Road to Galileo

Posted on 28 Aug 2018 @ 10:59pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

1,019 words; about a 5 minute read

Lake ir-Llantrisant's Personal Log, Stardate 68586.3

I can’t say I fully understand how I got here. I remember it all, mostly, the past few weeks. I had a life aboard Starbase 74. I had a life, and I had a goal, and I had a plan for how to get there. This... this was not part of my plan. I’m not a member of a starbase’s command staff. I’m not in command of my own medical facility. I’m not leading a multi-disciplinary ground-breaking clinical trial. This wasn’t the plan. ...I don’t know what decisions I made, or what inactions I chose, lead me to serve the USS Galileo-A as its Chief Counselor.

If I trace my fingers along the edges, and I take apart all the pieces, and I lay each component out end-to-end, I can almost see it. It doesn’t feel the same way I experienced it, but I can see the sequence of events.

It all started with Kohl. Andreus Kohl lead me to the USS Galileo.

I met Commander Kohl aboard the USS Prokofiev. As part of his posting to Starfleet Academy, Kohl was in overall command of the Prokofiev's mission, while the ship was crewed by fourth-year Cadets. That Cadet Cruise was interrupted; the cadets were enlisted to provide humanitarian aid to the survivors of a dilithium mining accident on Corvan II. It's not... it's not my story to tell... but my understanding is the good samaritans became the beaten travellers within a day of arriving at the planet. In the commotion of bringing injured civilians aboard Prokofiev, one of the Cadets made a mistake. I'm sure it seemed a small mistake at the time. Tiny. Trilithium resin was released into the atmosphere of the Prokofiev. Half the cadets and rescued miners died.

I was assigned to the Prokofiev immediately as a member of the trauma intervention team. That's when I met Kohl. After the tragedy of his cadet cruise, his paint was scratched and his roof was shaken, but his foundation remained strong. He knew who he was and what he believed in. He loves the Federation more than his own life, I think. Some days-- some days I hate the Federation and everything it stands for, but I loved how much he loves the Federation. And he loved me. That love was absolute; it felt unconditional. I don't know that I've ever felt such a thing before. With Kellin, I felt on probation half the time. With Kohl I knew where I stood.

From there, we courted from afar. Kohl had his students at Starfleet Academy and I had my plans aboard Starbase 74. For me, distance made the heart grow fonder. I scheduled my next shore leave on Earth, in San Fransisco. For Kohl, distance made the heart grow cold. He ended our incipient relationship before I ever could begin. At least, I knew where I stood with him. It made me so angry, I threw a cake at one of the engineers who, I later learned, designed the Galileo-A. He was nice. He bought me a slice of pie.

Abandoned and alone, shore leave on Earth held little appeal for me. I hardly liked the planet when I had to visit it for Academy and I hardly liked it now. I couldn't go home, though, because Starbase 74 was quarantined. There was a disaster aboard the station; the details are a mystery to me. Confidential. My time on Earth grew darker and darker, haunted as I was by the ghost and by the Captain of the dearly-departed USS Galileo when she thought I was courting her sister in an unseemly manner.

I was rescued from Earth by Starfleet Command. With my duties aboard Starbase 74 out of my reach, I was assigned to the USS Hathaway to act as mentor and exam invigilator for medical cadets on their Cadet Cruise. It should have been a time of excitement and anticipation for me, heralding these cadets on the first days of their new careers. Instead, I was disturbed to learn the details of the quarantine on Starbase 74 being dropped. I was informed half of the senior staff was killed, including my ex-husband, Kellin. I was promoted to Lieutenant and advised I would be taking on the posting of Chief Counselor aboard Starbase 74 -- asked to fill the shoes of a dead woman.

I... I... I couldn't. I couldn't put on that uniform drenched in blood. I told some lies to Starfleet Command, I told some lies to my colleagues, and I told even more lies to myself. If I can be honest with myself now --and it's possibly too soon even now-- I had to run away from Starbase 74. I had to. I had to run. I applied for a posting aboard the USS Galileo-A and it's thirty-two month tour to the southern border of Federation space. Can't get any farther than that, really. Between my natural isolation from the Federation --because of my personality and my Romulan DNA-- and my research into the psychology of deep-space exploration, I was accepted as Chief Counselor for Galileo-A upon its launch.

Before its launch, Starfleet assigned me to the USS Schofield as Chief Counselor for a science crew on a survey mission. However, it was leveraging my training as a medical doctor that I joined the away team down to the newly discovered planet of Pleione. We attempted to study the pre-warp natives without drawing any attention to ourselves, but our attempts were unsuccessful. I was noticed and I was arrested and interrogated.

I thought I was dead. I thought I was going to die there, alone and cold on a strange new world. It was only through the bravery and cunning of the USS Schofield crew that I was rescued and delivered safe and sound to my posting aboard the USS Galileo-A.

End log.

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