I just woke up with blood on my hands, and a dead Ensign lying at my feet. The Galley floor was covered in blood and it looked like the poor guy had struggled.
Honestly though, I'm not sure what happened. I KNOW I didn't do it. But I don't know why I was asleep. Or how the body got here. I'm not actually sure what has been happening over the last couple of hours. Something seems to be a bit off with my minds...but I know I didn't do it.
I know I didn't!
I'm sure it was Hawk! I've been framed!
2309.10.25.1000: Murder!
I'm only just now finding this out, but the Doc on-board was spaced in that last bit of turbulence. Most of the crew seems to think it was an accident, but I know Hawk is up there telling everyone it was me. I'm not even sure he knows I've found out at this point. He has me down here and completely isolated. Worse yet, no one seems to believe a word I'm saying at this point, so he seems to be winning them over.
I'm working now to see if I can get external comms back up through the panel down here. With me needing to over-ride the bridge controls, and this frak'in Tellerite riding my ass down here though, I don't know that I can manage that without Hawk finding out.
I'm working now to see if I can get external comms back up through the panel down here. With me needing to over-ride the bridge controls, and this frak'in Tellerite riding my ass down here though, I don't know that I can manage that without Hawk finding out.
2309.10.25.1000: Captain gone insane
OK...Hawk has apparently lost his mind. He's telling everyone I'm crazy, but it's clear he's the one with issues. He has been totally unstable since we came on-board. I'll admit I do seem to be having a few control issues where my Mental Processes are concerned, but he's the frak'in insane one.
I'm afraid he may have convinced most of the crew that I'm losing it though. Since Enora has completely cut me off from communicating with her, and Hawk has shut-down off-ship comms from my prison here in the Galley, I'm not quiet sure what to do at this point.
2309.10.25.0800: A dream while mopping
I was still stuck in the galley mopping the floor. It felt like I must have done that a dozen times already. Out of sheer boredom, I feel asleep and dreamed...again...
There was a soft light in the distance. Travis found himself moving toward it. He was being drawn to it. It's warmth and comfort calling to him, slowly enveloping him, blanketing him in the caring caress of a cherished memory. Slowly out of the misty white light colors began to fade in, taking form, solidifying. It wasn't a room he knew, not one he had ever set foot in, yet it seemed so familiar. 'Mom?' Still floating into the mist he called out. The emotions welling up inside carried the expectation of being greeted by family and friends at any moment. He was certain he'd soon be looking out of his bedroom window at the base of Pike's Peak. 'Mom!? Dad?'
Muffled voices began to cry out. Distant...he couldn't understand them. They weren't his parents. They all seemed to be calling to him at once. The voices grew louder and more distinctive as the mist gave way to color and form. 'What? What do you want!?' He struggled to understand them. An overwhelming need tearing at him to understand each and every voice, to answer each one, to...the children. They were his kids...but he didn't have any kids...children.
Suddenly he was there. Standing in front of them. An entire room full of bright eager faces staring up at him. But he wasn't standing there...he was above...outside...looking in. Yet he could also see the children...his children...through loving eyes. No, they weren't his, they must be her's, the young woman standing in front of them. He struggled to pull himself free of her eyes, to look on her from outside, to understand what was... 'Magge!'
Magge Reylana stood tall and proud at the front of the room. She'd been giving a lesson on the Mataals this afternoon, and it seemed she couldn't provide her children with the information fast enough.
She smiled as nearly every hand in the room shot up at the chance to answer the next question. Fifteen young faces stared at her from around the room. Each as eager as the next and all wanting the chance to impress Miss Magge.
Magge had graduated near the top of her class from a major Coridan university, and held a degree in Foreign Studies, with a minor in Inter-Species Relations. Such credentials would have assured a position in almost any Council agency both home and abroad. Instead, Magge had chosen to serve a tour at the local education center. Teaching had always been something she enjoyed, even if it wasn't her career focus, and she loved children. When the position came open to teach a 2nd year class of five year olds, the thought of passing up the assignment never crossed her mind. The career could wait.
That was two years ago. Since then there hadn't been a single moment of regret. But with each passing day, the end of her tour at the education center drew closer. She thought about it as little as possible.
"Who can list the Mataals?"
All the hands stayed up. A few seemed to grow an extra few inches as their owners stretched them as high as they could manage, trying to out do their neighbor.
"Well it looks like everyone was paying attention then." Tapping her finger on her cheek, Magge looked toward the ceiling as if struggling to think of a question hard enough to challenge her students. "Who can tell me...hmmm...all the Mataals in the order originally listed in the Mataal Directive?"
A few stumped looks now began to spread among her class, but most hands stayed up. They'd give it a shot anyway.
Magge pointed to one of the quieter Terran children toward the middle of the room. The little girl stood up, but didn't look completely confident.
"Jennie Frost, can you tell me?"
"Yes Miss Magge." Jennie held up her tiny little hand ready to count off each Mataal as she listed it. The first finger stuck out. "Population." Magge nodded. The girl extended her second finger. "Education." Magge nodded again. Jennie's face showed a little more confidence now. Her third finger extended. "Economy."
"That's right Jennie. Do you know the last one?"
Jennie nodded her head. "Infrastructure!" Her face lit up bright and proud. Then she flopped back to her place on the floor.
"Very good! You got that exactly right. Can everyone repeat them for me now?"
A chorus of little voices exploded, some starting sooner than others, so that hardly a word could be understood. "Population! Education! Economy! Infrastructure!"
"That's right! You've all done very good this afternoon. What do ya say we have free time the rest of the day? Sound like a good idea?"
The chorus answered again, "Yes Miss Magge!"
"Who's turn is it to pick free time?"
Everyone begin looking around to see who the lucky person would be.
Grela Karana, one of the few full-blooded Coridan children attending the school, stuck his hand in the air, "I think it's my turn Miss Magge. Brian went yesterday and I come after Brian." The young Coridanian tried to stand up straight, but the anxious hands of his neighbors nearly toppled him over as they tried to convince him of what he should choose.
"So what do you want to do for free time Grela?"
"UNDER THE SEA!"
The room exploded into cheers and everyone jumped up at once to take their place in line.
Magge headed them down the hall to the holoroom. "OK now. Go on in. But keep it fun. I don't want anyone being a bully in there. Is that understood?"
"Yes Miss Magge!"
"OK then, have fun."
With that the class filed into the holoroom, each choosing their starting place carefully. Magge punched in the code for the 'Under the Sea' program. Instantly the holoroom buzzed to life. Each child appeared to transform into their favorite sea creature, and the room became a deep-sea aquarium. Magge and a few of the other teachers watched from the observation lounge as the children swam back and forth. Chasing. Tagging. Diving. Swimming. And generally having a great time.
A hand was gently placed on Magge's shoulder from behind. She turned to see the Center Director. The look on his face seemed that someone had died.
"Is everything alright Director?"
He handed her a PADD. "We're going to miss you Magge."
Magge grabbed the PADD and scanned through the text flowing across it's screen, her eyes anxiously darting left and right. Something about Council expansion and Council needs and the good of Coridan...YOU ARE TO REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO THE DELTA QUADRANT FOR ASSIGNMENT AS ASSISTANT ATTACHÉ' TO AMBASSADOR HERBERT RESNO - GORVOSH STATION - HOPE ONE DYSON'S SPHERE.
She turned back to watch her children gleefully swimming past the observation window. They didn't notice the tear running down her cheek.
2309.10.25.0500: He stole my frak'in sandwich!
It's about 0500 and I'm on the Cosair now. Let's just say things aren't going well.
The ship's Chef...
OK...about that. This ship is barely big enough to have a handful of replicators, and they've somehow managed to squeeze in an actually galley, food stores and quarters for a full-time chef!? Either the engineers are using some sort of "Bigger on the Inside" technology I've never heard of, or the Fleet is a hell of a lot more efficient in its design specs than I would'a ever given them credit for.
But anyway...the ship's Chef makes the best ham sandwich I have EVER tasted. Unfortunately, thats all I got...a taste. I took one bite. Was in the process of taking another, and the damned wanna-be captain of this little ship, one Lt. Hawk, took the thing right outta my mouth! He just reached over and took it...right from between my teeth. I actually had to open my mouth a bit to remove teeth from sandwich. Then he ate that, and the other half of that delicious ham sandwich I had waiti in one bite.
There is no way he could have actually enjoyed it...let alone tasted it...but it was gone.
Of course the "Sandwich Incident" was only the start of my problems.
Lt. Enora had specifically told me to keep all Intel related information on the red substance need-to-know. So signs of this show up in the debris from the storage bay we're out here investigating. I contact her on a secure channel to see how she wants me to handle that...since she had basically ordered me to do so. How does she respond? She reprimands me openly.
That was all this narcissistic ass of a lieutenant, Hawk, needed to decide I wasn't good enough for the bridge of his baby ship. He sent me to the Galley to mop the floor instead.
So I ask you: how can a fleet so technologically advanced that they can squeeze an entire galley and observation lounge into a space half the size of the typical Ten Forward, be incapable of producing a floor which doesn't require mop and bucket to shine? It's the 25th century for gods sake!
But here I stand, with mop and bucket in hand, while some smelly frak'in Tellerite barks at me about the "spot" I missed.
Oh yeah...and I STILL haven't eaten anything!
The ship's Chef...
OK...about that. This ship is barely big enough to have a handful of replicators, and they've somehow managed to squeeze in an actually galley, food stores and quarters for a full-time chef!? Either the engineers are using some sort of "Bigger on the Inside" technology I've never heard of, or the Fleet is a hell of a lot more efficient in its design specs than I would'a ever given them credit for.
But anyway...the ship's Chef makes the best ham sandwich I have EVER tasted. Unfortunately, thats all I got...a taste. I took one bite. Was in the process of taking another, and the damned wanna-be captain of this little ship, one Lt. Hawk, took the thing right outta my mouth! He just reached over and took it...right from between my teeth. I actually had to open my mouth a bit to remove teeth from sandwich. Then he ate that, and the other half of that delicious ham sandwich I had waiti in one bite.
There is no way he could have actually enjoyed it...let alone tasted it...but it was gone.
Of course the "Sandwich Incident" was only the start of my problems.
Lt. Enora had specifically told me to keep all Intel related information on the red substance need-to-know. So signs of this show up in the debris from the storage bay we're out here investigating. I contact her on a secure channel to see how she wants me to handle that...since she had basically ordered me to do so. How does she respond? She reprimands me openly.
That was all this narcissistic ass of a lieutenant, Hawk, needed to decide I wasn't good enough for the bridge of his baby ship. He sent me to the Galley to mop the floor instead.
So I ask you: how can a fleet so technologically advanced that they can squeeze an entire galley and observation lounge into a space half the size of the typical Ten Forward, be incapable of producing a floor which doesn't require mop and bucket to shine? It's the 25th century for gods sake!
But here I stand, with mop and bucket in hand, while some smelly frak'in Tellerite barks at me about the "spot" I missed.
Oh yeah...and I STILL haven't eaten anything!
2309.10.25.0300: What a first day
It's now about 0300 hours on my second official day on Discovery. What a frak'in day!
Came on board and had a cute little Lieutenant giving me the 'VIP tour' before I'd even adjusted to the ship's gravity. Wore me the frak out...had the dream again (posted that earlier)...then I woke up to her staring at me. Why do they always have to stare?
So yeah...
Reported into the Captain. He seems...well...good I guess. Good in that typical uptight fleeter way at least. Did my best to convince him I was here for 'the science'.
Speaking of science. Went straight down and reported into the Science Chief. Yeah now I won't mind working under her! Not in the slightest. LOL Well...as far as looks go anyway. Personality...not so much. More like a night on Delta Vega. Nothing a tall glass of saurian brandy wouldn't warm up though.
The problems started when I walked out of Sciences. Explosion rocked the ship. Knocked me out cold against a bulkhead. Came too to a couple of Marine types questioning me about something or other. Never did quite figure that one out.
Ended up working with a Marine repair team trying to get the Turbolifts back in service. I have to admit, Fleet Marines aren't bad at all. Remind me a lot of the ground pounders in the Corps.
The Intel Chief called me up to sick bay to give hand...at least I think that's what happened. Seem to be having some trouble with the memory lately. But anyway...ended up in Sickbay. That Intel Chief, her name is Enora, was there. Oh my god! Talk about a body!? Somehow I found myself half dressed sitting on an examination table between this Enora, who was even less in uniform than I was, and the female half-Klingon Doc. LOL Yeah, you know how those Human-Klingon hybrids are. At one point I thought she was gonna rip the rest of my uniform off right there in sickbay.
Enora, is crazy sexy though. Just the right height. The dark skin. The dark eyes. The dark hair. The smile...reminds me a hell of a lot of...Magge I guess.
Hmmm...so moving on.
Enora had me do a little collaboration with her on the cause of the explosion. Found out it had something to do with a cover-up attempt. Apparently there was recently a viral out-break on Horizon. The viral agent may have been hidden in one of Discovery's cargo bays. The cargo bay that went Boom! So we're trying to piece that one together now.
Now this Enora has me assigned to work in an Intel/Science slot on this little baby ship attached to the Discovery, the Corsair. I'm actually heading there now. Just stopped by my quarters to change uniforms.
Sure wish I had time to grab a bite to eat. Haven't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.
2309.10.24.1900: I had the dream again...
Travis slowly walked down the long dark corridor, his footsteps echoing in sharp claps off the polished stone floors and hardened dark wooden beams of the walls. The echos seemed out of sync with his steps, as if he were hearing two or three steps for every step he actually took. They came faster and faster these phantom steps, even though his pace was constant. He ignored the incongruity. It was unimportant. He'd been here before. He focused on what he knew would lie around the corner fast approaching. His heart begin to race. The familiar feeling of panic and helplessness washing through his body; dragging him on helplessly forward. Then rounding the corner, he froze.
It was always the same. The enormous hallway ahead of him was filled with people, faces he knew well, but could not recall. Their muffled, indecipherable pleading falling on his ears at a deafening level. He didn't have to understand them to know what they wanted. They always wanted the same thing these ghosts. They lined the hall. This enormous hall, some 15 meters high, over 100 meters long; constructed from the same dark stones and timbers as the little corridor he'd just been dragged through. Richly colored tapestries of deep greens, blues and reds hung billowing in an unseen breeze between each of the floor to ceiling windows which lined the length of the hall. Outside, the single red dwarf star of his adopted home system, Coridan, swung wildly through the sky. Sunrise and sunset coming just seconds apart, adding their momentary glow to the scene inside the hall; the deep red beams of light drawing out the richness of the decorations; flooding the faces with a hellish glow. beginning
Then they were there, the doors at the end of the hallway, flanked on either side by the tall presence of a Coridan Royal Guard clad in their traditional crimson uniform. The two imposing figures overpowered only by the enormity of the doors they protected. He was there now, just meters from the doors. Running. Falling forward down the hall at an impossible pace. The faces in the hall reaching out to him, grabbing, pulling, clawing at him. They pleaded in their foreign moans for him to stop. Suddenly his mother was there, clutching at his arm, blocking his path, "Billy don't go! Please!" She threw her head back in a wail that sent a cold shiver down his already quivering body, "Billy! No!" He continued on, the unseen force pressing him forward, threatening to knock him from his feet. The guards his only remaining obstacle. Travis felt his arms pinned. They had him. One guard on each arm. They had him. He couldn't move, but he had to. He had to get through the door. He had to stop her!
The wave of intense pressure built in his chest and flooded though him. Every muscle tensed. His entire body cramped convulsively. Then with a silent thud the pressure released; his body feeling as if it had been asleep and tingling back to life with a rush. With the thud, guards and doors both tumbled away. A wave of nausea washed over his body. He was free. He had to stop her! He couldn't let her do it...not his Magge!
Before him, at the far end of the aisle leading from the door to the speakers podium above the Council chambers, he saw her. The familiar subdued blue cloak hugging her small frame. He knew it was her. He could feel her still in his arms...his Magge. She had to be stopped!
He watched as she slowly walked away from him, approaching the podium where Ambassador Resno spoke in the same indecipherable pleads as the ghosts of the hall. Step by step, she walked closer in her innocently seductive way. He felt her still in his arms.
"You didn't leave me a choice." The voice, her sweet voice, came from just to his right. Phantom whispers in his ear. He turned to her eyes. Those beautiful emerald eyes filling his vision...the sadness showing...the pleading for the answer to why. "You didn't leave me a choice Billy. I loved you. Why?" Then they changed, those eyes, filling with hurt and anger. Her vengeful laughter piercing his soul, growing, thunderous laughter. He saw her now. At the podium. The laughter ringing in his ears with deafening force.
It was always the same.
She never turned. She simply stopped. Her small shaking hands reaching up and pulling the cloak from her shoulders, it fell to the ground revealing the vest of explosives strapped to her tiny body. The laughter imploded.
It was always the same. The enormous hallway ahead of him was filled with people, faces he knew well, but could not recall. Their muffled, indecipherable pleading falling on his ears at a deafening level. He didn't have to understand them to know what they wanted. They always wanted the same thing these ghosts. They lined the hall. This enormous hall, some 15 meters high, over 100 meters long; constructed from the same dark stones and timbers as the little corridor he'd just been dragged through. Richly colored tapestries of deep greens, blues and reds hung billowing in an unseen breeze between each of the floor to ceiling windows which lined the length of the hall. Outside, the single red dwarf star of his adopted home system, Coridan, swung wildly through the sky. Sunrise and sunset coming just seconds apart, adding their momentary glow to the scene inside the hall; the deep red beams of light drawing out the richness of the decorations; flooding the faces with a hellish glow. beginning
Then they were there, the doors at the end of the hallway, flanked on either side by the tall presence of a Coridan Royal Guard clad in their traditional crimson uniform. The two imposing figures overpowered only by the enormity of the doors they protected. He was there now, just meters from the doors. Running. Falling forward down the hall at an impossible pace. The faces in the hall reaching out to him, grabbing, pulling, clawing at him. They pleaded in their foreign moans for him to stop. Suddenly his mother was there, clutching at his arm, blocking his path, "Billy don't go! Please!" She threw her head back in a wail that sent a cold shiver down his already quivering body, "Billy! No!" He continued on, the unseen force pressing him forward, threatening to knock him from his feet. The guards his only remaining obstacle. Travis felt his arms pinned. They had him. One guard on each arm. They had him. He couldn't move, but he had to. He had to get through the door. He had to stop her!
The wave of intense pressure built in his chest and flooded though him. Every muscle tensed. His entire body cramped convulsively. Then with a silent thud the pressure released; his body feeling as if it had been asleep and tingling back to life with a rush. With the thud, guards and doors both tumbled away. A wave of nausea washed over his body. He was free. He had to stop her! He couldn't let her do it...not his Magge!
Before him, at the far end of the aisle leading from the door to the speakers podium above the Council chambers, he saw her. The familiar subdued blue cloak hugging her small frame. He knew it was her. He could feel her still in his arms...his Magge. She had to be stopped!
He watched as she slowly walked away from him, approaching the podium where Ambassador Resno spoke in the same indecipherable pleads as the ghosts of the hall. Step by step, she walked closer in her innocently seductive way. He felt her still in his arms.
"You didn't leave me a choice." The voice, her sweet voice, came from just to his right. Phantom whispers in his ear. He turned to her eyes. Those beautiful emerald eyes filling his vision...the sadness showing...the pleading for the answer to why. "You didn't leave me a choice Billy. I loved you. Why?" Then they changed, those eyes, filling with hurt and anger. Her vengeful laughter piercing his soul, growing, thunderous laughter. He saw her now. At the podium. The laughter ringing in his ears with deafening force.
It was always the same.
She never turned. She simply stopped. Her small shaking hands reaching up and pulling the cloak from her shoulders, it fell to the ground revealing the vest of explosives strapped to her tiny body. The laughter imploded.
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