I return, Lore Hounds! With another piece of my fantastical writing (ignore the clear egotism). This time, though, it was just for skill practice and to keep the creative juices flowin’. With this one, I decided to give my main, Luna Aislin Kira — current Captain of the U.S.S. Heartbroken — on Star Trek Online a backstory. I’ll be posting more as I continue, enjoy Part I.
The lights and sounds moving and reacting to her touches on the monitor screen made Luna smile. With a flick of a finger, she made images slide off and on, quickly moving through the entire gallery. The Medical Bay was silent and eerily dark. Giving her the illusion of seclusion — she preferred it that way. Illustrations of surgery procedures quickly passed through Luna’s line of vision, her photographic memory capturing every one. Seeing a method she felt like attempting, she loaded the simulation into the Holodeck. Heading towards the hallway, she bumped into the Chief Medical Officer, Johnson.
“And where are you headed off to in such a hurry, Luna?” Johnson raised his eyebrow like he always does when he catches her in her mischief. The sparkle in the corner of his eye secretly told Luna he approved.
“I wanted to try the Cerebral Alpha cut on a Trill in the Holodeck.” Luna beamed back at Johnson. She grinned, looking up at him as he praised her prodigal talents.
“In a few years, I just may take you on as an Ensign Medical Assistant. Perhaps, if you learned to follow directions,” he sarcastically stared down his nose at her. Luna shrugged, skipping off down the hallway to the Turbolift, ignoring whatever else Johnson had to say.
She stood with authority in the Turbolift as it climbed 10 decks swiftly. She was thrilled every time her father was assigned a mission, she didn’t miss him. For the majority of the time, his constant duty station as Captain required him on the bridge. When he was off, he didn’t bother with her usually. Luna shivered as the most recent memory of her Father came to mind from a week earlier.
Music was blaring from 1900’s. She loved the classic Earth music genre of “Rock and Roll”, Elvis Presley was playing while she read on her datapad on WWII. Curled up in her bed she became bored and started drawing a photo of what she remembers of Earth. She tried to imagine the landscape of California, on the Northern American continent. Her birth records claim she was born there, but she only recalls ever-living on Space Colony 210 near Vulcan. Getting frustrated, she threw down the board and stared at her room. The black and green color scheme mixed well with the gray carpet. “Standard room,” she boringly thought.
She had picked up her datapad again, starting a section on D-Day, when she heard her Father stumble in to the main room of their private quarters. “Luna! Get your ass out here!” He commanded, with slight slurring. She knew he was drunk. He never came back without stopping at the Mess Hall to grab a drink – or ten. Fearing what he would do if she didn’t go out there, she slid off her bed and skulked into the room, facing the ground, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
He slapped her, the first one untangling her lovely long, dark sea green hair out of its ponytail. He punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs. He did everything he could to harm her. The entire time he would shout “It’s all your fault,” and “You’re never going amount to anything,” over and over until she was bawling her eyes out. Not very often, he’ll even pull a knife out, cutting her wrists and legs. Even rarer, he would give her phaser burns. Tonight, he did everything. After one hour, Luna was a bleeding mess, hunched in a fetal position. Right after, he passed out on the couch behind him.
Dragging herself towards her room, she left a trail of blood. She fought to get to her lock box to get her medical tricorder out. Luna had replicated the tools when he started abusing her at the age of 7. She spent hours learning how to heal wounds and repair broken bones by purposefully cutting herself with a surgical laser and holodeck simulations to enact physical injury. Fumbling to get it open, the tricorder slipped from the blood covering her hands. Finally getting it opened and the tissue enhancer working, she quickly looked over her cuts to see what was most severe. She started with her right hamstring, as her father cut down her leg, rending the muscle and pouring blood out. Her entire leg soaked in thick, fresh blood, Luna could barely find the lacerated flesh.
Luna had been reminiscing so much, that she didn’t realize the doors had opened and two Engineering Ensigns were asking where she was headed. With the courteous “Holodeck” in her best I’m-the-captain’s-daughter voice, she walked in between them, continuing down the hallway of the U.S.S. Austin. Luna has spent more time on this ship than she can ever recall spending on SC210.
Walking up to the entry to holodeck 3, her name showed on the log-in screen requiring her voice-ID. The doors quickly shut tight behind her, sealing off entry unless she authorized someone in. In the room before her was an exact representation of the Medical Bay she was just in. Circumnavigating around the glass wall separating her from the operating table, Luna found herself standing before a Trill corpse.
Picking up her incision laser, she bore a small score at the base of the neck, right along the spine. Performing the operation skillfully, she replayed every step of the process in her mind – having just seen it minutes ago. In her perfectionist way, she took extreme care and focus, causing her to break a heavy sweat.
“Computer, create a hologram of Johnson. Moderation of personality: make him complacent.” Luna smirked as she added in her favorite variation of Johnson. When he materialized, she called to him “Dry off the sweat from my face, it’s becoming bothersome.”
“Certainly, Miss Kira!” the Johnson hologram conformed. With further exertion of focus, her left bang slid loose from behind her ear, drooping right front of her eye. A moment after it occurred, it was back behind her ear, thanks to her hologram assistant.
Stripped of her clothes, strewn across the bathroom floor, Luna gave herself a hawk-eye inspection of her body. Checking foremost for scars, upon seeing none, she stared at herself in the mirror half-interested. Luna had her arms held across her perfectly rounded breasts, outright disgusted by her body when she gazes at herself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Her body gradually dipped into the steaming hot bath that she openly loved. Stifling water wafted just below her shoulders while she lay back, relaxed. Eyes closed, stress and worries from her day melted away in the boiling bath water. Sleep’s enticing embrace almost gripped her when a large crash was heard in the living as if something was thrown and broke. Dimming the lights and dunking her head beneath the surface of the once soothing bath, Luna knew it was too late.
Her Father was holding her under, waiting angrily for her to start gasping for air. Thrashing about, she swallowed water. Clutching the nape of her hair, he yanked her out of the bathtub, dragging her into the living space. Something was out-of-place to Luna – she didn’t smell the nauseous stench of alcohol.
She had learned years ago that clenching her eyes shut blotted out most of the pain. She still cried immensely when he did this. Nevertheless, not even Acoma could have avoided the torture she endured. After beating her, her Father went into her room and found a surgical laser, bringing it out to proceed with mutilating her body. Cutting her calves, thighs, and her stomach, blood was stained into the carpet already. Luna’s face was beginning to pale, and her vision became muddled. Slicing off strips of flesh, Luna’s father was outraged how his daughter was maturing.
He had her pinned, aiming to slit her throat. Luckily for Luna, she had opened her eyes in time to stare back into her Father’s. Fear and grief gripped him, dropping the laser and falling back onto the ground, falling into a depression-based comatose. “Computer; enable security protocol: Luna Kira April 003,” she almost inaudibly gasped. The computer beeped, showing response to her command. Luna looked towards the entrance to the bathroom, seeing her Com-badge and shirt lying on the floor. Fatigued from loss of blood, Luna inched towards it. With it in hand, she had the computer transport her to the medical bay.
Materializing on the center bed, she remained conscious long enough to see a force field initiated around her, and the EMH walking towards her, tools in hand.