his sacrifice for the Empire earned him a place at my House's table. His release message... even /it/ was worthy of a Klingon. 'I do not have to tell you not to mourn me.' Of course not. Sulkat, I celebrate you! You were loyal to your teammate, the Lieutenant Rivers. It showed in your face the only time I chanced to speak with you one-on-one. You died as well as any could. And I will sing your name for years to come."

"And Londas. Ah. Londas. So typical of a male. He willfully misheard me. As if defeating me /once/ in combat were all it took to claim me as a mate. Ha. Were that so, I should not be nearly such a frustrated creature." Another one of her throaty chuckles follows this. "I hope that he finds a place in the service of Martok, however. We would have been lost without him -- as without my father's voice authorization codes. Sometimes it is very useful to tell the computer systems you are a Fleet Captain! And, ha, he applauded me for this."

"As, in truth, my father lauds me for many things, now, and all of them deserved, all of them rightly so. When I came here, my father and I... I would use the word estranged, but that is not entirely accurate. The sting of the words I flung at him before the battle of Bak'TUR was still fresh, despite the months that had passed, and though I have not yet repaid my debt of Honor to him, I have made him proud in /all/ things. In my life, this is all I have asked for. And why should he not be? Just barely eighteen, blooded, proven, decorated by the Supreme Chancellor himself, and having chosen a mate -- for despite the fact that we linger in courtship for propriety's sake, I /have/ chosen -- that will serve to solidify the alliances between Martok's leadership and the Federation, never mind being the true desire of my own heart? We have married between our own Houses to solidify power for Millenia. What better way now to show the depth of our commitment to this Alliance than for the daughter of one of Martok's dear friends to marry a Starfleet Officer? It is the same, I think, as an interHouse marriage." She nods her head slightly, pleased with this logic indeed. "He is proud, and my mother is proud, and well they should be. And prouder still I will make them!" The metal mug is slammed down on the desk, steaming liquid splashing up and over one hand, she seems barely to notice.

Churas

Honor, Duty, Strength (Part Four)

Fri Apr 25

"Soon, I will take my new sister to meet with Jiasha and her daughter. They will come to have dinner in my quarters, and dine with my father, and Nathan, and I. Jiasha, who chooses her mate sensibly but not for love. Jiasha, who worried over me, and is proud of me. It is good to have a true friend here, one of my own age. I feel true affection for her. I merely wish that she knew her own heart as I know mine. That is all that I could wish for her, for it seems the one thing she does not have." Churas broods on this for a moment, before tangenting back to her previous topic.

"I knew that my father favored Nathan, and I knew of his pride in me, but I could not have predicted the words he would speak in Martok's hall, in the presence of so many Imperial Warriors! That he would /die/ beside him. That /he/ stands as an example of /why/ the Alliance /must be preserved!" One of her meaty fists slams down in the liquid previously spilled, and even as she continues, she's again absently wiping it off on her shirt. "And then Martok's words, spoken quietly to me. That hiding my love for the human did not suit me. That he thought my mother would approve of him, surely. What greater endorsement could a female ask? Kahless Himself, perhaps, but no more! Her father and the Supreme Chancellor, both in one night, speaking such praise, and drinking with him!"

Churas pauses, then, and her expression grows softer. "My father... I have not seen him so happy as he was that night in years. It is as if my mother were still alive. To see him sing of her, to laugh as he once did when she walked the passageways of the Ghogh... I know he will never be truly happy until he embraces her in Sto-Vo-Kor. But to see him so, and to see him in the company of his old friend, and to see him so in the company of the male I would take to myself... it is a memory I will hold close until the three of us are reunited. It is a memory that will keep my heart warm if I grow old."

"And now... and now my father speaks of duties left to me, that he himself will not fulfill. He speaks of placing me at the head of the House, for his living brother is no Cho'daQ, and he himself can no longer lead. It may take two years, he says, perhaps more, but it can be done, if I wish it." She pauses, and shakes her head. "Then he asks if I know how much more difficult Nathan will make such things. Of course I do. And my answer to him is the same as it ever has been, and as it ever will be: I deserve what I can earn. And I /will/ have my Duty, my Honor, my Strength, /and/ the desire of my heart, or I do not /deserve/ to have these things. I will have the leadership of my House /regardless/ of my mate, or I do not deserve it. Males are not judged so harshly by such things, and if I should achieve as they do without having the benefit of being born with the installed 'weaponry' that seems to provide them with so much privledge, then am I not all the /more/ worthy? All the /more/ fit?"

"Indeed, I am, and I /will/ have my House, and I /will/ rebuild its Fleet, and I /will/ serve the Empire and its Chancellor, and I will do this all with my love at my side, because I am the Daughter of Gr'laH, and even more, I am also the daughter of Gharas, and just like my parents, I will EARN EVERY SINGLE INCH, EVERY SHIP, EVERY HONOR I GAIN!"

"Q'PLA!"

Medes

Short but Sweet

Sat Apr 26

The UFP logo precedes this rare log with visual accompaniment from Thea, which opens to her almost literally dancing around the large quarters she shares with Kusto. "Personal looooooog! Stardate! 53169.6!" It's more like her bouncing off of the walls, really, as she's scurrying around the quarters, moving out of the range of the recorder often. What she's actually doing (cleaning?) remains to be determined. The motion is all that seems important at the moment. Then, at the end of that flurry of motion, she drops herself in front of the recorder, grinning.

"I really have the sweetest, most wonderful, most thoughtful husband in the entire galaxy," she pants. "He asks, 'Oh, Thea, I had an idea.' 'What's your idea?' 'Do you want to build a Bajoran Solar Sail with me? And sail it to Dulcais, in, like, seven months, for your birthday?'" The grin that splits her face threatens to literally do /just that./ "As if I would say NO? No, Kusto, I don't want to BUILD SOMETHING with you. I don't want to, especially, BUILD A SPACESHIP with you. And most of all, it had better not be BAJORAN! Prophets knows I hate all that ridge-nosed business!"

Giddy tears, quickly knuckled away, slide out of her eyes as she goes on. "This is the best present I've gotten since a clock kit. Maybe even better. I'm so /incredibly/ in love with him. Things are going to get better, I can feel it. This is the corner. We're turning it."

"Computer, end log and save."

The UFP logo returns.

Dakin

Personal Log

Sat Apr 26

The UFP sigil cuts away to a shot of Dakin, looking very despondent. He's clad in 21st-century Earther attire, likely the clothing he wears to his nightclub holosim. His spiky hair is wildly unkempt.

"Personal log, 53170.2. Well, it's official. I've finally realized that there's no point in even *trying* to do my job anymore. Twice in as many months I've had the threat of diplomatic ire and intergalactic incidents thrown in my face, when all I wanted was B'val's killers caught and S'Terik in a cell. And what do I have to show for it? A bunch of pissy ambassadors, me being attritioned down to the second-lowest ranking officer on the senior staff... and Dana and Sulkat. Gone. Gone because some Klingon warden misunderstood Cristobal and panicked. S'Terik escaped because that insufferable Vulcan wasted so much time contesting the warrant that the Tal'Kaden could've beamed aboard, sat down for hasperat and coffee, discussed the Treaty of Algeron at excruciating length, and each one of their crew use the head before spiriting that traitor away.

"My department shouldn't have to bear this stain. I'm a Starfleet security officer, nowhere in that job description anywhere does it say 'professional scapegoat.'

"So... to the Fire Caves with them all. The next time someone gets dead on this station... or wherever else I go from here... it's 'find the bastard first, make the dealmakers and gatekeepers happy second.'

"I can't lie to myself anymore. I wanted to go punch something, find a pickpocket to roust... *something* to get this frustration out. I didn't deserve to not get promoted. My department doesn't deserve to look like the biggest bunch of ham-handed idiots this side of the Celestial Temple, because they're anything but. They're the finest officers I've ever served with, and they *deserve*better.*

"Dana and Sulkat deserve to live."

Dakin lets out a long sigh, then looks back towards the bedroom, where his wife and children sleep. "And my family should be safer than this. And from now on, Prophets bearing witness... they *will* be. They will *all* be.

"Computer, end log and save."

Sharei

What Goes Around...

Sun Apr 27

The UFP logo clears to show a weary Daxaanos Sharei, tossing his uniform jacket over the end of his chair. "Personal Log, Stardate 53169.3." He collapses into his chair, rubbing his face.

"I swear. This must be the Heavens' way of getting back at me for telling my mother off. Like the Japanese concept of 'karma'. What goes around, comes around. Ai va'shei. What a _nightmare_."

Dax heaves to his feet and leans up against the wall by the replicator. "Triple mocha espresso," he orders. He picks up the mug that shimmers into being, sipping from it. "It's not as if it were bad enough that the _President_ of the Federation should show up on station. No, he has to come visit _my_ infirmary. While _I'm_ on duty. And put _me_ on the spot!" He sighs, sitting heavily back down in his chair. "Me, a Starfleet officer for all of, what--two years? Almost three, now? Sacred Riix. Asking me what _I_ thought about the idea of giving civilian doctors warrant-officer training in Starfleet protocols and turning them loose on the station."

The Chief Nurse drains his mug, then tosses it over his shoulder, unerringly, into the reclaimator. "I mean, it's not like we couldn't use the help. Heavens know I could kill for a couple good, dependable nurses to help run the infirmary. I just don't see why he couldn't have asked Aaron or Loni about these kinds of things. _They'd_ have known what to tell him, without making a total idiot of themselves."

At that, the Betazoid lets out a soft sigh. "Loni. Rings. I don't know what we'll do without her. But then again, I can't say as I blame her." His gaze drifts out to the anomaly. "If I'd gone through what she had, I think I'd want to leave Starfleet, too."

Dax waxes quiet for a long moment. Then, he lets loose a sigh. He gets to his feet. "Computer, lights out. End log and save."

Takamura

Roller Coaster Ride

Sun Apr 27

The Starfleet emblem blinks out to show Takamura laying back on his couch dressed in his exercise gear. His eyes are closed as he begins to speak “Personal log. Lt. Jg Hiroshi Takamura. Stardate 53173.7.” A pause before he continues.

“The past two weeks have been a series of ups and downs. First, Jiasha tells me I'm going to be a father. Then I propose. The OER results come through and I get promoted. Then, Kusto tells me I need to talk to Jiasha about her feelings for me. I confront her and find out she doesn't love me. I break off the engagement. The UFP President comes aboard station and decorates me with the Federation Medal of Valor.” He sighs, rolling onto his side. Apparently, he's had enough time to deal with this, that he's managed to avoid the big emotional displays. It is all said matter of factly.

“And I'm still supposed to carry on like nothing is wrong. At least my friends are being supportive. Kusto, Thea and Dylan have all been wonderful. Heck, even Vedek Toralin has given me some helpful advice and wants to continue our religious discussions. I'm glad to know that some people on this station love me.” Hiroshi frowns. “Too bad it isn't the woman carrying my child.

“I've contacted Kishi to tell her the bad news and she told me everyone is already on the way. So, I'll have to deal with my family who's traveled three months for a wedding only to not have one. Well, at least I'll get to see them. Something I haven't done since Mom and Dad died. And maybe the Vedek will get to speak with the Shinto priest that was coming for the wedding. So, I guess their trip won't be entirely wasted. I just hope they see it that way.” He just shakes his head and raises his voice slightly.

“Computer, end log.” The screen goes black and the Starfleet emblem returns.

Havaris

Personal Log

Mon Apr 28

he UFP Emblem fades away, revealing Havaris on a bunk inside the Senior Officer's Quarters of the USS North Carolina. Not his own, either. He's perches up a bit, one arm behind his head on the pillow, one leg propped up on its foot on the bed. His free arm rests over his stomach, his other leg dangling over the bed's side. He defines 'akimbo' or perhaps 'catty-wumpus'. More to the point, he just sort of collapsed onto the thing.

"We should all be dead right now. According to every manual I've ever read, our chances were about one in ten-thousand. One in one-thousand at the best. A Steamrunner against a D'Deridex. Five Starfleet personnel against Eight Romulan professional combatants. With terrain advantage. With firepower advantage. With every advantage I could think of in the moment."

Havaris lifts his hand from his belly to scratch at his nose, returning it with a plop.

"I really don't remember much. Ghorev gave the order to advance, and we moved out of our cover by twos. I had Ghorev at my right. Because when the Romulans opened fire, I ran left. I remember that much. I got hit in the side. It kept me down for a bit. But I put fire into one of their positions on their flank. When Ghorev gave the word for Dovoro to start working with the enhancers, I got up to draw fire. Shoot and scoot, about sixty meters in all, around their left flank. They pulled back from their right to reinforce. But I think Dovoro, maybe Ghorev shot them as they came my way. I finished mine off from there and got down under cover. Took another shot in my shoulder."

"I couldn't see Thea or Isobel. They were pinned down in the middle. I kept seeing Kula and Akeen popping up, moving from cover to cover. Keeping the fire down. I tried to find the orb, I couldn't. I drug the body of a Romulan into my cover, tried causing feedback on their com system. I couldn't. The Prophets didn't want me to innovate. They didn't want me to hide. They didn't want me to use my rifle, either. It all... it all just sort of came together."

"I heard my wife's voice telling me she had cover fire from the Levy. That she'd clear the corners. And I heard Isobel tell me where to find the Orb. And I heard Ghorev order everyone to cover me. It was, in a moment, really... it was clear to me. What I had to do. I wasn't scared. And I didn't feel courage. And I still don't feel like a hero. At all. I couldn't have been where I was, for as long as I was, without the team's coverfire and spotting. I was just... I was just the vessel, I suppose."

"I was up and running with my rifle in my left hand, held by its tophandle. The Romulan that had been giving me fire shouted a warning, and I was nearly killed right then and there. But the Levy's batteries opened up and blasted the corners away. Ghorev and Dovoro painted the two nearest me as I ran past them and plucked up the Orb case. And I just kept running. I kept running until I stopped hearing the sound of fire, until the streaks stopped lancing around me. And then I dove between Isobel and Thea and... stayed there."

"Isobel and Thea may not be the best shots in the Galaxy, but they saved my life. Their spotting, their technical skills, their innovations. We'd be dead without them. Dovoro's aim and movements of support, Ghorev's tactics and drawing of fire..." Havaris motions upwards with his hand. "Poole and Darax on the North Carolina? I am surrounded by so many excellent officers, so many brilliant minds, so many who know their limits and exceed them constantly. I want to be one of them someday, before I retire. Maybe I am and I don't know it."

"I just don't feel any different now than I did before. It was clear to me what I had to do, and I did it. I wonder how Akeen feels today? Isobel? I wonder if they know how close it was? I wonder if they know how in awe of them all I am right now?"

"I kind of wonder if they're in awe of me."

With that last thought offered, Havaris dims the lights and rolls onto his side before calling for an end to the log.

Poole

Personal Log

Mon Apr 28

As the UFP Emblem blips away, Poole is revealed laying on her own bed on the Station. Tonight is Havaris sheets night, as the whole bedset that he made for Gwen and Nevaren's wedding covers the bed and pillows. Gwen herself is wearing a satisfied smile and the platinum-white silk boxers and top that Nevaren gave her as a Christmas present. She's just sort of laying there lazily, legs drawn up and arm across her belly with her other arm cast behind her head along with her still lengthening blonde hair. On one slim ankle is a silver band engraved with glyphic bajoran writing, and in the hand of the arm thats cast out behind her head, the watch Medes gave her.
It's a few quiet seconds before she speaks, but one can guess from the pursing of lips that she is doing, that she is thinking intensely, as she is prone to doing in between long bouts of striding ahead without thinking. "The President promoted me. Even after what I said to him. Even after I angered him... He really is the sort of man I'd want in that office."
"Just came back from a mission to bring back the Bajoran Orb of Destiny. An appropriate name, given the circumstances under which we had to rescue it. Fifteen hundred Romulan innocents lost. Unable to save them. The loss of a D'Deridex to the Romulan Empire... if they're anything like the production cycle a Galaxy class goes through... there can't be that many. It's a shame really." Of course, she doesn't /say/ it like it's really a shame.
"We're the miracle team really... Havaris, Medes, and Alarcon. Unstoppable. And now Ghorev, too. And even Darax. I'm very proud to serve with them. I'm honored... truly. They mean more to me than my biological family does any more. They are closer... they care. I care about them. I'd die if I lost one of them."
"And that's really what went through my mind the other night... on the bridge of the North Carolina. She was such a beautiful ship too. Steamrunner... so beautiful." It's at this point that the prescription drugs are noticeable on the nightstand not too far away. "Another D'Deridex showed up. Shields up. Weapons charged. Torpedos locked. Didn't answer hails. Moving at full impulse. ... I couldn't leave the planet. I couldn't abandon my family down there. So my back was against the wall... and then, as clear as day, I remembered the manuever. The one me and my sister Beryl originated. Her at the helm and myself at tactical. On the Venture. ... but Venture was a galaxy class.... how could a frigate hope to take on a full-blown capital ship. Basically a mobile weapons platform with a cloaking device."
"Didn't think on it long... just steamed right ahead. Their target locking programs couldn't keep up with the Carolina, she was AMAZING. And then we hooked around," arm motion here, "And WHAASMACK!" she hits the headboard of the bed solidly with her fist, "Quantum torpedos on the same spot... phasers on the same spot... pokity, pokity, whoops, main power is gone, Captain Romulan. What are you going to do now, huh? Little bitty defenseless Starfleet ship ripped out your god-damned heart and showed it to you. And you ran. Like the scared people you are. RAN. SCARED. I feel proud to have done that without killing anyone aboard. They came in with their CLUB, and I disable them with a keen saber. My great-great-great-great grandmother would be proud, I think. To know that the Romulans are once again impotent, shadows that use smoke and mirrors to deceive and corrupt... Woe be to any Romulan that stands against /me/ or my /family/."
Brown eyes glitter at the camera in a moment of lucid seriousness before she yawns and sticks out her tongue. Closing her eyes she turns over, forgetting about the camera, which autoshuts off after inactivity.

Haven

Letter to Vulcan

Tue Apr 29

The Federation symbol fades though the screen remains dark.

"Tull's gone" comes the hoarse whisper in the dark. "I don't care how they dress it up or what twist they want to put on it, he's gone, they took him, and he helped. I want nothing but for Tull to be happy.. to heal.. to grow. That's what is important but you know, somewhere in there, it's still a slap to the face. A cold malicious slap whose mark I'll bear a lifetime. They can't ever take it back. Can't ever make it right. This is Starfleet; it's not child's play. You -expect- to get shot. You -expect- to get hurt but you -expect- it to come from an outside source. You're prepared for that or you turn in your pips. But what you don't expect, and what I can't stomach, is the blade that's slipped between your shoulder blades by those you serve, by those that are supposed to protect you as you protect them. Whose orders you're supposed to follow faithfully." There is a snorting sound followed by ice clinking in a glass. "No more" comes the voice again. "Where once I blindly followed as I was taught, I will no more."

"No more" the voice repeats, this time whispered. "So much of my life is fouled up now and I blame myself. I've lived with ghosts for so long they have become as much a part of me as my arm. It's time to let them go. It's time to stop running and face my demons. It's time to talk to people and make my peace with the knowledge that it will, more then likely, be too little, too late. It's time to stop pushing people out of my life and embrace who and what I am. I am a brilliant Doctor. I am a sub standard Starfleet officer. I am an emotional train wreck. I am afraid to let go off all the little hurts and worries that have kept me going.. kept me hating for so long. I am afraid to drop that shield around myself and let people inside. I am ..." there is a pause, followed by more ice clinking in a glass then a throat is cleared. "I am tired of not being good enough when I look at myself in the mirror."

"I have friends though their numbers are dwindling quickly. I'm scared you see. Scared that when I strip the layers away, I won't like what I see. Won't like whom I really am inside. It's time to stop lying to myself and face Who. I. Am." The voice then drops to a whisper again. "I only hope that I can live with who I am."

There is another pause, this one much longer then the last. "Zuh'raah'do has offered me a medical officers dream. Surgeon General. Hard to believe. Almost too good to be true so it begs the question: What's he up too? I want to trust him, I do.. but part of me, a big part of me, tells me to tread lightly. To be careful. Is the job worth all that I stand to lose? Is it worth my career, what there is of it? Is it worth losing those few friends I -do- have? I just don't know. The opinions of my friends vary greatly though most want me to remain where I am."

Loni's face finally comes into view as the lights come up to 30 percent. She looks tired, ragged, eyes blood shot. As if sleep were a word that has vanished from her vocabulary. "I've been burning the candle at both ends for far to long and it's finally catching up with me. I can't sleep. I barely eat. I pace around my empty quarters freaking out the cat." She goes quiet again, her face scrunching up. "Pyr.. I don't even know if I want to -be- a Doctor anymore." A sigh and a shake of her head, the admission a hard painful one "Hell, I don't know. Maybe I'm burned out. Maybe I need a break. Maybe I need a new job. But maybe, I just need to get my head on straight and quite -playing- at being a Starfleet officer or get out. I wish I have some measure of faith in the new Vedrek, that I could go and talk with him, get some of this off my chest. I just.. I don't need another one telling me to 'go away since I'm not -really- a Bajoran'. I don't think I could handle that right now. Maybe just a visit to the temple. To see the Orb. I'm so very tired, Pyr..... So tired." She finally rests her chest on her folded arms and with time, the recording times out and ends.

Meridian

A New Posting

Tue Apr 29

The UFP logo fades to show the image of Ambassador Jonathan Meridian, reclining slightly in a chair, obviously in his quarters. He looks slightly tired, and his gaze is set somewhere off to the right of the screen.

He sighs. "Alright, my first personal log since arriving here on Station 419U.... where to start... Maybe the positive stuff..." He nods to himself before continuting, "I seem to be blessed with a fairly solid Legate here, her record is impeccable and she is definitely not sore on the eyes to look at. I've received one negative comment about her, but that is of course only one's opinion, and I wont take it for granted...Yesterday's Kochek tournament was quite interesting, a game I've never quite watched but heard much about during discussions with Andorians over my career. A little too violent for my tastes, but such is their culture, I suppose....Ambassador Avok and I seem to get along fine, had a little chat with him the other day... we should make some good headway there, I should think. The Romulan Ambassador is... well, typically Romulan, but I suppose I can't really hold that against him... or can I?" This last part is saide with a large smile.

What is frustrating is not the fact that I have not even received proper quarters, or the fact that I was met by an /ensign/ upon arrival, rather than at least a delegate of the commanding officer, but yet that he hasn't even bothered to show his face to me. I have already seen the President in my short time here, and he isn't even posted to this station!" He shakes his head. "I've received several complaints from both Ambassadors and my staff alike that the local Starfleet personnel are woefully behind and lacking in any sort of diplomatic protocol training. Even when I raised my displeasure in a recent report regarding its failure to record any discussions with the FDS team, I was met with heavy arrogance and perhaps even ignorace by Commander Ghorev, the XO of this station." He looks severely annoyed now. "I really don't want to bring this up to Starfleet Command, I know several Admirals there that are quite sympathetic to the FDS.... but I really prefer to handle things at the local level. But they are sorely mistaken if they think I wont take this high up. I'm not going to let Intergalactic Diplomacy fail because Starfleet wants to impose its views without consideration for the /elected/ government's positions." Another sigh.

As for all this business with the Nausicaans... well, I really have to do some research on them. I do not like the report I read about them killing off political opposition. They just don't seem to get what the Federation's value system is all about. And outright /demanding/ things regarding Irdosia, a system that has never belonged to them, is well, outrageous..... But of course I can't say that, at least not in those words...." He shakes his head and pauses for several seconds before continuing, "This place is going to be much more difficult than Qo'Nos. At least there our mission was respected, and we had the ear of the Klingon Empire... here.. there is just so much bickering!" A light smile appears. "But I suppose thats the adventure of it, Jon, the reason you signed up."

He lets out one long breath before terminating the log. "Computer, end log and save."

Churas

Letter

Tue Apr 29

The Klingon Empire's trefoil emblem precedes this recording, which opens with Churas sitting before the recorder, wearing her full armor, the baldric with her House's insignia, and her medal. She clears her throat once, then begins.

"John Lillkat, London, Terra. Q'pla. I am Churas, daughter of Gr'laH. I greet you."

This portion completed, she pauses for a moment before beginning, "I find it rather difficult to begin this message, due to the different way in which our cultures view death. I shall begin without fanfare, then: I was present when your son was killed. We were part of the same Task Force, and I, along with several other individuals from that Task Force, owe our lives at least in part to his actions. He was a valiant Warrior and an indispensable part of that Task Force. That is why this message is accompanied by the Klingon Imperial Star. It is my duty to pass this along to you, one that I accepted when these medals were presented to the Task Force by Supreme Chancellor Martok himself. It is my hope that you feel the same pride in your son that I did in serving with him, and that you accept this decoration in the same spirit it was presented by the Supreme Chancellor -- in honor of a sacrifice we regard as worthy of great celebration and song. Your son is a Hero of the Empire, and I will sing his deeds until the end of my days."

"Q'pla."

The Empire's emblem replaces the image of the female's face before the message cuts off entirely.

Idrani

Personal Log Entry

Wed Apr 30

Personal Log: Stardate 53180.1. Lieutenant Jaylas Idrani, Diplomatic Attache, S419-U

It's been a busy couple of weeks. I got promoted /and/ commended by President Kor, in a formal banquet. The First Contact team also got the Praenteres ribbon, for a successful mission. I was surprised by my promotion... to say the very least... and I managed not to trip over my words when I accepted it.
"We have a new Federation Ambassador. A highly experienced Terran, which is good. He is also playing hardball, which is also good. However, he has quickly set up an adversarial relationship with Starfleet, which is /not/ good. I'm also a little concerned that he seems to be setting limits on the scope of my job. These limits are affecting parts of my job that I am able to operate, under Starfleet regulations and policies by the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps. Though I respect the man, I fully comprehend the boundaries by which I can operate. While I will not cross those boundaries, I will defend them. But moreover than that, this station is a strategic outpost first and an embassy second. If the secondary objective begins to interfere with the primary objective, the entire diplomatic segment will find themselves moved to Dulcais Prime. Frankly, I don't want to move. And I don't think anyone else does, either.
"The summit ended, presumably things went well, as the Alliance is still intact and nobody got killed. Always a good thing. I liked meeting President Kor. I still have hopes that his program of increasing the production of Sabers and Steamrunners goes through... mainly because I want one, someday. And, no duel was fought. At least not yet. But I also did not have the opportunity to speak to Ivalen Kor. I wanted to do that, before he left. The fact that he /didn't/ call me out gives me some hope that we can resolve this with no further bloodshed."
"The Kochek finals happened and Keth Ghorev won the trophy this year. There's talk about starting up our own team on the station. I would certainly look forward to playing, even though I'm not very good at it. Thalev gave me a T-shirt, bringing the total in my humourous shirt collection to two. Keth Claness Co-ed Naked Kochek. I'll keep it in my closet, right next to my Ambassador Lux shirt, from Kunra Prime.
"Now, hopefully, things will start to get back to normal. Whatever normal happens to be. I promised myself I'd take a vacation, so it's time to start looking at resorts on Fimdari or Dulcais Prime. Maybe Thalev will come with me."

"Computer, End log. Save and Encrypt."

Havaris

Voice Log

Wed Apr 30

The following log is audio-only, though it is clearly Havaris' voice, sounding as shaken as it has ever been.

"I used to have hope that we'd pull through. And I still do. Just less of it, now. I always said I would pull through. Even if I went out fighting, I'd go out how I wanted to go out. And that was pulling through, in my book. Was it literal?"

"It all seemed so vague. It all seemed so unreal. All of them, Lithians. All of them gone into my wife's nightmare. Hulking, not dead, stalking the station's corridors. All of them. Everyone I love or care for. Everyone."

"I was loading people onto the Thomas, Jiasha called for me, called my name. Like she had when they burned off her hand. She said Nua was on Deck 18. We were under fire. I wanted to find Tyler. None of the members of the RRT were there. None of them. Not Dylan, not Tera, not Hiroshi, not James. All of them. I knew where all of them were, but I wanted to find her. I wanted to make her pay. And if this comes to pass? I want to make /all/ of them pay."

"Thea was there, lying dead. She looked so peaceful. I took off my ring, I put it in her hand. I prayed for her. They rose up like the restless dead... and I kicked her in the face. Broke off her jaw. She was a Lithian underneath. They all were."

"They surrounded me. And I couldn't escape. I couldn't escape, so I shot myself in the head. Not even the overload of a Type I can take out a Lithian. And the Type I is too weak a weapon to even slow them down. All I could do was die. Like they couldn't. And I felt selfish. Guilty, that I was dead."

"Is that what's coming? Is that my future?"

"Are two years more really worth it, if it is?"

"Was anything?"

Cerene

A Message Home, Pt. I

Thu May 01

"Computer, begin recording." The computer acknowledges the command with a quiet tone.

Aliana sits on the couch in her quarters, a steaming mug of some dark drink in her hands and a smile on her lips. "Where to begin... where to begin."

"It's been a hell of a month. First I spent a couple of weeks cruising out to Klingon space, where I promptly got shot at by a rogue House trying to overthrow Chancellor Martok and seize control of the Empire. That's when I thanked the Fates for those two years of training at Starfleet Academy, because that's the only way I managed to get out of there with my skin intact. Well, that, and the sacrifices of Lieutenant Rivers and Lieutenant Sulkat. And the rather impressive skill of the fine warriors I had the privilege of traveling with. Lieutenant Nathan Cristobal. Churas, daughter of Gr'laH. Londas, son of Vlarok. Valiant men and women, all of them."

"We uncover solid evidence of the plot to overthrow Martok, and then as we escape, I, Second Legate Intern Aliana Cerene, not only manage to talk a Klingon HoD into abandoning the rebels of House Sta'TORuk, but also end up convincing him to protect us on our way back into safer space." The Betazoid woman chuckles softly. "And *that's* when I thank Commander Johnson for recommending that I change career plans and go into the Federation Diplomatic Service, and thank FDS for the four years of training they've given me, because it really saved our tails then."

Aliana pauses, and takes a sip from her mug before continuing, more solemnly than before. "His name was Gomk'Qa. HoD of the IKS Dol'Qoch. He and his crew gave their lives, as did Lieutenant Commander Rush and the crew of the USS Scimitar, so that we could complete our mission. Because of the protection they gave their lives to secure, we managed to warn Martok and his fleet just before they were ambushed, and because they were prepared for the attack, every single one of the traitors involved in the coup were destroyed. I hate the idea of ending life prematurely, and I hate the idea of doing it myself even more, so I don't exactly like knowing that I had a hand in the deaths of all those Klingons... but I'm finding it rather hard to feel all that sorry for them. I'm just glad I didn't have to pull the trigger myself."

Cerene

A Message Home, Pt. II

Thu May 01

"So we get back. Finally. Just in time for the big diplomatic summit, with President Kor and everything. And then Chancellor Martok contacts us. Tells us that he's awarding the three of us--Churas, Cristobal, and myself--the Klingon Imperial Star. Invites us onto his ship, presents us with the medals, and then throws us a big party. Now, it's been a while since I've been to a Klingon party, and I'd forgotten how much I enjoy them. Guess I'll have to spend more time with Churas and Cristobal and Gr'laH."

"Not that I'm complaining," Aliana adds with a warm smile. "I mean, I thought I appreciated them when they were shooting and slashing Klingons and saving my life, but I'm learning, more and more, that they're really great people, too. I've truly enjoyed the time I've gotten to spend with them here, back on 419, away from the killing and the dodging and the general rush to avoid getting cut down by a bat'leth or a blast of disruptor fire. I'll have to introduce all of them to you both someday soon."

"And *then*... you're never going to believe this. President Kor himself addresses me during the embassy reception, because apparently, the reports of our task force somehow made their way to his desk. And because of my contributions during that whole mess, he doesn't just declare my internship complete a month early, but he promotes me. So the next time I see you, you'll be greeting *Legate* Aliana Cerene," she beams proudly. "Which is basically the equivalent of, say, graduating a month early from Starfleet Academy, *and* being given the position of Honor Graduate and getting promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade straight out the gate. *And* he grants me the position of With Portfolio to the Klingon Empire! Which sorta means, like, in Starfleet terms? If the Ambassador is the commanding officer of the embassy here, I'm the department head of Klingon affairs. Kinda."

"Speaking of the Ambassador. We just got a new one recently. I imagine you've probably heard about S'Terik... well, his replacement arrived a couple of days ago, and I met him briefly during the Klingon press conference--did you see it? I'll append a copy of the recording, just in case you missed it. It was my first chance to speak at a big official press thing, and I want you both to see it. Anyway, he seems nice enough. Ambassador Meridian. He's spent a good deal of time on Qo'noS too, so we should have plenty to talk about."

Cerene

A Message Home, Pt. III

Thu May 01

"All in all, the past few weeks have been wonderful for my career, and I'm more convinced than ever that I made the right choice when I dropped out of the Academy to train with FDS. I mean, there are times when I see people in the uniform here on station, especially someone like Lieutenant Idrani who does diplomatic work *in* Starfleet, when I have second thoughts about my decision. But I've really had it confirmed recently, and I feel great about that."

"And in my not-so-professional life... well, that's been amazing too. Dylan and I *finally* managed to get enough time alone when I got back from Klingon space, and..." Her eyes twinkle brightly. "Well. Let's just say it was definitely worth the wait," she chuckles. "And that wait was... well, more than just a couple of months, too, if that gives you any idea of how wonderful it was."

"And just the other night, he finally told me that he loves me. I mean, I've known for quite some time already, but... he actually said it. After he sang for me. Fates, I love that man. I have some work to do on him yet, but I love him," she grins. "I met a couple of really nice women the other day, the woman who runs the holodecks and an engineer who's the wife of 419's operations manager. Neither one of them exactly get along well with him--or, rather, haven't gotten along well with him in the past. I'll whip him into shape, though," she winks. "He really is a wonderful man. Very professional, very devoted to his work... and to me."

"One more item for my Why I'm Glad I'm Betazoid list: I got to see the Dylan Golden nobody else got to see. And I got to fall in love with him before anyone else got the chance. Now I just have to coax it out for everyone else to see, so I can show him off and make everyone jealous," she laughs.

"I think that's everything. You know, I really should send you these a bit more frequently, so I don't have to tell you everything all at once. It'd probably cut down on the length, although I'm sure you don't mind listening to your little daughter go on and on about her life," she smiles. "Anyway, I've got to go get to work. I love you both very much, and I hope we can line up our schedules so I can see you soon. Or maybe you can stop by 419 sometime? You ought to be able to make that happen, Mother, right?" She grins. "And be sure to tell me how Lin-Lin and Larinda are doing, and tell them both that I hope they do well on their exams coming up. Especially Larinda. I remember my first year at the Academy, and I know I was feeling about this time of year, so give her an extra hug for me next time you see her."

"Miss you! Love you! Hope to hear from you soon! Stay safe."

"Computer, end recording. Append a copy of Sunday's press conference with the Klingons, and send to Captain Janria Cerene and Commander Naran Cerene aboard the USS Jefferson."

Idrani

After the Orb.

Fri May 02

Personal Log: Lt. Jaylas Idrani, 53185.2

"Against my better judgement, I visited the Bajoran Orb yesterday night and asked for independent confirmation. I got it. I was hoping for better news, something to prove that what Tyler had told me wasn't true. I didn't trust her... I still don't. But I have to reconcile the fact that my fate might be exactly what she said. It's not that I am afraid to die. I'm afraid not to.
"I seriously considered taking my life last night. It was the only way I could ensure that I wouldn't end up like they say: contaminated, assimiliated, trapped forever while some alien virus eats my soul. After I left the temple, I was more than ready to do it. A clean death by suicide is a far preferable fate than being assimilated by the Lithians.
"But, in the end, I came back to the lodge and put my hrisal back on the wall. I crawled into the furs beside Thalev and listened to the sound of his breathing and heartbeat. And finally, I slept.
"Maybe this future isn't set and maybe we can prevent it. Maybe I get assimilated, and later captured and stored in the transporter buffer of the Aegis, in order to give us data /now/. Even if there is nothing that can be done for me, I can... exist... secure with the fact that I gave the ultimate sacrifise for Starfleet and the Federation. Hopefully, if there is anything left of Jaylas Idrani in that /thing/, she understands that and is at peace.
"Between now and then, I have the choice to either shut down or make every moment of it count. How I live my life until that moment will be more of a testiment as to who I am, rather than how I die. Whatever gods are there to judge me, I want them to evaluate my worthiness as a person by those standards.
"So, am I frightened? I'm terrified. The idea of /that/ fate... I can't think of anything worse and it will take every inch of my willpower not to seek death under some other venue, between now and then. But that wouldn't be the Starfleet way. If this is my fate, and I cannot avoid it, I'll face it like a Starfleet officer and an Idrani."

Turtledove

Letter to Tyler

Fri May 02

The UFP insignia lights up the screen, then fades into Turtledove's quarters. Turtledove is standing nearby, dressed in her Starfleet uniform. Her attention is focused on the recorder.

"Personal correspondence to Lt. Gwendolyn Tyler, from Lt.Jg. Tera Turtledove, Stardate 53185.3."

Turtledove speaks quietly and precisely.

"This is meant to be a quick message, Wendy, something that I want to share with you, as it's been on my mind lately. I was recently reminded of a conversation in which we swapped Academy stories... how you were treated there, by your peers."

"I hope that you know just how far you've come."

"Other people seem to have little trouble exalting their accomplishments and the accomplishments of their peers. But... it occurred to me that you... and to some extent, Dylan, Hiroshi, Malloy, and James... don't get the same sort of cheerful appreciation. Our accomplishments seem to be met with thin praise at best, by some. This puzzles me."

"Who cheers for us, when we succeed? Who doesn't? And why?"

"I stand to the side, quietly watching and wondering how it is that people relate, why they put such entitlement into their words and for what purpose it serves, marveling at their curious displays of social power. Why do you blame yourself for not conforming to that?"

"I treasure you, as you are. You act out of kindness and necessity. Your courage is unselfish. You persevere, against the odds and against that part of yourself that pulls you back, urges you to recede when pressing situations arise and difficult choices must be made. Like few others, you act out of genuine regard for people and life and freedom, to do the right thing, for it's own sake. Not for a career. Not for your reputation."

"You are my dearest friend, and if I could serve with you until the end of my days I would. I wanted you to know this."

"I have to be going, it's time for Sulkat's wake. I'll look you up later? Possibly tomorrow or whenever you're free... maybe we can get in some time at the beach?" A smile emerges, accompanying the warmth and kind regard of Turtledove's quietly twinkling eyes.

The screen brightens as the UFP insignia comes into view representing, as it does, so many things, so many different things to so many different people.

Harris

An Encounter With Destiny

Sat May 03

"Per... personal Log, Star... Stardate 53187.5."

The visual feed shows a haunted Harris - eyes wide, skin extraordinarily pale - sitting in his quarters which are so brilliantly lit that the normal colors wash out. "What kind of godforsaken place have I found myself in?" he whispers at the screen, eyes darting around the room. "The prylar said that he wouldn't look into the orb. Not in this place. But I had to. I'm strong. I could take it. What could it show? An old man, doddering around in a future two centuries beyond his own? How terrible."

His eyes skitter around the quarters for a moment before looking back into the camera. "Pride goeth before the fall." He pauses for a moment, then shudders in his chair. "The fall. I saw the fall of the station. There were... bodies. Bodies everywhere." Another violent shiver. "And then... I was right in the thick of it. People screaming. Lieutenant Havaris was there. We had to get to security. They drug Meg past on the ground... without her legs. She was screaming."

He stands and starts to pace, nervously toying with an old-style communicator - flipping the antenna up and down as he wanders around the room. "An explosion tore Havaris apart. Right in front of me. His... his legs... kept moving without the rest of him. Then I was on the mall, and it was quiet... except for a crying child. There were... there were burned bodies everywhere, but they were covered with dust. I outlived everyone I knew. Everyone I care about was dead... again." He stops dead in his tracks. "I pushed them away. They died alone. They told me so. And then... I saw myself. Myself as a child. And he... it... he... turned into some kind of blue crystal... *THING*."

He sinks the floor, lowering his face into his hands. "What am I? What kind of a future is that?" comes the planative whisper, followed by sobs - sobs that continue until the recorder shuts itself off.

Gr'laH

A Dream

Sun May 04

"I dream of you. Are you watching me?"

"I have dedicated every victory to you, since you left me. I have spilled a river of blood for you. It can never be enough. Enough to carry you to my father and my mother. But not enough to carry you back again."

"Are you watching me? Do you see what they have left of me? We were strong, you and I, not three years ago. It feels like forever now. Every day has been a misery in your absence. Every day I struggle on. Every day, I dedicate that victory, to you."

"The stars are dimmer now, than I remember them. The blood is cool within me. The fleet we prized, it is gone away. The Ghogh is a pyre to Cho'daQ. It is fitting. My voice is empty, since you left it. Let its light fade, like the stars, like my vision. Like my strength. Let it all fade away."

"Our daughter will soon be wed. Soon, the son we never bore will be found in Churas' mate. And he will take her from me. As he must. He will conquer me. He will conquer her. Perhaps they will have a son. Perhaps he will have your eyes. I pray for this. I would see them again before the end."

"I dream of you, Gharas. In your nightgown. Humming opera in your chair."

"I listen for hours until the silence, and all is darkness."

Churas

Personal Log

Tue May 06

The Klingon Empire's emblem precedes the image of Churas, sitting at her desk in her quarters. A loose black tunic, its sleeves rolled back, clothes her form, and one hand is closed around a mug of baghol. "Personal Log, Churas, daughter of Gr'laH, Stardate 53195."

"I used to hate recording these things. I still am not entirely comfortable with them, despite the fact that I sometimes see their usefulness. However, I have come to think about them since I received Lieutenant Sulkat's release message. Since I met Iliara. I spoke with the Lieutenant once outside of official duties, and he left me behind a message when he preceded me in honorable death. If he could do so for me, could I conscience not doing likewise for those who will doubtless remain behind when I am gone?" The female pauses here to look offscreen at something, likely the viewport in her quarters, and take a swallow of baghol.

"Iliara is... a precious child. I thought for certain that I would be, despite my best intentions otherwise, jealous of her for a time. I was not proud of this, but I expected it. I have been my father's only daughter for nearly two decades now. To share that? And to share that with a child that is not the daughter of Gharas? I expected difficulty." Churas shakes her head slightly. "I did not expect to find myself sitting at a table with her, writing Klingon characters in crayon because I have not the creativity to draw. I did not expect to find myself reading to her. I did not expect to find myself trying to explain my mother's death and the death of her parents to her in terms that were both truthful and possible for her to understand."

"I did not expect to find her curled up against my armored chest and sleeping contentedly ten minutes later." There's a particularly determined expression that comes across her face at this. "I expected to find myself jealous and angry, despite the dishonor inherent in begrudging my father the obvious joy and comfort that Iliara's presence and her love brings to him. I have exceeded my expectations of myself, low as they were, but it is not even mostly my doing. She inspires in me loyalty, and I would willingly give my breath to keep her from harm. I have promised I will come and find her should she disappear again. I would turn out the pockets of the galaxy to do so. Every corner. Until my last breath." CHURAS PROTECT ILIARA FOREVER. Yes. It's /that/ kind of determination. "And so I have begun to record personal logs. For Nathan, for any children we might someday bear, and for her."

"I watched Nathan watching her sleep last night, while I was keeping her for my father. I saw on his face a rather different expression than I had expected. And perhaps I have grown more fond of him for that." Another pause, wherein she contemplates her baghol for a long time, as if she could divine her thoughts from the swirls of foam atop the steaming liquid. And perhaps she can, for she goes on after a time. "I did not think I could, but perhaps I have. And for that fondness... " The Klingon stops there.

"I know now why my father did not lay a hand on my mother, even upon her arm, for years. I know now why he spoke the way he did, why his disapproval was so strong to see even our innocent familiarity."

"Kahless help my cousin if he picks another fight with me before our wedding. I will take my frustration at Nathan and I's necessarily thwarted affections out upon his thick skull. Kahless help anyone who crosses me before that time. Truly, I fear what might happen if I lose my temper before then."

The recording continues in silence, with Churas's rather strained expression staring off into the distance. "I am glad that he is focusing his attentions on his career for now. He will be happy to obtain the position he seeks." She speaks of accomplishments in positives. Of course he will get what he wants, surely as she does. He will earn it, her expression says. "Still. I fear what the delay will do to my temper. I understand why my father counseled me as he did."

"Someday, I may even learn to listen to him before the fact on such matters, as I do in all else, rather than after, when I understand the effects, the whys, and the wherefores, and am regretting not heeding his advice in the first place."

No Q'pla this time, just a quiet, "Computer, end log and save."

Donavon

Personal Log

Tue May 06

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket," hums Donavon who is bent over collection of electronic odds and ends. Apparently she works at constructing some object while recording a personal log. Concentration is not broken; a woman is notable for multi-tasking.
"No blood, no broken bones at least. Shocked me that Pa and the clan didn't hitch the first starship out here. Guess Harris managed to show them enough spirit not to bend to their wills. Made me proud of him, standing against my Pa and brothers for their cruel accusations." She chuckles and continues thoughtfully, "Though all means to create a bridge were severed," she snaps two pieces apart, "once Mic decided to jump in with his usual mischief. Had to cut off that channel quickly." Mutters darkly are uttered, but out of affection. "Can't believe…no I stand corrected I should have expected Mic to ask that." Something along the lines of night and activities are barely recorded.
"Finally caught my star and I'm not letting go." Warmth and softness, odd for Meg is heard. "This Station has become a home for me. Already have I been given the opportunity to shine. As of now, I am the Armory Officer..with supervision by Tak until my training period is over. What that means is more paper pushing, but I don't mind. In fact, I look forward to doing my best and showing this Station what a Donavon can do. If we can grow potatoes using beat up land, then I can do this job. Just you wait, I'll leave my mark else I'm no Donavon." With that the transmission is shut off as the door to her quarters chimes.

Lao

Frustrations.

Tue May 06

The logo clears from the screen to reveal a very bleary-eyed Peter Lao. He leans down towards the viewer, squinting. "It's on," he says to himself. "Stardate...today. I...am drunk." He grins cheerily at the viewer.

"Lessee..." he slurs. "I have only a few things to report. Commander Ghorev is a jerk. A complete wanker." He stands up straighter, his body posture changing. "Mister Lao," he begins, in an eerily accurate imitation of Ghorev, "your ideas are tripe. Garbage. Absolutely childish silliness. Well, except for that one that I got already. That aside," he hiccups, "I want you to know that I'm here to support you. Agree with me enough times, and you might even get a promotion."

Lao chuckles to himself, and sits down in front of the viewer, pulling over a nearly empty bottle of sake, and a big mug. "Well, he can get beamed into the heart of a burning star, for all I care. Y'know, being a good engineer doesn't make you a good leader. Guy's got the social skills of a rock. I dunno why they don't just bite the bullet and make Nev the chief engineer. I mean, even if Ghorev had a clue, it'd still be too much work to do both jobs." He shrugs.

"So, here I sit, consigned to not doing anything innovative. I'm just gonna shut up and do my job. Bleh." He takes a swig of his sake. "Oh, and Kula's still a wicked girlfriend. Just thought you should know, Mr.Log. Oh, and Nev's a really nice guy for letting me vent at him. Sweet fella. And now...I'm gonna go pass out."

Another hiccup is heard just before the screen blanks out.

Poole

Personal Log

Wed May 07

As the UFP Emblem blips away, Poole is revealed walking throughout her bedroom She's stripping out of her duty uniform. Soon she's wearing little but her undewear and a smile.
"I haven't felt this lucid in weeks... really. Definately not lucid enough for a personal log. But I feel pretty good tonight, despite the issues on my plate at the moment."
"The Orb told me nothing more than that which I already knew. I will die alone. ... But, God willing, it won't be from the Lithians. With any luck, actually, it'll be of old age. The Prylar said it may be a vision of what would come to pass... if we fall to either side of the knife edge we're walking right now."
"I will not stress over this... I refuse to. It doesn't do me any good. Or my family. Or my friends. Or Starfleet. So, instead, I release my fear of it. I acknowledge it. Let it wash over me... and pass. I am -not- afraid. Not anymore. Not even of them."
"I am curious... I've been having these feelings... or rather, insights, that I hadn't had before about some people... I wish I could be sure, but, alas, it's not for me to know. Not now. Maybe later... and lately I've had all this patience. ... Gawd, it must be because I'm thirty... Anyways, I had another bout of the baby want last night after I fled from Thea and Havaris... I mean, if Thea can do it, maybe I can?"
"I've upped my fitness regimen... No sense going soft, really. The upcoming fight has me wanting to be at my best, even moreso since the vision. I have to be ready to do all that I possibly can. I'll volunteer for whichever programs they start up in the next two years... I'll do anything and everything I can to guarantee our success. And maybe, if things go well? Maybe I can have my own Steamrunner when all is said and done. Maybe, I'll even get to try my hand at exploration."
"I'll fight for that future." Poole settles down onto the bed and leans forward, chin perched thoughtfully in a palm. "Computer, end log."

Magret

Soon.

Thu May 08

The CTC logo precedes another one of Magret's late-night logs, recorded with her sitting up in bed, Isole's head in her lap. Magret, of necessity, speaks quietly, petting her lover's hair with one hand as she does. "Personal log, Engineer First Class Magret Etena, Stardate 53198.4. I have not recorded a log in some time."

"I've had a lot to say. There's a lot that I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about Isole, I'm thinking about our eventual child. I'm thinking about one week. I'm thinking about... a lot. It's just that I had to wait until it all wanted to come out of my head."

"Start on the outside and work in. I've made a decision. I didn't realise I'd made this decision, but I have." The Centauran pauses, looks down at her sleeping partner, and pushes one of Isole's errant curls away from her cheek with a rather worshipful expression on her face. "We're here, now. /I'm/ /here/ /now./ This isn't some halfway place before we go somewhere else. I'm not just stopping here until I can convince Isole to come back to the Hernes. This isn't a joke. This is for real. And how I know that?"

"Because I've made the conscious decision to make a friend. By myself. I've made a friend that wasn't Isole's friend first. /I/ started the conversation. I went to go visit with him." A brief flicker of a smile slides across her pale face, lit only by the flickering of the multiple displays around their bed. "He's an Other. Like me. We're the Wrong Kind of Different. The Federation President presumed I was a Federation citizen, rather than an independent trader. I guess it's not a wrong assumption to make, but I get tired of it. Rivets, but it's good to have someone else to sit around and slag on Starfleet with. I really must write that play we were talking about. It'll be awful, I don't know how to write a play to save my life. But it'll amuse us."

A brief pause ensues. "He really seems lonely. I can't imagine being that far away from Isole and our baby as he is from his wife and kids. I respect that he can do that. But I... I don't pity him, that's the wrong word. I empathize with him, and I can see how lonely he is. Now that I've learned a little to read his face? It shows, plainly. He speaks with such fondness of his daughter."

"It's good to feel as though I am becoming his friend. I like to talk to him. And knowing this, I know that I have made the decision to act and to stay. It's more profound than I can express."

"Isole's started making sketches of her belly and her feet. It's... really adorable. Once things kick in, once she's pregnant, that will change. But for now, it's a documentary that she's started. Something to look back on. Something to save. It's so surreall, to wake up and roll over, put my hand on her belly and realize it's not empty."

She quotes, then: "Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
... They said you are immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.

Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the soul of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does not contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.

Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace owns these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
"It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to the harvest.
A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.""

The Centauran nods her head, once, then, pleased with this quotation, and moves on from it without explanation or footnotation. "Only a few more days before her activity restrictions are lifted, and then?"

"Then I think I'll lock us into Holodeck Two for a couple of days. We'll catch up on our work later."

"Computer, end log and save."

The CTC's logo returns, a stylized freighter forever in progress across a field of stars.

Cristobal

Letters

Fri May 09

In Cristobal's quarters, Cristobal walks over to a replicator. "Computer..." he pauses and says, "Belay." Instead, he retrieves a metallic bottle with Klingon script and cracks it open. He takes a swig straight from the bottle and flops down in a chair, joy and fatigue both highly evident on his face. He takes another gulp of bloodwine, wincing as he does, and sets the bottle aside. Turning the terminal to face him he begins to speak:

"Computer, record letter to Supreme Chancellor Martok, Qo'nos. Chancellor, I hope this message finds you in continuing good spirit. I must apologize. I thought, at the time, that your performance in the impromptu headbutting contest aboard the Negh'Var was sub-par. Having experienced my own head bouncing off Gr'laH's, I have a new respect for how long you did last, as well as a new hatred for whatever son of a Romulan replaced Gr'laH's bones with duranium."

"Churas told me of what you said, and I thank you immensely. In addition to the honor of your blessing itself, it has allowed us to indulge in a bit of small vengeance against some of the nosier, more annoying people who wish to comment on a relationship that does not involve them. As of yet, none of /them/ have received an approval from any heads of government. It tends to shut them up."

"Our plans continue on course. The only obstacle remaining is one task. I must step on Gr'laH's neck. A literal action, but I'm sure you see the symbolism. He requires me to take her from him by force. I will do so, I believe I understand that not to would be dishonorable. To satisfy my own preferences, and possibly those of Churas, I must also not kill him. Which makes stepping on his neck harder."

"To answer your likely questions, yes, I believe Churas will still be immensely attractive at age 30, but no, I don't believe it will take that long. When there is more to tell, I will tell you, in the event that I can beat Gr'laH to the comm station. Cristobal out."

"Computer, save and send." He takes another sip of bloodwine.

"Computer, record letter for Lieutenant Junior Grade Eliara Zian, Betazed. Elly, it's Nathan. I hope your time at home is turning out to be all that you wished it to. Things proceed aboard the station as normally."

He pauses, reaching over to take a sip from the bottle. He chuckles and holds the bottle up for the terminal. "Bloodwine," he says, "I seem to have acquired a taste for it somewhere." He sighs and says, "You assured me that when you said you didn't want me to wait for you, that you were being totally honest. I hope you meant that. If you didn't... then I am so sorry." Cristobal's head lowers a touch. "Save and send," he says. One more sip of bloodwine, followed by one more letter. "Computer, begin letter for Eduardo and Emiko Cristobal. Terra."

"Mom? Dad?" he begins, taking a breath before beginning, "I met someone..."

Poole

Poetry

Fri May 09

'To every thing there is a season,'
Everyone, but us.
We who dwell here have no season.
No time that is our own.
War.
Peace.
We're still fighting.
The Romulans sneak and slink,
Sew dissent, plot and betray.
They watch and wait,
For the right time to stab us in the back.
Ferengi greed and Nausicaan bloodlust,
Form a potent slithery serpentine blade… Poisoned.
They wish to jab it in between our ribs.
The Klingons, proud and noble,
Disgraced and humbled,
Their blades are still keen.
But, they bleed from a fatal wound,
lifeblood pouring onto the newly liberated soil.

A path ahead,
All dead.
Myself all alone,
Ghosts of living stone,
Walk the halls of my home.

My love,
Crushed.
My love,
Smashed.
Her child,
Given no chance to live.
My love,
Breathing his last. Sentenced to death.

Mercy pulls the trigger.
Mercy doesn't fire.
Mercy kills my love.
Mercy. Lord. Mercy.

Tired of sadness,
Desperate for a sunny sky,
Helplessness binds me,
Until I break my bonds.

No rest,
Til the deed is done.
Body, Mind, Soul, One. One Weapon.
Death will stalk the halls of the station.
The Scythe in my hands.
And my love shall not falter or fail.

My vengeance will be the Stone's Doom.

Tyler

A note on the coffee table

Sun May 11

A handwritten note on a blue-white piece of stationary, left on the coffee table in Quarters 310.

My dearest, sweetest Aaron,

Three hundred and sixty five down.

I can't describe to you the amount of feeling I have for you. I have never met anyone truly as wonderful as you are. I can't imagine a more supportive, loving home than I am in today. You make everything worthwhile, everything better; and you bring warm, gentle light to my dark universe. What it would be like without you, I am afraid to contemplate.

You are my strength, my guidance - and my love. You are the lighthouse that guides me home in the fog, the anchor that keeps me in place when the seas are stormy, and the sun on my face when skies clear. You are my happiness.

The last year has seen many changes. It's all happened so fast. Without you by my side, I do not know if I could have weathered all of the storms sent my way. If I am strong today, it's because you are there to support me, to guide me, to love me and to hold me when I am sad and upset. I wouldn't be where I am today without you, that is for sure. I cannot express to you how much I appreciate you for that. I am nothing without you.

A year ago, you gave me a moon rose, that blooms on our anniversary. That rose is now starting its blooming cycle. If you do not have the entire day off tomorrow, I'll be sending Dylan and Company to extricate you forcibly from your office.

Seven hundred and thirty to go.

I love you, Aaron. More than you will ever know or comprehend.

Your love always,
Wendy

Atlin

Letters

Sun May 11

TO: LTJG AMY BLACKWELL, STARBASE 123
FROM: ATLIN GHOREV, STATION 419-U
STARDATE: 53206.7

Dear Amy:

So. Here I am. I've taken the not-so-subtle kick in the pants Rasek gave me and the ultimatum Kotesh handed down to me -- I still don't understand them -- and I've tried to turn it into something, at least for a little while. If nothing more, I'll see my brother more often for a little bit. Commander Akeen Ghorev. Commander! I'm not surprised, of course, Ohlasa always did say that he could do any damn thing he put his mind to -- especially if it was Engineering, but that's just her thing, too -- but it was a little bit of a shock all the same, to have people talking about /Commander/ Ghorev, the /Executive Officer./ Last time I saw him, he was a Lieutenant and Chief Engineer -- which he still is, of course, but he's /also/ XO, seems a lot of work, but that's Akeen for you, he's built a forge too, and of course he must sleep at some point -- and now! Well.

Of course, it's not all good. His professional life is going well, but... well. I don't know, Amy. I worry about him. He's living outside the Lodge still, and I don't know quite what to make of him. The way he talks about his ex-lover, how tired he looks, how... /old/ ... I wanted to curl up next to him, but then he changed the subject in the next breath and the moment was over. There are minutes where he's as I've always known him to be, where he's the same Akeen I knew, and then moments where I don't know what to make of him at all. This place has changed him, and I worry that it's not even /mostly/ for the better.

I've managed to sit down and talk with him at least once, and for someone who's as busy Commandering as he is, that's good, for a day. We'll have more time, I've had to reassure him when he apologized for not having more time for me. It's not as if he expected me, or could clear his schedule even if he had. Commandering takes up a lot of time. I know this.

I'm helping Kotesh set up his store, and I may be staying on after to help him with it for a while. People keep asking me if we're involved, which is so funny, really. Jaylas Idrani -- Akeen's ex, who... I think she thinks I won't like her, but I don't really have an opinion, I'm not sure exactly what to make of her beyond 'my brother is still insane over her,' she's been nothing but diplomatic and kind thus far -- asked if he was my husband. It's kind of odd, really. No one at home ever asked that. I guess it's just because we showed up at around the same time, even though he was on Fimdari for a while before I showed. Anyway, he's brought me home from the Neutral Zone -- a bar on s419 -- the last two nights, made sure I got to bed all right. The /agranu/ from Fimdari is sweeter than I'm used to, so I tend to drink it faster, and then, well, I'm drunk. He's always been so very good to me, Amy, I'm lucky to have him as my best friend.

I've determined that I should probably just start introducing myself as 'Atlin Ghorev-and-yes-he's-my-brother' around here. I'm used to it, of course, but it's kind of funny. I had this odd man offer to buy me coffee to try to get on Akeen's good side. Not really a sound strategy, that, but, well, coffee is coffee, I guess. I've met some rather odd people all around so far, and I'm feeling a little homesick already. This is the furthest I've ever been away from Davis Starport, and the longest I'll stay there. I guess that was kind of the point, though. What this is supposed to accomplish, exactly, I'm not sure. I just hope it accomplishes /something./

I've got other letters to write. Take care of yourself, and write soon. I look forward to seeing your paper, please forward it when it's done? I've never read much about modern Ferengi theological beliefs, it'll be interesting to see how they compare to the medieval Terran idea of indulgences.

Love always,
Atlin

TO: RASEK GHOREV, OHLASA ENDILEV, NAAN GHOREV, DAVIS STARPORT, ANDOR
FROM: ATLIN GHOREV, STATION 419-U
STARDATE: 53206.7

Hello all:

I am safely arrived and am helping Kotesh set up his store. I've seen Akeen, he's doing rather well. He's been made Commander by President Kor within a week of being raised to Lt. Cmdr. and is now First Officer as well as Chief Engineer.

Love,
Atlin

Golden

Honor Your Enemy

Sun May 11

Main Entry: kar·ma
Pronunciation: 'kär-m& also 'k&r-
Function: noun
Etymology: Sanskrit karma fate, work
Date: 1827 C.E.
1 often capitalized : the force generated by a person's actions held in Hinduism and Buddhism to perpetuate transmigration and in its ethical consequences to determine the nature of the person's next existence

"Personal Log - I have not spoken with Aliana since Thursday night and I'm not sure what to say to here when I do. Randal, Ha'Nuq. To my shame I want to hurt Randal - not because he personally did anything to me personally but because his sympathizes with those who did, those who murdered my childhood, those who chose to abandon Federation citizenship and then turned around and stole from those who they chose to leave and killed those who had once been their brothers when they came to stop them from committing their crimes. So then, did Aliana go and fight Randal for me? Because I would not? Because I could not? Or did she go and fight Randal because she found his philosophy abhorrent? Or could she hear the things he was thinking about me. I want to believe that she fought him for herself, it is less egotistical; but then I fear she fought him for me, making his injury my fault and putting that stain on her soul my responsibility as well.

Then there is Ha'nuQ. What do I make of him? His uncle came looking for someone to beat him down and teach him humility; and instead he handed poor Hiroshi his head. Clearly this is a man who specializes in taking people apart with his hands, and blades - but then, why would we allow ourselves - why would I allow myself, to fight him on his cultural terms where his has every advantage and I have so many disadvantages? This is the 24th century, nearing the 25th - we try to settle our disputes with words, and when that fails with non-lethal blasts from energy weapons. I tried to make the point before I was to fight him that I am a solider, not a warrior. I wanted to clarify the differences between our approaches to warfare and battle and establish the seeds for the future for a discussion on this; but he claimed he didn't know what I was talking about. When I was finally forced to clarify with more directness, then he because deliberately contentious and pithy. "Oh, you I guess my people aren't good enough for you?" And this is what grates my nerves about Klingons: If you are a slavish Klingon fanboy then this is showing them proper respect. If you are proud of your own ways and non-embracive of the Klingon ways then are you less of "warrior". They call us weak. They call us soft. They call us lots of things, I've heard it continuously spew from their mouths since I got here. No, not Gr'lah specifically - though his strolls with the confidence of a man who feels he has the right and place to judge all those he meets; and considering his former position and rank he has earned this so I call it a symptom of position not specism Churas is being courted by a human; but she is making him crawl -no not making - requiring him to crawl through every single ritual of her culture; I have yet to see her demonstrate any interest in following human courting rituals, such as they are. Cristobal has to fight, has to beat his chest, has to prove himself. My thought is this - the man is a commissioned officer in Starfleet. That should be more than enough proof of worth for /anyone/ -- particularly the Klingons. It's not like the entrance examinations and requirements are a mystery to them - I would venture it is much easier to become a Klingon Warrior then become a member of Starfleet, and much easier to be become a Klingon officer than a Starfleet officer. Easier because their culture trains them for it, easier because their genetic lot makes them perfect for it, they are expected to be what nature and culture makes them to be. And this is easier than being in Starfleet, because Starfleet expects you to always strive to be more than what you are, push your limits exceed them and then push toward the new boundaries of your potential. It also expects you to fight and kill when necessary which is contrary the over all general culture we embrace in the Federations; it comes easier for species like the Andorians, and even the humans to our private shame, but for many member species this is a difficulty. A Klingon is lauded for his pride, a Starfleet officer is expected to maintain a level of humility. A Klingon gets to challenge any who insult them, a Starfleet officer must swallow insult and attempt to maintain peace.

So then, should I have let Ha'nuQ have his bluster - should I have let him speak of things without taking the measure to correct him where he was wrong? Should I simply focus on praising the Klingons for their efforts in the war, which I respect immensely, and turn a blind eye to what they did when there was no treaty? They were wrong when they attacked the Cardassians - they were wrong if you make them stick to their justifications. There is the thing - to the Klingons, if we don't trust their judgements do things their way then we are betraying the Alliance and are bad. Does it occur them that maybe we might be right? Does it occur them that despite our ways being different they are obviously very effective because we are still around? For every Klingon Glory real or imagined I am sure I could supply an equally glorious feat from the annals of the Federation or it's member world history - it's not that I think we are better than the Klingons, though their continuing practice of slavery concerns me. What does it matter? I said what I felt honestly and bluntly, the good and the bad and he withdrew from the fight he asked me to have with him saying something about making a promise not to hurt me.

And who would ask him for such a thing? Considering the way he follows my lover around, I am left with a pretty good idea. And if she asked him not to hurt me and then went and hurt Randal because I could not - what does that mean? Computer save log."

Golden

A Bright Shining Lie

Sun May 11

Main Entry: free will
Function: noun
Date: 13th century
1 : voluntary choice or decision <I do this of my own free will>
2 : freedom of humans to make choices that are not determined by prior causes or by divine intervention

"Personal log - I'm thinking about my relationship with Aliana, and the new complication introduced by the apparent romantic interest of Ha'nuQ. I am thinking about the exchange Alian had with Randal Thorn, she told him she was spoken for - quite spoken for, then she fractured his sternum. I am thinking about Ha'nuQ's words in response to my own - not the bit about the venom or the bit about promising not to hurt me but about how the Federation has treated him poorly since his arrival here.

Let me get my thoughts in order - Aliana Cerene, daughter of Career Starfleet officers; raised within the fold of Starfleet. She gained entrance into the Academy as a first year plebe the year I volunteered to focus my career into special operations; the year my editorial criticizing the terms of the Cardassian Peace Treaty got me invited to debate a pro-treaty proponent from the Vulcan Science Academy, where I was publicly crushed. I wonder if she remembers that, it sure generated a lot of good natured ribbing at the time from my friends in Red Squadron - particularly Bristol. Aliana was doing very well, but after declaring her Starfleet Major she opts instead to withdraw from the Academy and pursue a career with the FDS instead. Because of this background she's less a Betazoid by culture and more a Federationist; like myself. She likes people, she likes solving problems and she has the ability to follow the lead of others but also strike out in a leadership role herself. Her background and ergo connections both Starfleet and Civil make her imminently perfect for the old model of an officer's wife. She is delightful, athletic, brave and loyal - and more importantly she is honest about all these things as well as everything else - I can trust that if she every kept anything from me it would be due to her duty, or to protect me from something she thinks would only cause me pain. And she loves me -- which is dizzying and terrifying and inspiring and confusing. It is like a dream that I keep expecting to wake up from, even while the though of waking up from it puts fear in my stomach more sharp then the fear of going into battle and losing one my family there.What do I know about Ha'nuQ. He was in the IKDF, but has since left; I am not sure if he was an officer or just a warrior. He is supremely capable physically and seems amiably curious about Federation ways - still he curiosity is only so deep, if you scrape at it the typical Klingon superiority manifests - he says he promised not to hurt me; does he not even consider that I could hurt him or is it that he doesn't care if he's hurt? He is the nephew of Fleet Captain Gr'lah; who honestly seems to embrace us as allies if not true equals, and that is comparatively progress. Cousin of Churas who is being courted by Cristobal. I know that he finds Mocha too sweet, and apparently is making friends with Lt. Nevaren. Really, I don't know too much about him as a person - but knowing him as a Klingon what could I say. He has focused on Aliana - not just for her apparent charms of course, but no doubt her personality has caught him as neatly as it caught me - and she is a hero in the empire. A perfect wife with all things considered - she embraces and practices many of the Klingon ways; but can avoid direct challenge based on her profession and species. With her training and background she would be an excellent advisor behind the family throne on dealing with politics and negotiating favorable terms with any group. With her innate telepathic abilities she can better determine what a non-Klingon is truly up to, which would be of use to her husband. So all of that, and she is fierce, passionate, and even strong despite her pacifistic preference. And what would he bring her? Strength, morality I would assume, devotion and his own passion - and perhaps more importantly, he would put her first in all things where there was conflict because that too is the Klingon way when it comes to their mates. He would not keep secrets from her, he would not put his duty before her life I am sure because he would say his first duty was to his mate, and other Klingons would understand that.

Golden

A Bright Shining Lie (cont)

Sun May 11

So then there is me. What am I bringing to the relationship table? I cannot devote myself to her completely - I have the galaxy to save. I cannot devote myself to her completely - I have my team to take care of. I have responsibilities, I have other first duties, I have orders that force me to lie and dissemble, equivocate and practice subterfuge. Everyone's wives, everyone's husbands, everyone's parents and everyone's children - the future itself is resting on our heads. Philosophy won't matter - Romulan, Klingon, Federation - Dominion, Cardassian, Breen - there won't be a tomorrow if we don't stay on target today. My team said, "Go for it, remind yourself what we are fighting for." A noble sentiment but misguided; what this does is cause me pain. I miss the war, it was clean and the enemy clear and it was easy to say do it our way or we'll pull the trigger. The peace is hard, particularly because I was never allowed to truly enjoy it. It's an illusion, it's a Bright Shining Lie before the true darkness falls. When The Enemy comes - I cannot go and save a wife, even mine. I cannot go and save a child, even mine. I must fight, I must lead, and I must win or else everyone everywhere dies. Ifni I wish this was no so, Ifni I wonder why this was thrust upon me. I know I said I wanted to make a difference but is this too much? I tell my gentlemen and ladies that all will be well - that we will win - and that I must do because for us there is only the two options: Win and Live, Lose and die. So I must believe, so they can believe - they must believe so they can do. But then what does that leave me for her? I have to hide my deepest thoughts and feeling from her, she is not cleared to know. I keep waiting for an order to come down to direct me to stop dating a Telepath as it's a security risk. Even when I am conflicted about the senior staff and their …attitudes toward us I cannot discuss it with her because if she knows too much she will want to look into it, to protect me, to help me, and she cannot be told the real roots of their loathing.

So, even if I love her, what can I /really/ offer her? For the two years I can offer her the Bright Shining Lie that is me, an illusion carefully crafted - but she deserves better. And more. If I really love her, shouldn't I focus on saving her life, saving her future? If I really love her shouldn't I put her happiness first and stop getting in the way of perhaps someone giving her full and true happiness - even if it is only for the time remaining before The Enemy comes? I must wonder, is this Klingon actually better for her? What is the lesson Ifni is offering me? It is a difficult choice - if I continue in this relationship I am committing to lie, to hold back, to steal from her what should be hers; how can I accept her full love, her full devotion, her full honesty if I am not, can not, must not return this? That defies every rule I was every taught about relationships. And if I wrench out what is left of my humanity and /do the right thing/ what is left for me if we do win? A medal? A pat on the back? A "job well done son" and then on to the next crisis most likely. There will always be the duty as long as I draw breath, but after such a stunning victory even then I could not go back and say, "This is why" for by then she could be married, or mated - a mother, a wife, and very over me. No, even then I could not tell her the truth. I am a fool - should I be a thief and a liar as well? Computer, save and end log."

Golden

A Love of Duty

Sun May 11

Main Entry: 1fate
Pronunciation: 'fAt
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French, from Latin fatum, literally, what has been spoken, from neuter of fatus, past participle of fari to speak -- more at BAN
Date: 14th century
1 : the principle or determining cause or will by which things in general are believed to come to be as they are or events to happen as they do : DESTINY
2 a : an inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end b : DISASTER; especially : DEATH
3 a : final outcome b : the expected result of normal development <prospective fate of embryonic cells>
4 plural, capitalized : the three goddesses who determine the course of human life in classical mythology
synonyms FATE, DESTINY, LOT, PORTION, DOOM mean a predetermined state or end. FATE implies an inevitable and usually an adverse outcome <the fate of the submarine is unknown>. DESTINY implies something foreordained and often suggests a great or noble course or end <the country's destiny to be a model of liberty to the world>. LOT and PORTION imply a distribution by fate or destiny, LOT suggesting blind chance <it was her lot to die childless>, PORTION implying the apportioning of good and evil <remorse was his daily portion>. DOOM distinctly implies a grim or calamitous fate <if the rebellion fails, his doom is certain>.

"Personal log - When I was little boy, a group of my friends and I would play games, and one of our favorite games was playing Starfleet and saving the Federation or the Galaxy or just Mars. Yes, and after every victory oh how the Federation would love us and of course our parents saluted our courage by providing us with bonus treats for our courage and heroism. That was before I joined the Federation Explorer Scouts of course, because after joining them, we started learning about duty and citizenship as opposed to our games of glory and fame. The pursuit of glory is the performance of deeds so that one may praise oneself, even if only internally, of the deeds done. The pursuit of fame is the performance of deeds so that others might praise you. Being a citizen is taking responsibility and doing what must be done, as is self-evident, because it benefits the good of society - taking responsibility as opposed to being given responsibility is the key factor though. Duty is the performance of responsibilities assigned by an agency outside of yourself that are yours due to contract or cultural complicity."

"This change in paradigm brought with it a change in not only my life, but down to the way I played. Being the star was no longer important, there was as much or more pleasure in setting someone else up to be the star - after all, inside you could taste of that glory won but also gain the satisfaction of helping another. But the goal of Starfleet was even more alluring as it was the keys to the entire kingdom - Glory, Fame, Citizenship and Duty. It has been for me, everything I thought it might be, and though it has long since ceased being a game, there is that daily reaffirmation. Every day you can wake up and you have the opportunity to do some good. Good for others, good for the Federation, even good for yourself; and you work with people who have that same opportunity and who earned the responsibility to practice that and you have to be grateful to live during such a time and in such a place."

"Hiroshi Takamura, in the preferred parlance of his culture Takamura Hiroshi-san. Here is a man who straddles the ancient past and carries the best of it forward with him into the future. This is a man who knows what duty means, and honor. He makes it easy for me to be who I must be, do what I must do, because he like a pillar that props me up and at the same time gives me a longer view. And he well liked, and well respected - not an hint of impropriety about him and it is because he is so clearly my support that the very deliberate forces arraigned against us here seek to undermine him in relation to the team or seduce him from our midst to their "side". I wonder, how tempting is it for him? They have more to offer him in the short term and long term - all I can offer is danger, a chance to make a difference and perhaps the chance to save the universe. If he values such things as I do, he would never want to be somewhere else - but does he? That is the enigma for me, because Hiroshi was an expert enlisted man and from that he draws the skill to make an officer believe he is behind them one-hundred percent; loyal and committed to the course at hand - but does he /really/ feel that way? What am I keeping him from by keeping him with me? I expect so much from him, and he gives it all without hesitation, but am I leaving enough for him to have for himself? Am I giving back as much as I taking?"

Golden

A Love of Duty II

Sun May 11

"Tera Turtledove, I know her history but only in a dot to dot of details because she cultivates an air of enigma with skillful deliberateness. I look to her and she looks back and her eyes are full of trust, her limbs full of the will to make what I say must be so - so. She asks the right questions, and accepts the right explanations, she is eager to train, eager to succeed but do I know her? No. I know that if I order to do something she will do all in her power to execute that order, I know what she is trained to do but not what she is capable of. Who draws the line in our relationship - me or her? It is a frightening sort of feeling really not knowing if she would stop me from crossing a line I would not normally cross; and a very serious responsibility consequently to ensure that I do not ask her to cross a line in the execution of Objectives that we will both regret. I watch her, surreptitiously, and she watches me - like a great cat from Earth's jungles, wile and beautiful but dangerous and unpredictable she moves around my orbit and behind the shine she beam at me from her eyes I can see nothing else. Is there more to see? Because it is my job to keep track of my officers I routinely make a habit of checking where they are, incase we are needed to respond to a crisis I ca

BBS 05-27-03 Personal Logs

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