The past is better than the future

Posted on Mon Jul 13th, 2026 @ 2:39pm by Lieutenant JG Dan Murphy

354 words; about a 2 minute read

The hum of the *USS Liberty’s* warp core is a far cry from the damp, peat-scented air of a lecture hall at Trinity, yet there are nights when the ghosts of the twentieth century feel more tangible than the duranium bulkheads surrounding me. I spent centuries watching humanity stumble through its own adolescence—the wars, the revolutions, the slow, agonizing crawl toward the stars. I remember the smell of burnt rubber in the streets of Dublin and the taste of bad coffee while grading papers that were, frankly, abysmal. It was a simpler existence, in a way. I didn't have to worry about shield harmonics or the strategic implications of a Romulan incursion; I only had to worry about whether my students understood the nuance of the Cold War. Perhaps that’s why I have a tendency to go rogue in the heat of a tactical engagement—I’ve seen how history breaks when people wait for permission to do what is obviously necessary.

I find myself obsessing over the structural schematics of the *Intrepid*-class again. I have the entire propulsion manifold committed to memory, every plasma conduit and EPS tap, indexed alongside the tactical doctrine of the Battle of Wolf 359 and the board game strategies of ancient Go. People look at my service record—the Grankite Order of Tactics sitting right next to the court-martial transcripts—and they see a liability, a Lanthanite who’s spent too long in the sun and lost his grip. They aren't wrong, necessarily. I’ve broken enough bones to reconstruct an entire skeleton from spare parts, and my impulse control is, on a good day, merely a suggestion. But there is a fierce, quiet pride in it. I am the sum of every era I’ve survived, and I will be damned if I let this ship fall while I’m holding the tactical console. I’ll see my dream of a custom-built starship realized, even if I have to rewire the entire galaxy to do it. Computer, end log. And stop blinking that red light at me; I know the containment field is fine.

 

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