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Xavier, Geek extraordinaire?

Here I sit. On a medical barge awaiting transport to the Excalibur. Why Bruce put me up to joining this ship, I'll never know. He's always got some Ego scheme to prove, but in general I like him. I'm not so sure about the crew I'm about to join. The leers and jeers one receives at a starbase medical facility, not to mention at Starfleet Academy grounds alone are enough to induce vomiting. The Doctors there are pretty amusing however. I remember sitting down after some practicing with my new abilities, and watched him discuss the status of another patient with a colleage.


"Holy Feces! You mean to tell me that he did what? To whom and where?"


I couldn't believe what I was hearing... I wanted to laugh, but... I was held back. The pain of my past now behind me, or was it? Why couldn't I laugh at a simple joke like that? I mean, seriously, Holy Feces isn't quite a normal saying and mostly an obscure attempt at medical humor. What a maroon.


The ship just jolted a bit, docking rings are detaching and we're heading toward the USS Melbourne to intercept the Excalibur. She's been under some pretty heavy fire recently I hear. Time will tell if I can come in handy at all.


I doubt it.


Why do I feel that way? What is my problem? I try to please, and achieve heights higher than when I was younger, but then again that's before I had some Borg cyber dog attack me with their hideous fangs. I don't care if it was a humanoid form, it felt like a dog bit me. Then of course feeling those darned nanites crawl through one's veins and skin is just enough to make any creepy film seem like some poor attempt at sick humor. I remember wanting to wretch my guts out after I had been "assimilated" but something held me back. Maybe the stupid borg implanted a "thou shalt not vomit" routine into their nanites. I'll never know. I hope I never have to find out again. What an egotistical, outright stupid "race" they think they are. If one ever attempts to assimilate me, I'll back pedal some of my own nanite strains into their system. It'll be like that one movie that shows a kid getting huge and blue off of some gum. Whatever it was called. I still can't remember childhood very well. Puny existance anyway. I'd rather be in space charting some unknown galaxy or figuring out where the Borg really started from.


The ship's docked with the Melbourne now, and we're getting ready to disembark. The ship is fairly nice. I'm told the Excalibur is nicer than this one. I hear the Commanding Officer is a real butthead though. I've never been a fan of vulcans. Of course, then again there's the Engineer who's attributed to being known to look like a cat. I have no idea how I'll handle that one. But if I sense that he's going to claw me at any point, I'll show him how serious I am when I erect a forcefield around his bed at night. Here kitty kitty indeed.


The ship is pretty expansive. It's a good thing I can record logs to my own subprocessor and then dump them into a computer later. I have to admit, I didn't see the good that such a thing would entail, but Dr. Maddox insisted that the routine be installed to help me recover.


"Welcome aboard, Ensign. I'll show you to your quarters if you'll follow me. The yeoman will take your belongings for you".


Nodding, I follow her. She's kind of cute actually. It's too bad Bruce couldn't enhance other aspects of my anatomy. I'm sure she'd benefit from a good... I need to stop that. The stupid mechanics of my body have for so long interfered with my ability to feel normal. I hate that I lack confidence in the opposing sex and relations. I would still prefer to sit and tear apart a complete computer core or redesign a warp field from scratch than sit and yabber on with a woman. Though, I have to admit, she must work out in the holodeck quite often.


"Here are your quarters, hope you enjoy your visit. We'll have you aboard your ship in no time".


No time indeed. I'm already feeling at home right here lady. These quarters aren't half bad actually. A lot bigger than the holding station that the doctors had me stand in for 18 hours a day. Bastages. I actually get to sleep in a bed again. Amazing. There's the door chime. Now what?


"Sir, I have your belongings here."


He tried to hand me the bags, but they were a bit awkward for him. I picked them up off of the floating deck he was pushing around and nodded.


"Thanks" I said. "You have a fine ship here". attemping to be diplomatic about it all.


He nodded solumnly and left. The doors clasped shut with a noticable "hoosh-click" and I find myself alone once again. At least I got a room with a view. Now I can watch interstellar space debris ping into the forcefield systems keeping my windows from shattering. Damn space bugs.


It's been a while since I had anything normal to eat. I'm glad I don't have to use my forearm interface anymore for food consumption. I miss tearing into fresh food. A feat that I hadn't been able to master until 9 months after rehab. I remember the first solid food I ate. An apple. Amazing experience. I felt like a kid again. Times long past.


Anyway, I'm sure I can think about my logs more often in the future. I'll dump this to the core now and be done with it.


::Takes a computer node interface from his bag and plugs it into his forearm:


"Computer, begin memory purge of PL Section 1. "


::Removes the implant a moment later and relaxes near the replicator, ready for dinner.::

Edited by Xavier_Keegar

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