Just a little rumination

Posted on 31 Mar 2024 @ 12:55pm by Ensign S'Ers-a M'Lyr'Zor

1,143 words; about a 6 minute read

I do not often consider my past. It serves no purpose to ruminate over events that cannot be altered. I was instructed to only bring forward the lessons learned from the event and that to consider it any further was illogical.

And yet today I am reminded of my past and feel compelled to review a most distressing time in my life. How is that innate desire born of any semblance of Logic? It is quite obvious that my mind is still–and most likely always will be–irreparably damaged from…from…whatever I endured with the loss of the mate bond with Viruk.

Rationally I do not understand why I was so negatively affected by his loss. We were not particularly close in any manner, physically, personally, telepathically. His place within my mind was an anemic thread at best and yet his physical passing tore something quite visceral inside of my psyche.

The early days after his death I have no memory of. I do not recall being found by security and a medical team, nor my time in sickbay in a comatose state. There is nothingness regarding my intake at the healing center in Gol where I was taken to, nor any of the healers that initially interacted with me.

I recall one of the healers telling me later on in the course of my stay that they too did not understand how my mind had become so fractured, and that my personal rehabilitation was one of the more challenging cases they had ever treated.

I was told after the fact that they had performed Fullara, a most extreme option regarding memory suppression, or in my particular case, memory excision. Having not made any improvements with the grueling meditation sessions or therapeutic melds, the decision was reached to ‘surgically’ remove the offending section of memory.

Whatever I experienced with the death of Viruk was psychically excised from my mind. I do comprehend that whatever it I experienced broke something vital within me at the time, but I have no tangible connection or understanding regarding it now. With the damage ‘removed’ the rest was approximated to the best of their abilities and then mended with skill well beyond my ability and understanding.

My mental landscape had become a gaping wound that was hurriedly stitched to prevent the very end of me. The sutures are sure, but the effect was…jarring. It still is, which is why I avoid that portion of myself at all costs.

The healers knew how I felt regarding the disfigurement within my mind, and forced further treatments upon me. Every meld, every new exercise only made me feel further from myself…it numbed me in the way a narcotic does. I walked through my reality in a numbed haze.

They felt I was finally making progress, and verbalized their satisfaction. Little did I know the purpose of these therapies were to completely divorce my emotions from my consciousness.

I recall that I felt nothing when my team of healers discussed the next steps in my therapy as if it were a foregone conclusion. I was told that I would be transferred to P’Jem to start the next phase of my therapy.

P’Jem. The word still brings a visceral frisson of alarm to course through me. Kohlinar. They wanted me to perform the Kohlinar ritual…to completely eviscerate my emotions from my psyche. I remember telling them once I realized what they were suggesting that I would rather be dead than exist without my ‘Vulcan Heart.’

They had overplayed their hand. I am Lyr’Zor, and we do not ascribe to such mutilations. Our passions make us…to remove them is to no longer even live but to exist…half-dead. I would have ended my own life before willingly consenting to such a thing…and yet for months all of the exercises and melds and meditation techniques that the healers forced me to engage in were slowly guiding me to accept this medically-outlined eventuality.

They abused their power over me. I can recall quite vividly their expressions of shock when I rebelled against their plan to continue slicing away my katra from me. I demanded release, and was placed in seclusion for over a month to ‘consider my options.’

I was forced to escape, as if I were a prisoner and not a patient, and it took days on foot to return to Shi’Kahr, where I reported to Starfleet and explained my actions. It was quite a compelling argument, and I had days to effectively outline my rationale for leaving the healing center, and it was quite the compelling argument.

Starfleet medical performed a most comprehensive exam on me and other than some ‘minor’ fluctuations in my baseline brain waves they considered me fit for duty. I gloss over this part of my journey as the important point of it was they accepted me as I was. I was not defective or broken–any more so than anyone else who had suffered a traumatic event–and I was allowed to return to active duty.

It took six months to travel to my new assignment, and less than a week for…this. I feel as if I have returned to the healing center. A sense of numbness pervades my katra.

I ordered Chief Petty Officer John Hollenday to his demise. I could not have known the outcome beforehand; such inconsequential orders are given without any thought beyond what is trying to be accomplished in the moment. However, as in the butterfly effect, a small push can have far-reaching consequences. My engineer is dead. A father, a mate…gone. His death in this time has created a paradox; Ensign Asha’s foundation for her existence has been eliminated. Her undoing lies at my proverbial feet as well.

And I feel…nothing. Did the healers remove my ability experience…well, what exactly? What should I be experiencing at this moment, for in truth, I feel…absence. My orders and actions were logical. Is that all that matters?

The counselor sought me out first. Why? Was she warned of my unfortunate…background? Has unspoken concerns been placed in my personnel file? “Watch this one, she is unstable?”

To speak with her…I do feel something regarding that eventuality. Fear. It is not logical, but I am afraid to speak with her. She will not understand, and I do not know how to adequately explain…she holds my future in her hands. Just as I held Hollenday’s in mine–metaphorically speaking–and one only had to observe the outcome to see how that turned out.

I will have to be careful in what I reveal to her. I will--

The time I have allotted for this personal log has elapsed.

“Computer, end personal log.”

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