—- USS Selene, Unexplored Space —-

Personal Log Cadet Sol:

 

Perhaps the most notable thing that one is not prepared for outside of the Academy is how long distances can be here on the frontier. Obviously intellectually one understand that at warp seven a sizable journey like we have embarked on will take months, but for those of us who have never been out here before it is hard to comprehend. In novels and even holo-programs they compress the time so it seems that journeys that realistically should take months actually only take minutes or hours. Even in biographies, unless the author is trying to ensure you understand how great distance was a challenge to the main subject, such as in Admiral Archer’s case, they also do not mention the distances or the time it takes to travel them.

 

This seems to have been more of a surprise to my human comrades, as many of them had not been out of the Sol Solar System previously. I had at least completed the journey from Vulcan to Earth so I knew approximately what awaited us.

 

Still this is different. Life cycles between us being quite hurried and busy, such as when we were chased off a planet by Gorn-like reptile hunters, and then sedate with only our studies to occupy the time.

 

Well. Perhaps this is a misstatement on my part, me indulging in a hopeful with that focusing on one’s studies was what most of the cadets with me had in mind. It seems instead that many of my less diligent compatriots have become more focused on their romantic lives.

While all creatures who reproduce through sexual congress have needs and urges they seem to be acting as if they were in a constant state of pon farr. I am well aware that only Vulcans are forced to deal with our urges in such a manner, though it is usually done with far more dignity than what many of the cadets have chosen to do.

 

One example is Cadets Jura Ibile and William Gakor. These two humans have been constantly breaking up and getting back together only to break up again as if they wish to become a time piece that we all use to mark the days of the month. They obviously find one and other desirable in some way, but there lack of logic means that half of my day is spent consoling Ibile as she tearfully expresses remorse over some action of hers in the past.

 

On a note more conducive to education, we have recently slowed to warp five and are being 

allowed once more to fly the small craft on the ship to get experience. I do not think that I would make a good pilot, though Lieutenant Pr’Nor has expressed her support for me pursuing it. I believe it is more logical for me to enter into an operations career path, as I have a mind that I find handles logistics quite well. While I am confident I lack the pointless bravado of many pilots.

This though is not something I’ve expressed to Lieutenant Pr’Nor.

Life on the Selene is progressing in a satisfactory manner, aside from the hormones of my fellow cadets. The educators are well informed, and we are getting hands on training by acting Starfleet officers. While we have not seen as much of Captain Carrillo, she has ensured that her entire bridge crew has helped us at one point or another.

 

While many of the cadets are due to cycle off when we finally return to Starbase 86, Ibile, Gakor, and myself are some of the few that will remain. Another tour will better prepare us for our next assignments once we graduate and become ensigns.

— USS Selene, Operations Office —-

The Vulcan cadet set down the PADD, having completed her log. She had tried to be more candid, less concerned with what others thought since it was unlikely that others would ever read her logs unless she became historically noteworthy. Unsure if she balanced it correctly, she glanced at the clock with a digital time displayed on her wall. Her roommate Cade Ibile’s door was closed and she was likely entertaining Gakor who as far as Sol could recall had mended fences with her. What fences he needed to mend, or in whose yard they belonged, Sol was not sure. She had not bothered to ask, and no answer had been given unbidden.

Standing she inspected her uniform, found it satisfactory and headed to her training shift in the Operations department. An Orion crewman was the only one working at this shift, or at least the only one in the office when Sol arrived.

”I am Cadet Sol reporting for my shift,” Sol said formally.

The woman rolled her eyes, “I don’t care.”

”Are you not to instruct me?” Sol asked, unsure as to why the Orion was being difficult, this was not the behavior of someone in Starfleet.

The Orion shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care. You can go back to doing whatever Vulcans do for fun. Reading the encyclopedia or something.”

”Reading the encyclopedia is fun,” Sol said, not quite a protest, but feeling as if this woman was not taking her job seriously and not quite sure how to proceed.

”Nerd,” the woman said shaking her head, “You’re cute for a nerd though.”

”My being attractive does not excuse me from having to report for duty,“ Sol pointed out. Being visually pleasing was not a universal truth, it was a subjective opinion.

”Oh it does for me,” the green woman smiled, “Too bad they have me chemically suppress my pheromones, I’d have fun with you.”

”Vulcans are not usually susceptible to Orion pheromones,” Sol said, not sure if that was true, but it sounded true. She was not a scientist and had not studied Orions that in depth. She raised an eyebrow, “And what is your idea of fun?”

The Orion said something lewd and Sol took a moment to recover, she had not been expecting that. Granted she’d mostly worked with officers and not crewmen, but they could not all be like this could they?

”I have finished with my latest cycle of pon farr,” Sol pointed out, “Though you are visually pleasing.”

”Well let me know if I can visually please you one day,” the Orion said, and pointed at some boxes, “I guess if you need a task move those over there.”

”Where should I move them?” Sol asked.

”What do I care, just move them about,” the woman said.

Sol nodded, and set about to working. This whole interaction illogical and curious in more ways than one. Clearly there was more to this Orion than might be clear upon first inspection. Still there was time to figure it out later. For now she had boxes to move.