Echoes of the Past
Personal Log: Lieutenant Alexandra "Alex" Taren
Stardate 5870.2
I’ve always been drawn to mysteries. Maybe that’s why I joined Starfleet Medical—to untangle the complexities of the human body, to solve puzzles that could save lives. But Robert Robinson isn’t just a mystery. He’s an enigma, a man displaced in time, carrying the weight of a world long gone.
Every time I see him, I feel a pull, like gravity, drawing me closer. He’s not like anyone else aboard the Enterprise. There’s a quiet strength about him, a resilience that comes from enduring something none of us can truly understand. He’s friendly, warm even, but there’s a distance too—a sadness in his eyes that makes me want to reach out and bridge the gap.
I’ve worked alongside Dr. McCoy long enough to know he’s noticed my interest. His sideways glances and gruff comments are subtle—by McCoy’s standards—but I can tell he’s holding back. He probably thinks it’s just a crush or some passing infatuation. I wish it were that simple.
The first time I worked up the courage to visit Robert’s quarters, I told myself it was for professional reasons. "Cultural research," I said, practicing the words in front of the mirror. But when I stood outside his door, my heart racing, I felt like a cadet again, stumbling through her first away mission.
The door slid open, and there he was, standing amidst a collection of objects that seemed almost magical in their anachronism. A record player sat on a small table, its polished wood gleaming under the room’s soft lighting. Nearby, a stack of vinyl records leaned against a shelf filled with books—real books, their spines worn and faded. There was an old guitar propped in the corner, a coffee mug with the faded logo of something called “Dunkin’ Donuts,” and even a Rubik’s Cube sitting on the desk.
“Alex,” he said, his voice carrying that unplaceable warmth that always disarmed me. “What brings you by?”
I hesitated, my rehearsed words scattering like leaves in the wind. “I, uh…I wanted to learn more about your time. It must be so different from what we know.”
He smiled, gesturing for me to come in. “It’s different, all right. Come on, take a look.”
I stepped inside, trying not to let my nerves show. As he walked me through his collection, I found myself relaxing. He talked about each item with a kind of wistful fondness, as though each one was a lifeline to the world he’d lost.
“This,” he said, picking up the record at the top of the stack, “is Thriller by Michael Jackson. Probably the best-selling album of my time.”
I stared at the cover, the image of a young man in a white suit. “You’ve replicated all of this?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I had to dig through the ship’s database for the schematics. Turns out Starfleet has an impressive archive of Earth history. It’s not perfect, but it helps me feel connected.”
As the music started, the room filled with a rhythm that was both alien and familiar. Robert leaned against the desk, watching me with an amused expression as I tapped my foot to the beat.
“You like it?” he asked.
I smiled. “It’s amazing. It’s…alive.”
After that, I started visiting more often. Each time, I told myself it was about learning, about understanding the culture of a time so far removed from my own. But the truth was, I just wanted to be near him.
We’d spend hours talking about his life before the Enterprise. He’d tell me about his small hometown in Maine, the long summer nights, the sound of crickets, and the smell of pine. He’d talk about the simplicity of life back then—no warp drives, no replicators, just people trying to make their way in the world.
In return, I shared stories about my own life, about growing up on a starbase and dreaming of adventure among the stars. He listened with genuine interest, his eyes lighting up at my tales of alien worlds and strange encounters.
But for all our conversations, there were things he didn’t say. I could see it in the way his gaze would drift to the stars outside his window, or the way he’d pause when a certain song came on. There was a part of him still tethered to the past, a part I couldn’t reach.
And yet, I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to.
One night, after a long shift in sickbay, I found myself outside his door again. This time, I didn’t have an excuse. I just needed to see him.
When the door opened, he looked surprised but didn’t hesitate to invite me in. I sat on the small couch, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my uniform.
“You look tired,” he said, sitting across from me. “Rough day?”
I nodded. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. But…being here, with you, it helps.”
He tilted his head, his expression softening. “Alex, can I ask you something?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Of course.”
“Why do you come here?”
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. I could feel the weight of everything I hadn’t said pressing down on me.
“I…I like spending time with you,” I finally managed. “You’re…fascinating.”
He smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Fascinating? That sounds like something Spock would say.”
I laughed, the tension breaking for a moment. But then his smile faded, replaced by something deeper, more serious.
“Alex,” he said, his voice low, “you’re one of the best things about being here. You make me feel like I belong.”
I felt my cheeks flush, my chest tightening. The words I’d been holding back were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say them. Not yet.
The night ended with me leaving his quarters, my emotions swirling like a storm. I don’t know if he knows how I feel, if he senses the way my heart races whenever he’s near. But one thing is clear: I can’t keep running from this.
Robert Robinson may be a man out of time, but he’s also a man who’s changed my life. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time I find the courage to tell him.
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