Sandoval's Personal Log - 1

Posted on 29 Mar 2017 @ 2:52am by Commander Marisa Wyatt

449 words; about a 2 minute read

Marisa sat in her makeshift office with the door closed and the lights off. She'd been trying to meditate for the past hour, but it wasn't working.

With a sigh she gave up and turned on the lights and pulled out a pad of paper. Since arriving on the Duja'Q, she'd taken to writing things down and hiding them away in her belongings or, ore often, tearing them up and burning them. She didn't trust the ship's computer and she didn't want anyone reading her notes on the crew. She especially didn't want anyone reading her private thoughts.

Sandoval's Personal Log...

Dear diary, Marisa had decided that since she was using the old fashioned method of journal entry, she should have an old fashioned name for it.

Tension is high, which is to be expected with both Klingon and Federation personnel trying to work together on a ship held together, figuratively speaking, with bubblegum and bailing wire.

So far there have been few altercations, but I expect there to be more before we are finally able to go home.

What will happen after that is anyone's guess. The General--as she now has a Klingon rank--has had to make some very difficult decisions to not only save her crew, but to help the impoverished inhabitants of Kreanus Colony. Whether the Federation accepts her reasons or we all end up on a penal colony somewhere remains to be seen.

For the record, I believe she feels an obligation to the people of Kreanus and to everyone who may fall victim to those who currently run it. The needs of the many...

As a counselor I do what I can to help the Starfleet personnel. They've been through a great deal and so far are holding up the best they can. It helps me as well. I'm slowly regaining some sense of normalcy, but it will be a while before I am no longer haunted by the images of John and Marcus and Pete and Tilly. Or by the brutality of their murders.

Petra is coping in her own way. She's been gone the past two nights. In some ways I appreciate the time alone, as I don't have to pretend not to be affected by recent events. What is the old saying? Fake it 'till you make it. I just wish

Marisa crossed out the last three words. "If wishes were fishes..." With a sigh, she tore the page out of the notebook, folded it several times, and carefully tucked it into her vest. Writing it down helped almost as much as meditation. Now to hide it away in her temporary quarters.

Lieutenant JG Marisa Sandoval
Counselor

RSS Feed