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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on May 15, 2019 3:50:25 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96249.0 - USS Pilgrim-- Dahlia sits in her quarters, at her desk wearing a black silk robe. --Computer: Begin a personal log. -- She crosses her legs, and wraps her arms around herself holding her robe closed, then reaches out for the glass on the desk. She takes a sip. --Marcus hasn't spoken to me outside of work since our experience on the dream-scape. He is frustrated, goddess knows I am frustrated as well. There are so many times I can forget that he is only twenty three. He has the patience of a man who sees things happening quickly and needs to move quickly with them. I don't see things quite the same, perhaps it is because I am so much older. Perhaps it is because I see... dreams of my previous lives. I find myself, since our experience ... since having to say goodbye to Sif, that visions of past lives come to me in my waking hours. At least now when I look at Marcus, I do not see faces from the past. Faces I remember loving, when I lived in a different place, time, and body. Isis knows why she has given me these visions, but they must mean something. Perhaps now that I have time to myself, i can meditate on their purpose, what they mean to teach me. -- She takes a drink and stares off into the room at something. --I do love him, I know I do. I just don't know how to be with him. It is as if that one experience has created a gulf of ... he cannot understand what I know, because he is convinced it is something it was not. And I am fixated upon the past. Those things that when I look at them, cause me to see visions. Like memories that I cannot have, perhaps flights of fancy born of my research and association with the foundation and it's artifacts. But that doesn't explain why ... I am so horribly protective of some things in the house. Sean's clothing stored in the closet, especially that old pea-coat. I swear I almost fainted when Mick brought it for Marcus to wear when he picked us up when we arrived on Earth. I was so distracted by the smell still lingering after more than a hundred years of the cologne he wore. It was faint, but still something I smelled, and recognized. Though he did not seem to notice it. Perhaps it is the preservation sheath the clothes are sealed in that preserves the scent. But that does not explain the rush of emotions when I smelled it. Also unexplained, why all the old artifacts in my cases are seemed to call to me now. I've owned them since I took possession of the apartment in '10. I've taken them with me when I was reassigned every time since. Sure, the music, the old laser data discs with the wonderful art on them was pretty, and I really liked the music when I looked it up in the database. They felt like old favorites, the first time I heard them. Now, I actually took apart one of the cases. As far as I know, it had been sealed for more than a hundred, perhaps as much as two hundred years old. The transparent aluminum, and the glazed aluminum date back to the mid 2200. I was stunned when I was greeted by the smell of leather preserved. The bag was still soft, familiar. I think I had a bag that felt like that when I was in college. Not real leather like this onE, but similar. The watch, I remember my father had a watch similar. It was a replica of an old Swiss made watch, my father's. The glasses were a good fit, but the lenses distorted my vision, I could not stand them long. The car keys, I have a set just like them for the antique car left to me, even the same make. I assume mine are replicated from these. There was even an old fashioned stethoscope, it was falling apart, the plastic of the tubing showed as sensitive to UV light. I think that is why it was degrading. I didn't feel a great attachment to the ancient electronic devices, the one marked star-tac reminded me of a communicator I found in Brigid's effects when I was cleaning things out. I couldn't find anything in the archives about it, but I think it is a cell phone from the 20th century. Not sure, but i think the camera and PADD were from the same time period. There was a small purse, more of a wallet... I ... I can't describe what happened when i touched it. It was as if... it burned my fingers. I didn't put it back when I put the case back on the wall. -- Dahlia drinks down glass full of whiskey then wipes her face with her hand. --I will think about that later. As well as the necklace. Both are in my desk. I need to get a little sleep, then maybe I'll look at it. The shock, must have been in my head. -- She looks at draw, makes a move to open it, then sighs and stands. --Computer: end log -- End Log --
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on May 15, 2019 3:57:07 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96287.0 - USS Pilgrim-- Dahlia enters her quarters, wearing white sterile medical clothes. She strips down and starts a bath. --Computer: Play that ..um, Evanescence collection, Synthesis from the Delancey database. -- She climbs into the bath, the video is dark, only her voice can be heard over the Overture piano. --Computer: Start a personal log entry. Notes to self. Remember today is in the win column. Computer: reduce music volume to 40 decibels... -- Music become a muted background sound --
Continuing... Personal observation, I didn't realize just how much I needed this win. We had been dealt a lot of emotional blows in the past few months. While they amounted to victories overall, the emotional toll has been high. The Zhyx invading the ship, the crew that we lost... I feel terrible suggesting but that was merely normal operations on a starship. Tragic, but when you are on the edge of exploration and a front of war, people will be lost. I was starting to feel callouse because the only person I truly grieved for was Maggie's personal loss of her brother. I felt more keenly the loss of the Irushey village. I should not have let it effect me so, but .... I feel personally responsible for that outcome. I was the ranking officer on that part of the mission, and the diplomatic liaison to the Irushey. It would be easy to shift responsibility to the Captain as she joined us, but it does not negate my personal responsibility. I thought only for success of our goals, and not for the possible repercussions for the Irushey. We all knew that the Dark is ruthless, and seeks destruction. And we learned quickly that the Irushey were a slave population, tools to a purpose. The evaluation that the forces of the Dark could discard or destroy them should have been identified and acted upon immediately, not set so far behind our thought process. Those nearly 200 lives will weigh on my conscience for the rest of my life I think. My personal injury on that mission bothers me as well. I have no memory of an injury to my left leg during my mission to Altair IV. Yet evidence in the medical scan would suggest a complete replacement of the bones of my left leg from the knee down. Such a catastrophic injury I think should be in my medical record. Further, I would like to know the full measure of what was the injury, it's source and method of repair. I can regenerate bones by accelerating natural healing. But I do not know of a way to completely repair the bones with genetic material from the host. That is advanced medicine. I don't like the open question. I was eager to return to the Talon expanse. We failed to free San's village, or even visit the others, they were killed for having contact with us. Such a thing needed to be corrected, we needed to offer freedom, and a way off that desolate planet where they were dependent on the Zhyx for the things necessary for life. The Zhyx, we think, or perhaps other forces of the Dark stopped us from taking advantage of the wormhole to help the Irushey. And in the process, put us through that hell. I can't talk about it, even in personal logs. DTI hasn't cleared it yet, considering it's possible implications I doubt they will. As I look back on this, all I have to say is Sif... and I will know of the heart ache and guilt that I feel over her. Abandoning to her own fate. It would have been more human to give her a quiet and peaceful euthanizing injection. Everyone says it is changed, a timeline that will never exist now. I know differently. I can't explain to any true detail why, but in my depths, I know that will still happen and the pain and heartache will still be there. We are divergent to a different timeline only, not canceling out what will become in that one. Marcus thinks that I am not listening, he keeps trying to convince me that it was a trick, an illusion created by the Dark. My heart, my soul, and my mind cannot reconcile this, the evidence was to the contrary. While in the situation, my first thought, my first belief was it was a trick. An illusion to cause revelations, pain or distraction. My empirical testing proved that was not the case. Even moments, just moments spent with the girl Sif, told me all I needed to know to know the truth of it. Marcus says he has grieved the appropriate time, and has moved on. I cannot help but feel that he is callous for his ability to move on from grief so easily. I cannot help but feel a certain amount of anger at his insistence that I cease my grief upon command. I can't talk with him about this. He wants to solve the problem and move on. As if he can fix me and then go on to some other activity. Goddess, does he not understand, I have lost... EVERYONE. I've been ... I know the clinical diagnosis is survivor's guilt. But it is something that you must come to grips with, internalize and live with being alive when someone else is not. It is not healthy to just push it down and try to exist like it never happened. The dead deserve to be remembered, acknowledged. THEY EXISTED, and they continue to exist if we remember them. -- Sloshing can be heard, the silhouette of the nude doctor can be seen highlighted by safety lighting. She opens the globe and pours herself a drink and returns to the tub, uttering a sound of relief once settled back into the water. --
Isis be praised for the healing of the waters. Thanks also to Friar John Cor for his aqua-vitae, which is calming to the mind as well. -- Silence for nearly two minutes but for the music. --Most of my memories, even the visions of incarnations past, are of loss and pain. I've come to define my life by it. I have to remind myself of these moments of success, victory of life over death and destruction. But I also have to remind myself that this work is not over. Correcting the genetic issues of the embryos are a great success. But there has to be a way to correct the genetic abnormalities to be passed to the eggs at all. To make it possible to have a clutch of eggs that do not require treatment to grow into healthy chicks. It is a step that may have a much higher survivability rate than the full treatment. I worry that the treatment might be withheld as a bargaining device. Diplomats and politicians are often seeking tools and advantage in negotiations. But damn them if they do. Where there is life, there is hope. If they have hope, negotiating the release and ceasing the the capture of servitors should be more possible. We will make them stronger, give them capability to flourish. That is what we are here for, turning enemies into allies, foes into friends. Isis please, help them to find the better path. -- Silence for minutes but for the music. -- Computer: Set a reminder, upon reaching Citadel download to my terminal all data concerning the Traek patients being held on the Citadel. And the human prisoners I already have flagged. We cannot forget about what we wish to accomplish, even when faced with new threats and opportunities. -- The computer chimes to indicate there is a visitor at the door. --Computer: End log.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on May 25, 2019 17:35:16 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96310.85 - USS Pilgrim-- Dahlia enters her quarters, wearing white medical unform. She strips off the jacket and sits at her desk. --Computer: Play ... play something from the Kaki King collection. -- The computer plays Pink Noise --Computer: Start a personal log entry. My last log was about regrets. i should make this one about things I am thankful for; or some of them. Computer: lower volume to a 25 decibel ceiling. -- Music become a muted background sound --
Continuing... We are still alive, we have not lost a crewman in a while. I am thankful for this. We are at war, and yet we are working to make the warriors of our enemies our allies. To return life and prosperity where there was death and desolation. This cannot be wrong. Computer: Make reminder, tomorrow after shift I would like to check in on Ilya, please ask if she will have time for tea. Marcus; how... I am both thankful for him and frustrated by his presence. I had gotten used to being alone. I could seek out companionship when I needed it, but walk away as I needed. I was described as feline, i liked that. I've always had an affinity for cats. But I ... this is more than I thought it could be already. I tried to warn him off, I tried to give him reasons and excuse to relieve himself of me. His affection for me feels sincere, as does my own. I want him in my life, I am just unsure how to do that. Everyone goes though this. Finding new pieces and learning how they fit. His timing is so ... frustrating. It distracts me from what I need to do. But it distracts me in wonderful ways. I started getting lost. Working to fit myself into his life and letting my own go. I recognized this, and almost forced an end. Thankfully, we seem to be working out the details. -- The computer changes audio to Surface Changes. --
At least now, I am able to think. To work without having him in my every thought. I am beginning to become less frightened as well. At first I thought that meant I was wrong, and that I was not in love with him. Because everyone I love dies. I's an inevitable fate, I don't know why but it must be. It is as if the universe is attempting to break me. There has been success, so many times. I get back up after each, thinking it would be the last time I can get up. One more will kill me. Still I rise, battered and weak, but still I rise. Isis, please, do not let anything cause great harm to him. Watch over my Marcus and keep him. -- The computer audio of guitar music is the only sound while the Doctor gets up and goes into the bedroom. Some rustling sounds as she changes clothes. She song ends, and is replaced by Anthropomorph. --I filed my reports, I did my job, why do I feel like i'm still missing something. Something ...there is an expectant shadow hanging over me for some reason. Like something is going to happen. Computer: End log.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Jun 17, 2019 3:17:30 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96356.10 - USS Pilgrim-- Dahlia sits in her white scrubs at a terminal in the holographic medical unit serving Arandak Tirrhe. She has half a dozen monitoring screens open. Then she gets a look on her face of utter horror. --Computer: Add a note to my personal log. -- The computer chimes affirmation of recording. --Computer: Replay this message for me every 10 days if I do not replay this message manually or override... Point one, I was acting on the assumption that the Beryxian ship was directed to the star, cool as it was relatively but still a star, by the Beryxian crew. What if it was sent there by another force or entity, with the intention of running an experiment in an astronomical laboratory. What if it was being studied, and tested in order to determine if a middle step could be bypassed in creating RN-74 crystaline structures. Confirmation is not yet made of suspicions that RN-74 crystals are produced either with, or in the same way as veracysium also known as elder obsidian. But I cannot shake the feeling that it is true. But if it is true, and what I have determined about the red blight being purely engineered, with nothing of a natural occurring basis, the truth behind that is startling and frightening. Both sides use the Crystals as the basis of their technology. -- A computer chime draws her attention to one of the monitors of the process --
Computer: End log.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Jul 10, 2019 14:02:20 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96427.7 - Risa Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- Dahlia sits in front of the video pick up in a mostly darkened room. Her face lit only by the interface lighting. Her face is streaked with tears, her hair down and though the video picks up only from shoulders up, it is easily assumed that she is unclothed. Dahlia seems to be holding herself with her arms, one hand to her face. Her voice is heard only at a whisper. --Computer: Open personal log. -- The computer chimes affirmation of recording. She breathes a moment, gathering herself before continuing. --Computer: Override normal settings, lock entries during this leave to my personal password only... -- Dahlia glances behind her at something in the darkness, in response the video pickup refocuses attempting to add it to the record. A darkened doorway is all that can be discerned. --I can't tell him this... but I need to say it out loud, to make some record and try to order this in my mind. Because something is definitely out of order. -- She sniffs and wipes her eyes. --Sean... no... Telemachus sleeps in the next room. He is, I don't know if he would ever understand. And I can't really take the risk. I can't lose him now. There are times, more frequent in past months when I question my sanity. I keep seeing things in dreams, most often forgotten by midday, but vividly remembered upon waking. Dreams with the quality of memory, but of what I cannot recall for long. This place brings them to mind not only when I sleep. Music, like smells, bring memories to surface and give the mind something to link them to... I know from my studies that no memory is perfect, that there are distortions and rewriting of memory in all organic beings. But memory is what we have to understand ourselves and our history. Why does mine conflict so much at times? Why when I am with Telemachus here, in this place, am I reminded so strongly of someone I never met? I believe in reincarnation, I always have. But never imagined that the memories of one life could be so strong, even overwhelming at times. They are also very confusing. Poor Telemachus, I could not tell him the whole truth. My lover deserves better. My heart and mind were overwhelmed as we made love. I clung to him because I feared so deeply at that moment losing him. When I love, people die. I was ... It was as if I was not only with my Telemachus, but reliving being with a lover in a previous life from a similar circumstance; one who was lost and mourned. I can't stop, crying, I feel rent inside, raw. Both from the intense emotion of love which has taken me on a ride I did not ask for or plan for, as well as the sense of loss for one whom I almost remember. This would not be so difficult if the dreams did not seem to use familiar faces mutated into new roles. I heard a song tonight, and you could have knocked me over with a feather. Before the first stanza was complete, images of the face of my father, and his voice even, were calling a name, my name but not my name. Stern use of the first and middle name, which I knew in my core was my own, but would be impossible for what I saw. My father liked to toy with ancient machines engines. But I don't ever have a memory of him riding one them. He did not speak to me using the name I know, at least not in this life. Computer: End log.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Jul 28, 2019 10:02:56 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96460.15 - Risa Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- Dahlia sits in front of the video pick up of a PADD, the room bathed in moonlight from an open skylight. Her hair is very disheveled, and she holds a bottle of a honey gold flat alcohol in her left hand which she drinks from directly. She speaks at a whisper. --Computer: Open personal log. -- The computer chimes affirmation of recording. She breathes, shushes the PADD, gathering herself before speaking, panning the camera of the PADD. She is wearing a cream-colored camisole sleep set, and shows with the camera pass an electric guitar of a modern style circa 2025 and headphones circa 1970. Dahlia looks behind her at the shadows of the next room, turning back once assured Marcus still slept. --I'm losing it. I dared to dream, I shared it all, didn't hide anything from him, and he didn't run away. I asked him to, he didn't run away. I showed him my less savory sides, and he showed me his, confident I would not be frightened away any more than he. I dared to dream that this fairy tale of a romance in the middle of a horror movie could actually work and we would both emerge from the other side to live happily ever after. -- She sniffs and wipes her eyes. --
How dare I? That's not my life. I dared to come to Risa with him, as much as I love this world for its beauty and peacefulness, it will always bring back echoes of ghosts of the past. This time it almost brought back a ghost I earned... I'll go back and explain, so if someone finds this they will know why all the bodies. -- She puts the headphones on over one ear, and plugs them into her guitar, beginning the tuning process, which considering the style of guitar was useless, it could not lose tune with its computer control. --First thing, I was here a little over a year ago on my way through to pick up a ride to the LMC and the Pilgrim. I was warned to settle my affairs, as it may be a decade if ever before I could return again. I took them at their word. I found a lover for a weekend, a glorious weekend of abandonment of sense, both of us knew would end as an affair the moment we left the island. No, the world... Risa... -- She takes another drink from the bottle. --Dr. Nathan Wellington, sexy guy, more my own age, vigorous, inventive and attentive both in and out of bed. Good style, even owning a private residence here on Risa, which I took advantage of myself at his invitation. I meant to stay in touch, but with the Artesia mission being classified, I did not risk correspondence. Part of me thought, when it was over, I would come to look the fellow up and see if there was more than just intense chemistry between us. -- She takes another drink from the bottle. --Thing was, me and Doc, that was simple. That was what it was, no heartache, no confusion, no misunderstanding, and no complications. When I learned I was coming back here, I felt it was an obligation to look him up again. Because if he had felt the same as me when left, he might have been thinking there was something to pursue there as well. Something worthwhile, but; then there is Marcus. I love him, I admit it though I cringe when I say it aloud. It is as if just saying it is to challenge the universe to take it away from me. -- She takes another drink from the bottle. --I told Marcus all about him, wanted him to meet actually. Not like the ambassador. -- She laughs, then cringes at her volume, still smiling. --The Ambassador was a fun adventure, but definitely NOT something I would consider doing again. Goddess, I'd never seen one that big before not attached to a farm animal. Anyway... -- She shakes her head, then takes a drink. --I am thinking that maybe I was thinking of the thing with the Doc with rose-colored glasses on. I had actually considered running away to it, to hide from something that scared me. How childish, and damn slutty I have to say. -- Dahlia sighed deeply. --I think I'm getting ahead of myself... I was having truly magical leave with Marcus, till the dreams started, then even he managed to make it work, being who he is I felt his arms would make it better. Like a fairy tale princess rescued by her knight. There are some things even a knight cannot ward off. I avoid the cameras, I avoid the reporters. I let Mick represent the foundation in nearly all things, in my name. It gets uncomfortable when people start noticing the family resemblance. -- She takes another drink from the bottle, then coughs. --They start looking into the public records, learn I'm the only survivor of the whole branch of the Delancey families that is Badi. A Gypsy clan wiped out, because of the destruction of Vega. A tragedy that hurts to relive, which I do relive to a certain extent every time I think of Risa, let alone come here. -- She starts to cry, sobs once or twice, then bites her lip. -- This is where I was when the Borg attacked. Boarding a ship to come home, not even halfway home when turned back because of the news. I came from that tragedy, got my MD, my PhD, and am a Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet. Always there are those who see this and think, this is a story worth pursuing. They then find out about my first posting, the Hestia and Altair IV. All that death, and I came through relatively unscathed. Of course, THAT becomes a story again, and they want to talk to me about all the tragedy in my life, and how I have overcome it. They don't see that I'm only a few days from falling apart a lot of the time. They don't know that it didn't end there, how I buried my Captain and mentor whom I think I was closer with than anyone else in my career. They might find out about my wartime service and start dragging that into it. The thousands of people who died on Space Dock One, and the hundreds I personally killed with my triage decisions that haunt my dreams at night sometimes. No, I don't like people digging into me, wanting to turn me into some sort of entertainment or human interest story for ratings or propaganda. It has happened before, and I swear it can only get worse, and I think it has the power to drive me over the wall, put my toys in the attic and send me fishing. -- She strums some cords just then, and her sad face becomes one more of grim acceptance. --Marcus is the son of an important family, on his world. While I'm responsible for the operations of a foundation and a family financial legacy on a world with little use for coinage or capital these days. He stands the primary heir of a family who's fortunes stand high and with great wealth. Prestige and wealth are things greatly valued and sought after on his world. Marriages are performed more for political and financial gain than for love in the upper crust of their society. I suppose that's really no different than any society when the family name becomes political. The bitch of it is, I didn't think of any of that before. I never considered just what it could mean. I was swept away by the grandeur of the welcome home, the holiday celebrations, including the rituals for Janus. Then there was the Villa. Marcus's father granting him a villa by the sea, like something right out of ancient Tuscany, with a training facility. A bit of a dark past that, gladiators were trained to fight and die there. The sport though has been transformed to bring back the excitement without the death. Kind of like boxing of Earth, with its rise in the 19th to 20th, banning in the 21st, then re-surging to some popularity in the 23rd centuries. New methods of safety make it just as exciting without the risk of death to the combatants. It plays to our more animal nature, spiking an amygdala response and by that an adrenal response. In the past half-year he has managed that business opportunity to some fame back on his homeworld. Fame and jealousy, like professional sports of the 20th, it seems it is a rather cutthroat business, even if the sport itself is not. But that is only the gladiatorial arena, he is also in the political arena, by nature of his bloodline. People are posturing, and maneuvering for stature and wish to use him to increase their own, or tear his family down to raise themselves by comparison. Goddess, I despise politics. -- She shakes her head, then takes a drink. --That's what has me here, wishing for a phaser and every one of these ******** lined up in a row so I could mow them down. We have to be aware of possible physical attacks, business meddling, and political maneuvering which apparently can include me as his off world lover to be used as a weapon against him. -- She taps on the PADD. --Computer; embed article in log. Marcus tells me this is was set up by the Pompey family something or other, I can't keep all that Roma stuff straight, I am hard-pressed to tell who the Federation president is without looking it up, how am I supposed to keep this straight. I literally asked Marcus for a player's program because I can't remember who is friend, who is a foe, ho is relative and who is ... gahhh. Reading it again, it's not quite as upsetting as it was earlier, to be honest. I thought it was much worse, but even still... I hate to be in the spotlight. I can't do it. I almost ran away, I actually was considering looking up Doc's location and hiding out there till Pilgrim left for the Artesia system. -- She pauses to lift the bottle, drinking several swallows instead of sipping. --Marcus talked me down... rather boorish way but still succeeded. -- The sound of her fingers plucking the metal strands could be heard, but no musical notes as the sound went into the ancient styled headphones. Her fingers keep moving along the strings, frets and plucking till the recording ends. She is looking down at the strings, not at the screen. Tears can be seen to wet her cheeks. --I can't bear to be in the spotlights, be in them and drag it all out again. To lay bare my history and my life, especially for the vultures of Roma who would pick it clean for any little edge or advantage? -- Dahlia pauses her thought to sing along with what she is playing. ---- Her volume had risen to almost a shout with the last 'and over', causing her to stop and look to see if she had woken Marcus. Looking back at him in the darkness for a minute till she was satisfied he was not disturbed, then her fingers began plucking again, but she did not sing. --**** it; embrace the horror. If they are going to talk, conspire and make something of it, then I'll give them something to talk about today... not 10, 15 years ago, today. Nothing as petty as my arrest for throwing a Klingon through a window, but.. I'll dress the part. They want to compare me to an Egyptian pharaoh, renowned for her beauty and style, then I will dress in old Egyptian style... -- Dahlia starts strumming and sings a quatrain. ---- She stops all of a sudden, and smiles. She reaches for the bottle, drinking heartily from it. --Yes. That's what I'll do... I'll go to the nines, sexy as a gypsy belly dancer, but as stately as a queen, layers of sheers so that their imaginations will assume they see what they cannot really see. Dark eye makeup, and lips the color of gold, a shara of fine Persian style shot through with gold threads to cover my head, and my face, revealing only my eyes. A belt that displays wealth so it is not assumed that I seek it. I'll let them have photos, and gossip, let their imaginations fill in the gaps. I could never measure up to that anyway. Keep them talking about what they see, and imagining what they don't see instead of looking for it. -- Thinking for a minute thinking about the music recently played in the room, genre even the writer Chrissie Hynde, she strums the guitar. --
I'll talk to Captain Reins, see if he will let me put on a set, practice being in front of people so I can steady myself when I get to Roma. Computer, download sheet music, and audio recordings of ... the Pretenders... The following songs, Brass in Pocket, Don't get me wrong, love is a mystery, message of love, I'll stand by you, Rosalee, Precious and.. Tattooed love boys. I'll pick from those, 3 to 5 songs, I'm sure he wouldn't mind it. Now to make sure my clothes are ready. Computer: End log.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Aug 4, 2019 23:17:54 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96485.84 - Magna Roma Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- TEXT ONLY ENTRY --By the goddess, I must be insane. All logic, all reason, all sensibility seems to have left me. My heart is leading where all the rest of me has feared to go. My heart has made promises, wrote checks as it were, can I cover them? Can I fulfill the promise of my heart? There are some wedding vows for the ages. I didn't know I was saying it, it's like my heart took control of my mouth and blurted out what I was feeling in the moment, without a filter. It's done now. I am a little .. no, a lot nervous. Marcus almost died. I admitted I loved him, deeply enough to promise to be his and be with him. Less than a full day later he was moments from death. How can I not be nervous? Everyone I love dies. I might die. And for the first time, beyond the normal amount, that scares me. I have something I need to do, an obligation to this new family. I have decided, when I get back I'm going to talk with McCoy about harvesting ovum. I know the procedure, but I can hardly do it myself. I'm going to fertilize and freeze embryos for storage on Magna Roma with the family. When it is tenable, I will go through IVF and give him children. If I die before then, at least a surrogate can give the family comfort that the legacy moves on to a new generation to carry on the family line. Note to self, contact lawyers concerning my will, and legal recognition of this.. oh my goddess, fool-hearted ... no, I can't say mistake.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Aug 8, 2019 5:05:59 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96493.4 - Delta Flyer Aurelius En Route to Risa from Magna Roma Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- TEXT ONLY ENTRY --Goddess my head hurts. I have taken analgesic, but that roman wine is so damned strong. I would see my own hand to stay from it for a time. I tarried long there, or not long enough. I am of mind speaking as they do, absent Federation grammar. Time now set thoughts and deeds to record, as to not confuse wine addled brain with conscious deed. I hate all of this maneuvering and playing for advantage and favor. I think I'm making a good impression on mother Antonia though. She agreed to take a seat on the advisory board for the as of yet still developing idea of a foundation for the arts of Roman history. Guess the name will need some work. Ilithyia too will help guide it, and thankfully help fund it. Participation of them both and Crassus was so important for two reasons. One, if the project were funded solely from Earth, there could be political reasons to not support the actions of those working for it. In protest of Earth again taking something from them. By having local people oversee, operate, and fund it, it becomes a Roman project, I will just advise. Two, Continued elevation of Roman Elite within the history of the world, so that their names will not just become lost in history, because they will have a hand in keeping it from being so. I’m trying to think ahead before speaking, and still be quick on my feet. But this move was as political as I will likely get in Magna Roman areas. It was a risk to even suggest, but if it is well received, so will I be. Marcus takes a risk by bringing someone from outside his world into his family. It’s important that there be reasons for them to accept me, and believe that I have no imperialistic views or needs to change who they are like they are starting to see the rest of the Federation. Besides, it is fully within my purview to forward foundation interests, which will be served in gaining knowledge the oral and musical traditions which would have little changed since the forced diaspora that separated them from Earth. Ancient musical traditions quite literally lost to history on Earth, could be recovered. That alone, is majorly valuable. I just hope that the rest of the Board recognizes this so they will agree to co-fund the project. I am worried that my own funds will not see the project through more than set up and a few years. With Crassus matching funds, maybe longer. But I don’t know what is a fair compensation for employing these people on his world. I just know some of what our operating needs are. Goddess, I hope I’m not getting in over my head on this.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Aug 8, 2019 5:36:27 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96493.4 - Delta Flyer Aurelius En Route to Risa from Magna Roma Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- TEXT ONLY ENTRY --Submitted to the Board- Sent to Mick
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Aug 10, 2019 17:10:44 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96500.73 - Risa Forward to USS Pilgrim Database -- TEXT ONLY ENTRY --Marcus showers, I will join him momentarily. I wanted to make note of something, for later analysis. Last night I suffered in my dreams. I saw him, the man in black. The man I've come to think of as the face of death. The pale-skinned visage of the grim reaper that had haunted my dreams for months came to me again. In meditation my memories became clearer. I remember a dream of his face during my first trip to Risa. I remember seeing him on the shuttle pod when the Hestia was destroyed. Records showed, however, the one I thought to be him was some other. A trick of my mind, likely due to trauma. At least of that my time with the counselors convinced me. I have known his presence always in dreams of death destruction. I have to wonder if I am not subconsciously conjuring his face as a warning. Maybe something I am not paying enough attention to consciously. It could just be close call like I told Marcus, viral poison delivered by that Nausican barely survived. That or I am somehow capable of some prognostication.
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Aug 23, 2019 8:00:01 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96532.3 USS Pilgrim -Offline DeLancey Database - Copy to Pilgrim DB--- Dahlia sits at her desk in her quarters. The video pick up shows a mostly darkened room. Her face lit only by the interface lighting and framed by her auburn hair hanging loose and as if from bed. As she moves to enter command data it can be seen she is wearing a light robe of a shiny white material. Her face is thoughtful, and her eye move as if to indicate she is still processing what she says. Her voice is heard barely above a whisper. --Computer: Open personal log. Marcus sleeps in the other room. I couldn't stop thinking, why did McCoy not tell me the results of the test? So I pulled up what I could salvage. The test he ran for HCG in my blood was well within the margin for error. I guess in my excitement, I didn't notice that. I just saw a positive and kind of lost my mind. Unfortunately, my current HCG levels are not a good indicator after having started on gonadotropins for the COS process. My hormone levels all were good. My AFC count was 20, that was really right on target. As such I can adjust the dosage of the gonadotropins because I'll already be stimulating by now. The monitoring for AMH is showing a rise. I reran the test and got a result of 2.6 ng/mL which according to the protocols is right on target. According to the deep scan, I just ran, blastocyst implantation occurred approximately 8 days ago. Not a wonder my test came back negative when I did it before we left Risa orbit, and it is showing positive the morning we leave the Citadel. That would put the embryonic age at about three weeks when we arrive back at the Citadel. I am forwarding a request through channels for an appointment with an OBGYN upon arrival at Citadel. According to the protocol, that should still be within the time frame for harvesting and stasis, though it would have been better if it could have been collected as a blastocyst. Now it will require surgery. I just hope we do not run into any delays on the way back, or I might be forced to trust the new EMH to perform the procedure. I'm not letting Vant attempt it. The ovum and the embryo will need to be harvested for stasis. The only positive thing I can think of is that at that time, it should be approximately 21-23 days old. I will be able to examine the genome and verify sex. I will make sure there are no defects or abnormalities brought on by the contraceptive medications. It wouldn't be much of a miracle if the little one were going to be a stillbirth or a miscarriage. I never thought I would be here, thinking such thoughts. I never considered having children. I just assumed that would be for other people. With so much death in my life, I never considered trying to have a baby. There was always so much else to do. My career came first. I needed to make it right, justify why I lived when they all died. I still can't consider having children yet. But I know I want to have his. To be the mother to them, and see it done. Placing embryos in stasis for later implantation is the best I can do right now. And if something happens to us, it will be a legacy for the families at least. I was tempted to not tell him. Sharing good news on the heels of a casualty is ... poor form. How could I keep it from him though? It should not be possible, both of us took precaution. I have not been with another man... this year. So that isn't the possibility. -- Dahlia stares off into the darkness for several minutes. -- I checked on Eldax when I went over to Med Bay to run my scan. He is resting and should be clear to go back to his quarters in the morning. We lost McClure, I can't say this to Marcus or Vaylith, they worked with him and feel his lost keenly. It was not a good death, empty. It breaks one's heart to see someone lose their life without purpose. I cannot think of anything redeeming in this one. I feel guilty, that I find myself more feeling the loss of McCoy. The basic software is still present, but the being, the fine experienced medical mind is lost. I don't know a back up will restore him. It may restore the data, but will it restore the spark that made him a person? Computer: End log. pastebin.com/7rEeBfSm
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Sept 9, 2019 3:03:23 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96568.25 LMC-3140-31 - Up-link to USS Enigma in orbit - Copy to Pilgrim DB --- Dahlia sits surrounded by greenery, the leaves of an alien variety. The PADD propped up on a rock in front of her picks up her image boosting light pickup as she slips her arms out of her excursion jumpsuit in the predawn light. The smoke from the dying fire seems to come from about 10 meters behind her. She ties the sleeves, then sits barefoot in what looks like grass next to her boots, with her legs crossed. She adjusts her tank top and her breasts for comfort, before crossing her arms in front of her she reaches over to the PADD to adjust the angle of the image. -- Computer: Open personal log. I got up to greet the sun, and the goddess, Marcus will be awake soon but he knows what I'm doing by now. My ... Marcus. He is very comfortable with calling me his wife. While on his world I could call him husband without any reservation. After the back and forth with the legal letters, I am still constantly reminded that by Federation law we are not married, yet. They require my acceptance of the initial prenuptial agreement offer before they will send it to Julia. I'm sure they have lawyers there too. I got another via the uplink from Enigma. I'm almost afraid to open it. I will have to wait. Oh... -- Dahlia bares her teeth at the camera. -- We had an oops in yesterday's excursion into the tunnels. The whole group of us fell when the tunnel angle suddenly took on a steep grade. I hate spelunking, I prefer climbing an open wall with proper belay. No one up front told us that the grade was changing, Marcus was behind me and we both tumbled into .. I it was Istin, then into T'Ghor. I think face planted into T'Ghor thick skull when we landed. Broke a tooth, it can wait till get back up to Enigma to fix though. Things got a little heated, things were said. They will be kept off the record. Except, note to self. Don't talk about not wanting to fall down a dead drop then go down a dark tunnel without safety gear. I have ascent gear in my kit now. This isn't like with the teams, there isn't patience for taking the step by step or the training within the group to deal with setback on the scene as if there is not support. I reacted with some anger because .... gah, it doesn't matter. We need to work together as a team. We can't just beam out when an inconvenient situations arises. We will never work well as a team if we don't learn how to depend on each other in a hazard situation. I don't blame the Captain for wanting to pull us out, but I do believe she was reacting without all the facts. I learned in the teams, and on the Faraday, to listen to the input of my officers before making a judgement call to withdraw or move forward. I reacted poorly, got upset. Thankfully, T'Ghor and I were able to hash things out later. I don't think we will have any more problems. I need to speak with the Captain though. The sun is coming up. -- She readjusts her position, to a relaxed pose. Her arms out to her sides palms up, and face to the sky, she takes deep cleansing breath. --Oh.. right.. Computer: End log. Associated Mission RecordMessage Waiting < Sender Earth, Eruditus Group, Ian Cochran, BL. RE: Private Documents >
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Sept 30, 2019 19:03:14 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 96619.25 - USS Enigma in leaving LMC-3140-31 orbit - Copy to Pilgrim DB --- Dahlia hurriedly sit at the standard desk in the guest quarters on board, three PADD tablets clatter to the desk as she does. The video picks up her facial expression shifting between disturbed, excited and concentrating as she moves between them hurriedly. She removes her standard-issue service uniform jacket and looks at the screen directly into the pick-up. --Computer: Open personal log. The doctor here on the Enigma is thorough, I thought he might give me a pelvic and rectal exam next. Complete decon, but at least he did a good job fixing my tooth. --She began speaking the tones, as best as she can from what she remembers in the Irushey language, making notations using work she apparently did in sick-bay on the PADD to try to show the alphabet and iconography of the language to match the spoken words, especially those carved on the walls and tunnels. Finally, she gets morose. Then she repeats what she can remember, still in the Irushey.--The four great cities of the Irushey people; 'Argun-Ahi', the Central City, the center of government and culture, 'Argun-Satta', the Lake City, told to be of incredible beauty along the waters of an underground lake, 'Argun-Ilgyur', the Magma City, a deep-dwelling where the fires of the planet can be felt for warmth and a center of industry, minding and such, and 'Argun-Emis', Star City the only city on the surface, where the stars can be seen while traveling there.
In the central city, a great festival was held to commemorate the joining of the Four Cities. Many people, with beautiful artworks, glowing in the darklight, smells of wonderful cooking of mushrooms and moss, and penns full of byrrhats... six-legged beasts of burden, mounts, and animals to pull carts. There was music, dancing, food, and comradery, as well as a storyteller to tell of the history and why the four became one. He told of the rising of a great and terrible creature of the Dark and Deep. Three centuries before, in the deep tunnels between the Lake city and the Magma city, the creature rose up. Was it found from delving too deep as some said or did it claw it's way up from the Dark and deep, no one could say for sure. The storyteller animately shared the history with those willing to listen, mostly children. The storyteller spread his arms... The storyteller lifted his head high... The storyteller clasped his hands... --Tears in her eyes, Dahlia stops, controlling her breathing to get control of her emotions. She picks up another PADD, and connects it.--
Computer, play music file... simulate natural drums and horns.
--Three hours go by, as she works on the music file, attempting to make it sound as the song did in her memory, a piece of long lost culture she so desperately wants to retrieve for the survivors, especially San. The final product of dozens of tracks is as close to her memory as she can achieve for one of the songs of the Irushey bands played through the night. She disconnects her private listening and plays the song at volume in the quarters just as Marcus enters.--
Computer; End log.
-- End Log --
ATTACHED:
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Jun 24, 2020 2:26:40 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 97220.68 - USS Enigma guest quarters -Copy to Pilgrim DB --- Dahlia sat in front of the terminal, her hair still golden blonde. She had long since washed all of the gold paint from her skin, but it had left a little of its glow around the eyes and hairline showing in the light of the terminal. The room is quiet and dark, Dahlia is sitting in a black robe decorated with peonies. She looks at the video pick-up preparing to speak. -- Computer: Open personal log. I have not posted a personal log in a good long while. Perhaps I should, maybe it would help me with the issues I'm having. But to be honest, I was reticent to do so for fear that the record might be used against me. Today, however; I have written a report on the damned mission Marcus convinced me to take part in, despite having just the day before had my leave of absence approved. Marcus, he is a good man. He saw a child who needed saving and did so. Even if she was a fully developed and sexually aggressive child trying to...- --sigh-- even if she was a terrorist. He suspected and was proven right that she was drawn into something she didn't fully understand and did not fully ascribe to in her heart. She did not go through with the attack. He turned her and used her for intelligence. Despite his methods, I understood that much, even though most women might have been horribly upset by it. My patience though was expired when I found that he had brought her to our quarters. Temporary, guest quarters or not, it was my safe space with him. I got very angry with him for not recognizing why I was upset. It was not how he acted with that woman, that child. It was that he did not consider that bringing a cult member, a terrorist, even one duped into my safe space without consulting me was a painful thing. He assumed it was what I would do, he may have been right, but it was not the only choice, and he could have consulted me. He could have used another guest room. --She tapped on the keypad.--I am watching the footage, and isolating a section to append to my report. I am still angry, and still feeling betrayed. However, I am writing this report, and putting a hold on it rather than sending it right away. I want to think about it before I ask a captain to explain herself to the admiral. Likely I won't even follow through. --The video played showing from Dahlia's point of view as she and Mister Vaax were attempting to aid a disguised Vulcan in a state of seeming inebriation, definitely incapacitated. They are moving through an alley behind a building amidst a city on Beryxia. The audio can be heard... - -- CPT T'Pang looks at Dahlia and Istrin -- "Doctor? Where are we?"
- Dr. Delancey: "Catching our cab, just a little farther."
- ENS Istrin Vaax: "Heading back to the shuttle ma'am.. Are you alright?"
- -- CPT T'Pang allowed herself to be towed to the shuttle. -- "okay."
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "Jupiters."
- CPT T'Pang: "I will be fine Ensign, a little disoriented."
- Audio-only across coms: -- Talyse gasped out in pain and shock --
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "CHOSEN contact"
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "T'ghor take her and go!"
- Audio-only across coms: -- LCDR Valkriss heavy breathing as she runs -- "Vay...what is there SIX??"
- -- Dr. Delancey's hand comes into view as she hands a pipe to the captain --
- LCDR Valkriss audio-only across coms: "Move move out of the way!! MOVE!"
- -- CPT T'Pang looks at the pipe. -- "what is this?"
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "Go now I will see to this."
- LT T'Ghor audio-only across coms: "Moving out, cover us!"
- Dr. Delancey: "Have T'pang transported to medical for detox... she is disoriented and cannot risk if chosen on the ground."
- LCDR Zalithya Vaylith audio-only across coms: "Requesting a SST above chosen location. Requiring deltas to transport down as close as possible to run towards Talyse's location with pattern enhancers."
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "You can surrender now if you wish ascendant."
- --Dr. Delancey takes a step back from T'pang.--
- CPT T'Pang: "Doctor you are not coming with me?"
- ENS Istrin Vaax: "Doctor?"
- Dr. Delancey: "Go, get her to medical... I'll go to the shuttle."
- CPT Arfacio audio-only across coms: "Take her to the shuttle, we're dealing with something!"
- -- CPT T'Pang reaches out and takes Dahlia's hand and gives it a squeeze. --
- CPT T'Pang: "be careful.."
- ENS Istrin Vaax: "Ok!"
- --A HUD direction arrow for evac shuttle shows up on the lense view.--
- Dr. Delancey sounding exasperated: "8 transporter rooms active and you can't pull a telepath out of a situation with a telepath hunter?"
- LT Marcus Aquila audio-only across coms: "Good, I'll enjoy taking my time killing you."
- CPT Arfacio audio-only across coms: "JUST FUCKING DEAL WITH IT, DOCTOR, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!"
--[/ul][/font] [/font] Madame Admiral: I do not wish to present you with trouble, I prefer solutions. In this case, I must bring to your attention the actions, or rather inaction of one of your officers. I am appending the recording so you may judge for yourself. In particular: during the 97218 mission of the Pilgrim Crew to Beryxia, hosted by the Enigma; I attest that Captain Arfacio violated the trust of the away team, failing to abide by the mission protocol. Two members of the team were in need of transport off of the planet. One, in critical situation was in fact recovered as per the protocol. The other, while in my assessment needed immediate transport to medical from a kilometre or so away was left to walk to the shuttle, and await treatment till the rest of the passengers were on board and we could return. It was my assessment, that once the cult leader we were sent to uncover was identified as Chosen, known telepath hunters, the danger and immediate threat to Captain T'Pang, a telepath increased drastically. She was already affected by an unknown toxin which I believe incapacitated her. Her ability to defend herself from potential attack was nil in my belief. The mission protocol included sub-dermal communication and tracker as well as camera lenses in contact with our eyes. We were assured they would be keeping a constant connection with us, for our safety. Captain T'Pang and I were unarmed, infiltrating the location to try to get eyes on and make contact with the cult leader. We were notified in the basement of the building that transporter lock on was not possible, but it was completely assured outside the buildings in the streets. It is a standard protocol when an away team goes into danger that security be standing by, and transporters be prepared to pull the team out. Only the first was followed in this case, thus violating the trust we placed in Captain Arfacio's command. Had the one left in danger not also been a telepath, and the Captain of the Pilgrim a high value target with security access and sensitive information, I would not be making this report. I did not ask for transport for myself, and I do not believe that I am out of line in stating that there is no excuse for the manner in which this was handled on board the ship. As you know, the Enigma is a Galaxy Class starship, with a standard of more than 1,000 crew. A standard of 8 manned transporter rooms on all shifts, and in situations that call for it, a possible additional 12 transporter systems which can be utilized from local controls or from Ops. I understand that a combat situation on the ground was unfolding, and a casualty had already occurred. Delta teams were being transported down for back up and specialized weapons were being brought to bear. A Captain with a well trained crew, a plan that was laid out with contingencies and Strat-ops over-watching to control the situation should not be so overwhelmed as to be put another starship captain at risk when a beam out is called for by a qualified officer when it is clear that systems were operational and crew were on hand to perform the task. Further, I believe her personal feelings resulted in her lack of action and lack of decorum. //Signed//
Dahlia A. DeLancey MD CMO USS PILGRIM ATTACHED:[/ul][/i] --Dahlia sighed, her lips pursed and shaking her head.--Goddess, I hope someone else addresses this, and I don't have to submit this. Computer, place the attached on hold until I release it with a future order. Seal with my passcode, my eyes only until released. Computer; End log. -- End Log --
-- Supplimental --
Accessed 97306.6, report released to the addressee. Dr. Dahlia Delancey via personal assistant data device connected to Citadel network.-- End Log --
RESPONSE RECEIVED[/i][/font] [/ul] -- When looking at the response Dahlia was stone faced. Incredulous, she just sighed and closed the message with a few words to be heard --
As if, I don't believe command staff reviews all the mission logs any more than they read all of my own mission logs on the Faraday. They only review them when someone gets killed. Should never have let it send, just B A U. -- The computer ends recording with a press of a key. --
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Post by Dr. Dahlia Anne Delancey on Jul 9, 2020 23:00:26 GMT -5
Personal Log: Stardate 97341.82 - USS PILGRIM-- Dahlia stands just as the camera begins its recording stepping back 5 seconds as normal to catch the entire log. She is removing her sweater as she steps out of the camera view. The room is lit at 60% of standard and shows the view from Dr DeLancey's desk in her personal quarters. The wall has an ankh, 15cm from top to bottom hung at eye level that seems as if it is intended to be in full view of the camera. A pair of small (50cm*50cm*10cm) shadow boxes constructed of frosted Alon (aluminum oxynitride) and a transparent face. It is filled with an ancient collection of music disks and a portable player hangs so that the top of one the box is level with the ankh cross member 20cm to the left, the second box is squared with it but 20cm up and the left of the lower. A similar shadow box twice all dimensions and matching construction hangs with its bottom level with the ankh cross member, it's near wall 20cm to the right. It contains a collection of personal items from roughly the same time period give or take 40 years. Her voice can be heard off camera. -- Computer: Open personal log. I have been neglecting my personal logs. Helene, my counselor Dr. Helene Shadawae has been stressing the importance of vocalizing my feelings and frustrations. She had the opinion that my dreams would be lessened in frequency and intensity if I just talked them out. -- Dahlia can be heard giving an ironic laugh. A couple of minutes go by and she reappears taking a seat in front of the camera now dressed in a black silk robe decorated with peonies from ice white to blood red in color, enough greenery to appear as inspired by live plants. The way it hangs suggests she wears little or nothing else. She runs a hand through her hair to pull it back from the left shoulder around her neck and draping her right with her long auburn hair. --I have been discussing my dreams with Helene somewhat frequently. I hate to say it, but it doesn't seem to be helping. She is referring me to a betazoid counselor. I can't remember her name right now, but we met once on leave, on Risa. Still to be evaluated by Helene, but she seems to think that a betazoid might learn more depth to issues than she can through just listening. I was pretty resistant to the idea, I hate having telepaths poking in my head. A bad experience with that years ago. I am admitting, for my personal record, that I have not been talking at the computer like a counselor for a reason. I did not think myself unable to perform my duties, and did not want someone coming across a record that even hinted otherwise. Well, I asked for, and received a leave of absence from my duties on board, leaving Alric as the chief medical officer. I requested and was granted to keep my access and status, just working out of the Citadel Medical offices, so I can work on the research projects that have built up. Thank the goddess for that. Some days having my work, is the only thing that makes me feel at all normal. Especially since starting on the medication. Where to begin... guess I already did. Marcus, what can I say. He is ... loving, and seeming patient. I know I am pushing his limits at times. I don't mean to. I suppose I could say I warned him, I am not meant to love and be loved. I know it's part of me that is pushing him away, for his own good or just so I don't have to see pain in his eyes when he ultimately learns he has made a mistake with me. I find myself sometimes starting fights for no reason at all. It is like, he strikes a discordant note, or plucks at a distant painful memory and I lash out without any real reason I can identify. I just feel, not always thinking. I try to make it up to him, but I don't know if I really can. The Pilgrim, I left my post for good reasons. Very much a situation of PTSS, unresolved, and Captain T'Pang, and CDR Valkriss were very understanding. They wished me health and hopes that I am able to return to my post. Maybe I should not have requested to remain active duty for research purposes. It seems that my research has now twice brought me back to Enigma or the Pilgrim due to its mission aligning with my own projects and expertise. I am spending nearly as much time in space as I am on the station. Maybe I should request my LOA be on Risa or Earth. It seems that something about being back on the ship is a trigger. I've had nightmares every night since coming back on board. If not for the sedatives, I would not be able to sleep at all. The anti-anxiety medication is only partially effective. I might have to declare myself unfit for space duty if this keeps up. The medication is normally barely noticeable. At the dosage I needed the last couple of days, however; it seems to be causing a lack of focus. Then there is the headaches. The headaches are intolerable. I am afraid they are psychosomatic however. I lived for years with this, and did not suffer adverse reactions, but now that I have more information, it is a constant sensation that I cannot seem to ignore. Which makes no sense considering it not possible to feel where there are not nerve endings to generate sensation. I have treated for anxiety, I have treated for muscle spasms, and tension, even the blood vessel dilation has been analyzed and corrected when needed. I can't help but think that I have opened a can of worms as my father would say, and can never get them back in. It is a feeling of dread, as if what we are doing may come to cause everything I have come to love, and count on to come to an end. Very much like the feeling I had when I felt too deep a connection to someone, like Marcus. That feeling that love will cause him doom. Except this is different, as if i am dooming myself this time. -- She readjusts her position, turning to the wall, she reaches out to touch the ankh. She speaks again without turning back. --Goddess I hope this feeling is wrong. -- She then stands steps away to the right of the screen and turns back, a reflection of her face can be seen as she focuses on the contents of the larger shadowbox. There is silence for more than two minutes straight. Her expression is unreadable as she seems to look through the case, not at it, then her hands move to sides of it. It appears as if she is dismounting it from the wall when her voice is heard again. --Computer: End log.
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