I have been called...

Posted on 30 Mar 2018 @ 5:00pm by Lieutenant Aria Rice

783 words; about a 4 minute read

you terror

You know, at times I wonder why and how exactly I have managed to survive in Starfleet. Considering that I keep getting into trouble. And I do. Sometimes when I stand in the mirror, I remember how many times I have been called ‘terror’. It’s a weird thing to be called, but I remember my Dad calling me ‘little terror’. Later, my mother would say it, with a smile of on lips at first, but the more it was said the more it sounded bitter. My dance instructor called me terror too.

I am not the sort of woman who can strike terror among men. But lately, I just can’t be bothered by what they think about me. It’s like…I bear my cross myself and I don’t need help with it. Almost as if my sins don’t matter to the world around us. Small things of course. Noting major! Starfleet’s very strict about these things…

I know my restrictions, what I need to improve and what I can build on. For those that cross me, those who belittle me or try to mess up my career or personal life…well, I forgive. But I never forget.

I was born in a female form. Let’s face it, short, skinny female form. Not the strong, sexy kind. But I can handle myself with the best of them as well as the worst. And truthfully, lately, I have done that often. You learn your strengths and weaknesses and you learn to compensate.

I remember in history, they used to say ‘you have the right to remain silent’. Well, I got the right to remain silent but I choose to speak. Sometimes. Mostly. Not always, of course, I try to get better at when to say what. I also choose to sing. And scream. I wish I could say it was a good singing voice, but let’s face it…I can dance, I can’t sing. Or scream well to be honest, I go all…shrill.

So as a woman I have lips…hips...tits. Okay, the latter might be a bit more wishful thinking, I don’t fill out a uniform well. So just as well you can replicate to measurements because or else I would have to use belts, clinchers, possibly a bedsheet to make it fit.

But I am more than a uniform. I am the power of a woman. I am strong like music. I am true like friendship…but without my friends there would be no music. No melody. Only the spoken words.

I have learned a lot in the last years. More than I thought. I have picked up new skills. More backbone. But I haven’t lost my empathy. I have aspired to be more, to live up to the role models I have. My heroes. Who have always been women I have served with.

I am able to change so now I live without regret, without remorse…well, okay, I am stuck with mixed feelings.

Sometimes I am drunk. Sometimes I am sober. And let’s face it, hungover as well. Not on duty though. Naturally. Only sober there. Regulations.

I remember reading once and what was written was ‘Heaven doesn’t want me and Hell’s afraid I’ll take over’. I wish I was that sort of girl more, but I am not. Even so. People shouldn’t try to sensor me or shut me up because it won’t work. Not anymore. Not since I was a child.

I have gotten better at pretending to be cold and distant, but truthfully I am…more warm and close, at least to those who deserve to see that side of me, that part of me, the heart of me. Sometimes I think Starfleet finds me so hard to understand, because I do not quite fit the mould of what they usually want from a Starfleet officer.

I am me.

And I know exactly who I am, what I am and the wrath I will bring.

I have been called a drama queen, ex-girlfriend, ex-member, the tantrum, the temper. A bad officer.

And okay. I am going to be honest. I point the finger and take the blame. Because no one is going to ruin me. If…I have to I will ruin myself.

Because I am more than capable of doing that.

But not yet. I haven’t done it yet. Still here, still in Starfleet, still alive, still an officer…still breathing. Still holding together. Holding myself together. I have learned a lot.

And yet, I am still a terror. In my own way.

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