USF Personal Log
USS Excelsior Logs and Narratives image
The Mind Of Petroy

USS Excelsior Logs and Narratives

by First Lieutenant Peter McMillian
[Stardate ]

Peter was still fuming from not being allowed to stay on the ship and deal with Omega. Despite the doc's warnings he kept pacing. He did so to the point where he aggravated his concussion. So it wasn't long before the pain caused him to pass out again.

He once again found himself in the recesses of his mind, replaying the events of the night in his head.  Peter was getting angrier and angrier each time the event replayed until, like the fourth time when the replay was like a freeze-frame vid. Turning around Peter noticed something different. There were five people standing behind him, watching what was going on. One looked like Peter, himself, in a Starfleet uniform. Another looked, oddly enough, exactly like James T. Kirk. The third looked like a thirty-two year old, three hundred pound, fat white guy. The fourth resembled the third one, only skinnier and older. The last one, however, stepped forward and had a very familiar face. Peter immediately recognized him as Dr. Tru.
Before Peter could speak, Dr. Tru cut him off. “Peter, Peter, Peter,” the Vulcan said. "Whatever am I going to do with you? All that training and you still haven't learned to control that temper. Oh well, you need help so the part of you that remembers the training needs me to facilitate this merger.”
Peter began scratching his head. "Doc, I didn't think Vulcans did therapy.”
Dr Tru Laughed. “They do not. You’re in a concussive state and dreaming, so just go with it.”
Peter surrendered with a sigh. "Okay.”
Dr Tru asked, “Peter, when you see this event, what do you really see?”
His mind began replaying. Back in the cell, Holden . Peter asks him to save Malinda. Then behest his request he is suddenly beamed on to the Cimarron even though he protested. Peter begins to feel angry and like he's being dismissed. Then, the image is replaced with an entirely different one.
“My father is yelling at me and drinking,” Peter revealed. “Dad, I love you.”
“What was that garbage,” Peter’s father demanded. "How many times have I told you. Peter feels a hard slap across his face. “Men don't cry! Men don't show emotion! You do what I say or I swear I will beat that mamby-pampy crap out of you!”
"But Dad, I cant,” Peter says through tears.
“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?” Mr. McMillian shouts. “This is my house! No son of mine is gonna act like a woman. If you wanna be a woman, I'm gonna treat you like one!”
"But, Dad.”
"Don't you ‘but dad’ me!” The elder Mcmillian delivers another slap across his son’s face.
Peter flinched as he watched, then the thirty-two year old spoke. “My dad never had the chance to do those things because I had people around me who always stopped him, but that's what he was like.”
The older version of the fat man was drinking. “Burp! Dam straight. I'm the worst version of his father and anyway to make my mamby-pamby son suffer, I’ll take.”
Dr Tru then cut in. "Enough of that. So it is safe to say you have a hard time distinguishing yourself from the writer.”
Writer? Peter thought, but instead of further debate, he simply replied, “Yes.”
Dr Tru then asked, “Peter, if you could ask or show the captain, how would you like him to deal with you in the future?”
Peter was once again in the cell, waiting. Captain Holden comes in. Peter asks him to stay. “Captain I'm not going anywhere. That woman wants to hurt my son. I'm not going anywhere till she's dealt with.
The captain turns around. “I’m sorry, Peter. I can’t oblige.”
“Why not?” Peter demands.
“Look Peter, I know you’re worried about your son,” Holden says. “I am too, but if you run out now, half-cocked you not only get yourself killed, but you could be giving Omega what she wants. Even in your message you said she needs you and Malinda for bait to kill your son. Right? So, I shouldn't have to tell you this but taking you away gives her no leverage against Malino. Now, are you gonna come quiet or do I have to order the doc to sedate you?” 
Peter then said, "A scenario like that, or any one of another hundred ways without dismissing what I'm going through or feeling. I was worried about my son’s life and he just beamed me out like that.”
The Starfleet Peter then speaks. “Let me ask what was going on.”
Peter stared at himself a moment, then said, “Well, the captain was trying to rescue me and my daughter.”
“’And’ what?”
“So,” the other Peter tried to reason out,  “you’re saying the captain was trying to save you and your daughter, and was  endangering his own life in an attempt to save his step-daughter. Why should he take the time out to deal with one character’s insecurities and neuroses? No one seems to think he has a problem, only you. He's a Starfleet captain his job is to look after the lives of every soul on his ship, not just one. Your arrogance and anger, most times, disrupt actions on the ship anyway. He's a Starfleet captain and your orders are to follow his, no questions asked.”
Peter sighed, “I know. But, a captain also should know, sometimes for some people, a softer hand is needed. He's my friend and he's a great captain. I don't hate him and like working with him but sometimes I just wish he more in tune with my emotions.”
Again, the Starfleet Peter asked a question. “Lobren doesn't need his hand held or need to be talked to. Neither does Taz, Bones or any other officer on the ship. He's the boss. His say goes. Why should he make an exception for you?”
Peter then replied, "Simply because I'm not like them. I'm sensitive and overly emotional. When I’m feeling something, I need  someone to notice and not just ignore it and pretend nothings wrong or that its not important.  Because for me, everything I do is important. When I'm going to do something stupid I need someone with a wiser mind to remind me what I already know, not just dismiss what I'm thinking because we may be in a situation where cowboy antics wont work.”

Then as he slowly began waking up from his concussion her head Dr Tru say now go and tell him what you just told yourself.

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