Unexpected Variables

Posted on Sun Mar 16th, 2025 @ 7:23pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel

668 words; about a 3 minute read

Personal Log – Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Sciences Specialist, USS Fenrir

I should’ve known today wouldn’t go smoothly the moment I had to chase down yet another misplaced shipment for my lab. If there’s a single department aboard this ship that actually knows where things are supposed to go, I have yet to find it. The highlight of my day—aside from not strangling anyone in Logistics—was supposed to be a simple holodeck session. Swim. Run. Maybe torture myself with that damn acoustic guitar program again. Something to decompress before I inevitably have to hunt down more of my supplies tomorrow.

But, of course, the holodeck had other ideas.

Locked out. No warning. No explanation. Just ACCESS DENIED flashing in my face like a cruel joke. I swear, this ship finds new ways to test my patience daily.

Operations wasn’t exactly helpful at first. The guy who answered—I didn’t know his name then—sounded like I’d just interrupted something far more important. I had to explain myself twice, which didn’t help my mood. But to his credit, he actually showed up. And he fixed it. I probably should have let that be the end of it, but something about the whole ordeal had already put me in a mood.

That’s when I met Lieutenant Riaothren ch’Shaorhs. Ren.

I’ll be honest—I wasn’t expecting him to be… that. The way he carried himself, the way his antennae tracked movement like they were cataloging the room before he even looked around, the way his presence just… filled the space. I caught myself staring at him for a fraction too long, and I know he noticed. That’s not usually a mistake I make.

At least he was competent. Turns out, all it took was an Admin password. That was it. A single override. It would have been infuriating if it wasn’t so typical of Starfleet bureaucracy. And yet, Ren didn’t just fix the issue and walk away—he stuck around. Asked me what kind of program I was running. Actually seemed interested.

That’s… rare.

I gave him the usual: swim, run, guitar. Something structured. Something predictable. But then he invited me to try a program of his—a survival simulation. Some crash-landing scenario with a hostile environment and people trying to kill us for sport. I don’t think he realized how fast my brain started screaming nope the moment he described it.

I tried to be polite about it—tried to explain that I don’t really do action-adventure holodeck programs. I don’t like unpredictability, I don’t like the feeling of being chased, and I sure as hell don’t enjoy simulated death. Even if my brain knows it isn’t real, my body doesn’t. And I hate that.

To my surprise, he didn’t push. He just listened.

Then he did something even more unexpected—he offered to create a new program. Something both of us might enjoy.

I don’t know why that caught me off guard, but it did. We had just met. He didn’t owe me anything, and yet, he was already adjusting, already finding common ground. I didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no, either. I told him I’d think about it. And I meant it.

Before he left, he asked me what kind of program I’d actually enjoy. That… was a harder question than it should’ve been. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before—not in a way that suggested they actually wanted to know.

I told him something structured. Something that makes sense. And I left it at that.

But the truth is… I don’t mind exploring. As long as I know the map.

End Log.

 

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