The Agonies of Responsibility

[Hakran K'hal 0]

The Agonies of Responsibility

A Hakran K’hal Log

Hakran felt extremely guilty as he stretched out in bed (he had sent all the scientists who had been an active part of the attempts to get home off to get sleep, including himself). He knew it was “all hands on deck” for Engineering while they worked to keep the ship from falling to pieces. Again.

He knew though that such emergencies, while not routine (except maybe on the Excalibur), they were at least part of engineers’ training. His people were used to what were once called “bankers’ hours.” Therefore, the extended on-duty shifts for his physical and theoretical scientists had been very difficult, and those with less physical stamina had pushed themselves to the point of literal collapse during the leadup to the final phase.

His biology staff, sans-Irene, were assisting medical as was usual, and anyone in the other sub-departments that could be made useful were, so it wasn’t as if he’d taken his entire department offline, but still… He felt like he should be doing more to make up for the mess he made. Irene could blame herself all she liked, but she hadn’t been the one to suggest and approve the mining of her DNA as if it were a precious metal; the slap-dash genetic engineering of a race to defecate said DNA out on demand; and then trying to tune it all like the universe’s most finicky violin. All of which resulted in the temporal gutting of a planet, the further breaking of the ship, pulling another Irene from a different universe, and bringing the historically vital Enterprise-C into the situation.

Things were so much simpler when he could be the one in the lab, hunched over a console looking at a string of complex equations. They were much more enjoyable for that matter as well. Good intentions be damned, he was thus far making a horrible Chief. Becoming the department head had fit about as well as a baby bonnet on a Nausican, and now he had screwed up so badly he wouldn’t be surprised to find the next console he was hunching over to be in the private sector. He not only felt like he deserved it, but slightly looked forward to it. Anything to avoid that kind of responsibility again.

In the very back of his mind he knew part of his despair was the exhaustion that would shortly drag him under, but it was true. He had not sought to be on the Excalibur, he had not sought a leadership position, and he had certainly not sought to be the source of life and death decisions. He was the wrong man for the job.

With those cheery thoughts weighing on his mind, he finally fell asleep after nearly 48 hours on duty. Having not set an alarm, he wouldn’t be up again any time soon.