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The
Undreamed Shore
Since the early days of Starfleet,
officers have been expected to keep logs, both the formal, official records
kept by those in positions of responsibility, and personal records. The latter kind of log serves several
purposes. By encouraging
self-reflection, journaling can help the officer better deal with the
day-to-day pressures of starship life.
Personal logs also add richness of detail not usually included in
official logs and thus can sometimes be used by historians to build a broader
understanding of important events. In
the unfortunate event that an officer is killed in the line of duty, personal
logs can also comfort a grieving family. This
account of the Surlex III Away Team Mission is taken primarily from my personal
log entries, 23 years ago as I write this introduction. I have edited the entries, adding a few
explanations in brackets and removing a few comments that are irrelevant,
personal, or sensitive in nature. But
the log is substantially as I recorded it during those turbulent days. Personal Log, Stardate 39147.4 (Late Feb back home) During my shift last night [the evening Bravo shift, 1600-0000], orders came through for temporary assignment of a security team from the Berlin, including myself, in the Surlex system. The First Officer, commanding the watch [LtC Angela Whirlwind Horse], notified the Captain, who took the message in her ready room. A few minutes later, she ordered a course change to deliver us. A mass of briefing records just pinged into my PADD. I know what I’ll be doing in my free time for a while.In the meantime, I looked up Surlex in the library computer. The sentient species in the system is on the third planet. It’s not really a warp-capable culture, but the system was occupied by the Cardassians before the war and is now under Federation assistance. The Surlea are making steps toward world government and Federation representatives are there as advisers. The system is rich in dilithium, which is why the Cardies were there. Lots of different interests would like to get their fingers into the Surlex system. The Surlea still have some of the Cardassian impulse-drive ships and are continuing to operate some of the Cardassian mines, located on moons or other planets in the system. There have been some problems in the Surlex system in the last several days, apparently caused by the different external groups jockeying for control of the Dilithium mining rights. The Surleans are united and determined to resist outside forces. [Starfleet command] is assigning a twenty person security team from the Berlin, plus security personnel from the Tibet and the Gabriel Bell, both to protect the Federation compound and to help the locals evaluate and improve their security infrastructure and procedures. We’ve got Security training this morning. Lt. Meyers says we’re all getting a bit flabby, not true I might add. I expect a five-mile run on the holodeck. Personal Log, Stardate 39148.62 It also turns out that I’m the ranking officer among the assembled Away Teams, so I will be in overall command. We’re expected to be stationed there one to two months, so technically it’s an extended Away Team mission, not a reassignment. I expect that the teams from the three ships will remain semi-autonomous, tactically. I’ll primarily be handling liaison with the Federation advisors on the planet, all of whom are civilians I might add, making any strategic decisions, and generally coordinating the work of the three teams. Still, it goes on my record as a “command,” so it will look good on my next application for promotion. Personal Log, Stardate 39149.81 I’m
on the USS Tibet, enroute Surlex with the rest of my team. The Berlin isn’t going particularly
close to the Surlex system, but we were able to meet up with the Tibet,
a science vessel headed roughly that way. Personal Log, Stardate 39154.02 We
pulled into the Surlex system at mid-afternoon, taking up a standard orbit over
Surlex III. We’ll beam down in the
morning. I
just finished supper and I’m watching the planet below us. The best way I can describe it is “sparse.” There
is a series of interlocking seas, mostly along the equator, with rivers leading
to them almost all the way from the poles, but Surlex III is nowhere near the
ocean world that many intelligent species come from.
Jungles surround the seas.
Temperate green belts follow the rivers and even fringe the poles. Between the pathways of green, the planet is
mottled browns and tans. The planet
hardly tilts on its axis at all, so there’s not much of a jet stream to
circulate the moisture – just the slow convection of moisture rising along
the hot equator and dropping at the cold poles.
That’s also why the rain mainly falls close to the rivers and seas,
I think. That’s about as far as my memory
of my Planetary Sciences courses at the Academy goes in helping me understand
the world below. Personal Log, Stardate 39154.83 I woke up at about 0700 hours and went through my morning routine – run, lift weights, shower, and a light breakfast. By 0915, I sat down to catch up on some personal paperwork, checking the public ship’s log in the process. As a security officer, I perked up at the notation that there had been an explosion in the capitol city overnight, one that was almost certainly deliberately set. We beamed down at 1300 hours. For the record, I wore my phaser pistol and a tactical tricorder clearly on display on my hip. Discretely hidden in pouches at my waist were my "little phaser" and my favorite multi-tool knife [it’s a design I discovered in 250-year-old historical records and replicated in tempered duranium]. We each had a Starfleet duffle containing basic personal items and supplies. We beamed into a covered portico of the main Federation building. It was raining and humid, but not impossibly muggy. The freshness in the air was nice. The buildings I could see were utilitarian Cardassian designs, although I wasn’t so much looking at the buildings as I was sweeping my eyes across the people who were visible. Any weapons, unnatural activity, or threats? My other team members were doing the same, but after a moment we exchanged looks that said, “Nothing cooking.” The Federation compound seemed secure but not unnecessarily restrictive. Of course, the ability to tricorder-screen people by species helped. The welcome party consisted of a young civilian Federation staffer, Jared Hacesky [pronounced ha-CHES-key]. He was actually pretty competent, I learned. Moments later the other two security teams also beamed down. I greeted Lieutenant J.G. Matt Shipley, from the Gabriel Bell, and Lieutenant Prosser from the Tibet, and I briefly introduced myself to their respective team members. Hacesky escorted us to our billeting, a third floor wing of a Federation building that gave us a handful of small two-bunk rooms, a very small office, and modest common room. I gave the team members a half hour to settle in, then held assembly in the common room. I had already been thinking about what I should say -- the first words from a commanding officer are important, even for my low-level, limited command. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began, looking around the room at the group that was mostly human, with two Vulcans and one Trill. "We are here to do a job. If we're lucky, everything will be routine and all we'll have to do is conduct ourselves so as to reflect well on the Federation. "If there are problems, then we 'work as we train and train as we work.'" There were several nods at that familiar doctrine. "Lt. Prosser," I looked at her, "You will handle training. Get us used to working with each other." She nodded and answered with a sharp "Yes, Sir." "Lieutenant Shipley," I said. "Sir?" "You will maintain the watch schedule, primary, backup and tertiary." "Yes, Sir." I looked back at the full group. "This is the place in a briefing that we always talk about safety," I observed. "We have a job to do and people to take care of. We can't do that if we end up being casualties ourselves. Semper Vigilans, always vigilant." Personal Log, Stardate 39156.51 The general visibility is important, I think. When we got away from the compound built by the Cardassians, we realized how far from a warp-capable society this really is. They were apparently barely into a petroleum economy when they were invaded by aliens. Their largest cities, planet wide, are hardly 30,000 people. Being seen helps reinforce messages in the local media about Federation support for the Surlea. We are careful, however to be seen with local security teams and to clearly be supporting them, not superseding them. More and more, the local people are smiling as we pass. Waving, even. Team Commander's Log, Stardate 39170.34 I guess you might call this an Away Team from our overall Away Team assignment. Personal Log, Stardate 39170.96 We had a productive visit to Churrusk and were heading home. It had been dark on the surface when we lifted, but Sheila put us in a ballistic trajectory that took us up to 45 km. The setting sun was back above our horizon and we were just starting to descend when we came under attack. I was in back, talking with Mitch when the shuttle trembled. Sheila shrieked and was suddenly very busy. I scooted up to the copilot's seat, which Jason, who had apparently been sightseeing, vacated for me. "Phaser blast," Sheila reported briefly. "Shields came on automatically, or we wouldn't be here." I called up the systems display on my board. What I found was discouraging. "Main engines out. Maneuvering thrusters at bare minimum - enough for attitude control but not much else. Shields on, but won't take another blast." "I hear that," Sheila grunted. "So let's see who's shooting," I mused, switching to sensors. It was a ship in orbit low above the western horizon and descending, firing off pot shots every couple of minutes. They seemed to be picking out targets of opportunity, meaning that we were not a likely target for additional blasts. They would be looking ahead on their flight path as they continued west, not behind them, which solved one problem for me. I could focus on getting us down safely and not worry about evading further phaser shots. "Keep her nose up to kill as much airspeed as you can," I told Sheila. "I'll see what I can do about power." She nodded as I slipped out of the seat and made my way back to the tiny engineering bay of the shuttle. The phaser blast had taken out most of the control circuitry. Luckily, even short-range shuttles have backups and cross-circuiting capability. My past assignments in Engineering came in handy as I patched together a circuit and installed the software from the protected backup. Sheila periodically called out altimeter readings - 30 km above ground, 20. We were at seven kilometers height above average terrain when the auxiliaries came back on line, partial power, and I headed back to the front of the shuttle. There, Sheila happily turned over the flight controls to me and I started seriously killing our forward velocity. We came to ground on the outskirts of the capitol city. Even though our flight was unpowered for most of the descent, our initial trajectory had been for a spot near the spaceport (most spaceports have uninhabited target fields nearby, so any ships that happen to lose power will not leave craters in the middle of the tarmac). We escaped becoming such a crater by a slight margin, but it was touch and go. The shuttle plowed a long furrow in the loose sand and ended up partially buried. We've cleared the hatch and evacuated the shuttle. Search and rescue should be here soon. We're looking forward to finding out what the Herbert is going on.
Team commander's
Log, Stardate 39171.32 We are preparing to hike into town. The shuttle has some power but won't be flying again anytime soon. Personal Log, Stardate 39171.53 "There have been rumors about the Orions," said Jason. "Wholesale takeover of defenseless planets when they want some resource or other. But never this close to the Federation sphere of influence." "Is the dilithium that valuable?" asked Sheila. "The Federation's supplies come from automated mines that are highly regulated," I replied. "But there is a whole commercial economy outside the scope of the Federation. Trader ships and the like, not to mention whatever warp-capable cultures are out there beyond our space. There's probably good latinum in a steady supply, no questions asked and the Orion Syndicate specializes in things like that." "With no Starfleet ships in the system, they may think it will be a cakewalk," said Sheila. "And by the time our ships show up," added Jason, "the Orions'll have hostages and the planetary officials will claim it's a voluntary arrangement. It's worked for them before." "How can money make people do things like that?" asked Sheila, shaking her head. Growing up on Earth, she'd had little experience with cash economy mediums of exchange. There are no people to be found, although there are bodies. Tricorders detected a few people in buildings, but either most of the people are dead or most have been evacuated. I don't think evacuation is likely. It is a rare building that shows no damage. Many buildings have been flattened and there are still dust plumes in the sky from the larger ones. We've still made no contact with the Federation compound. Not sure why. The civilians don't usually wear com pins, but where are the rest of our people? Our only alternative is to make our way to the Federation compound by foot. It is slow going. Personal Log, Stardate 39171.96 We were advancing along a residential street lined with two-story brick buildings. From one of the least damaged structures we heard a child crying. Windows of the building were open and the crying spoke not of pain, but rather of fear, anguish and loneliness. "Sir," began Mitch, but I already knew what he wanted. As a medical man, he couldn't pass up someone in distress. I nodded. "Sheila," I said. "We secure the building. Mitch, wait for our signal." There are standard procedures for securing a possibly dangerous building. In this case I was less worried about hostiles than I was about the damaged building itself. We had phasers drawn, however, because you never know. We took turns, advancing and covering, checking each room. The children - there turned out to be five of them - were all in a front room that looked for all the world like a Millennial Era parlor (I saw one once when I visited the Laura Ingalls Wilder home in DeSmet). There was an adult woman on the floor of the room. According to procedure, I checked her vitals immediately. None. Our survey of the building was also cut short by the building damage we found, much more extensive than it appeared from the outside. "Evacuate the civilians," I said to Sheila, then to the children, "everybody outside." "What about Momma?" asked the oldest, a girl of maybe 10. Even as she spoke a skein of plaster sifted down from the ceiling. "It's not safe for the little ones here," I said looking her in the eye. "We can't do anything for your Momma now." After a moment she nodded. I remember thinking that her big sister reflexes had kicked in. "Come on," she said to her siblings as she got to her feet. The youngest, who had been crying, had stopped when Sheila and I entered, but she remained on the floor, looking bewildered. After a moment, I experimentally held out my arms to her and she immediately responded by extending her arms back. I picked her up and settled her on one hip, where I could hold her with one arm. We were the last out of the house. When he saw the children emerge, Mitch sprang into action, shepherding them to a small park across the street, waving Jason along to help. The little girl in my arms was snuggled close. She informed me solemnly that her name is Magra. Personal Log, Stardate 39172.31 We ended up camping in the little park. Moving in a damaged city is dangerous enough without the added risk of children. We continued on at dawn and little Magra simply expected me to carry her. As we moved closer to the compound, there were more and more signs of trouble. In particular, we started seeing aircars. At first they were fairly high and fast, following main avenues to and from the spaceport. Later, one was closer, moving down a side street. "I have a bad feeling about this," ventured Sheila. "What do you think they're looking for?" asked Jason. "I wouldn't be surprised," I said, turning at a sound behind us, "if it was US." One of the open-air craft swung around a corner, moving at three or four times our height, and began firing at us. "Scatter," I shouted, and we divided, each towing one or two kids. I was still carrying Magra, of course, and I grabbed the hand of the oldest girl, Silvy and ran. Some kind of energy beam blasts hit the pavement near us, spattering fragments. We ducked and kept running. The girls probably screamed, but I don't really remember. I was focused on something else. We dove into an alley and hid behind some refuse containers. The craft floated slowly down the street, taking potshots at where our people were hiding, but the ship did not stop. Its mission appeared to be to harass anyone who was out and about, not anything more serious. We stayed in the shadows after that and did not try to move closer to the Federation compound with the children. We have found a basement in a building that seems structurally safe. Mitch and Jason will care for the children while Sheila and I reconnoiter. Personal Log, Stardate 39172.58
Team Commander's
Log, Stardate 39172.74 Personal Log, Stardate 39172.77 I had just finished a surface scan using the shuttle's sensors, determining that my security teams were in the basement of the Admin building. In the room were 18 humans, two Vulcans, a Trill, and five Orions. My assumption - my team under guard. I had just figured this out when Sheila made a sound of surprise. "You'd better look at this, sir." "Just tell me," I replied. "A Cardassian ship is firing on the Orion," she said. "She's outgunned, but she's keeping the Orion busy." "Really," I exclaimed, rising from my crouched position. "Then stand by to transport." "We have transporters?" she asked, but any reply I might have made was cut off by our beam-out. When you know the prefix code of a ship, even a shuttle, you can work wonders, including remote triggering of transporters. We materialized inside the shuttle, inside the compound. "Sweet," gloated Sheila. "The emergency transporter." "Right," I said, grabbing shuttle remote control armbands. "Phasers out, on stun, and stand by to free our people." I changed a setting on the transporter panel and keyed the transporter again. A moment later we were in a basement stairwell. It was relatively easy to stun the guards outside the door, then get the drop on the other guards, freeing our people. They were relative amateurs and our Starfleet training served us well. "Thank you, sir," said Lt. Prosser, ruefully. "They came into the system as a merchant ship, then used broad-range stun from orbit. We should have been more suspicious." "That's probably true, lieutenant, but we'll talk about it later," I said, noting that I should have ordered more precautions for in-coming ships. "Teams from the Tibet and the Bell will rescue hostages. Berlin team, come with me."
Team Commander's Log,
Stardate 39172.89 Our saving grace is that the Orion cartel uses older ships, often heavily modified. They just aren't able to keep the tight specs that a Starfleet ship, for example, does. So, a skilled technician with first-rate transporters can get through shields. The shuttle emergency transporters are not heavy duty, but are well maintained and have enough power to move us a few thousand miles to the Orion ship, a few people at a time. T'Jer just said she's ready. I'll go with the first group of three, of course. Can't be leading from the rear.
Team Commander's Log,
Stardate 39173.22 We beamed into the hold of the ship, quiet and unguarded. We established perimeter security immediately, however none of the Orion crew came close during the time it took to beam the rest of the twelve members of the team on board. We'd done exercises like this before - boarding and taking control of an enemy ship. This one went like clockwork. One sub-team occupied the engine room, cutting off bridge control. The other captured the bridge through sneak attack, NOT using turbolifts, I might add - we wouldn't make that simple mistake. The Orions actually only had four people on board, one in engineering and three on the bridge, having stripped the ship of people to boost the size of the ground force. Those remaining were highly preoccupied by the Cardassian ship that was firing on them. A few well placed stun shots and the ship was ours. Personal Log, Stardate 39173.86 Postlude: Sheila remained in Berlin's Security division until I after was promoted again, then "ran off" and married Jason Hacesky, of all people. They live on Earth and I see them occasionally when I'm home. Mitch ended up staying on Surlex in a long-term Federation aid assignment and eventually returned to civilian life. He still lives on Surlex and adopted Silvy and her four siblings. Magra grew up and entered elective service, developing skill as an executive. I went back to routine on the Berlin. A few days after I returned to the Berlin, I received an invitation to dine with the captain, a distinct honor. So I gussied up in my best Starfleet Whites and presented myself at precisely the appointed moment. "I am impressed with your work on Surlex," she said after we had begun our ample but vegetarian meal. "Your command decisions were logical yet inspired." I thanked her and said something about the excellent training on the Berlin. "Yet you profit from training in ways not all others would," she replied. "A scientist must never ignore the trivial roots of an equation. Similarly, some see nuances and learn lessons most do not. I believe that you may have potential for command." "You honor me, Captain," I said. "Not at all," she answered dryly. "However, I respect the ability you are developing. Your efforts during the Cardassian War, at Vella Prime, and now at Surlex III justify...increased responsibility, I conclude. You may have such a position offered you in the months ahead. Possibly sooner." And as much as I hinted, she had no more to say on THAT subject. |