Post by Judith Eastman on Oct 28, 2020 13:31:56 GMT
You made your nominations, now it's time to choose. We know how hard it is to select just one of these excellent player posts, but please try to make your pick!
Note that the admin posts are not eligible, and therefore not included in the polls. We (this month, I) still appreciate the nominations, but the award is for you the players to win.
Note that submissions 4 and 5 are admin posts (thanks!), and are therefore not eligible to win. You have 48 hours to vote for your choice.
Note that the admin posts are not eligible, and therefore not included in the polls. We (this month, I) still appreciate the nominations, but the award is for you the players to win.
{Submission #1, by Kova Sh'qaleq , is in the mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Kova Sh'qaleq - Mess Hall, Medici]
They were all going to die. How one came to any other conclusion was beyond her.
The Andorian was more than happy to escape the confines of her bunk. The smell. Humans like to pride themselves on their discovery of perfumes and antiperspirants. Clearly, no one had the nerve to tell them how severely lacking they truly were. She had thought she had escape the buzzsaw that was the snorer in her original bunks, but had traded that agonizing noise for a tiny swarm of Coridian gnats. The gnats were attracted to body odor, and the scent of human foot odor was like the sweetest nectar. After having spent most of the night swatting at the tiny passersby, Kova couldn't wait for the chance to escape the room altogether. The musk that hang in the corridors was a far more welcome scent, though not by much.
The Klingons had a saying: Today was a good day to die. Kova was certain the one that first coined the phrase had probably experienced a posting such as this, and just wanted to be put out of their misery. This was nothing short of a suicide mission, and looking at the crew, nearly all the undesirables were there. How had no one else come to that conclusion? The sheer lack of senior officers aboard this barge should have been a red flag. Here they were, chasing pirates while the Mac was tucked safely away and supposedly only a distress call away. Naturally, they had an answer for Kova's 41 ways to dampen a distress call, and didn't seem remotely concerned with the 9 different ways that one could allegedly work around Starfleet's 'superior countermeasures.'
This had to be punishment for Kova's rather tactless appraisal of Starfleet's security measures after that whole debacle with the holodecks. This was a convenient way for her to be one of the lost hands on this mission. Wasn't this the sort of op the chief security officer was supposed to participate in? And what did they send? Former ex-cons that worked in security, some fresh meat, and a junior officer that was rumored to have an itchy trigger finger where Talorians were concerned. Top that off with making the doctor the captain and you had the makings of ragtag band of future toe-tags.
So, Kova had reserved herself to keeping her distance and her head down. If she could manage that, then maybe she avoid a disruptor in the back when the roozh[fn]Andorian term for excrement[/fn] hit the fan. As she made her way into the mess hall, it seemed that someone had helped themselves to her table. It wasn't as if Kova had an official claim on the table, but for the past few days, people tended to avoid it primarily because she sat there. And to top it all off, it was Eastman's right hand... or clever little spy. Kova was certain she reported everything back to the old bat, whom was living it up in the comforts of the Mac.
Opting to forego delectable choice of human cuisine, Kova settled for a cup of coffee and slowly made her way over towards the table... her table... where Mabel now sat. Kova straddled the chair. In her mind, the plan was to maintain her sanity, enjoy this dreadful liquid that was supposed to be coffee, and eventually push the list of buttons that Kova was convinced did absolutely nothing. After everything that had happened, Kova was certain she still wasn't trusted. Three guesses what ghost was floating around whispering that warning into everyone's ears. She peered across the table at Mabel, and stared at the woman for a few seconds before finally speaking. "We're not talking," she stated flatly, before wincing at the taste of the liquid she was now forcing herself to consume.
You can read the post in context here.
I'm making this nomination as I enjoyed reading Kova's take on the mission, not to mention loving the pessimism & her thoughts about the crew, as well as her love/hate relationship with Harmon.
Here's the post itself:
They were all going to die. How one came to any other conclusion was beyond her.
The Andorian was more than happy to escape the confines of her bunk. The smell. Humans like to pride themselves on their discovery of perfumes and antiperspirants. Clearly, no one had the nerve to tell them how severely lacking they truly were. She had thought she had escape the buzzsaw that was the snorer in her original bunks, but had traded that agonizing noise for a tiny swarm of Coridian gnats. The gnats were attracted to body odor, and the scent of human foot odor was like the sweetest nectar. After having spent most of the night swatting at the tiny passersby, Kova couldn't wait for the chance to escape the room altogether. The musk that hang in the corridors was a far more welcome scent, though not by much.
The Klingons had a saying: Today was a good day to die. Kova was certain the one that first coined the phrase had probably experienced a posting such as this, and just wanted to be put out of their misery. This was nothing short of a suicide mission, and looking at the crew, nearly all the undesirables were there. How had no one else come to that conclusion? The sheer lack of senior officers aboard this barge should have been a red flag. Here they were, chasing pirates while the Mac was tucked safely away and supposedly only a distress call away. Naturally, they had an answer for Kova's 41 ways to dampen a distress call, and didn't seem remotely concerned with the 9 different ways that one could allegedly work around Starfleet's 'superior countermeasures.'
This had to be punishment for Kova's rather tactless appraisal of Starfleet's security measures after that whole debacle with the holodecks. This was a convenient way for her to be one of the lost hands on this mission. Wasn't this the sort of op the chief security officer was supposed to participate in? And what did they send? Former ex-cons that worked in security, some fresh meat, and a junior officer that was rumored to have an itchy trigger finger where Talorians were concerned. Top that off with making the doctor the captain and you had the makings of ragtag band of future toe-tags.
So, Kova had reserved herself to keeping her distance and her head down. If she could manage that, then maybe she avoid a disruptor in the back when the roozh[fn]Andorian term for excrement[/fn] hit the fan. As she made her way into the mess hall, it seemed that someone had helped themselves to her table. It wasn't as if Kova had an official claim on the table, but for the past few days, people tended to avoid it primarily because she sat there. And to top it all off, it was Eastman's right hand... or clever little spy. Kova was certain she reported everything back to the old bat, whom was living it up in the comforts of the Mac.
Opting to forego delectable choice of human cuisine, Kova settled for a cup of coffee and slowly made her way over towards the table... her table... where Mabel now sat. Kova straddled the chair. In her mind, the plan was to maintain her sanity, enjoy this dreadful liquid that was supposed to be coffee, and eventually push the list of buttons that Kova was convinced did absolutely nothing. After everything that had happened, Kova was certain she still wasn't trusted. Three guesses what ghost was floating around whispering that warning into everyone's ears. She peered across the table at Mabel, and stared at the woman for a few seconds before finally speaking. "We're not talking," she stated flatly, before wincing at the taste of the liquid she was now forcing herself to consume.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #2, by Jovireh Velal , is in the Down Time thread, "First Impressions are... Something"}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Crewman Jovireh Velal - Deck 10 - Corridor]
Thank every higher power she ever heard of that her first shift wasn't for another twenty two hours. When she arrived on the station that morning, she was shown to her quarters, and then to her superior's office for report. And then.... She told her guide to go about their business, that she didn't need a tour, she would be fine. One of these days she really needed to stop being so stupid.
What deck was the security office on again? Maybe if she could get back there, she could retrace her steps... Hell, she'd already passed Engineering three times and Sickbay twice. Oh no, don't worry, just a routine patrol. Getting the lay of the land. Don't mind me. dha'rudh...
Wait, how did she get on Deck 10? Wasn't she just on 23? Or was it 17? A low growl of frustration rumbled in her throat. Why couldn't Starfleet build all their stations with the same layout? It would make transferring posts so much easier, and just make SENSE! She could walk around Starbase 173 with her eyes closed. It seemed like here she was going to spend a month just figuring out how to get to and from her post.
With a deep sigh of reservation, she stopped by a console on the wall, typing in the commands to pull up the deck layout. Oh look, there was the Counselors office right around the corner. Perhaps this was a sign. Very funny, Front Ear, she thought bitterly, using her finger to trace a path back towards the turbo lift and then... It wouldn't pull up any other floors. Frustration swiftly turned to anger, and she struck her palm against the bulkhead beside the console, cursing sharply under her breath. "ryak'na!"
Bracing her hands against the wall, she closed her eyes and lowered her head, forcing herself to slow her breathing. That was not appropriate behavior, she knew it. And she really hoped no one had witnessed that little outburst. What a wonderful first impression that would be...
You can read the post in context here.
We all have to write that entrance post, where we really introduce our character to the world. Some of us choose to make it smooth, but I think Jovireh chose the better option hitting a wall.
Here's the post itself:
Thank every higher power she ever heard of that her first shift wasn't for another twenty two hours. When she arrived on the station that morning, she was shown to her quarters, and then to her superior's office for report. And then.... She told her guide to go about their business, that she didn't need a tour, she would be fine. One of these days she really needed to stop being so stupid.
What deck was the security office on again? Maybe if she could get back there, she could retrace her steps... Hell, she'd already passed Engineering three times and Sickbay twice. Oh no, don't worry, just a routine patrol. Getting the lay of the land. Don't mind me. dha'rudh...
Wait, how did she get on Deck 10? Wasn't she just on 23? Or was it 17? A low growl of frustration rumbled in her throat. Why couldn't Starfleet build all their stations with the same layout? It would make transferring posts so much easier, and just make SENSE! She could walk around Starbase 173 with her eyes closed. It seemed like here she was going to spend a month just figuring out how to get to and from her post.
With a deep sigh of reservation, she stopped by a console on the wall, typing in the commands to pull up the deck layout. Oh look, there was the Counselors office right around the corner. Perhaps this was a sign. Very funny, Front Ear, she thought bitterly, using her finger to trace a path back towards the turbo lift and then... It wouldn't pull up any other floors. Frustration swiftly turned to anger, and she struck her palm against the bulkhead beside the console, cursing sharply under her breath. "ryak'na!"
Bracing her hands against the wall, she closed her eyes and lowered her head, forcing herself to slow her breathing. That was not appropriate behavior, she knew it. And she really hoped no one had witnessed that little outburst. What a wonderful first impression that would be...
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #3, by Kova Sh'qaleq , is in the personal thread "Kova Decrypted"}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Personal Log Entry: Post S1E7]
It didn't take long for the Caldonians to live up to their promise to Viriqq, and no sooner had the equipment arrived that he sent me to work. It didn't take long to know how things worked on Chalna. I was able to discern the identities of the warlords working with Viriqq. I worked on sight at several strongholds to make certain the communications network was properly installed. I also learned that the Chalnoth are proud, egotistical and talk far too loudly, because I was able to discern the names of their rivals and some of their locales as well.
So, now I know all the players. The who's... the where's... the when's... and the how's. Nobody gives a damn about the why's. I suppose this is the part where I contact... HER... and hope that she can crush this offensive before Viriqq can consolidate power here on Chalna. Because, if he does, his next stop will be to wipe out the Kurjarians.
[Kova's Quarters, A Hell-hole, Chalna]
I tipped that cook far too much. But hell, he can certainly use it far more than I can. I certainly wasn't tipping for the slop in this bag, though as far as gruel goes, it's better than anything else around these parts. The cook had been complaining the past few times that I had gone in about the oven needing repairs. Maybe the tip would help. As I opened the door to her quarters, it was still dark. My hand moved through the darkness feeling for the lamp. Once it brushed against the lamp, I reached to turn it on. With the illumination, I quickly learned that I wasn't alone.
A gasp left my lips, as I saw Seerva lying on the floor in the middle of a pool of his own blood. "Seerva!" I cried. I started to move towards him, but held firm, realizing that the assailant was likely still there. No sooner had I turned around that I saw a large mass looming behind me, with what seemed like an even larger blade moving down upon me. I lifted both of my arms overhead, blocking the blade's strike upon me with my forearms. That of course left me open for another strike, as the back of her assailant's fist smashed into my jaw.
The blow had enough power to knock me from her feet, and what felt like halfway across the room. I rolled along the floor, and looked up in time to see that it was Lurik whom had come for me. I could taste the blue blood filling my mouth and streaming from its corner. "We found your communications device," he said as he moved closer. "I know you've been spilling our secrets. My guess... Starfleet." Lurik swung the blade again, and I quickly rolled out of the way. As soon as I got to my foot, his arm clubbed me from behind knocking me back to the floor.
It felt as if all the air had exploded from my lungs. As I turned I felt his large hand crush around my throat. Any attempt to take air in was quickly ceased. The devilish smile upon his face revealed just how much he was enjoying this. There were words that left his lips, something akin to savoring this moment, but I hardly cared to truly hear. Desperate, I reached up, digging my nails into the flesh upon his face and raking down as hard as I could. One of my fingers ripping across his eye. I was oblivious to any actual damage, but I know that his grip loosened as he cried out in pain.
It was a struggle to take in actual air. Perhaps it was because I was trying to suck in all the air in the room at once. Lurik only reeled back for a moment, his anger renewed as looked down upon me. He brought the blade down hard. It was only because I rolled that the blade missed... though not entirely. I felt it tear through the flesh in my arm, causing me to cry out in pain. One thing was for certain. Hell-hole or not, people tended to mind their business, even if their neighbor was being viscerated. I got to my feet, trying to move towards the door, but felt Lurik's hands wrap around me and lift me up and across the room. Literally, I was in the air, and crashed into the table that the lamp had been upon, splintering it into pieces.
In so many ways, I just wanted it to end. Lurik was all too prepared to accommodate that wish. I felt his large hands grab my ankle. He began to drag me back towards him. My hands flailed... looking for something to to hold on to. Though nothing seemed firmly in place or a match for his strength. A splintered shard of wood was all that I could hold. He made comments about what he would do to me... or my corpse. Each syllable making me more desperate, as I couldn't think which was more terrifying: him having his way with me or devouring me altogether. As soon as he spun me over, I swung wildly with the shard of wood and managed to drive it right into the side of Lurik's neck. I could hear him gag... choking on his on blood, but the fury in his eyes was as bright as ever. His large hands closed around my throat again. I could feel him squeezing the life out of me. My eyes were wide, as the world around me began to blur and darken.
This was it. This was the end. And all I could think about was wanting my mother... needing her. And then... there was nothing.
I woke with a loud gasp, coughing, the weight of Lurik's lifeless corpse lying on top of me. After steadying my breath as much as I could, I managed to pivot his lifeless form so that I could slide out from beneath it. All I wanted right now, was to get the hell off this planet. To hell with her plan. To hell with Viriqq. To hell with.... My eyes moved to Seerva. I crawled across the floor to see that he was now just as lifeless as Lurik. I finally noticed, not far from Seerva, my communicator... shattered. Likely along with with any means of getting off this planet alive.
You can read the post in context here.
This whole thread is a treat. It adds a whole new dimension to the character and it reads like a mystery. I'm hooked!
Here's the post itself:
It didn't take long for the Caldonians to live up to their promise to Viriqq, and no sooner had the equipment arrived that he sent me to work. It didn't take long to know how things worked on Chalna. I was able to discern the identities of the warlords working with Viriqq. I worked on sight at several strongholds to make certain the communications network was properly installed. I also learned that the Chalnoth are proud, egotistical and talk far too loudly, because I was able to discern the names of their rivals and some of their locales as well.
So, now I know all the players. The who's... the where's... the when's... and the how's. Nobody gives a damn about the why's. I suppose this is the part where I contact... HER... and hope that she can crush this offensive before Viriqq can consolidate power here on Chalna. Because, if he does, his next stop will be to wipe out the Kurjarians.
[Kova's Quarters, A Hell-hole, Chalna]
I tipped that cook far too much. But hell, he can certainly use it far more than I can. I certainly wasn't tipping for the slop in this bag, though as far as gruel goes, it's better than anything else around these parts. The cook had been complaining the past few times that I had gone in about the oven needing repairs. Maybe the tip would help. As I opened the door to her quarters, it was still dark. My hand moved through the darkness feeling for the lamp. Once it brushed against the lamp, I reached to turn it on. With the illumination, I quickly learned that I wasn't alone.
A gasp left my lips, as I saw Seerva lying on the floor in the middle of a pool of his own blood. "Seerva!" I cried. I started to move towards him, but held firm, realizing that the assailant was likely still there. No sooner had I turned around that I saw a large mass looming behind me, with what seemed like an even larger blade moving down upon me. I lifted both of my arms overhead, blocking the blade's strike upon me with my forearms. That of course left me open for another strike, as the back of her assailant's fist smashed into my jaw.
The blow had enough power to knock me from her feet, and what felt like halfway across the room. I rolled along the floor, and looked up in time to see that it was Lurik whom had come for me. I could taste the blue blood filling my mouth and streaming from its corner. "We found your communications device," he said as he moved closer. "I know you've been spilling our secrets. My guess... Starfleet." Lurik swung the blade again, and I quickly rolled out of the way. As soon as I got to my foot, his arm clubbed me from behind knocking me back to the floor.
It felt as if all the air had exploded from my lungs. As I turned I felt his large hand crush around my throat. Any attempt to take air in was quickly ceased. The devilish smile upon his face revealed just how much he was enjoying this. There were words that left his lips, something akin to savoring this moment, but I hardly cared to truly hear. Desperate, I reached up, digging my nails into the flesh upon his face and raking down as hard as I could. One of my fingers ripping across his eye. I was oblivious to any actual damage, but I know that his grip loosened as he cried out in pain.
It was a struggle to take in actual air. Perhaps it was because I was trying to suck in all the air in the room at once. Lurik only reeled back for a moment, his anger renewed as looked down upon me. He brought the blade down hard. It was only because I rolled that the blade missed... though not entirely. I felt it tear through the flesh in my arm, causing me to cry out in pain. One thing was for certain. Hell-hole or not, people tended to mind their business, even if their neighbor was being viscerated. I got to my feet, trying to move towards the door, but felt Lurik's hands wrap around me and lift me up and across the room. Literally, I was in the air, and crashed into the table that the lamp had been upon, splintering it into pieces.
In so many ways, I just wanted it to end. Lurik was all too prepared to accommodate that wish. I felt his large hands grab my ankle. He began to drag me back towards him. My hands flailed... looking for something to to hold on to. Though nothing seemed firmly in place or a match for his strength. A splintered shard of wood was all that I could hold. He made comments about what he would do to me... or my corpse. Each syllable making me more desperate, as I couldn't think which was more terrifying: him having his way with me or devouring me altogether. As soon as he spun me over, I swung wildly with the shard of wood and managed to drive it right into the side of Lurik's neck. I could hear him gag... choking on his on blood, but the fury in his eyes was as bright as ever. His large hands closed around my throat again. I could feel him squeezing the life out of me. My eyes were wide, as the world around me began to blur and darken.
This was it. This was the end. And all I could think about was wanting my mother... needing her. And then... there was nothing.
I woke with a loud gasp, coughing, the weight of Lurik's lifeless corpse lying on top of me. After steadying my breath as much as I could, I managed to pivot his lifeless form so that I could slide out from beneath it. All I wanted right now, was to get the hell off this planet. To hell with her plan. To hell with Viriqq. To hell with.... My eyes moved to Seerva. I crawled across the floor to see that he was now just as lifeless as Lurik. I finally noticed, not far from Seerva, my communicator... shattered. Likely along with with any means of getting off this planet alive.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #4, by Judith Eastman , is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[NPC - Ens. Mabel Henriksen & PO3 Roland L. Jenkins - Bridge, Medici -> Computer Core, Cutthroat]
Mabel was slightly surprised to be asked to take the lead on a boarding operation. She knew how to file every report relating to one, but actually giving orders... that wasn't her wheelhouse at all.
"Uh.. yes, sir," she accepted the order right away, and began to walk out.
She speed-walked along the Medici, until she found a seemingly-idle crewmember. It was PO Jenkins, her assistant quartermaster and ship's cook.
"Jenkins, we're taking the computer core. Can you come with?" she asked, having absorbed her boss's tendency not to give direct orders.
"Yes, ma'am," Jenkins agreed, interpreting it as an order.
If ever there was a duo that just screamed "B-team", this was it. Jenkins, slight and evidently concerned, wasn't exactly prime combat material, and Mabel, chubby and beset with an almost childlike enthusiasm, was incredibly out of place too.
Naturally, they had to check a map to find it.
"This model of ship has the computer core hidden under a floor panel in the communal showers," Mabel noted. Jenkins just shook his head.
They found the showers rather quickly, thanks to the nasty smell.
"It should be right here," Mabel pointed out a spot. "Jenkins, get that floor panel."
"Yuck," Jenkins muttered as he lifted the panel, with Mabel covering him. These showers had a fungus growing in them, very clearly, and a scent of Yamok sauce too.
With the panel gone, Mabel shone the mounted light of her phaser rifle into the now-exposed compartment that housed the core.
"Freeze, suckers!" she shouted into the compartment, in case anyone was there.
Then, she remembered this wasn't a game. These pirates were real people.
"I'm sorry, that's rude. I'm Mabel, and you're being boarded. Now, freeze, suckers!" she corrected herself.
Jenkins didn't know if to laugh or cry.
You can read the post in context here.
Frankly, I just found Mabel's reactions hilarious, and so very in keeping with her character.
Here's the post itself:
[NPC - Ens. Mabel Henriksen & PO3 Roland L. Jenkins - Bridge, Medici -> Computer Core, Cutthroat]
Mabel was slightly surprised to be asked to take the lead on a boarding operation. She knew how to file every report relating to one, but actually giving orders... that wasn't her wheelhouse at all.
"Uh.. yes, sir," she accepted the order right away, and began to walk out.
She speed-walked along the Medici, until she found a seemingly-idle crewmember. It was PO Jenkins, her assistant quartermaster and ship's cook.
"Jenkins, we're taking the computer core. Can you come with?" she asked, having absorbed her boss's tendency not to give direct orders.
"Yes, ma'am," Jenkins agreed, interpreting it as an order.
If ever there was a duo that just screamed "B-team", this was it. Jenkins, slight and evidently concerned, wasn't exactly prime combat material, and Mabel, chubby and beset with an almost childlike enthusiasm, was incredibly out of place too.
Naturally, they had to check a map to find it.
"This model of ship has the computer core hidden under a floor panel in the communal showers," Mabel noted. Jenkins just shook his head.
They found the showers rather quickly, thanks to the nasty smell.
"It should be right here," Mabel pointed out a spot. "Jenkins, get that floor panel."
"Yuck," Jenkins muttered as he lifted the panel, with Mabel covering him. These showers had a fungus growing in them, very clearly, and a scent of Yamok sauce too.
With the panel gone, Mabel shone the mounted light of her phaser rifle into the now-exposed compartment that housed the core.
"Freeze, suckers!" she shouted into the compartment, in case anyone was there.
Then, she remembered this wasn't a game. These pirates were real people.
"I'm sorry, that's rude. I'm Mabel, and you're being boarded. Now, freeze, suckers!" she corrected herself.
Jenkins didn't know if to laugh or cry.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #5, also by Judith Eastman , is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Cmdr. Judith Eastman(-Williams), Max Williams & Anna Eastman Williams - Captain's Ready Room, USS Mac]
Judy sighed very heavily. They'd gotten to the great, inevitable downside of command and Starfleet service.
"In our line of work, we lose people, good people, far too often, and it hurts. It hurts when someone under you dies a preventable death, and it hurts when you have to sacrifice someone. It's a cruel reality of Starfleet life, that we can do... everything right, but still lose lives," Judy explained, and the toll that casualties took on the older woman played out on her in real time. She trembled, her face turned red, and her normally steady voice grew shaky.
"I'm not going to lie... I don't have a method, some kind of trick to get over that. I wake up at 3AM, from nightmares about those lives cut so tragically short, and I cry myself back to sleep. I don't... let go, I don't move on," she continued.
Max, empathizing with his wife's pain (he was the one to console her after a nightmare or a difficult condolence visit), motioned for her to come closer. She readily left her chair to sit in his lap.
"Every death is a gut punch. Every casualty is one too many. What we can do... what we must do, is try our best to... to make our operations... as safe as we can, to honor and grieve our fallen peers, and to learn... from every death, to learn everything we can so we can avoid losing someone else the same way. That's how I... move forward. I don't move on, but I move forward."
Max held Judy in a tight hug, giving her comfort and strength.
After a moment, Judy heard a ping from her PADD. She grabbed it, donned her readers, and looked at the message.
"The Medici succeeded. No casualties!" she summarized, the previous abstract grief making way for material, in-the-moment delight.
"When something happens, and you need someone to talk to, you can talk to us," Max said to Sven, sticking his head over Judy's left shoulder.
"Max's chest is great for crying on," Judy quipped, all the while typing a message back.
Anna, having previously listened gravely to her mother's talk about grief, was now back to rolling her eyes at her parents' PDA. They were so predictable.
You can read the post in context here.
This post, was so touching, raw and really just shows the humanness of command. That even though everyone looks up to them to the the stalwart leaders, they too struggle to deal with loss, but on a level that has to be kept professional. It made Judy even more relatable as a character. A surrogate motherly type that isn't distant from her crew when they need support.
Here's the post itself:
[Cmdr. Judith Eastman(-Williams), Max Williams & Anna Eastman Williams - Captain's Ready Room, USS Mac]
Judy sighed very heavily. They'd gotten to the great, inevitable downside of command and Starfleet service.
"In our line of work, we lose people, good people, far too often, and it hurts. It hurts when someone under you dies a preventable death, and it hurts when you have to sacrifice someone. It's a cruel reality of Starfleet life, that we can do... everything right, but still lose lives," Judy explained, and the toll that casualties took on the older woman played out on her in real time. She trembled, her face turned red, and her normally steady voice grew shaky.
"I'm not going to lie... I don't have a method, some kind of trick to get over that. I wake up at 3AM, from nightmares about those lives cut so tragically short, and I cry myself back to sleep. I don't... let go, I don't move on," she continued.
Max, empathizing with his wife's pain (he was the one to console her after a nightmare or a difficult condolence visit), motioned for her to come closer. She readily left her chair to sit in his lap.
"Every death is a gut punch. Every casualty is one too many. What we can do... what we must do, is try our best to... to make our operations... as safe as we can, to honor and grieve our fallen peers, and to learn... from every death, to learn everything we can so we can avoid losing someone else the same way. That's how I... move forward. I don't move on, but I move forward."
Max held Judy in a tight hug, giving her comfort and strength.
After a moment, Judy heard a ping from her PADD. She grabbed it, donned her readers, and looked at the message.
"The Medici succeeded. No casualties!" she summarized, the previous abstract grief making way for material, in-the-moment delight.
"When something happens, and you need someone to talk to, you can talk to us," Max said to Sven, sticking his head over Judy's left shoulder.
"Max's chest is great for crying on," Judy quipped, all the while typing a message back.
Well done! Send my regards to the crew. I look forward to reading the full report.
-J.E.W.Anna, having previously listened gravely to her mother's talk about grief, was now back to rolling her eyes at her parents' PDA. They were so predictable.
You can read the post in context here.
Note that submissions 4 and 5 are admin posts (thanks!), and are therefore not eligible to win. You have 48 hours to vote for your choice.
