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Log of the Month for April, 2020

Posted on April 30th, 2020 by Emilaina Acacia

Thirty days after the crew landed on Gencodia, Doctor Acacia was noticeably disheveled. She didn’t have the heart to answer the crewmates who asked what was wrong, she wasn’t sure she could even get through everything they’d need to know to understand her feelings. She spent the day sitting on a large rock that overlooked the space that was slowly becoming the crew’s garden plot, head tucked down into her hard work on a small strip of brown fabric.

She’d found feathers from a large bird of prey—a bit small, and far too wispy for her needs, but that was befitting her situation. She shaved the stem clean, carefully situated it into the center of the brown, feather-shaped piece of fabric before embroidering the stem into place. When that was done she closed the edges of the fabric, and stitched lines to replicate the look and sturdiness of a Kriami feather.

She held the fabric feather up to the light, twirling it between her fingers. Her expression was stone cold, a dark cloud hanging over her that drove away anyone who spotted her.

From her trusty backpack, which now came with her most places, she pulled the handmade red-leather bound journal she’d looted from an eccentric craftsman’s house that had become her personal log. She slowly began flipping through the pages, scanning each and lovingly examining the leaves and petals she’d pressed into some of the pages.

The most recent entry was several lines of Gencodian writing she’d had Harper double-check for her, just a few short and simple phrases, each precisely thirty characters long. She ran her finger under one, amazed by the way the ink shone under the light. The Doctor had quickly developed an appreciation for the art and craftsmanship of these people, another of the rooms ending up a workshop that was used by almost everyone for something or other.

She regarded the feather for quite a long time, almost unwilling to begin. It felt wrong, and yet she knew it wasn’t. She slowly began stitching, the stylized letters resembling branching leaves of local trees interwoven with the feather’s threads, parts of it spelling out, “Gencodia, 20,000 years ago” if you looked at it right.

When the stitches were done, the Doctor held the feather in her hands for a long time, staring at it and letting her emotions overwhelm her. She sobbed into her hands, letting it all out for a few sweet moments before breathing in deeply, hooking the feather to her belt.

A part of her felt dirty claiming the honor of a full cycle away at war, but that was all this could be, especially since her jasori was too far away to receive its stitches. That was how this worked, and yet, she didn’t want to acknowledge that she was fighting to survive for a whole lunar cycle.. after all, it couldn’t be her who’s lost at war. It couldn’t be her…

It was the first of twelve she would make.


“What’s this one?” a young Emilaina cooed, tugging on a leather tassel hanging from her grandmother’s left shoulder. Her grandmother’s garb was incredibly elaborate, the entire garment covered in swirling gold embroidery. She had a leather belt and shoulder strap strung up with beads, chains, feathers, tails, ribbons, and some of the beautiful colored gems the island was known for.

Emilaina, by contrast, wore only a plain green wrap with a simple leather belt. It was too big on her, the garb made with enough fabric for her to grow into, and not sewn together until one was full grown.

Joszia Akosai smiled warmly, lifting up the shining blue metal bead to look at it, “Ah, this one.. I was part of a team escorting a Vulcan diplomat. We were attacked by Klingons.”

Emilaina stared, wide-eyed with youthful amazement. She didn’t have to ask what happened, of course—the beads each represented a victory.

Darokkatan stopped in the doorway, smiling warmly as he spotted his daughter sitting with his mother. He was likewise dressed for the occasion, his green tunic embroidered up the entire right half. He wore a cape over his left shoulder that draped down to his mid-back.

The cape was made up of thousands of tiny metal-cast links, the different colors of shimmering metal swirling in a beautiful tapestry. Stark white metal stood out from the other copper-to-grey tones in the shape of a Yua staff, the old symbol for island medics, on a diagonal across his shoulder. Emilaina loved the light jingling sound it made when he walked.

“Come on,” Averianna called from the foyer, “She’s almost here!”

The family made their way outside, even Janessa in tow, she wore a plain green dress in an earth style with a leather belt to match the others.

Averi was especially excited and darted out ahead, Emily following behind shortly after. Dozens of people were gathered around the bonfire, the Eloai–who tonight was a young man from Datani–wandering back and forth between the fire and the wood pile occasionally to keep it going.

Emily took a seat next to her sisters, her cousins sat the row behind them. Betazed’s three moons all shone bright in the sky, Merandar being full marking the end of the 30-day lunar cycle her people had marked for thousands of years.

Elder Kilaina stood between the fire and the shore on the slab of rock from which she directed the festivities, her eyes remaining fixed on the sky as people trickled into the fire circle.

Suddenly a ripple ran over the crowd. First the elders, then the adults, then everyone in order of how strong their sixth sense was all turned to look at the sky at the same time. To Emily’s right, several members of Harvianna’s family stood up and began running towards the ocean.

Harvi’s shuttle came into view a moment later, displacing a ring of sand as it gracefully deposited itself on the shore.

The girl’s mother embraced her tightly the moment she stepped off the shuttle, everyone in the crowd struck by the moment. Kilaina let out the breath she’d been holding, and everyone else was able to as well.

Harvianna reluctantly released her family members, wiping away a tear. She made her way purposefully up onto the platform next to Kilaina, and the two embraced gently, touching foreheads for a long moment.

Kilaina sat down in a rocking chair that lived behind the platform, pulling her bag of supplies into her lap. She looked up, smiling and waiting for Harvianna to begin.

Harvianna had just recently joined Starfleet, and she’d been part of an away mission that got stranded on an asteroid for two weeks after an accident. She told the story of survival, in thrilling detail, to the people gathered at the fire. As she spoke, Kilaina worked on carving a small gem with a small diamond-tipped tool.

When she finished her story, Harvi knelt in front of Kilaina. The Elder slowly, carefully untied one of Harvianna’s leather shoulder tassels, sliding on the chipped amber bead resembling a small asteroid before tying a knot to keep it on.

One by one, each of the tribes’ members shared a story from their past lunar cycle, about half being bestowed with some small commemorative token.


Most days Emilaina worked in her lab in the hotel, testing and developing medicine from the things the crew could find. Eventually, she had all of the equipment in there she wanted and could spend hours playing with samples and taking notes. It felt good to escape to a pretend at normalcy, even if it always felt a bit forced. If she wasn’t there, she was sat on a rock or tree somewhere meditating, usually close to the hotel.

She was a quick study with Gencodian, her nose stuck in a book when she wasn’t researching or meditating. She tried to support her crewmates as much as she could, especially as her sensitivity to their pain quickly spiked when she started practicing. There was also the matter of keeping them physically healthy, which some of her crewmates made difficult.

She made the best of her time but she always held out hope that someday, somehow, she’d see her family again. In the meantime, she treated her crewmates as family to make up for it.

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  • Kathryn Harper Kathryn Harper says:

    Like your last log, I really enjoyed the ties to the more traditional Betazoid culture. Being unable to accept that it can’t be her that’s lost was really striking, and it was good to see her methods of coping with the situation. Also, Harper appreciates quick studies at Gencodian language! :) Great log!

  •  Alexis Wright says:

    I love love love your elaborate descriptions of their clothing, especially the commemorative tokens – it really helps me to visualize it in my mind. Your creativity always impresses me! These little glimpses into her native culture are fantastic, and I feel like Emily is a much more fully-realized character as a result. I agree that her difficulty accepting that it’s her that’s lost was striking – really hit home for me. Such isolation for an empath must have been really hard.

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