Log 2: Blues and Greys

Posted on 04 May 2013 @ 8:55am by Lieutenant Dawn Meridian

426 words; about a 2 minute read

Jeremy Stone is dead.

The voice comes from a figure lying on a bed in the background, far from the computer terminal. The bed covers are neat enough beneath her that it looks like she's just been resting on top of them.

I was told about as routinely as you could expect. It was need-to-know information before an away mission, and that was it. Everyone acted like a piece of equipment had malfunctioned, or surface weather conditions had suddenly changed for the worst. I think most people were more concerned for their own safety than they were that we'd lost a crewmember. That, or they were too busy arguing over the chain of command and who ought to know what when.

She lets out a breathy, audible sigh.

Stone was a man. A troubled one. An obstinate and sometimes frustrating one, sure. I don't know if putting him on this ship was the best way to help him, and it might have caused more trouble than it was worth, but... I did my best. I felt like I might have gotten through to him, eventually. But he pushed people so far away from him. Most of the crew was either scared of him or detested him. Sometimes both, I think. But he was trying to look out for this ship, even if that was hard to understand sometimes. And he loved his dog. His... security officer dog.

And now he's gone, before I could even do anything. Before anyone ever really understood anything about him. Was he grateful for anything, in the end? Did he ever believe that I was trying to look out for him? That age, experience, and the chain of command aren't everything? Probably not, though I'd like to think so.

She sits up, tilting her head toward the computer screen, her figure cloaked in shadow.

But I can't cry. There's an emptiness there, sure. And I'd like to cry for him... I would. But the tears just won't come. Why is that? Did I just not know him well enough? Or is the coldness everyone's showing him affecting me somehow? Does that make me feel better or worse?

She closes her eyes.

The ship's all blues and greys, lately. Cold colours. Cold feelings. They give me goosebumps, sometimes - and not the good kind. If I can mix in some nicer colours, maybe that will be enough. He probably wouldn't have cared. But I'll do it for him, anyway. It's all I can do.

RSS Feed