"Finale ... Alla Breve?"

[The O'Neill 0]

Ensign O'neill

ASEC

Log entry 5

 

 

Jack could remember it all, the scene on the mysterious race's station, the brain scan on the observation lounge's display, Doctor Levy lost for words, and Kansas' wish to have a nice chat with quiet aliens.

 

Being so ready doesn't prepare you for the worst. Unfortunately for Jack, this week's lesson was harder to learn than first realized. Sitting in front of that science console didn't teach him how to solve a case. Albeit helped him understand the ship's controls more thoroughly than the first few days but it didn't really make him learn with his own brain. But before that, he was so prepared. All too confident of his preparation.

 

The new security officer wasn't truly prepared for the station, wasn't prepared for the new environment, the alien environment, wasn't prepared for the air, the smell, the allergies, and so forth. He knew when he went aboard, it was a quiet investigation hoping to prove the away team's innocence, not to shoot people. But how could any kind of training prepare you for such cleanness of a crime scene?

 

No physical evidence came up for O'neill, he was lost, he panicked, he stayed in the box. Yes, the case was a tough one to crack, the more experienced officers aboard also had trouble but he was lost, he panicked and ultimately gave up while the others pressed on with theories and solutions.

 

He wasn't prepared after all ... Why was he here? What good for the crew can he do? What did he possess that no others have that can help the crew in the time of need? As the indirect lesson seem to suggest ... nothing ...

 

Jack looked up, saw the mirror, saw the middle-aged man in the mirror, saw himself.

 

Another memory flared. On starbase 12, routine maintenance was all the rage for the repair crews. Jack was one of them. Clear as crystal and looked just as transparent, carrying his engineering kit and wearing his yellow crewman's uniform. There, he learned too many useless and random facts and too little of the things becoming a starfleet officer. The problem was ... he couldn't remember the little things.

 

"Crewman O'neill, why has this console not been replaced?" A stern Vulcan voice of an engineering officer poked him. He was working on the plasma wield for another section and had completely forgotten the console.

 

"I'm sorry sir, I got carried with this, I'll complete the console now ..." O'neill replied, the voice quite quivered as he remembered it. It wasn't long ago but it seemed so. The Vulcan nodded and walked off.

 

Another memory jumped in. He was holding the plasma torch again, rewielding the damaged bolts on a Bajoran freighter, the curved surface made it difficult to hold the torch properly. The shouting of orders on the loading deck distracted him ... He dropped the plasma torch on his foot, Clank, it started to eat into the deck plating. The repair team chief walked over and bunked him in the head lightly.

 

"Oh man, oh man, Jack, what am I going to tell the Commander this time? Geez man, use the curved one? Or hold that properly. You never do ... why are you here any way? Is engineering a hassle for ya? Why don't you try the shooting range in the academy?" The big man's voice was strange, some times he couldn't tell if he was trying to act serious or thought he was just a small child, a nuisance?

 

"I'm sorry Chief." Jack remembered the cold feeling of the plasma torch. Remembered too much of his life. Remembered too little of the lessons he learned.

 

The mirror was clear in front of him again, showing the exact image of himself. Hair grey, from a slight gene defect. He planned to try harder. 50% he got already ... where's the rest?