10 ottobre 2025, XXI secolo - Octorber 10th, 2025, 21st century

 

Diario personale, data stellare 12510.10 (10 ottobre 2025, ventunesimo secolo)

Continuo a non capire come può funzionare un gruppo di ufficiali al comando senza che si faccia alcun incontro faccia a faccia, ma evidentemente sulla nave ora funziona così. Io continuo ad archiviare i messaggi che ci scambiamo tramite DiPAD, ma non so se al Comando di Flotta accetteranno rapporti del genere.

Oggi mi sono davvero intristita. Avevamo ricevuto degli ordini, dal Comando di Flotta, sul comportamento da tenere in caso di primo o secondo contatto con altre navi e altri gruppi di esplorazione, e oggi sono stati del tutto disattesi. Ne ho chiesto la ragione, ma solo un mio collega si è degnato di rispondermi, e con una giustificazione che francamente non capisco. Certo, la discrezionalità di noi ufficiali al comando è sempre dovuta in qualsiasi circostanza, ma gli ordini erano chiari: effettuare un contatto, esplorare! E non c'erano ostacoli per non ottemperare a tale direttiva.
Ho deciso che non seguirò le decisioni prese dal gruppo nella sua totalità: questa esplorazione è troppo importante per me e il Comando di Flotta sembrava essere d'accordo (almeno a giudicare dalle sue direttive). Scenderò da sola, a portare alto il nome della nostra nave. 
Per fortuna tra i miei colleghi ufficiali superiori almeno con uno riesco a parlare e a condividere gli intenti del Comando. Ma siamo solo in due, in un gruppo di sette...

Poi c'è un'altra cosa... Ci saranno dei festeggiamenti, fra qualche mese, e la nostra nave è tra quelle che dovrà organizzare una parte degli eventi... ma tra gli ufficiali al comando non se ne parla. L'organizzazione generale viene fatta da un'altra nave, certo, ma per gli eventi che riguardano NOI non dovremmo avere un minimo di operatività decisionale? Sembra che lasciamo fare tutto agli altri e noi ci metteremo solo il nome, come se non ci riguardasse...

Le perplessità aumentano, la frustrazione anche. Ma credo che stare nei ponti bassi per qualche anno abbia generato in me una sorta di ribellione: farò quel che reputo giusto, e se ne dovrò pagare le conseguenze... che sia!

Computer, fine registrazione. Archivia con la precedente.

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Personal log, stardate 12510.10 (October 10, 2025, twenty-first century)

I still don't understand how a group of commanding officers can function without any face-to-face meetings, but evidently that's how things work on the ship now. I'm still archiving the messages we exchange on our PADDs, but I don't know if Starfleet Command will accept reports like that.

Today I was truly saddened. We had received orders from Starfleet Command regarding how to behave in the event of first or second contacts with other ships and exploration groups, and today they were completely disregarded. I asked why, but only one of my fellow officers deigned to answer me, and with a justification I frankly don't understand. Of course, we commanding officers always have discretion in any circumstance, but the orders were clear: make contact, explore! And there were no obstacles to not complying with this directive.
I've decided not to follow the decisions made by the group as a whole: this exploration is too important to me, and Starfleet Command seemed to agree (at least judging by its directives). I'll beam down alone, to uphold the name of our ship.
Luckily, among my fellow senior officers, I can speak to at least one who shares the Command's intentions. But there are only two of us in a group of seven...

Then there's something else... There will be celebrations in a few months, and our ship is among those that will have to organize some of the events... but among the commanding officers, there's no mention of it. Sure, the general organization is handled by another ship, but shouldn't we have some degree of operational decision-making power for OUR events? It seems like we're leaving everything to others and we'll just put our name on it, as if it doesn't concern us...

The doubts are growing, and so is the frustration. But I think that staying on the lower decks for a few years has changed me into someone more rebellious: I'll do what I think is right, and if I have to pay the consequences... so be it!

Computer, end recording. Archive it with the previous one. 

Remembering Gattona

 

Gattona has chosen me back in August, 2018, when she was pregnant. I had seen her for months coming to get the food I always left (and still leave) for stray cats in my garden. She was not keen for cuddles, but one day she entered the house like it was her own, and never went away.

She relaxed in the kitchen, or on the sofa-bed upstairs, while her belly grew and grew.

One day, while I was about to close the sofa-bed after a visit, she arrived meaowing because she knew she was about to deliver. I quickly prepared a box with some old clothes, but as soon as I put the box for her to go in, she chose the sofa-bed... and started her labour!

She delivered only one son, Rua, and I've written about them here. As soon as I could, I neutered her, so that she could enjoy staying at home. According to the vet she could have been no more than two years old at that time.

When Rua was old enough, she stopped being a mother and became a grumpy lady cat. She had the nasty habit of marking her territory (like male cats usually do), and that territory not only being the garden and the outside of my house, but also the inside, particularly the kitchen. She barely tollerated the presence of her son Rua, as for other cats...? No way!

 But she was also very affectionate, and when she wanted to be cuddled, she had the deepest and longer purr of them all! She slept on my bed, on my mother's bed, on her preferred chair, on her pillow. And she had several preferred spots in the garden where to lay down and sunbathe.

She have had some healthy problems here and there, and last november I had to let the vet surgically remove a couple of benign cyst. Last July she suffered a sudden anemia, and the vet said that there was nothing to do if it was due to the poison used to eliminate rats, if on the contrary it was some case of an autoimmune disease then she could get better.

With the treatment she got better, but it was not enough anyway - a sudden relapse happened few days ago. I was going to put her to sleep, but when I came home from work on September 14th, she glanced at me and searched for my hands... and died. She was (probably) nine years old, a pretty good age for a stray!

My home will never be the same. I had so many cats in my life that I lost count, but she was the one who chose me to be her human. And I will never thank her enough for that. 

🌈 

18 settembre 2025, XXI secolo - September 18th, 2025, 21st century

 Diario personale, data stellare 12509.18

 Sono passati ormai diversi mesi da quando sono stata promossa a ufficiale di plancia, ma ancora continuo ad essere un po' perplessa: dopo tanti anni passati sui ponti bassi, il ricordo di quello che facevo quando ero tra gli ufficiali superiori si è sbiadito. 

Il capitano e il primo ufficiale ancora non hanno indetto alcun meeting in sala riunioni e non abbiamo quindi potuto procedere a uno zoom su proposte, procedure o problemi della nave.
Ognuno di noi ha il suo posto assegnato e dalle nostre rispettive consolle possiamo dialogare via messaggio su tutte le decisioni da prendere, ma anche questo mi rende perplessa: nessuno mi ha detto quale sia in realtà il mio compito, perché continuo a fare ciò che facevo quando ero sui ponti bassi senza soluzione di continuità.

Il lavoro di archiviazione dei messaggi che ci scambiamo continua, comunque, perché almeno da questo punto di vista voglio essere sicura di avere un riferimento per cercare tutte le decisioni prese: mi basta la mia personale incertezza emotiva, non voglio averne altre!

La lunga missione sul pianeta BB1 è stata un misto di piacevolezza (la sabbia, il mare...) e ostacoli (non sono mai stata brava con la diplomazia!), ma ora che è quasi finita tornare alle mansioni a bordo lo sento più difficile di quel che pensavo. E poi c'è un'altra cosa...
Speravo di poter essere un tramite tra l'equipaggio e gli ufficiali di plancia, ma nessuno dei miei colleghi ufficiali mi ha fatto richieste, o proposte... e non so come interpretare questo fatto.

Computer... fine registrazione... per ora.

 

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Personal log, stardate 12509.18

It's been several months since I was promoted to bridge officer, but I'm still a bit perplexed: after so many years spent on the lower decks, the memory of what I did when I was a senior officer has faded.

The captain and the first officer haven't yet called any meets in the conference room, so we haven't been able to zoom in on proposals, procedures, or ship issues.
Each of us has our own assigned post, and from our respective consoles we can exchange messages about all the decisions to be made, but this also leaves me perplexed: no one has told me what my actual job is, because I continue to do what I did when I was on the lower decks.

I keep archiving all the messages we exchange, however, because at least with this archive I can have a reference document where to search for all the decisions made: my personal emotional uncertainty is enough for me; I don't want any more!

The long mission on planet BB1 was a mix of pleasure (the sand, the sea...) and obstacles (I've never been a good diplomat!), but now that it's almost over, returning to my duties on board is more difficult than I thought. And then there's something else...
I hoped to be a liaison between the crew and the bridge officers, but none of my fellow officers have made any requests or suggestions... and I don't know how to interpret this.

Computer... end recording... for now. 

4:30 am January 2nd, 2013

I wish I could forget the long, endless five minutes I spent trying to revive you before the ambulance arrived... I wish I could forget the moment I realized you were dead... and instead I remember every single moment of that night, Alberto... every single moment...