Tristam Core/Logs

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The Shoals
Tristam Core

PICstyle-cmdr gold.pngPICstyle-end gold.png

    • Gamighan Core (father)
    • Meredyn Tjaent Core {mother, deceased)
    • Taywor Core (brother)
        • Samual Core (nephew)
    • Neekee Toszim Tjaent (grandmother)

Medical records
Professional history
Log entries
Dot-point overview

Logs authored by officer Tristam Core.

MST Development

See also: MST project/Logs

Outpost 3

Outpost 3 reconstruction #1
This is Lieutenant Commander Tristam Core, on stardate 239407.19.
I have officially arrived on "Coalition Outpost Loa", or what's left of it. I'm told there was a pirate attack, and left without immediate repairs, the outpost has essentially just collapsed in on itself. So far, the civilian contractors from Antor II have managed to contain two decks and equip them with gravity - life support is offline, so breathers are required.
The good news is, I don't have to worry about pulling out old consoles, since most of the science team's equipment got flushed into space when deck four's aft bulkheads blew out before anyone's arrival.
The bad news is, I might as well just build an entirely new outpost. The deck plans for this thing are a security risk and they're not ideal for a living, nor the communications array, which is the outpost's new intended usage. On top of this, the stabilizing system keeping the outpost in one place has had it - there's nothing left of it, and the entire outpost is being held in place by a tractor beam at present - and the outpost had no defense capabilities to speak of, so that's got to change as well.
I'm tired. It's been a long journey. Due to the outpost being impossible for any breathing thing to survive in, I've had to make do with sleeping in the shuttle. Things have only become a little more cramped as I invited Crewmen Selrus to take the bunk. The poor kid's been stuck with sleeping on a contract vessel's floor for the last two weeks due to a distinct lack of beds available - which is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Every young humanoid has the basic right to a mattress for Artist's sake.
Outpost 3 reconstruction #2
Deck six is now an actual deck after a minor setback. Since most of the construction material isn't the same as Starfleet, I've had to take a crash-course in assembling it thanks to our generous Coalition citizens. Ashaba is an absolute wiz with this kind of thing - if she wasn't a civilian contractor, she'd make a fine material engineer.
Until such time I can build these stabilizers, all equipment I'd intended to install over the next month or so will have to wait until the outpost is at least 90% completed. It's too dangerous to try installing it all early.
Still sleeping in the shuttle, but thanks to a kind trading crew dropping by to see if we needed any provisions, I now have a mattress! I'm also ignoring or breaking one or two Starfleet protocols and down 200 credits.
Regarding the people I'm working with, most of them seem to have gotten over my eyes, of which were quite a shock to some - including Selrus. We've finally settled in a working groove, however, and I no longer catch them staring at me like I've got two heads or something.
Outpost 3 reconstruction #3
There has been an incident.
Thankfully no casualties, but a piece of bulkhead had fallen onto Selrus. His right arm has broken under the strain, if not crushed entirely.
I'm proud of our civilian engineers. All of them were quick to respond, and had to shut down gravity to free him. I'm told by their medic that had we waited a minute longer, he wouldn't have an arm. To think that our real medical officer is still a month away. As such, I'm in the process of fixing him a brace - it's nice to kick back into Rodulan-style engineering.
On the bright side, however, deck 6 of the Outpost has active life support systems, is no longer likely to kill us all if we spend more then twenty minutes standing on it, and is entirely enclosed from the dangers of space. Good job, team.

Personal logs

Tristam Core

Personal log, stardate 239601.19

After months stagnating on planet Limbo, we are finally putting together a plan to go home. The others remain seemingly unaware, but I am extraordinarily grateful.

I've been feeling . . . different, as of late. My telepathy was always a point of contention when I first joined Starfleet - concerns were had if I, at my young age, could handle "avoiding" the thoughts of others, as it's against regulations to really partake in even minor telepathic activity unless such things have been fully agreed upon prior. I understood this completely, and though I've stretched the rules many times, there has never been a recorded incident involving myself. But I genuinely fear this may change in future.

I'm not sure if it's Limbo, or the circumstances in which we've found ourselves, but where once I was only capable of skimming the surface, hearing the murmurs of others thoughts, I am now inadvertently privy to everyone's deepest and darkest secrets, without even 'looking' for them. It's like everyone around me is having a full on conversation to me, yet not including me. Terrans in particular seem to have this two-faced type of personality, where they think something incredibly negative, and then respond to others verbally as if they had no issue with the subject at had - which I know to be false. And it's playing on me. I find myself confused with the motivations behind people I assumed I knew quite well, and I've had to stop myself from snapping at the smallest pressures, knowing for a fact that the support people provide me, while valid, they deep down and secretly believe to be unnecessary or of little value. And yet they stand here, unfazed by these thoughts, acting as if they have no problem whatsoever. It's terrifying.

Even Loupaz, my right hand and most trusted technician outside of Roshanara, has turned out to be harboring what I've had to deem as false opinions - downright nasty thoughts behind everyone's back, respectful opinion to their faces. Not once has she ever voiced a complaint to me, and yet I find myself questioning whether she is hiding her true feelings about working with me. This has never happened before - and I'm not understanding why it's occurring now.

I don't know what's happening to me. But I know that it is frightening, and . . . hard to explain to anyone but myself.

I can't wait to go home.

End log.