Personal Log - Kali Reyes

[Kali Reyes]

thump, thump!

What a sad, obsolete bit of tech. Has Starfleet not run an update on any of their comm systems since the 22nd century?

Bingo! We have visual!

So, I'm kind of encouraged (mandated) to provide a valid reason of my sudden and rather off-putting transfer off and back on the Discovery. Medically mandated. What hateful words in one tiny sentence.

I watched an entire planet's populace die right under me. That was the first strike. Then I wasn't 'reacting very positively' to Starfleet Medical's mandated counseling. That was the second strike. Talking didn't help, but that was mostly on my end. I don't like these psychologists looking at me like they know all the answers to my lifelong problems. It can't be that easy, so they must be manipulative phonies. I shouldn't have said that out loud during one session, because my therapist looked at me funny and decided mind altering medication might do their job for them instead.

And boy, wasn't that a trip! The entire week after was a blur because they couldn't properly calculate the dosage, especially for someone with a particular set of genes like mine. It wasn't their fault, and I wasn't being exactly cooperative, but day after day the hypo cocktails kept changing and even a party girl like me couldn't handle all of that in her system. I think they gave me extra vacation days as a secret apology.

I used those vacation days and ended up on Pricillis IX. It's a great planet, the party hardy kind, you know? So there I was half-delirious from the meds and liquor and crowdsurfing a sold out concertia to In Bellerophon's Hierarta, which believe it or not, isn't exactly a band you should crowdsurf to. In fact, it wasn't even a band at all. It was a religious choir comprised of Bajoran songstresses. They only play off-planet once every - I dunno - decade? So that was the third strike. But I was half-mad that night because I'm positive Mahak saw the light and was pretty much done with me. He hadn't responded to my comms in weeks.

City girl doesn't get the farm boy. Big surprise. I had a self-pitying party of my return to the singles club. There were a lot of drinks. One of them was probably engine coolant. I really blamed the new meds on this. I have a tinsy little one-quarter alien thing in my DNA that just can't properly ingest anti-anxiety medication, but I had no Vulcan council to keep me from Starfleet Medical's grubby fingers. So the funny humans threw medicinal darts at me to see what sticks. The latest cocktail was the most stabilizing one yet.

Remember this word: stabilizing. Stabilized enough that the worst that happened was waking up the next morning in a back alley without shoes, though I did manage to find one halfway down the alley so it wasn't my worst night. The door I slept on disrupted my beauty sleep and this ridiculous looking Betazed woman with cheap beads in her hair and barely anything else told me break time was over; it was my turn to extol the group inside with stories of why I'm a drunk, how functional can I get while drunk, and whether it's my dead father's fault that I'm a drunk.

For a horrible moment, I thought I had joined some kind of off-world cult in my drunken binge. Turns out it was far worse - I had checked myself into an urban rehabilitation center under the pretense of a dare that night. If I could keep off the liquor for one week, I was going to inherit a thousand bars of latinum. The Betazed woman told me that the guy who helped me evade the authorities after crashing the concert had dropped me off there after I agreed.

And yeah, that sounded like me. Challenge accepted. I can't mope around my entire life wishing for a mate who didn't want me anymore, or a ship that could barely keep itself together after what happened on that planet. Suffice to say, I spent two weeks in a non-drunken tizzy while my body recovered, then I shoved the anxiety medication and the rest of my vacation days into Starfleet's face and stayed on Pricillis IX for the next year. And yes, I did get my latinum, but I never saw the guy I bargained with. It just went straight into my personal account without much fuss. I'm not good with mysteries, so I stopped caring how it happened. Maybe I had Clarence on loan from It's a Wonderful Life. (If he had his wings at the time, I hope I tried to pluck them out.)

You gotta hit rock bottom before you can climb back up. I say I hit some kind of bottom - the bottom of the bottle at least. I still cringe when I tell my superiors I'm recovering and that I'll always be in recovery, so I'm banned from any bars and have a hard restriction of beverages on my diet card. Mahak's mind was so well-ordered and controlled, I know it stabilized my behavior whenever I was around him. I never drank as much either. But I haven't seen him. I was right in my earlier logs. It hurts so bad now that he's gone. But the Betazed bead-lady told me a valuable lesson about self-sufficiency. Sometimes you have to let go and just survive. It's probably why I hated my sessions with the Starfleet therapists - they want to sugarcoat everything. I need data, cold hard facts, reality.

And when you're sober, you start to realize why you never wanted to be sober in the first place. It was easier to drown in senseless energy than have clarity over the fact that you have nothing precious to hold. It's just me, my brains, my sparkling personality. And if I can't live with that, how can anyone else?

Pity party's over, Kali. Time to climb back up the ladder. Back to kale drinks and paperwork. (They're both disgusting by the way.)

[End log.]

[Kali Reyes]

[Video/Audio Log - Chief Reyes' Personal Quarters]

Crewman Ming Shun: I've got a problem.

Chief Kali Reyes: Is it a fun problem or am I going to need an energy drink for this?

Shun: It's a bit personal.

Kali: Nice! Pop a squat, let's girl talk.

Shun: Thanks. This is off the record, yeah?

Kali: You're scaring me.

Shun: Oh! No, I'm not - I don't mean...

Kali: (laughs) I'm kidding, okay? Yeah, it's off the record. Lay it on me, rookie.

Shun: Right... how do you deal with long distance relationships?

Kali: Oh god, don't tell me it's spread around that I'm some sort of love guru. Trust me, your relationship will end faster if you're looking for advice here.

Shun: You're not a love guru?

Kali: I'm more of a lust guru. I've tried the love angle. Didn't pan out.

Shun: I'm sorry.

Kali: I'm not.

Shun: I guess the long distance thing didn't work for you?

Kali: Nope. Do not recommend. Or maybe you're different. I'm a clinger. I gotta reach for a guy's shirt and breathe him in to start my day. I want to see him at least once - get him right in my space and just exist. Gotta hug him out until he can't stand it.

Shun: (laughs) That's way too intense for me.

Kali: Too intense for most guys, which I guess explains a lot. They only want me in short bursts. One night stands, maybe a night of heavy flirting. Then it fizzles away. All nice and swept under the rug. I've accepted this.

Shun: Sounds lonely.

Kali: I mean, Starfleet's not exactly date-friendly if you catch my drift. If one of you is transferred out - boom, that's it. Now you're back on the free market and it's like that seven minutes in heaven no longer happened.

Shun: That's a fair point.

Kali: So, like I said, do you want actual advice or are we drafting a pity party here? My time's limited now that I've got a ton of back up paperwork to slog through.

Shun: Right... um. Oh, lust guru, huh? I may have a few more questions.

Kali: Ha! Now we're talking!

[Connection Interrupted.]

[Kali Reyes]

[Supplemental Log - Chief Reyes, Tharsis City]
[Access Code: No Reply]

It was strange, but I felt a sense of determination that morning just sitting there by Nathan's bedside. Like this black despair held back the longer I watched his face in blissful sleep, dead to the world, an endless dream that was slowly fading.

And then I thought, well, I can't imagine what it's like waking up in a world I no longer recognize. There has to be a familiar face to greet him at the end of his nap. Something to cling to in order to reshape your world again.

Grey never half-assed things. And neither did I. There was someone who needed to see this through, to plead for God's penance. What kind of person am I to let Grey meet up with God and have nothing to show for it?

It was my turn to carry that weight.

[End log.]

[Kali Reyes]

What do you call this?

Life shifts. Unexpected things happen. I'm always one taste away from the bottle. I was born with no identity, no reason to exist, but I love. Love for the unknown, love for freedom, love with consequence.

Love of the future, the untapped potential. Love of stained fingers and the whir of new mechanical life. So if my life started without meaning, it means something now. If there's no identity to claim, then I accept being a net positive for the universe - because I do love. The love of knowledge. The love to slide into cultures rich in technology or primitive prayer that gives people comfort.

Love for the written word and the unspoken glances. The love of mundane rest and the quick snatch from death. And even when I'm completely lost, I just can't let go of life. Grief brings pain, but it's also proof that I loved. I am loved.

"Survive. Live. Whatever it takes."

When I'm done surviving I think I'll give this living thing a go.

[End log.]