A Farron Log

[Christie Farron 0]

Lieutenant Christina Farron

Exobiology & Neurology Specialist

USS Manticore :: NCC-5852

 

It had been two days since the loss of Colonel Eason, and Christie continued to dread leaving her house. She knew that, if she were to leave her only place of refuge, she would be scrutinized and blamed for the death of Claire.

 

It had been Farron's fault, anyway. If she had simply requested that Claire be transported back to Manticore for the birth, everything would have been fine. There would have been available tools for Farron to save both the baby and Claire. But no - Farron was too sure of herself.

 

"It's too late to transport," she remembered telling Commander Farrington. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. If Farron had known what was going on, the Sickbay Emergency Transporter would have been used as quickly as she could press the button on her tricorder. But she didn't know what was going to happen. No one did, and Farron made a poor judgement.

 

The face of the dying Colonel would forever be placed in her memory. For the next several months, Farron would relive Claire's death in her dreams. Many sleepless nights had been made, and Farron could not stand it any longer. She had pulled a hypo off of her belt, and placed it on her arm.

 

For the past 4 months, Farron had been going to sleep with the help of a sleeping aid. Perhaps it was a mixture of both addiction and terror for what she may see in her dreams, but Christie refused to stop. She continued refilling the hypo every night, and placing it against her arm. She even ordered an additional shipment of the sleep aid to be brought down on the next transport.

 

Christie wasn't sure if others had suspicions of her (as she put it) habit, and really didn't care. The medication removed Christie from the nightmares of pain and anguish Eason had gone through, and reliving the solumn behavior of Captain Sovak.

 

For 6 months, the nightmares never returned. It had been almost a year, yet there was still a feeling in her head that no one would ever see Colonel Eason alive again was because of herself. Farron had killed her. Farron hadn't done enough to save her. Farron gave up. Farron didn't try hard enough. The memories of that day had come back. She ran out on the porch. It was somewhere near the middle of the night, and no one was moving about but her. The memories quickly returned. She screamed, and threw her hands up in the air.

 

The hypo was in her left hand. It flew over the rail of the porch, and fell thirty-three feet down to the ground. (Thirty-three was Christie's favorite number. No particular reason, but it was her favorite. She made her porch 33-feet high for this reason.) Farron ran over to the rail, and looked down. Perhaps it was due to addiction, and perhaps it was due to the early morning hour. In either case, Farron wasn't thinking properly.

 

She leaped over the rail after the hypo.