Personal Log — Senior Chief Jadizon Sigarda Enor - Entry I
Posted on Thu Feb 12th, 2026 @ 4:33am by Senior Chief Petty Officer Jadizon Enor
Personal Log — Senior Chief Jadizon Sigarda Enor
Stardate: [Redacted]
“Computer, begin recording.”
Jadizon didn’t usually keep personal logs. He walked the decks, handled problems, talked to his chiefs. That had always been enough.
Lately, it wasn’t.
“I died.”
He let the words sit for a second, then stood and started pacing slowly across his quarters, bare feet quiet against the deck plating.
“That is not dramatic language. My heart stopped. My body shut down. I crossed whatever line separates breath from silence.”
He paused near the viewport, staring out at the stars.
“And on the other side, something was waiting for me.”
He swallowed, jaw tightening.
“An entity. A presence. She wore a face I recognized. Familiar. Inviting. Calm. She did not threaten. She did not rage. She offered rest. Final rest.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“And in that moment, I understood how easy it would have been to let go.”
Jadizon turned away from the viewport and resumed pacing, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck like he could scrub the memory off.
“What unsettles me is not that she was there. It is that she has lingered.”
He stopped at the desk, resting his fingertips on the edge of it.
“Not physically. Not visibly. But I feel the echo of her. Sometimes in quiet rooms. Sometimes when the ship hum drops low at night. A whisper at the edge of my thoughts.”
He looked toward the ceiling, listening to the ship’s soft, constant sound.
“A Betazoid does not ignore those kinds of echoes.”
Jadizon’s posture stiffened.
“I have been angry lately. Not just at others. At myself. At the crew. At Henry. At the mess of it all. At the world for continuing to move forward as if nothing happened.”
He gave a humorless huff.
“But something did happen.”
He stepped away from the desk and paced again, slower now.
“I was offered peace.”
His voice dropped.
“And I chose to come back.”
He stopped mid-stride, like the truth had weight in the air.
“That choice has weight. Heavier than I expected.”
He dragged a hand down his face and blew out a long breath.
“Then there is Kally and Katie.”
Jadizon’s eyes narrowed, like he was forcing himself not to dodge what mattered.
“And let me be clear, so I do not hide behind nicknames. Kalliope is Kally’s real name. I know it now, and I am not going to pretend I do not. Not in here.”
He leaned back against the bulkhead, arms folding loosely.
“I told them I loved them. I meant it. I engaged in the Betazoid ritual of courting. I said words that carry generational gravity in my house.”
He stared at the deck for a moment, voice rougher.
“Words my mother and father did not use lightly.”
Jadizon pushed off the wall and crossed the room again.
“I want both of them. That is the truth. Old Earth has an expression about having your cake and ice cream too. It sounds childish.”
He shook his head once.
“But the heart does not divide cleanly.”
He paced past the desk, then slowed.
“Katie loves me without hesitation. With certainty. With the kind of devotion that steadies a man.”
He paused, and his voice softened almost against his will.
“Kally loves differently. Chaotically. Deeply. She is honest about her confusion, and I respect that.”
His jaw clenched again.
“I do not want to cage her. I also cannot pretend it does not cut when her life pulls in directions that do not include me.”
Jadizon turned back toward the computer terminal, standing close to it now, as if speaking to it kept him honest.
“My family knows something is shifting in me. They heard enough to start asking questions. My siblings bickered like they always do. My mother saw through me like she always has.”
A faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, then vanished.
“My father tried to turn it into a lesson.”
He straightened his shoulders.
“And in all of that noise, I realized something clean and simple.”
He looked straight at the recording interface.
“I am not afraid of loving Kally and Katie.”
His voice tightened on the next words.
“I am afraid of losing them.”
He took a breath, and the room felt smaller.
“And somewhere behind that fear is the memory of the entity waiting in the dark, promising that if I let go, I would not have to feel any of this.”
Jadizon stepped back from the terminal and looked around his quarters like he expected the shadows to answer.
“But I am still here.”
He turned back, posture firm, voice steadier.
“I am the Chief of the Boat. I enforce standards. I carry the enlisted. I advise the Captain. I do not get to unravel.”
His eyes flicked down, then up again.
“Still, I can admit this much to the computer.”
He swallowed once.
“When she whispers again, and I know she will, I will choose the living.”
“I will choose Kally.”
“I will choose Katie.”
“I will choose the weight of loving two people and navigating the storm that comes with it.”
He exhaled, slow and controlled.
“Because the alternative is silence.”
“And I have had enough silence.”
Jadizon reached out and tapped the console.
“Computer, end log.”
