The Not-The-Captain's Log: The Naked Time

Lt. Sulu’s Personal Log, Stardate 1704.4.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. That’s what everybody’s saying right now. The Enterprise is full of some very embarrassed people. Embarrassed and conflicted.

Half of us want to forget anything happened. There’s a whole lot of staring at the floor, people running out of rooms, awkward subject changes. And then there’s the other half: "Did you hear what so-and-so did?" Yes, we all heard. Everybody’s heard everything. Especially the singing over the PA. Terrible, awful singing. It’s a small—actually, it’s a huge ship. But word still travels fast. Like a virus.

Everybody knows about poor Lieutenant Tormolen. It’s too much to ask to get through any crisis without a casualty—but of all the ways to go. Breakdown in the mess haul, existential crisis, stabbing himself with a butter knife…

Totally avoidable, too! Poly-water intoxication indeed. Turns out all we were suffering from was a raging case of lowered inhibitions. We were just drunk enough to let our hair down and say what we were really thinking! I suppose Tormolen was already in a lot more danger than anyone suspected. Pity this is what it took to get our attention.

…And then there’s me. Dramatic? Yes. Extreme? Maybe a little. But it really did seem like a good idea at the time! We were in a bad way. Everyone was looking so grim, so hopeless, a man was dead, this was our darkest hour—my crew needed a hero! So I gave them one!

And Ensign Riley was wrong. Passing fad, he said! Nonsense. Fencing is a craft, a science - lost on him, clearly! Riley wouldn’t know good swordsmanship if it danced half-naked in front of him. Which it did. Normally I would’ve given him a slap of reality with words. Yesterday I used a glove, and made my point with a sword.

Although I did apologize to Lt. Uhura, who assured me she doesn’t hold my little rescue attempt against me… although she did say the assumptions I ‘made’ were a little ‘unfair.’ Still, apology accepted. I think.

…I’ve been avoiding the Captain. Why I cast him as the evil Richelieu, I couldn’t begin to tell you. It’s not that I’m worried about the wrath of Kirk. Any other man, after my subconscious cast him as the villain, even in jest? Yes, the fallout would be… worrisome. This particular captain? He’ll either laugh about it—find it genuinely hilarious—or be somehow…disappointed in me. I’d much rather he was angry. I'll speak to him in a day or two. I doubt he'll forget. It's not every day somebody charges shirtless onto the bridge and challenges the Captain to a duel. Well, maybe on a Klingon ship.

But what did Spock call me? A swashbuckler at heart? Absolutely amazing. A Vulcan called me a swashbuckler! That almost makes it all worthwhile. And I suppose I should be flattered. I had it in me all the while, who’d have thought? Well, me, actually. I completely agree with Mr. Spock’s… assessment of my character.

One thing is for sure--everyone will be talking about it. They certainly will.

...Computer, delete this entire—no. Leave it. Save it in the archives.

It seemed like a good idea at the time… and it still does.”

The Not-The-Captain's Log revisits old favorite Star Trek adventures through the eyes of some old friends - and will probably boldly go on some new ones.