(no subject)

[sentinel_nameless]

 Little warrior,

 

The signal is closer today. We are still not within scanning range. It appears to be an automatic subspace beacon.

 

But I am not writing you about the latest on the ship.

 

Shlev is sleeping. It is quiet. We are still in the Black. 

 

I do not know what to write tonight, Noelle. Your last memory of me will be that for three months you were married to a thaan who argues about furniture. 

 

But here, I do not have the luxury of sentiment or weakness. The ship looks to my department for their feeling of safety. They should look to yours. The ship and space themselves are more likely to kill us right now. The ship has been the model of discipline, order, and quiet since this began. 

 

I know from experience and history (and my thavan being fond of stories from your people’s Age of Sail) that much of this order depends upon Starfleet’s chain of command not merely on this ship but beyond it. 

 

Eventually, order will break down and factions will form.

 

By the way, that was one of the questions. You asked what stories my thavan told me during the six times you asked about him.

 

As two of his parents were Starfleet officers and two were diplomats, he spent most of his life among your people. He was fond of the history and literature of your people.

 

He was fond of the Iliad and Odyssey, stories of the Age of Sail, as well as stories about the Civil War. Many of the Civil War stories that I tell Shlev are those same stories.