Log Mundy, 23618-2237

[Adele Mundy]

Personal Log, Lt.Cmdr. Adele Mundy, TSN Sabre, 2nd Space Flt., 4th Lt.Div.
Stardate: 23618-2237

From the way I was feeling, and everyone was looking, it was clear we’re back. If “back” is an appropriate term. We’ve returned to our bodies, and found that our alternate selves had taken them, and our ships, to the Unukalhai… It stands to reason, that if we reached the point of defecting from the ISN and joining the Resistance, our Mirror-selves defected from the TSN and joined the xenophobes. But dammit, Adelaide. Dammit.

I know, Computer, she’ll never hear me. She might be able to recover my log files if they were backed up off the ship during one of our stints in dock. And I’ll see what I can dig out of your memory, too. This is the first fragment I’ve got:

Stardate:(garbled)18-2237

Is there no end to the degeneracy of this social experiment? Not only do they allow inferior life forms as full citizens, but they import their customs and their goods…

We reached [static] Base after concluding our missions, and the bartender greeted me with inappropriately cheerful familiarity, and the announcement that there was a fresh delivery of Hjocoa. Hjocoa. This woman is an addict. And has no shame in letting subordinates know about her addiction. Are there no disciplinary proceedings for indulging in the consumption of restricted substances? I took the proffered glass and pretended to taste the contents; then I made some excuse, and took it with me into my quarters. And I consulted the woman’s records again, finding no reprimand for drug use… so I was struck by a suspicion, and looked up generally available information on Hjocoa. There are no medical warnings about it, no records of morbidity or the incidence of addiction, no official restrictions on its trade and use, nothing.

This so-called civilization does not deserve to continue.

[end Adelaide Mundy’s recording]

“The woman”. That would be me. She doesn’t like me at all, does she, Computer? The feeling, alas, is mutual. Computer, the human habit of following a statement with a question that re-states it is not supposed to be efficient. It’s conversational. We’ll get back to teaching you about human conversation some time. When we’re not being treated like traitors, dammit.

What can I say here that adds to the detailed damage reports we’ve all turned in? We had everyone who was fit for duty, however approximately, running over all the ships’ systems, testing everything, finding that responses were not what we expected, and making repairs where needed; then we ran sims to double check that everything was running as it should, and to get used to Sabre, Lancer, Horizon and Viper again. Indeed, noticeable changes have been made to our ships, particularly the shuttle controls, and we’ll have to get used to them. All this without the Fleet Captain, who was in MedBay for a time that led us all to be concerned.

We caught the Fleet News Service broadcast, with the reports of action our Mirror-selves had undertaken. Not something to cheer the spirit, dammit. Mirror-Jemel rabble-rousing, and Horatio broadcasting a xenophobic speech. Vice-Admiral Horatio Mundy, dammit. I could remark that promotion in the Unukalhai doesn’t count, but that would probably be sour grapes. Dammit. Just after I’d had a couple of civilised conversations with his counterpart, and decided I liked him, and would be happy to have Harold as a younger brother, dammit! Dammit!

Now Harold is going to have to deal with a xenophobic murderer as a sister again. The Fleet Captain explained (when he came out of MedBay. I’m not keeping to a strict chronology here, Computer, and I don’t care) that the ships we flew into the Caltron Sector were set to self destruct on a timer that would give the crews long enough to evacuate into life pods, so Adelaide had as good a chance of surviving as anyone else on board. And I had given Harold all the information I had about our route. I was aware of him, from time to time, as we were flying among the Caltrons. I don’t know how close his ship was, but from what I could tell, he was following us. And now it’s all a universe away, and out of my power to do anything about.

And in this universe, we saw TSN ships register as enemies, and Unukalhai ships register as friends; we saw a Unukalhai base taken by TSN boarding parties, and then destroyed by Unukalhai missiles. And no life pods.

With the Fleet Captain still in MedBay, Capt. Jemel took Fleet Command, on Lancer. I was in command of Sabre, with Ironclad on Weapons, Cr00ve on Science and Comms, Ben on Helm, Avirson in Engineering. I allowed us to be badly damaged, when a Unukalhai ship surrendered, and we didn’t move away fast enough when she self-destructed. I ought to be more coherent than this, but sometimes things still swirl into a blur, and that blast did not improve my coherence.

I think that technically, all of 4LD was under arrest at the end of that engagement, when we made contact with the TSN ships and handed ourselves over. We followed the TSN ships towards Atlantis Command, with orders to make sure the way was clear of all hostiles. We had to leave Sabre at RS-90 to be repaired, and Capt. Jemel insisted on staying with her, to see that she was being looked after properly, I think is how he put it. Grant, which had been limping along, also stayed behind. I was reassigned to take the Comms station on Relentless, I mean, Horizon.

We started out in Cerberus 3, fighting off Unukalhai ships until we cleared the way to the transition point into Cerberus 2, where we met more attempts at Unukalhai interception before we reached the Atalantis Gate.

We were greatly outnumbered, facing ships who had much stronger shields and were much faster than we had been accustomed to; and we were on ships that should have been familiar, but no longer were. I am trying to remember the last time I was on the bridge on Horizon, even in a sim, and I’d need to search my logs to find out, because I can’t. That’s all right, Computer, it isn’t that important. I’m not at my best, which is entirely my responsibility to put right; I was thrown by the chatter on Horizon’s bridge, though her crew is used to working together through it (Cmdr. Aramond in Command, Hall as XO and on Science, Nhaima at the Helm, Yooey on Weapons, Draeco in Engineering). Our shields were wiped out fast, again and again, while our own beams seemed underpowered to Yooey, who resorted to using Pshocks rather than beams to attack the Windmill fighters that swarmed out of the Unukalhai ships. Because our beams seemed ineffective, we made little use of them; and because of the formations we found ourselves in, there was little need to attract enemies’ attention via Comms. And there were precious few Unukalhai ships who surrendered, dammit. Even so, I was rather surprised, after it was all over, to find out that I was supposed to ask for information about enemy ships’ captains… it’s information I tell Comms, when I run the Science console, as a matter of course. Every bridge runs a little differently, and I shall have to remember that, if I am posted to Horizon again.

We made it to Atlantis Command in the end, despite one fast, aggressive Griff that would not stop her chase, almost as if she had a personal grudge against us. It took a concerted action for her to finally send a surrender signal — and by that time, Yooey had already launched a final missile. I hate to see that kind of loss of life, it’s even more unnecessary than… oh, dammit.

And so, here we are, in Atlantis Command. On best behaviour as we try to prove our preposterous story, and, understandably, being closely watched. Somebody suggested we should volunteer to have our minds scanned by Section Blue… I mean, PsyCorps. And I didn’t say it at the time, but no. Nobody is allowed into my mind without my permission, I don’t care what uniform they happen to be wearing.

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