Ensign William Steele
Stardate 92681.6
Audio Entry
"Computer,
Classical Gas, Mason Williams."
Music begins quietly in background of recording.
"Historically speakin', I ain't great at these things but.. here goes nothin'.."
Throat clears.
"Where to begin? It's been a little over a week now since I first set foot on the station. I ain't set fire to anythin'. Blown anythin' up. Seriously insulted anyone higher up on the food chain; least as far as I know anyway."
Music swells.
"It's taken a little time but I think I'm finally settlin' in. I have a boss whom I respect greatly and who seems to value my input, despite my still bein' pretty wet behind the ears. I've wined and dined with Captains - and even know a few on a first-name basis. I've even been temporarily assigned to a ship and saw combat firsthand from a bridge. By all accounts, this has been the greatest week for my career in the last two years."
Music continues as Steele grows quiet. Cue horns. Recording is absent voice until the very end of the song. A quiet sigh.
"Why then am I feelin' such trepidation? Am I worryin' things are somehow
too good?"
A long moment of silence followed by a sharp grunt.
"I ain't built for such melancholy introspection. I need a drink. Computer, end log."
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LTJG William Steele
Stardate 92860.6
Video Entry
The entry opens on Bill sitting in front of the imager wrapped up in a black, felt blanket. He looks like a man recovering from the worst hangover ever.
"Detox is a real sumbitch."
He gives a dark chuckle and leans back a bit in the chair, lifting a mug of some steaming liquid to sip.
"Been a while since I did one of these. Figured maybe I should pick up the habit."
Bill clears his throat before beginning.
"It's been the better part of three months now since I arrived on the station, and good God what a three months it's been. A dozen away missions, a promotion, two near-death experiences. I guess I'm Old Guard now. I ought to think about growin' out one of those old Sea Captain beards. Ha! As if Tilly'd let me do that."
He manages a smile, despite his obviously exhausted condition.
"Oh, Tilly. My thoughts there'd be a whole log in itself. Suffice to say that she keeps me grounded. I'm a better person and a better officer for having known her. At least I know that whatever I go through, I ain't doing it alone. I've acquired some real, honest friends around here, and I'm grateful to have them."
Bill glances over his shoulder. A little fuzzy white shape with blue antennae snuggles up on the couch against a little fuzzy black shape. He looks back with a bit of a smirk.
"So yeah. Promotion. Two years of killing myself lead up to gettin' that little black pip and I wouldn't trade a moment of it. Starfleet is my life now and no matter the pitfalls and the setbacks, I feel like I've really come into my own. I started this whole thing for Dad but I think he'd be proud to know that it's grown into something real and deeply personal."
"Which brings me to the job itself. It's good work and all but.. let's just say that detox or not, I'm looking forward to a little vacation from Caspius. Christ, that man can find busywork out of anything. Hope Kermit'll be alright picking up my slack."
He takes the time for another slow sip and reaches out to set the mug somewhere out of frame. A quiet moment passes as he seems to consider something.
"So I've been poisoned. No idea if I was a purposeful target or just landed the worst jackpot ever. I don't have any enemies that I know of so I'm operatin' under the second assumption. One thing is certain though: Nothing quite puts things into perspective like lying on a hospital bed for three days wondering if someone has it out for you."
Bill looks straight back to the imager with a determined expression.
"I ain't going to let it get to me though. I'll get over this and I'll be a stronger man for it."
He nods to himself.
"Computer, end log."
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