I really liked Rand, too.
I really liked Rand, too.
I'm getting really worried about Rand. I hope Kirk finds her soon. Spock and McCoy can take care of themselves, but Rand....
Gaila kissed me last night. Like, kissed me. I mean, to her it was platonic (or, the Orion version of "platonic," which is a deeply confusing topic that I still don't fully understand. But she didn't mean it as a Thing). She apologized right afterwards, but... Goddamn, it's hard to be in unrequited love with an Orion girl. Not that I'm in love with her.
My family was so proud when I became a Starfleet pilot. After all, it's the oldest establised peacekeeping force in space, dedicated to excellence and service. To be part of Starfleet is to be part of a greater mission of exploration and discovery.
If only they could see this ship now. Our captain, inspired by who-knows-what, beamed down to Rigel IV, where he managed to misplace Comander Spock, Dr. McCoy, and Yeoman Rand. Kirk is out there looking for them now, leaving us with a shattered chain of command. The resultant confusion seems to be promoting an overall drop in the maturity quotient on shipboard. Nigh constant giggling, roughhousing, flirting, and gossip have become the norm. I've stumbled across half-a dozen clandestine conversations in the past two days alone. If you don't want to be interupted when discussing personal matters, why don't you go somewhere other than the public corridor? Even Uhura's humming, which I usualy like, is wearing on my nerves. Pavel is in his element. He's been making hourly shipwide announcements reporting the scores of Terran soccer matches! Comander Scott doesn't seem to notice or mind, but then, his team is doing well this season. ( While I'm on this topic, Japan is already out of the tounament. I'll have to send my mother a sympathy note.) On top of all that, I've just been informed that , as a Starfleet pilot, I'm required to complete periodic assesment courses, while on active duty, until I achive senority. Which means I have to take five tests over the next three months. Which means I have to re-read the entire manuals in less than two weeks, fill out more paperwork than anyone should need in a lifetime, while piloting a ship apparently overrun with teenagers(Not that there is anything wrong with teenagers, just adults who act like them. Sorry, Pavel).
A shouting match just broke out on the bridge between two ensigns. I am going find a suit and go check on the external inertial dampeners. It's been awhile since I spacewalked, but I remember one thing about it: Sound can't travel through a vacuum.
But it's even worse form for him to drag his science officer, CMO, and personal Yeoman with him, and then lose all three of them on Rigel IV. And by lose, I mean literally lose, as in, misplace, as in, lose track of, as in, I no longer have the slightest fucking idea where any of them scurried off to.
But I'm back, and so's my masculinity. Hooray for small blessings?
So, now, with Chekov's help, the Enterprise Journals are back in functioning order. And hey, I DID end up fixing the translation feature. It's not like they were broken for too long, right?
So, I've more or less moved into Nyota's room. The first couple times I would make excuses - you know, so and so kicked me out and such - but at this point I wouldn't be fooling anyone, so I decided not to embarrass myself further.
Humans don't generate much body-heat in general, but I think Ny generates even less than most. Leech. It's rather difficult to fall asleep when someone is sucking all the warmth out of your body - particularly if she wants the blankets to stay away from her. Not that she's pure villain in this scenario. She says she always thinks she's forgotten to turn off some machine when I sleep on her bed and she swears she'll wake up with burnt sheets one of these days. Doesn't stop her from burrowing her cold feet and hands under my pajamas when she first gets in, though. Icicle toes. [grunt] I'll show you icicles. [high pitched squeak] See, see that's what I mean, that right there - you are a sadistic parasite that feeds off others hard-burned energy, and don't deny it. [squealing] Stop, sto-stop it that t-t-t-tickles! Mercy! Mercy, mercy, mercy! [Thud]
Here it is - it's been on all night? Crap. Well, I guess we know neither of us snores.
I wonder if Scotty speaks Scots and/or Scottish Gaelic?
Bones found me.
Can't relate details yet. Trauma too fresh. But if there's a God, he'll kill me now.