[[ Computer, login LeoHall, security clearence code ************* ]]

Declassify personal log entry on stardate 21115 to clearence level 3.
Append following addendum to beginning of log entry.

Let it be known to my fellow Naval officers that due to the constraints of my role as an intelligence officer, I normally am required to keep my personal logs very hush-hush, along the same security regulations as most of my non-bridge duty work entails. That said, given the situation with the recent end of hostilities in the system, I felt it prudent to secure the permissions necessary to declassify this log that I had recorded after the last duty cycle and share it with you.
[[ Log entry content follows after this point. ]]
Stardate: 21115-2237

Today was one of the most testing days I have had thus far in my service, testing to the ideals I stand for and testing in the clashing of blood and iron. The first segment of our duty cycle was one of sorrow and shame. Why do I say shame in the face of imminent triumph over the enemy? To put it short, we had to provide the honors to those who had fallen in the line of battle throughout the hard eleven or twelve — the shock of this all makes me somewhat forgetful — days of the quasi-war that cost us much. So there I was, piloting the Hawk in formation with the rest of the Division, running alongside a coffin holding one of the fleet’s more unfortunate as the Auxiliary Forces vessels assigned to us looked on in what I am sure was similar sorrow. One by one our vessels lined up, prepared the customary fireworks for an impromptu funeral, and let those fallen find solace upon the stars. With this all out of the way, we returned to base to check our armaments one more time before heading out to handle our mission for the day. Well, the rest of the Fleet, at any rate. My place, and Ensign Roshin’s, was at the switchboard in Cerberus Command’s CIC.

With operations commencing, the fleet synced up with the TSN Jinn, acting as supply tender and the TSN Hammer, assigned destroyer escort for the Jinn. Alongside them was additionally the ACL Adams, assigned diplomatic vessel backed by the full faith of the USFP government to broker the ceasefire we stood to gain with the N’tani. Seems their trust in the Grand Alliance was wavering badly enough for them to come to us. The agreed upon rendezvous was a point in Cerberus Sector II. While the fleet handled various raids being conducted by Penwrath and some Skarran contractors, the Jinn and Adams moved up to the rendezvous while the Hammer moved to cover Shanari Station from incursion. Once the talks had gone under way, our instruments both in the fleet and across the SIGINT board picked up a jump distortion in a sector near the diplomats. Out of this jump distortion came a fleet of Kraliens, intent on coming after the “special weapon” that we had in transit, positioned along with the diplomatic party for its protection. I suppose no one can doubt its existence now so I may as well point it out that its tractoring to its final destination was under the charge of the TSN Phoenix, who disengaged their tractor midway through negotiations to help cover against enemy forces with fleet assets at the time. Once those threats were neutralized Phoenix resecured the special weapon and carried on with their duty. It wasn’t much longer after this that the negotiations concluded and a peace deal had been reached with the N’tani. In exchange for ceasing hostile actions against the USFP they requested we take their fleets under asylum and find them a new homeworld. I suppose this proves even the most turbulent battlefields have some semblance of decency underneath the ideology and politicking for power. All said and done this mission of diplomacy was a win for the USFP, but our finest hour did lie ahead.

At this point in the operation, the fleet stood down once more for a momentary respite and rearmament phase (and getting Ensign Das his crash course in CIC. He will need formal training when we can get it to him). Special weapon and fleet in tow, we marched onward to Sector I, where it all began and where it ended. Our task was simple — the destruction of the General Montaurg and his aide’s command ships, dismantling of the enemy command post, and securing the special weapon aboard the TSN Atlantia, due to jump in sector. The fighting was very hectic — I don’t remember too much of specific details. Initially the enemy used a spoof jammer to try and crash our sensors with false enemy targets, but once we corrected for this we started focusing on their hulls, cutting through their forces and making ground. After our initial push dealt damage to the defenses and weakened the enemy command, the fleet folded back to the enemy held TSN stations, specifically DS-48 where the Atlantia would be bound to jump in. I hear the marine assault was a hard but well fought one in there. Once the station was secured… I will never forget the moment when the inbound Atlantia lit up the entire system with a literal hole in space as it jumped in, received the special weapon from the Phoenix, and then launched its waves of fighters, tearing through inbound enemy forces. From there on out, it was only a matter of time as we made way to recapture the remaining enemy held stations,raze the enemy star bases and destroy the Grand Alliance’s command ships. Anything left of those, we made sure to collect. I don’t think I can really say much more on the end of this war. Now, before I get rambling on about the losses, I know I’m going to have to tally every last man…

[[ Computer, end log. ]]

Stardate: 311015-2237

Good news: the Hegemony incursion seems to be crumbling. They have made no headway since we started retaking stations and striking hard at their invasion fleets.

Bad News: starched collar time. Full dress uniform to honour the fallen. Funeral ceremonies scheduled for today. It feels strange to be wearing full fig. This is the first time since I was promoted and now that naked expanse of cloth has not only that lonely Ensign’s pin but also the commendation for the performance of the Hawk and the Phoenix. How much more is covered on the uniforms in those coffins?

Orders for the day were basically to shakedown updated ships’ systems in simulation to check out the latest security patches that should close the loopholes the pirate hackers have been using. Then spit and polish for the ceremonies and finally we go out to finish the job those brave souls started, not only by physically deterring general Monteurgh’s forces but also by concluding a diplomatic mission that should eliminate their original cause for hope that this could succeed.

The ceremony was incredibly moving. As a cadet of course I attended some funeral honours, so I knew the forms. But having carried out damage control crewmen who didn’t make it, or hadn’t made it, or worse whose last sight was my face, added a weight to the proceedings that I had never imagined. We went aboard with quiet decorum. At the end of the previous shift we had polished everything aboard within an inch of its life. Everything smelled of nanocleaner, lubricant and fresh pressed cloth.

The hospital ship TSAF Nightingale floated soberly at a little distance in the black, clearly visible from the station. Her every riding light was ablaze. No one should miss her or her precious cargo. Gently our flagship TSN Raven eased out of dock and edged forward at a fraction of impulse. Phoenix and Hawk followed her. Phoenix had a little trouble taking up her station, all of us precisely in line astern at one thousand intervals. Lightly Hunter slid into her place bringing up the rear.

There was a moment of quiet and then the first coffin was launched with a barely discernable flash from Nightingale’s care. The casket’s transponder appeared clearly and precisely on the tactical plot followed by another and another and another. The spectre of the beyond crawled up my spine, raised the hair on the back of my neck and softened my eyes as the skirl of the bagpipes came over the ‘com. As the lead coffin came abreast of the flagship, the division’s nacelles started to glow softly and, as one, all four ships fell into company with them, proceeding slowly downrange toward the sensor buoy that marked the limit of the station’s roads. One by one the division’s senior officers came on the com and spoke on behalf of the fallen, famous words from ancient wars, poetry born from the depths of aching loss and fierce pride. My eyes glittered.
As Raven drew near the buoy she launched a torpedo into the void ahead of the procession where it burst, briefly illuminating the way ahead. Then, as if turning away her head in grief, she came about a precise forty five degrees and separated from the last journey continuing behind her shoulder. Phoenix, Hawk and Hunter each followed her course exactly, launching and turning in the same spot. The last coffin passed the buoy, the order was given and the division’s ships returned to base in silence.

The simulation earlier in the day went well. The new patch caused no issues. Bridge coordination was good. I tried out some new settings that always had at least a little boost to the front shield while we were in close range of the enemy, regardles of what the rest of the bridge might request (barring a direct order from the Captain) and it seemed to me that it made a significant difference. The front shield was permanently trickle charging and so even when fully depleted it would start to come back immediately and blunt the next attack. Worth experimenting more with that.

Now time to put away the finery and collect the farm they paid for.

Pause log.
Resume log.

The mission was complicated. We formed up to escort the ACL Adams, a diplomatic vessel carrying an ambassador to parlay with the N’tari to see if we could drive a wedge into the gap of their increasing dissatisfaction with the pirate alliance. TSN Hunter scouted the rendezvous point and signalled all clear and the meeting went ahead, safeguarded by the Weapon rescued last shift tractored in by TSN Phoenix.

Hunter returned to scouting the sector until a large Kralien fleet attempted to assault the negotiations. Hunter played her usual decoying and delaying role to make the job easier for the other TSN vessels. We could not join in because our torpedo tube was offline. No amount of rebooting or reconnecting or rerouting would solve the problem. The weapons console received false ordnance inventory and was unable to load, unload or fire.

This caused us more grief than usual because it meant our engagement options were even more limited than usual. Also, as the only, really light ship, we were decoying so many drones that it became very difficult to lure enemy vessels out of position while staying out of the way of the drones but inside enemy weapons lock range to keep their interest. This limited the helmsman’s options, sometimes he was reduced to scraping them off with close manoeuvres around asteroids, but also made him so focussed on that task that some of the skipper’s attempts to manoeuvre for other purposes led to missed opportunities. Ens. Aposine and.our skipper, Cdr. Jemel had quite a discussion during debrief to see how that could change in future. I might get to use my preset for boosting impulse so that we can reverse away fast enough to nail drones as we fire by reduction.

.

The N’tari negotiations concluded successfully with an agreement to discontinue the alliance in return for a new Homeworld and protection for N’tari assets in the meantime.

The division docked at Shanari station and prepared for major fleet assaults expected as a final throw of the dice by General Monteurgh, when we returned to sector VI to take back our stations and destroy the enemy command ships. I finally found out what was causing our torpedo malfunction. There was a an EMP torp loaded. We unloaded it the hard way by hand. A short while ago there was an edict to load nuclear torpedoes the other way up and a bunch of “this way up” stickers were issued to put on the former bottom of those torps. A batch of our torps had been labelled with these stupid metallic mylar beauties. But whichever wit slapped this one on, managed to do it part way over the printed antenna for the wireless control system and all data transmissions were being garbled.

Finally we launched, and went looking for enemy command vessels.

I heard later that other ships carried marine complements and deployed them successfully to retake stations. My bunkspace, sanity and personal hygiene are all extremely happy to have been out of that market. Hunter, tasked with her usual scouting mission, was successful in locating two extremely overpowered enemy command ships. Our main role then was to lead their escorts a merry song and dance, leaving them open for our cruisers to engage, which they did successfully. It will be quite some time before this particular enemy can put together a force to give us more grief, especially since we captured a life pod which was immediately taken into Security Services custody.

The other great success contributing to this victory was the Super-carrier Atlantia whose wings of Allard-class fighters kept the enemy tied down. She sure knows how to make an entrance and an exit, since she creates her own jump-gate each time. It always sets our alarms off.

End log

Stardate: 241015-2237

Hello, Computer. I’ve been trying to get back to sleep for the last hour with no success and there is another hour to go until my alarm. I would ask you not to rat me out to the Chaplain but I know he has override access for counseling. Hello, Father. Sanctity of the confessional and all that. Yes I know neither of us are Catholic. It was a joke. I could use a few of those or maybe I have just taken a step towards exorcising a few ghosts.

I woke up seeing the intense white and orange glare of the plasmas exploding from the surrendered Kralien near that last Comms Relay deployed in the Cronus system. On its heels came the blue flash of the warp containment failure. My perception wavered like a poor holoflick. One second it was zoomed out, seeing a mental map of all the family and friend relationships of both sides webbed across the stars, the next snapped all the way in a few moments before to the voice over the com that had questioned the order. And I knew who it was. At the end of last shift I got permission to jump ship as soon as we touched and visit Hawk before debrief. Nobody remembered saying it, though they remembered the moment. It was kind of hazy with intensity. But it wasn’t until Chuck Finley spoke again seriously about that moment that his voice changed, became more resonant. And when I woke up, I knew that was the voice. He had the courage to stand up for ethical conduct in the service and question whether we should deliberately open fire on surrendered vessels. So I just recommended him for the Distinguished Service Medal. I hope there is adequate testimony. That kind of attitude is what keeps the monsters at bay.

You know. I may as well get started on some coffee and then record yesterday’s shift since I just collapsed as soon as my cabin door shut last night.

Pause recording.
Resume log entry.

Computer, it isn’t just the caffeine or even the admittedly heavenly aroma. Partly its the ritual, unscrewing the two halves of the the machine, pouring the water, grinding the beans, spooning the grounds, carefully wiping the thread clean and reassembling it ready for the heat. This one I have is antique, an heirloom from my grandmother. I have had the screwthread re-machined. Without a perfect fit it loses the seal and then the pressure is all wrong. Anyway my head it getting less wooly by the second, so lets wrap this up before the shift starts.

The briefing at the start of the last shift was unusual in that all the senior officers were absent: training for the next operations mission. The rest of us were scheduled for a series of simulations. In my new berth aboard TSN Hunter I was sharing the bridge with Ens. Aposine at the Helm, Lt.Jr. Roshin Das taking the weapons console in the absence of Morlock, our rock steady XO, Lt. Cdr. Del Pino and the reassuring presence of our Skipper, Cdr. Jemel. We spent most of the sim time working with TSN Phoenix to practice the new Fleet attack pattern Kappa, where the support ship is supposed to keep drones and fighters off the lead vessel. Hunter is somewhat familiar with this from working with the Hydra missile cruiser. Lets just say that This was new to Phoenix and it’s a good job Hunter is a nimble scout that can keep ahead of large packs of drones. Aposine did some sweet flying and Roshin pulled some sharp shooting. Shame that Hawk wasn’t quite as accurate with her nukes. Thanks for turning almost every node on the damage schematic to red.

We played red rag to the bull of many swarms of fighters. The tough one was a pirate transport with anti-mine, anti-torp and shield-drain. We dragged it through overlapping minefields to no effect. So in the end we went in and took it out with beams even if we are a bantam weight. That’s ma wee lassie. Not a system that wasn’t glowing by the end of that scrap.

Zargon must be bucking for Flag Lieutenant since he was in on the councils of the mighty and entrusted with the mission briefing. Objective: deploy marines to recover our occupied stations in Cerberus Sector VI where we have been having success in pushing back the coalition. Expect a Torgoth command vessel, maybe asteroid kinetic strikes.

We started out from Arden where we had finished that initial successful pushback. Marines to deploy eh? It would be hard to miss them on a scout ship. Hulking great ogres clogging up the galley at all hours, hot bunking with regular crew and with their personal gear intruding into any space where no one was standing. What the hell do they think troop transports are for? This navy needs assault shuttles I tell you.

Somewhat mysteriously Hunter was ordered to check out station Quesenc. They answered hails by the book and docking for a courtesy call showed nothing amiss. Same routine at Scolcha station. It makes you wonder what command was actually concerned about.

Rejoined Phoenix and entered the sector. Screwed up realizing engagement was starting. No beams powered up because I still had us in efficient cruise mode. Down in Engineering we don’t have pretty little tactical plots that show projected enemy beam ranges, not even on secondary monitors that give us a strategic overview. If you want me zooming in over there, you are going to have to accept it will takes me seconds longer to get back to those important little energy sliders. Talk to me Helm!

We reached KB-115 and deployed our cadre of malodorous marines under the beams of the station. Then we executed a textbook perfect piece of doctrine. The Captain had us clear a space for other deployments. Aposine decoyed a whole gaggle of fighters away and Roshin took out every single one with a single perfectly placed mine drop. It was beautiful.

Then we were busy running interference skimming other fleets to draw off fighters and drones. At that point we were really busy so I did not see what happened to take the feeds from the Raven and Hawk offline. I did notice afterwards that Hawk had a damaged IFF transponder. She was squawking a distorted version of her usual callsign. We ended up combatting a lot of pirate hulls at that point. At least the Hunter can go toe-to-toe with them. Then we got the call for emergency evac of the marines from some of the stations; booby traps I think.

We proceeded to DS-67 and KB-155 where after dancing with more Kralien drones and hearing Hawk called to investigate DS-31 we picked up our marines. KB-155 systems had not yet been successfully reset by the combat engineers. So we were picking up our marines while fending off the beams of our own station which ID’d us as hostile.

The stress must have been getting to us because as we fought our way out we suffered a humiliating premature mine ejaculation and completely missed the target.

But then we transitioned out of sector and headed home. Commander Expree’s familiar aristocratic drawl came over the com. His Phoenix was leading our battle group and he asked us to detour to Quesenc station where we dropped off a single marine. Turns out he is the Son of the station master. Rank hath its privileges. Must be nice.

Then we made our final transition and returned to Arden. Again helm with the secrecy. On my secondary plot I could see the still mis-squawking Hawkk take off like a bat out of hell for Arden. I could just feel helm flooring it, so I used Engineering’s discretion to boost warp. Hawkk slammed on the brakes too late and went sliding wildly past the station. There was a whoop of laughter across the bridge followed immediately by groans as Hunter also missed engaging the docking sequence. My brain was running on tachyons at this point and without thinking I shunted all power to the lateral thrusters before Helm even started the turn as warp throttled back to idle. Hunter spun about and surged for the station before Hawkk even halted. This time we did not miss and we claimed the prize, the honour and the glory!

During debrief before disembarking we had a good discussion about having other crew call out drones and surrenders to help weapons react faster, especially while stuck in the manual targeting screen.

Oh look. Time to get up.

End log.

Stardate: 241015-2237
Formally assigned to Hawk!

The most recent training exercises were awash with tech trouble – Cdt. eastjc, who was sharing Science and Comms with me on Hawk had a malfunctioning console almost immediately. I should have pointed out in my previous log that rather than having separate Science and Comms stations, there is a new protocol where two officers share the stations, and in this case it proved the reasoning behind it, as I was able to continue operating while the new Cadet went through repairs procedures with the tech crews – it sounded so familiar, and I wanted to encourage him, but I had no time to do so while the training was taking place. Even Helm station had trouble, and Lt. Allard, in command, had to take over. Even so, at the end of the exercise we ran over one of our own mines… Ow.

There seemed to be a shortage of personnel for the second training exercise, and perhaps that contributed to, well, what should I call it? The general kerfuffle. We took damage from a nuke we had fired, we seriously damaged Hunter with another nuke… I’m glad it was a training exercise and not a real action.

On a positive note, we were able to practice a manoeuvre Lt. Allard seems fond of, following up an EMP with a run-through and dropping a mine. I believe Lt. Allard is currently calling it The Ol’One-Two, until it gains wider recognition and acquires a formal name.

In the mission briefing, we were told we would be taking Marines to reclaim bases in Sector 6; we were warned to expect to meet Torgoth vessels, and reminded that the Torgoth have the asteroid cannon, so we might find asteroids targeting the stations.

In the course of the first engagement one enemy fleet was destroyed. We headed for one station – I can see its position clearly on the screen even now, though I can’t think of its codename, delivered the Marines, and were waiting for them to confirm the base had been recaptured. Instead, we received their message that the base had been set to self destruct. The Marines scrambled back on board, and we took off to avoid the blast.

At this point, we received orders to assist another ship. Hawk changed course to go and assist – and the new course took us too close to the base, just as it exploded. Red alert systems screamed, there was smoke and sparks and flames, the shiver of metal all around as destruction made its way inwards. Everyone on the bridge made it to escape pods. Not everyone on board.

I’m not sure how long we spent in the life pods until they were recovered – well, I can look it up, they had clocks as part of standard instrumentation, of course, but knowing the time is different from having any sense of the time. Time spent in a life pod in the middle of a battle has a different length from other time. Comms were functioning, so I -we – heard the orders to the other ships around us, and we knew that someone was coming to recover us. It was just a question of whether they’d arrive before some random chunk of metal, ours or theirs (metal is quite impartial when not guided by sentient beings) punched through our frail shells. Or some random beam or piece of ordnance hit us before it could hit its intended target. Or we just floated away and ran out of air.

You go through training and psyche evaluation for this sort of thing. You live your life in space stations and on ships that are just metal shells hanging in the empty black. But there’s nothing quite like being inside a much smaller, frailer shell after the larger, stronger shell has exploded around you, to bring home what living this way really implies. You can put your hand on the metal wall that encases you, and you know that death is just a few millimetres away.

And notice how I switch to the impersonal you when the subject matter gets too difficult. Psyche-eval. personnel would have a field day. Better change the passwords to my personal log again.

Anyway, they picked up the pods, or I wouldn’t be writing this. We were assigned to another ship, and some cheerful soul immediately painted the name Hawk on it – except that they actually wrote Hawkk. I don’t know if that was deliberate, or a mistake made in haste. I don’t know where the ship came from, either, but it had no fuel collectors, and with the fact that several of the stations were still in enemy hands that made our life interesting. In the Chinese proverb sort of way. Or in the “Oh god, oh god we’re going to die” sort of way. We limped our way through the rest of the engagement, and even managed to take out a couple of the asteroids that came hurtling through after most of the enemy fleet had been destroyed or had surrendered.

The sum total of which is, four out of five stations were recovered, one station is fully operational, it should be possible to recover any remaining stations and the sensor booster arrays soon.

And just a final note today, to point out that the universe is making sure I don’t get overconfident: we had one more training exercise, in the course of which we switched form our customary posts to posts we were less familiar with. I was placed at the Helm station. Yeah. It feels like driving while being locked in a box. There is a consensus on the bridge that I get to be on Helm for the next few training exercises. Dammit.

171015-2237

Just a note on today’s training missions: almost immediately, my console started sputtering, sparking, smoking. I spent the whole session with tech support crawling under the panels and tinkering, then asking “Are you getting anything, Cadet?” to the unchanging answer of no.
Is it uncharitable of me to suspect Doc of having set up the malfunction just to see how I would react?

By comparison, the mission went smoothly, at least from the point of view of Science and Comms, in that I was able to do my job when it was needed.

In Cronus Sector, the Battle Group (Capt. Alice in overall command) was instructed to search for a transport ship hiding in a nebula, because it was carrying a new type of weapon, some kind of tachyon railgun that fires plasma projectiles. Since it supposedly goes right through shields, it can’t be allowed to fall into enemy hands. There were a number of engagements while TSN Hunter scouted, until the transport was detected.

A massive Kralien fleet was approaching the transport, so our ships engaged, led by TSN Hydra – the most intense action I’ve seen so far. The details blur – I ought to double check with ship’s mission logs, but this is for myself. If I live long enough to have a naval career, it might be enlightening to reread this stuff in a few years’ time, and see if I’ve changed, and how. If I don’t, then, well, it doesn’t matter much how accurate my personal recollections are.

The action was successful, marines boarded the transport and it surrendered. Hydra was supposed to tow the transport ship back, we ended up towing it instead – by we I mean TSN Hawk, I was assigned to Hawk this time. Cadets are sent out to the ships to fill the gaps, and nobody wants too many Cadets on one ship, obviously – lack of experience and skill in too many officers on board could be disastrous. It’s like those days back in junior school, when teams are picked, and you wait and hope you’re not the last one…

Towing the transport back meant Hawk slowed right down, and Lt. Kennon Far in Engineering had to boost the drive so we could evade pursuit. Two thoughts on that: one, it was just as well we were towing, rather than Hydra, because Hydra is big and powerful, but fast she is definitely not: Engineering takes the drive down to about 75% when we have to form up on Hydra; and two, we didn’t see pursuers, but my sensors were picking up a lot of radiation, which would make scanning difficult, and they also detected several singularities that appeared and then suddenly disappeared. The first time I thought I’d made a mistake. Then it happened again, and again, and that was when Lts Allard and Hall gleefully told me about Caltrons. Like you tell the new kid in school about the scary man who lives in the house on the corner.

And, just as they were concluding the description of the battle they’d been in, in which Caltron ships were combining together into bigger ships that became more powerful than the sum of their parts, as the saying goes – perfectly on cue, a singularity appeared, and an unknown ship seemed to come out from it. Upon scanning it, it was, indeed, a Caltron. And the Caltron ships kept appearing as we kept towing the weapon away, so I can’t help thinking, again, that if Hydra had been towing, as had been the original plan, we could not have kept ahead of the Caltrons.

As it was, we delivered the weapon and we protected the AI of supercarrier Atlantia, and the mission was confirmed as successful.

Then we were sent out on a second mission, to push back the Hegemony and recapture the bases in Sector 6. And I was on Hawk again, with the same crew on the bridge, so things were starting to settle into a familiar pattern.

TSN intel said the Grand Alliance was starting to pull back. But you know the old joke about military intelligence… Their General Montargh (I wonder if that’s the right way to spell his name. Transliterating alien languages is always a tricky process) sent out a message worthy of a villain from the ancient SF cinema classics, which must be in the official log records, of course, but which I can summarise here as “Mwuah ha ha ha ha, Earthlings, you have fallen into my trap and you are all going to die! Mwuah ha ha ha ha!” His evil laugh was very evil indeed.

Still, our ships engaged the (mostly Kraliens) quite successfully. Lt. Allard, in command, as we found ourselves running out of energy and weapons as we were tasked to defend a base against attack, and on finding that the base had no torpedoes for us to use, came up with the inventive strategy of docking on the base, thus replenishing energy, and constantly converting that energy to torpedoes, which were then fired at the enemy fleet.

And as the enemy, their ships destroyed or surrendered, were unable to prevent us from retaking the bases, they resorted to destabilizing an asteroid belt and using the asteroids themselves as weapons (This was accompanied by another supervillain-style message from the General to the effect of, “If I can’t have this sector, Earthlings, nobody else shall have it! Mwuah ha ha ha!”) so we had to chase down the asteroids and fire on them with beams until they broke down into harmless dust.

Some stations remain to be retaken, and more asteroids may arrive, now that the belt has been destabilized, their trajectories have been altered. But the mission was considered concluded for us, other ships will keep watch.

And I was promoted to Ensign, and Lt. Allard suggested I should apply for permanent posting on Hawk. So, somebody wants me on the team.

Stardate 101015-2237

The chaplain didn’t seem such a bad fellow. The psychiatry degree didn’t show too much at all. It was good to share with someone not quite so intimately involved in the relationships on the bridge. But those sombre, polished body cases all pass through his care too. So he knows the tally. He looks up the family details. Talking helped.

But he didn’t need to pull the underhanded chicanery. Adele Mundy just stopped by saying that she was looking forward to seeing me again. We haven’t run into each other since we both transferred out here from the same class in the Academy. We ran simulations together and then were split up for a first mission. She’s been away since. I asked her what she meant and she had me check my messages. We were both assigned to assist new cadet first simulation runs. She is technically still a cadet, she just sat for her Ensign’s exams taking Comms as her specialty. Apparently the Academy staff want varying levels of experience that new cadets can relate to. Adele represents senior cadets and I apparently am the relatable face of a newly commissioned officer.

This means I get yanked off station just as we are about to follow up the first successful counterstrike in these latest major incursions. I can see the ratfink chaplain’s handiwork all over this. Get me out of the front line, give me a chance to mentally reintegrate and see all the eagerness to defend the USFP in the brave new recruits. Yeah.

So the latest batch of cadets was very small. Something about a missed shuttle. We all tried to give the cadets some parity, so Adele sat Helm for possibly the second time in her life. I sat In the Captain’s chair but had to run Engineering too. I hope we did some good.

We waited until the cadets were out of sight before we took off at a dead run for the Division’s Mission Briefing Room as we heard the call. Mission Hammerfall 2 was on.

The plan was to push back enemy fleets and deliver marines to retake our occupied stations. Not enough transports meant that the grunts had to hot bunk with us regular spacers. Oh joy.

I had put in my request for a posting to the TSN Hunter after last shift. I knew there was an engineering berth open there and I hoped Commander Jemel would take me seriously after our chat.

Final step of the briefing was to disperse to the vessels. Because of a shortage of officers, TSN Hunter was stood down in order to properly man other vessels. The irony was that with Adele and I and another late arrival, they pulled a spare staff officer and stood her up with a skeleton crew anyway.

Meanwhile, I was already assigned to the new missile cruiser tasked with carrying on the name of the TSN Hydra. With Captain Alice still on some kind of hush hush division secondment Captain Brenner took over. He was just back from a long absence from bridge duties and you could tell he was trying to get familiar with a new war, a new crew not used to each other and a new type of vessel with unfamiliar capabilities. Hunter’s XO del Pino was standing in, who was much more current and a significant tactical help. That was steadying for me too because I have served with him on a couple of recent shifts.

We settled in and headed for our first sector transition in good order. Already I could tell the Hydra is a different beast. She needed a little extra energy assigned to keep station with the fleet and she’s no ballerina. The extra hypercapacitors for the homing missile storage come with a lot more mass than the primary beam emitters they replace. Not only that but the energy density is just enough to interfere with the efficiency of the warp drive for both translational and rotational energy transfer. But her capability to deliver a long range punch is exceptional and she has capacity to deliver more high-yield ordnance into theatre than any other vessel. She’s not built for toe-to-toe but she can surely set ’em up for the cruisers to knock down.

Then the plan contacted the enemy and exited stage left pursued by a bear. The fog of war came down hard in engineering. The strike was called off in order to repel a significant incursion. Hydra did her stuff with long range bombardment and mine drops. We nearly came to serious grief on the first Echo manoeuvre. My auxiliary tactical monitor went on the fritz and I was reliant on bridge chatter to prep for upcoming manoeuvres. I did not hear Helm initiate the run so we went through it without boosted shields or manoeuvre. There were also a couple of hard turns that either were not called or that I did not catch and without the tac monitor there is no way to support helm or weapons in time. We discussed that in the first lull and it went better after that.

How the whole fleet ended up herding space monsters into nebulae I have not yet found out, but it was a little exciting to micromanage the warp energy to keep us at just the right hop, skip and a jump in front of them.

Once that was complete we picked up the crippled TSN Hammer and towed her out of the sector since we had the biggest hull to do the hauling. What she was doing there I have not the faintest idea, but there were traces of N’tari systems intrusion all over. I’d bet they got a partial download of her database. ONI seem to think we can get intel on new ordnance from her. That would be good news.

Some wag posted a logistics update on the storage of nukes, reversing the normal orientation and issuing updated “this way up” stickers to put on the bottom of current casings. It sounded like a joke but you never can tell with the bean counters in supply.

After being under scrutiny to act as a model for cadets and then handling an unfamiliar ship on an unknown mission, I am wiped.

End personal log.

101015-2237

Back on duty after a stint in sickbay – it felt like weeks, though it was only two days. I kept telling Doc I was fit for duty, but she wouldn’t listen. Light concussion, she said, dizzy spells, disturbed vision, possible loss of short term memory, need to keep you in for tests, Cadet. Yes, Doctor, Sir (no, Doctor, three bags full, Doctor). Salute, lie down, take pills, look into this instrument, breathe normally, and all that.

Trying to make sense of it – which ship was I on? Who was on the bridge? Dammit. Possible loss of short term memory, Doc said. Dammit. I need to check the official duty logs. I had the Science and Comms consoles, we were engaging a group of Krelians. Black screen. Then sickbay. They tell me we were hit, there was an overload, the console blew up right in front of me. Emergency repairs, medical teams, all of that, but I was out. I vaguely remember the briefing after it was all over. Not that I was allowed to be present, Doc wouldn’t let me up, it was another screen, I think the mission was successful. Things still blur.

I was out for a mission assignment. Heard something about it, a long scouting mission, space monsters. And there I was, stuck in sickbay. Dammit.

All that time in sickbay – no, it was only two days, feels like two weeks – meant I could read up for the Ensign exam. Which is good, because I swear I read the same paragraph over and over, and none of it made sense for days. Not days, hours that felt like days. I hate this feeling, the gaps, not knowing how long those gaps really were. I hate looking for a word and not finding it. Dammit.

I haven’t been that nervous about an exam since… Well, ever. Dammit. I passed. Not as well as I’d have liked. Silver. Still, passed. Done.

Today on TSN Hawk, Lt. Commander Hall in the captain’s chair, I was slated to be on Comms. Then a crew member was reassigned at the last minute, and I found myself on Science and Comms. Like the last mission. I had a moment when I saw the panels blow up again, just as we were leaving the station. Dammit. This is not going to stop me. Where’s the short term memory loss when it would be helpful?

Then I was busy. Enemy fleets to scan, headings to find for Helm, stations to contact. Focus. Keep that voice calm and level, keep instructions clear.

The squadron defended the sector successfully, enemy fleets were destroyed, some ships surrendered.

One ship, TSN Hammer, was recovered from N’tari. It seems they had started to download data from it. N’tari equipment which had been placed on board was also recovered.

Space monsters were herded into the nebula in the centre of the sector. What _are_ those things, anyway?

And there was a strange message delivered at the concluding briefing, about the placing of torpedoes in the tubes, with the top at the bottom, bottom at the top, and therefore, labels have been provided… Feeling dizzy again. Must not let Doc find out…

Torpedo placement
Upside down, topsy turvy:
Bureaucrats’ orders.

Stardate: 31015-2237

Why does being on the offensive seem so much less stressful? Waking up with purpose knowing that there was a plan for the day rather than being on call to scramble let me sleep much better.

First order of the day was a simulation run while the operation brief was finalized. I was back aboard the TSN Hawk with Captain Evans commanding. Trying to widen my experience I volunteered for Helm. I was much more confident this time. Making mistakes on Helm is so public, but my general shiphandling was much smoother. I am still having to analyze a lot to enter combat but I was much less tentative and my approaches more nearly optimum. I only overshot a target once, but we were doing Warp Three and the Captain technically had not called out the destination, though I should have realized from the bridge chatter that we were intending to assist the Hydra in a heavy engagement.

It was therefore a bit of a shock to be reassigned to TSN Hunter for the mission; LtCdr del Pino | Command, Lt. Aposine | Hlm, Morlock | Wea, Roshin Das | Sci|XO.

Operation Hammerfall was very complicated with many moving parts; to retake TSN captured stations in Sector 2, integrate a Hjorden combat vessel ensuring it saw combat but not letting it get destroyed and escorting marines and a hospital ship to to our stations – assuming I recalled that correctly. I was busy doing my bit to support the Hunter’s corner of the action.

It was actually pretty exciting to be ordered ahead of the fleet to scout. As an Engineer it also means more freedom to use warp efficiently when we are not keeping station with a battle group. We nosed ahead and mooned a couple of enemy fleets after taking a good look at them. Then we struck gold. We found one of the enemy command ships and relayed its position back to the fleet. Eliminating that put a significant dent in their command and control network. Ha!

After that it was a question of irritating and distracting enemy fleets that could have interfered with station operations. I lost all track of that as we merrily took advantage of two groups of “space monsters” buzzing them and trying not to get swatted too hard and then letting them chase us without be caught or discouraging them. That called for some fine adjustments to the power flow to the warp drive especially after we had taken some damage. So I was mentally estimating how much to overdrive the underperforming drives to get back to the velocity the skipper was asking for. And Commander del Pino is all spit and polish, very clear in communicating his expectations and providing feedback. Yessir!

Which, when the chips are down, is very reassuring.

We pulled the monster herding trick several times. TSN Phoenix kept wanting to play with our charges but we managed to deliver a couple right into the middle of enemy fleets and then boost up warp to drop them like a mine. Very, very satisfying when your scoutship can’t deliver a heavy punch by herself. But we kept eyeballs off the hospital ship.

We still got tagged hard a couple of times and we had to deploy anti-burn foam to several DamCon crew and another couple of lustrous, space-dark coffins. My mind had to just hold that at a distance. I’ve seen too much lately. It was good to know that Polano wasn’t in the middle of it and Kaplan was in the crew on the nacelles which did not see nearly the same level of strikes as the forward saucer.

And we hurt their ability to keep moving on us or even hold their ground. It felt good to strike back and start to offer hope to the USFP citizens trapped on those occupied stations.

The Hjorden crew survived though their ship didn’t. Their captain however seemed very satisfied to have been in the thick of it and not ignored. Well. Any landing that you can walk away from, right?

End of mission debrief was a little hazy after so much excitement, but I was rather shocked to hear the skipper used the word “impressed” about my handling of the ship. Pleased, amazed and delighted, but shocked. She does respond beautifully and getting into the cadence of the bridge chatter, knowing the rhythm of the helmsman and gunnery officers makes a real difference. I was really starting to have my finger on the slider before helm started his tack, right on it when the tubes needed heating and horribly smug to report that the settings the captain requested were already in place. Guess I must have a big screw up coming sometime real soon!

What was very cool was stopping afterwards for a beer with oCommander Jemel who had a chat with me about engineering, shared a couple of tips, encouraged me about my prospects. I shared my happiness that members of the DamCon team I knew about were safe and skirted around the number of times I’d heard the bosun’s pipes for the departing side party lately.

“Do you work your teams hard, laddie?” He asked me.
“I try to have them where they are needed so they can get straight to the repairs. They are all eager to get us back in action as quickly as possible. Nobody wants to be limping when the beams start flying.”
“So they are stationed right near the places where the ship most often takes damage?” I looked at him with dawning comprehension. “If you are really hurt, often as not you’ll stay out of action until repairs are completed. You could keep the crews out of harm’s way during action and then deploy them during the lulls.”

I kept it together in the bar. But my pillow was damp as I went to sleep.

End personal log.

Stardate: 26915-2237

Forty three percent alcohol by volume in this bottle. Well – was in this bottle. Not so much now. I need to stash a replacement back into the Jefferies tube on the Valiant. Cheers, Greybeard!

Forty three percent casualties in damage control teams. Hell of a butcher’s bill to send upstairs to the skipper. Of those, three dead, two with life altering long term treatment needs and the rest needing various degrees of medical and psychiatric care before they are fit for duty.

Kaplan did well though. Skinny thing but when I went to check on the Primary Beams coolant distribution, there she was dragging chunky little Polano out of the starboard discharge turret through a cloud of leaking coolant. He was out cold, but she was holding a mask with a broken strap over his face while dragging him one-handed out of the duct. She flashed a look at me over her own mask as I helped lift him up out of the well behind the transducer. No worries this time, just fierce determination behind the sweat. Thanks to her he’ll probably be fine. They should be able to treat the inhalation, though recovery might take a while. Lungs are delicate things.

Three more shiny black coffins that the rest of the bridge crew hardly ever see. They all had families too.

But that’s not the real reason for the uisghe.

The shift started well. Lt. Thantos was awarded a Duty Officer ribbon, Ens. Morlock was awarded the Bronze Star for efficiency and all around zeal. Dante Zelreich was promoted to Lt. Cdr. The crew of the defunct battlecruiser Hydra were assigned to the scout TSN Valiant. The whole assembly of officers were upbeat at the positive news.

I was assigned as Engineer aboard TSN Hawk which was given an independent mission based in current Intel to deploy Cougar Comms Relays by stealth to monitor events in the Cronus system and report back to TSN Central Command for processing. The mission was assigned a very high priority.

The initial transitions to the Forward Base in Cronus went almost without incident apart from a single pirate arrow, and a little fleet of three other pirates, upon whom standard sentencing was executed.

The first Relay was deployed without incident because there was plenty of nebula cover both at the site and on the approach. One Kralien fleet never saw us and the other lost track of us once we entered the nebula. The second deployment went similarly though energy reserves were low and it was nerve wracking to keep the ship stationary while the techs commissioned the relay when we really wanted to be engaged in fuel collection.

The third sector was much more of a problem. There was no nebula close to the very centre of the sector which would have been ideal, and worse there was significant Hegemony presence. Some of them caught a whiff of us as we transited in and started blundering about vaguely in our direction. TSN Hawk managed to slide through the fragment of nebula, collecting energy as she loitered, wait for a fleet to vacate the area and make the deployment. But then it became evident that not only were the enemy between us and the route home, but they were also very likely to stumble on the relay.

We engaged the lead elements before they could get too close, following up an initial major strike in close action with primary beams. They were taken aback by our sudden appearance out of the nebula clouds. We were keen to keep moving and eliminate as many as possible from combat before they could regenerate shields or coordinate attacks on us. We destroyed some weakened from the initial assault and three vessels surrendered either at our first beam strike or as we approached. Eager to suppress enemy fire, our alert weapons officer immediately switched targets.

Pausing, we reported back to TSN Central Command on the deployments and engagements. The good news was that the three relays were operating well from excellent positions and a fourth would not be needed.

Then came the harsh and uncompromising order to destroy all vessels in the immediate vicinity of the final relay. The only ones remaining were the three damaged and surrendered vessels limping through the nebula, out of contact with the other fleets in the sector. There was silence on the bridge. The order was confirmed to include all enemy vessels in whatever status.

To my eternal shame, I was not the first to question that order. The captain’s voice was soft but firm when he repeated it. My eyes were locked on that far left slider on the Engineering panel. It was all the way down, no energy routed to primary beams. I had gone into energy conservation mode as soon as the engagement had clearly ended.

I thought of the damage control teams on those limping ships of war, the eye-watering clouds of coolant, the throat-searing smoke from the arcing high-tension cables of the shattered machinery, the foul taste of burnt dust. I could imagine the warnings on firmly sealed hatchways holding back the cold silence of ruptured bulkheads beyond.

“They all have families too” is the only fragment I remember from the bridge conversation. It bit twice as hard because we had said that earlier of our own DC crews. And then it reluctantly came to me. The thought slithered across the frozen fractal landscape of my compassion for the surrendered enemy. Not their families but ours. If word of the relays got out before they did their job, how many of our ships would pay the price? How many more DC crew would be carried through a docking bay, how many of their children, parents, brothers, sisters, lovers would feel not only the pain of their loss, but maybe lose the protection of the USFP?

And yet, if I condoned this, if I moved that slider up while the Science officer confirmed the target shield frequencies, the Comms officer ignored their hails, Helm brought us within range and the Weapons officer unleashed our arsenal, would I become someone who did not deserve to be part of the USFP?

In the end, silently, we decided that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few and we closed with the first of the three. Its golden icon winked out. The next closest stayed gold, but the third immediately turned an accusatory crimson as her sister’s death cry flashed across the intervening void.

When they were gone we collected fuel and then sprinted through the nearest two enemy fleets leaving them each one of our last pair of mines and then we let them chase us out of the sector. Mission accomplished.

I wish I was a religious man. Maybe the chaplain would have words. Or at least a psychiatry degree. They may yet remand me for counseling. In the meantime I will consult with Brother Lagavulin here.

I smell smoke and my throat burns.

Pause log.
***
Personal log, continued.

ONI decrypted the transmissions from the relays. Dragged us into a classified briefing. Can’t talk about it. Couldn’t even mention it except the mission that used it is now complete.

Ran a couple of simulations sitting at the weapons console while the SIGINT was turned into an operational plan. What makes people think Engineering is complicated? Weapons is complex on steroids. Completely missed an opportunity to target beams because I was still struggling to load torps and loading mines instead. More practice needed.

It is now well known that we struck into Cronus system sectors II and IV and caught Grand Alliance forces while they were mustering behind a massive minefield interwoven into local stellar terrain. Successfully took out all but one of the new command and control relays they had deployed and did significant damage to the gathering fleets. Could not find another command ship rumoured to be in the area. Diplomatically hoping this is a move in the right direction as far as the Hjorden are concerned.

There was a bizarre incident where anomalies spawned multiple Space Monsters. Is this some development of Caltron jump gate technology?

End personal log.