On Mon, 10 May 1999 19:57:35 GMT, smilodon@h2net.net (VanitySeven) writes to

USS Galileo <galileo@ucip.org>;:



~~~~~ CEO's personal quarters~~~~~~



=46or the last weeks she had been working extremely long days, and she

felt it in every muscle of her tormented body. Even the sonic showers

-- that she always enjoined profoundly -- were unable to wash away the

burden that she carried. The stress of getting this ship fully

operational and the shocking discoveries that turned the cargo bays

into graveyards. So many hands died and Tar'a felt partial

responsible. If she only could... With a sigh she shook her head,

fully understanding that this was absolutely pointless. Her personal

torture would not bring back those who have passed away. There was

nothing she could have done, but inside her mind spoke this little

voice about the infinite 'what if' scenario's. When she joined

Starfleet she knew that something like this could happen. However, the

many years of training and education did not prepare her for the

sinister work of recovering the bodies that were scattered throughout

the entire ship. Many of the faces she did not know gave their lives

in a senseless death. There is no honor in dying during a crash, and

there is no honor in being defeated by forces of nature. If that was

the case. She could not find a single log that clearly indicated the

cause of the crash, but she understood that her knowledge was

restricted to engineering. Hopefully the scientist who was currently

working on the cause would be able to find some answers. In the mean

time she needed to learn to let go, and go on with her life on board

this ship.



It was not easy. Walking around this sunken ship with its eery

atmosphere and non existing ambient sounds. It was simply too quiet,

and it was very strange to be able to work for long hours without

being interrupted once. It made her nervous. Very often she would

simply look up from her work, expecting someone to walk in. They never

did. Other times she ended up in a situation that would ask for a

prank. It never happened. She wanted to cry, but that was anatomically

impossible, and this made her even more frustrated. It was hard to

deal with a need that missed an outlet. It merely existed in her mind,

and that's where she shed her tears for the unfortunates.



When a large area around the Galileo was clear a handful crew members

buried their fellow crewmembers in silence. She was asked for

assistance, but they understood that she was unable. The cargo bays

were only temporary. If they would have left them there it would have

been a daily reminder of the crash. That was a dreadful confrontation

none of the existing crewmembers were willing or able to deal with. It

was already difficult enough without having it slapped in the face.



With a restless sigh she grabbed the blanket she was laying underneath

and tossed it to one side of the bed. After rubbing her eyes she stood

up and walked over to the small table. A small terminal was busy

debugging new code for the holo-cloak. She sat down at the table and

turned the terminal towards her with her fingertips, and observed as

long listings of garbled strings of characters moved over the screen.

The output on screen made clear to her that it was going to take a few

more hours and somewhat disappointed she pushed the terminal away and

reached for the PADD. In silence she started writing an endless list

of letters to widows and families of her fallen fellow crewmembers. In

silence, she cried.



Sincerely submitted,

=3D/\=3D Cdt. Ta'ra Dach,

USS Galileo, CEO