Final Thoughts

[Brian Graham 0]

Chief Security Officer's Personal Log

Lt. Brian Graham Reporting

USS Excalibur

Stardate 200503.11

 

Brian Graham lay on the hard surface of the Starfleet survival tent. Not sleeping, just laying there because he had fallen a crate but hadn't bothered to get up. He was kind of down, thinking of how the mission could end. Well, he knew how he wanted it to end, but the universe didn't cater to its inhabitants, otherwise he'd have beachside property on Casperia Prime (not Risa, everyone goes to Risa: too crowded), his own personal holodeck, a wife, two sons, and a pool of latinum. Instead, Brian was on a secluded rock, no house, no wife, no kids, no holodeck, and a quadrant away from Casperia Prime. Arh, that would be a boring life anyway. His own personal Alamo would make a more interesting report, albeit more depressing.

 

He knew the end came for everybody, but didn't expect it to happen like this. Then again, it hardly ever happened like anybody expected, not that anyone wanted an end in the first place. He knew from Federation history that security officers weren't the longest lived in Starfleet, but had still concentrated in the division at the Academy regardless of the statistics. Because of the possibility, he had previously recorded several messages to his parents, something that everybody had done. Due to this, Brian didn't see any reason to record another one. He's rather them see him in the recording, with a clean uniform with a starship bulkhead in the background instead of his present state.

 

Space madness was another thing he had been thinking about. Crispin had mentioned it earlier in the mission, and Brian had thoroughly convinced himself that he wouldn't fall prey to that. The situation was dire, but some things helped keep one sane. One thing that had kept Brian fixated in reality was how he would be seen by history. Death of an awayteam due to space madness was not a preferable entry for his Starfleet file. He'd rather sit here and go quietly, be found by Excalibur, and be loaded into a torpedo and sent into space than be found alive with death surrounding him, court martial, dishonorable discharge from Starfleet, life on a Federation penal colony, not to mention his conscience tormenting him the rest of his life. No sir, if the worst happened and Excalibur didn't show up in time, they'd find him here, in his uniform, communicator badge on. Pity he couldn't be standing at attention when they found him but when you're dead, standing is out of the question.

 

Alright, that's enough with the negative thoughts Brian decided. The only problem is there wasn't anything to do. His shift didn't begin for another six hours, Crispin was working on the listening post, Elaine was in the med-tent, and McKnight had taken a walk. Not the best way to ration the oxygen supply but McKnight knew the situation and would probably be back soon. Brian had just woken up a half-hour ago and didn't want to go back to sleep, doubted if he could either. But, that was one way to conserve air. He considered his options, came up empty, set his chronometer to go off in five and a half hours, treated himself to a half-pack of standard rations, and settled down to sleep to dream of, who knows, he'd never been able to control his subconscious. Whatever showed up, he'd take.