Reflections

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Personal Log 500906.28

Cmdr JFarrington, MD

USS Manticore NCC 5852

 

Reflections

 

Damn, you look awful. Jami studied the face before her, visually tracing the residual outline of Romulan prosthesis, moving on to the close-cropped hair just beginning to gray. She studied first its pale complexion, then the eyes, then moved to stare at the heavy circles that accentuated their sunken weariness. The image stared back, unblinking, until she set the mirror on her dressing table with a sharp click that pierced the silence of their quarters.

 

At 36 she was worn, and with her emerging empathic abilities she had the dubious honor of experiencing the weariness of the rest of the crew. She had slowly developed strategies to control it, but for the most part her own exhaustion prevented her from exercising that control. So the emotions came, and she endured the assault as she would have endured a group of children bickering on the playground – without giving it much thought or focus.

 

She looked around their quarters, having forgotten what a sanctuary it had become over nearly ten years of marriage. Its silence, except for the gentle hum of engines and the soothing drip of the coffeepot, settled her considerably, and she began to plan dinner. It had only been a few weeks since she and Atragon had dined alone, but it seemed an eternity, and it might have been an eternity except for the expert hands of VAdm Gren DeJariov. Life had given them another chance, and she was determined to make the most of it.