Phae's Journal - Entry 5

Posted on Tue Mar 4th, 2025 @ 3:45am by Lieutenant Phaedrae Cyn

1,254 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Personal Logs, Journals, Letters Home, etc.
Timeline: After Part 3

Time is a strange thing. Day after day in a classroom, doing the same thing over and over, time stands still—nothing changes. And being locked in a cell with nothing to eat or drink? That’s an endless test of endurance. And listening to Pet entertain himself all night makes time stretch out even longer.

Yet somehow, when I trace back my days—from the moment my mom was attacked and I was kidnapped to now—a whole month has passed. A month! I missed two swim meets, letting down my teammates. I was the second swimmer in the relay, giving Trinny and Viv the buffer they needed to bring in the top prizes.

What are they doing without me? Do they miss me? Or have they just moved on, barely noticing I’m gone? Being a kid of a Starfleet officer means friends come and go. Maybe I was just another tally mark of a kid that went away?

I miss my mom and dad the most—and my weekly calls with my brother. I miss their support on bad days. The way my mom gently wiped away my worries after a fight with Platt. The way my dad kissed my forehead before bed.

They always hugged me—my mom’s strong, air-squeezing hugs, my dad’s warm, gentle ones that made his breath tickle my neck. And my brother’s virtual hugs from light-years away, somehow making the distance feel smaller.

After that first engineering job last week, Renal started asking for my help daily. I could fit into tight spaces easily, and with an assistant, he kept the ship running better. I didn’t always understand what I was fixing, but sometimes, I knew exactly what I was working on. And then one day, I… didn’t do what I was told. And everything changed.

The Bajorans called themselves freedom fighters, but they were too young to have fought in the resistance—too young for the occupation, too young for the Dominion War. But they wanted to fight. I heard their stories at lunch of how some hero of theirs took down a Cardassian facility or murdered a bunch of “bad guys.”

At first, I thought maybe they had a reason. Maybe they lost someone. Maybe they were fighting for something bigger. But the more I listened, the more I realized—they weren’t talking about justice. They wanted revenge. They wanted to be feared.

They reenacted fights like the lives of the people that died in the past weren’t worth remembering. I don’t think they understand what a hero actually is. I tried to keep the disgust off my face as I listened to them.

They were all pirate criminals. They kidnapped people and ransomed them off. I think they tried to take my mom because she worked with Starfleet’s computer systems. Maybe they planned to sell her to the enemy?

In a way, I needed them to trust me because I really did not want to end up starving in the brig again. And Renal did trust me. He wasn’t cruel – but he wasn’t exactly kind either. He kept me busy. That helped the time pass.

I knew that when they finally let me out of the brig, it wasn’t because I was free. They needed the cell for someone worth money. I wasn’t dangerous.

But I did want to go home. That did make me dangerous.

And Pet… he crossed the line. Took liberties he had no right to. I was furious.

When Renal sent me into a tight space to maintain the brig force fields, I made a choice. I might have… reversed the polarity.

At first, nothing happened. The ship hummed along, the crew laughed over lunch, and I thought maybe—just maybe—I had gotten away with it. But then I noticed Renal watching me longer than usual. And Pet was angrier than normal. Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what yet.

Pet fell asleep after he took some time with me. I hated him for it. And yet… I hated myself more for not pulling away. For not fighting harder. I had been thinking about my parents earlier in the day, crawling through the hot access tunnels, longing for their warmth. Maybe that’s why, for just a moment, I let myself pretend it wasn’t him. It felt good – I felt good. But I also wanted to puke.

I crawled away after Pet fell asleep. I finished peeling out of my sweat soaked clothes and dropped them in the refresher. I needed a shower to wash everything away.

I let the warm water pound against my skin and turned up the temperature until it nearly burned. I needed it to scorch everything away. The sweat. The fear. The shame. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the heaviness remained. The memories didn’t swirl away down the drain with the soap. They clung to me... etching into my soul.

Stepping out of the shower, I dried off my legs first, controlling the puddles under my feet. I wrapped the towel around myself quickly, heart pounding at the sound of Pet stirring in the next room. I couldn’t face him. Not again.

The bathroom door slid open. I tensed, expecting Pet to leer at me – but it wasn’t him.

I froze.

He froze.

His gaze was sharp and unblinking, like a viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But I wasn’t his prey. A moment passed and then he smiled. “I believe this belongs to you,” he said, his voice was quiet – to not wake Pet.

He held something out. I stepped forward to take what he presented but held back when I fully registered what he held.

It was my utility knife – the one I left hidden between the wall and mattress in the brig. My hand lingered in front of me, wary of the sharp blade. The dim light of the room almost masked the blood-stained grooves of his fingers. He flipped the knife to present the handle to me.

I tightened my grip on the towel and cautiously took another step forward to reclaim my knife. “It does,” I confirmed.

He excused himself for a moment.

A startled screech rang out as Pet was yanked from the room. A dull thud followed, then silence.

I stood frozen, my heart hammered against my ribs. The quiet stretched, heavy with the weight of what just happened.

Slowly, I looked down at the knife in my hand. My knife. The blood was not mine.

I exhaled, long and slow.

For the first time in weeks, I felt lighter. Like I could finally take up space in my own skin again.

I ran my fingers over the hilt, gripping the familiar weight. I hadn’t expected to get it back. I hadn’t expected… him.

The Cardassian stepped back inside, as composed as if nothing had happened. He dusted his hands off on his uniform, then met my gaze.

His eyes—dark, assessing, calculating—held no malice, but they held something else. Something I couldn’t read.

Relief warred with caution in my chest. He had removed a problem, but why? What did he want in return?

I tightened my grip on the knife.

“My name is Telor,” he said smoothly, as if we were meeting under entirely different circumstances.

My smile was slow, cautious. But it was genuine.

For now.

RSS Feed