David Erickson's Personal Logs

Posted on Wed Oct 22nd, 2025 @ 6:02pm by Lieutenant Commander David Erickson
Edited on on Wed Oct 22nd, 2025 @ 11:23pm

733 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: ARYL 1X03: The Listening Post
Location: David's Quarters
Timeline: Day after Trifecta

David walked into his quarters, a package under his arm and as the doors closed, his shoulders drooped a bit and he let out a tired sigh. It had been a long, long day. A long week, if he were honest with himself. Two years of setting his own schedule and having a laid-back attitude had softened him a bit, and starship life was taking some getting used to. Still, the old routines were coming back to him, and he was better at having fun without causing trouble now.

He set the package down on his small table. His quarters here were smaller and sparser than they had been on the station, but he didn't mind. He had traveled light to begin with. His quarters on the station were just a place he laid his head at night, especially after he'd lost the one thing that made them feel like home. His only possessions that he brought with him was a picture of his whole family at their last barbecue, a few medals from his service, a large case containing an impressive variety of meticulously-sharpened colored pencils, and two leather-bound journals.

One journal was somewhat worn. He'd had it for a couple years now, and it was almost full. The other was new, its pages smooth and creaseless, waiting for him to write in it.

In the academy, a professor who specialized in computer security gave them a challenge, and a warning. He said he had his final exam answers already prepared, and anyone who could locate the file would have a guaranteed perfect score at the end of class. Naturally, everyone attempted to penetrate his computer system. The academy was used to this annual spike in computer security threats and knew exactly what the cause was. Fortunately, his system was near impenetrable. Those who made some headway still were unable to find the file. On exam day, a student raised his hand and demanded to know where the file had been kept. The professor gave an evil grin and walked over to his desk, pulling open an unlocked drawer, reaching in, and holding up a piece of paper.

"You cannot remotely hack a piece of paper," he declared. Someone can always be watching you, sifting through your files or observing your actions remotely. This," he shook the paper," is only seen by your eyes when you write it alone."

Another student pointed out that someone could scan it with their tricorder to record it, to which the professor replied, "and did any of you idiots think to do that? No? All right, you have three hours to complete the exam."

Being recruited by Starfleet Intelligence, and being put off by the assurance that his personal logs were reviewed "strictly within security guidelines," he decided to keep two sets of logs. His 'official' one he recorded diligently. It made banal updates about missing his family, great meals he had on the station, and local stellar traffic.

His real log, however, was in his journals. There, he could write his true thoughts and feelings. He also got to express his love of drawing. He was no artist, but he'd gotten good at putting images from his head to paper. Mostly, people he met. He'd drawn an updated picture of T'kal with her new rank, her expression more proud than she probably would admit to. Valerie was on another page, as was C'Hira. Virtually all the senior staff and then some were sketched in. Of course, he didn't want just anyone reading it, so he'd developed a code system using self-made runes to represent phonemes. It pretty much assured no one could translate it other than him, not even T'kal.

He turned to a new page and began writing about the past few days, the good times, and bad. He wrote about the doldrums of bridge duty, the thrill of flying through the stars, and the fun of the recent activities. He also made extensive notes about the sensor array and his theories. It bothered him how it was blocking some of the same areas of space he'd been charting, and he made a note to go over his old entries regarding his observations. When he was done, he yawned and looked over his work. Three pages of notes, and one more sketch: a blonde, hazel-eyed girl with a radiant smile.

David Erickson
Chief Navigator

 

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