stardate 86618.25

Personal log.
Captain, USS Atlas.

One hundred fifty days.

Three thousand nine hundred hours.

Two hundred thirty-four thousand seconds.

It seems an insignificant chunk of one’s life in the grand scheme of things. Less than one-percent of my total existence, assuming I live to a not unreasonable age of one hundred twenty-five years. Time is a strange beast, though. Unpredictable. Cagey. Slippery.

One hundred fifty days stuck in a hole on Bajor, the prisoner of the True Way.

The mission began innocently enough. The Osler was ordered to Bajor to transport a group of high-ranking local diplomats to Earth where they were to attend a conference discussing trade arrangements between Bajor and other Federation worlds. After beaming down and greeting the group (accompanied by a security contingent) we were set to beam up. After calling for transport, I was surrounded by the familiar blue beam. But when the beam cleared I wasn’t standing on the transporter pad of the Osler. Instead, I was in a damp, unlit cell.

I would learn later that there was a True Way infiltrator onboard the Osler, a Crewman Jedek Otha, who redirected the transport beam to an underground True Way base. On the Osler, Otha (who worked as a transporter technician) was able to make it appear that due to ionic interference, my pattern had been lost in transport – a rare, but not unheard of, accident.

For the next one hundred fifty days I existed in darkness punctuated by periods of glaring light, ceaseless questioning and pain. I never saw my captors, I only heard their voices and felt their hands and tools of torture.

It’s strange how we settle into habits and patterns, even in the worst situations. It didn’t take me long to settle into a sort of haze of routine. I could time my weeks almost to the dot (though time lost some meaning in the darkness).

Every morning (at least that’s what I came to think of it as), my captors would throw a piece of bread and mouldering fruit through a small slot in the door of my cell. After eating, I would do some basic callisthenic exercises.

In the first days after I was captured, I used this time to search my cell for any sort of escape. There was none. The cell appeared to be (from my limited ability to survey it) a natural pocket. The walls were composed of a dense igneous rock, not unlike granite. The door was solid metal (aside from the slot which opened regularly to provide me with sustenance). There were no apparent ventilation systems or other entrances or exits (though there may have been on the ceiling, which I was unable to access).

After my callisthenic exercises, I would try to engage myself in mind games, humming songs, mathematical puzzles – anything to keep the darkness at bay. I would do this for hours until I fell asleep and was awakened the next day (morning?) by my meal.

This would be my routine for four days. The fifth day was always the day of questioning.

I assume they injected a gas into my cell because I would awaken bound to a chair, bright lights in my eyes, with no memory of having been moved. For hours on end they would ask questions, punishing me if my answers displeased them. These days are a blur of light and pain – I don’t even remember the questions or what I said or if I even told the truth. All I knew was that I had wanted the pain to stop.

Thirty times I visited the questioning chamber. Thirty variations on the torture and questions and pain.

It was during my last session of questioning that something changed. My captors’ voices stopped momentarily and I could hear them speaking in hushed tones. Then I heard phaser fire, screams, and the familiar hum of a transporter beam.

It seems that my faithful first officer, Draymen, had noticed inconsistencies in the transporter logs shortly after I had gone missing. After piecing together the truth of what had happened, he located the hidden True Way base and convinced Starfleet to send a squad of MACO anti-terrorist agents down to Bajor to save me.

I owe him my life.

Starfleet, assuming I’d been killed in action, had reassigned the Osler and her crew.

After several months of debriefing with Starfleet, I’ve been reinstated and provided command of the USS Orion, a retrofitted Excelsior-class vessel. Through a little finagling, I’ve been able to get most of my senior staff transferred to my command. Starfleet is still wary about the effects of my incarceration and have assigned me to system survey duty (a way to keep me occupied and away from key systems in case residual trauma from my incident should render me unfit for command). All I know is it feels good to be back in space again. I want to forget everything that has come before. It’s time for a new start.

stardate 86245.46

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

“I am a mystery to myself.”

These words were spoken by Angelina Grimké. In the last few days they’ve come into my mind on more than one occasion.

We recently completed our joint operation in the Gamma Orionis sector. Things went well and we completed the assignment with no casualties or major injuries.

My crew performed admirably and we supported the Klingon ships, allowing them to successfully prevent an incursion into the sector.

I couldn’t do it.

I had any number of opportunities to ensure that the qul SuvwI’ suffered damage, or was destroyed. A moment’s delay in an order. A slight miscalculation in positioning. A second’s hesitation in firing weapons.

But I could not do it.

I could feel the weight of my wife and son on me. I could feel them watching over me. But I could also feel the weight of my duty and the weight of my command.

I could not do it.

And so I completed my mission. I did as I was ordered. I protected my enemies – the ones who took my family from me.

And still I feel the weight of their presence with me. The weight of their lives and deaths.

I only wonder if it was weakness that stayed my hand, or was it strength?

The more I move through life it seems there are fewer and fewer answers and more questions.

stardate 86029.96

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

IKS qul SuvwI'.

Captain Ven’Qa.

These names have been echoing through my mind for second after second, minute after minute for the past four days. As part of our orders from Starfleet Command, it was mentioned in passing that due to the threat of a Borg incursion, the Empire and the Federation are performing a few small joint operations in the Gamma Orionis sector. A number of ships have been paired with some Klingon vessels for these cooperative exercises to keep the Borg out of the sector and the Osler has been assigned to provide medical and ECM support to Task Force Alpha One.

Perhaps as a show of attempted cooperation with our Klingon “friends” the Task Force consists of three Klingon ships, and two Federation. The Klingon ships include a carrier – Vo’quv class –  and two birds of prey. The Federation contingent includes the Osler, and the USS Saratoga, a Sovereign-class ship. The Klingons are expected to do the heavy lifting in terms of the combat, while the Saratoga and Osler will act in a support role.

This news in itself is nothing particular earthshattering. I’ve been a part of a number of discussions about how to ease diplomatic tensions with the Klingons and ways to go about building bridges. Joint military efforts are an easy way to gain some favour and trust with the High Council, and the Klingon populace in general, particularly given how hard the Borg incursions are hitting many Klingon colonies.

What caught my attention was the mission briefing and intel we received outlining our allies. The Klingons make no secret of their military victories, even when those victories are against Federation targets and the personnel reports we received make it clear that they take great pride in all of their military actions against Starfleet. I can’t begrudge them that. They are a warrior race and that is there way.

What really caught my eye was the designation of the IKS qul SuvwI', one of the birds of prey we would be escorting on this mission. Because the Osler was going to be providing ECM support to the other vessels, we received very detailed information on the Klingon ships’ shield harmonics and modulation (this would allow us to better support the other ships, and to potentially beam casualties through shields in an emergency situation).

The qul SuvwI' had something particular about it – a non-Klingon shield design. Klingon ships generally employ a hybrid of Romulan, Klingon and Gorn shield technologies that work in such a way as to minimize their power requirements during cloak. The qul SuvwI' was different. It employed an Orion type design that utilized tachyon-shifting to minimize power drain; a very a-typical shield for use on a Klingon ship and one that I’d seen only once before.

Reading the reports more closely, the service record of Captain Ven’Qa, commanding officer of the qul SuvwI' made it clear – this was the ship we’d encountered at Kharans II.

This was the ship that sent a group of warriors aboard and butchered my crew.

These were the ones who killed my wife.

These were the ones who killed my son.

Vengeance.

stardate 85706.71

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

There are moments that make me remember why I entered Starfleet, why I became a doctor. Today I had one of those moments. A civilian transport vessel was moving a group of colonists from the Andoss system to the Aoki system. Unfortunately, a virulent strain of the Irakian fever (strain HGC-44124, refer to medical library for further information) had infected the colonists and crew. Being the nearest ship in the region, the Osler was charged with meeting the ship in interstellar space and providing vaccination for the colonists and crew. We arrived quickly and were able to inoculate all aboard with no casualties.

Unfortunately, one of the colonists, a young Andorian Shen was pregnant. The vaccine could not be given in utero due to the late development of the foetus. Working with my Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Bers, I was able to construct a retrovirus to deliver a gene resequencing routine that made the child immune to the disease and prevented prenatal infection, which would have resulted in severe respiratory damage.

With everything else going on in the Federation this reminded me of why I came out here. To heal and to help. To see the look of relief, the look of thanks on the faces of those colonists reminded me that despite all the evil in the galaxy, despite all the injustice, I can still make a difference.

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”

stardate 85705.56

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

Today would have been Arthur’s eighth birthday. I had planned to give him a toy I’d found on Bajor during our last visit to DS9. The Bajoran who had sold it to me called it a ohn’ta. It’s a sphere, roughly six centimeters in diameter. I’ve scanned it, and it’s made of a metal particular to Bajor that acts as a superconductor even at fairly high temperatures. When placed near any surface with ferrous metals in it, the sphere levitates at about five centimeters from the surface. If placed between two surfaces with ferrous metals, it rotates. I had hoped to teach Arthur about the Meissner effect and superconductors, and how they relate to our own superconducting technology. There were so many things I wanted to teach him. So many things I had wanted to see him accomplish.

I still hear his voice in my sleep sometimes, calling me for help.

With all the power I command, the terrawatts of energy, the weapons of destruction and tools of healing, I couldn’t save him.

My son is gone.

stardate 85650.25

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

In the past months, the Borg are becoming bolder in the Gamma Orionis sector and we’ve seen heavy duty. I can’t count the number of ships we’ve lost. I can’t even count the number of corpses I’ve seen. Sick bay is becoming an abattoir and triage is almost a joke. My crew is doing well under the conditions. They’re a good bunch.

We were recently assigned to provide support to a task-force in the Sibiran System. Rear Admiral Qer was in command of the mission, leading from his flagship the USS Shay II. Along with us were the USS Gladstone, USS Acheron and the USS Pegasus. Our primarily role in the mission was to be ECM / ECCM and medical support / triage. 

Starfleet lost contact with Starbase 82. When we arrived, we quickly discovered why – the Borg had invaded and managed to assimilate the station and most of its crew. We were able to clear the station out, though not without casualties. I lost four crew myself – Ensigns Joffrey and C’ten, and Lieutenants Arch and Hu. Sixteen crew dead plus the crew of the starbase itself – more than three hundred.

The Borg are an insidious enemy. The worst kind of enemy. They don’t kill their victims. Instead they pervert them, they change them. Death would be clean, but the Borg aren’t that compassionate. They take our own people and make them our enemies and they let us kill them. That’s the real irony – we are the Borg. They take us and make them their own.

I knew some of the crew of Starbase 82. I went to the Academy with Commander Athelosh, one of the senior engineering officers on the base.

Yesterday, I shot him with a phaser rifle.

Or, at least I shot what he had become. Was Athelosh still in there? I’ve read accounts from liberated Borg – people who have been severed from the Collective and returned to normal life (whatever that means these days). They say it’s like being trapped in your own mind, like watching your body through a viewscreen.

I wonder what Athelosh was thinking as he watched me pull the trigger? Was he in there? Did he recognize me? Did he curse me as I gunned him down, or did he silently thank me, glad for the release?

In the end, does it even matter?

stardate 85466.73

Personal log.
Captain, USS Osler.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I set foot on the bridge of a starship. Six months of leave and counselling and more leave. It seems like a lifetime ago that someone called me Captain. At my request, I’ve been transferred from the Exploration and placed in command of the USS Iaso, a medical support ship patrolling in the Gamma Orionis sector. My former first officer, T’Fren has been promoted to Captain and given command of the Exploration. She’s a fine officer and I know she’ll do a fine job. I would have liked to go back, but there were too many memories, too many ghosts. It was time to move on. They wanted to promote me and give me a desk job, but I needed to get back out into the field. I couldn’t stand sitting still any more.

I was able to bring a few familiar faces over to the Osler with me – Joe Kraft, now a Commander, is my Chief Engineer and Draymen came with me as my First Officer. It’s good to be back in space again, to feel the deckplates under my feet. I just need to keep moving. I just have to keep moving and the ghosts can’t catch up.

stardate 85124.82

Personal log.
Captain, USS Exploration.


I have fought Death at every turn - with medicine, with my wits, with all of the tools available to me.
I have fought Death at every turn and won more battles than I have lost, but Death is patient and Death is vengeful.

Today, while performing routine survey operations of Kharans II, a class-D planet orbiting a binary star system, the Exploration was the victim of an unprovoked attack by three Hegh’ta-class Klingon birds of prey. The Klingon vessels attacked from port, starboard and aft. We returned fire and executed a standard evasive manoeuvres pattern. The Klingons pressed the attack, dropping our rear shields in the process. Seizing the opportunity, they beamed three strike teams aboard.

Our security forces responded quickly, but not quickly enough. Two of the strike teams beamed to Engineering. One of the strike teams, beamed to deck six, crew quarters. The Klingons must have had intelligence regarding the layout of the Exploration, as their attack was designed to target our most vulnerable areas. Twelve crew members were killed within the next seven minutes as the Klingon invaders lobbed plasma grenades into corridors and crew cabins. Security forces responded quickly and disabled the Klingons, but not before the damage was done.

Carol and Arthur were sleeping in our quarters when the attack started. Ours was the first cabin the Klingons threw a grenade into.

They say it’s a slow death, burning in plasma fire. They say the pain can linger for up to two minutes before you die.

The Klingon strike teams were dispatched and we were able to warp away before any serious damage could be done to the ship.

But the damage was done.

My wife and my son are gone.

For some moments in life, there are no words.

stardate 85089.72

Personal log.
Captain, USS Exploration.

There are parts of command that I loathe: the endless report writing, the duty roster, the lack of time for real scientific inquiry. Above all, I loathe the discipline, or more precisely, being in charge of discipline.

Our head of Life Sciences, Commander Kosher, had a run in with Commander Adlit, my Chief of Science and Second Officer. It seems that Commander Adlit had allocated the secondary sensor array and deflector taken off-line for several hours during our orbit around Kharans IV, a newly discovered planet in the Arucanis Arm. For a number of reasons (not the least of which was a persistent sensor “echo” during warp travel), Commander Adlit felt that the array and deflector needed to be realigned. She came to me and requested permission to take them offline, and I had granted her permission to do so.

Unbeknownst to me, Commander Kosher and his team in exo-biology had been planning to use the secondary sensor array to conduct a scan of the planetary atmosphere, which houses a remarkable form of microscopic life that thrives in the planet’s methane-rich mesosphere. When Commander Adlit informed Mr. Kosher of the planned downtime, he was not happy (and this is putting it mildly). Adlit and Kosher’s discussion became extremely heated, and words were exchanged. Being the professional that she is, Commander Adlit extricated herself from the situation to put an end to the arguing, and returned to her post at the bridge. Commander Kosher, apparently still in a state of some agitated, proceeded to Engineering, where he falsely informed our Chief Engineer, Mr. Laroche, that the sensor alignment had been ordered delayed for several hours, and that the array could remain online. He then proceeded back to the Life Sciences lab where he and his team completed their scans.

This might have been the end of it, had Commander Kosher been able to leave things be. However, after completing his scans, he proceeded to the bridge, where Commander Adlit was still on duty, to present the results of his scans and analysis to me. Commander Adlit, overhearing our conversation, asked Mr. Kosher how he had completed the scans with the array off-line. Mr. Kosher, with no indication of regret, told her of his communication to Engineering.

Needless to say, I took Mr. Kosher to my ready room where he and I had a long, and frank, discussion about his methods and his future aboard the Exploration. I’ve since placed a formal reprimand on Mr. Kosher’s record and relieved him of duty for three days, during which he will be confined to quarters. I am also seriously considering replacing him as head of Life Sciences.

He is a brilliant man, there is no arguing that. However, his personality and methods leave much to be desired. He drives the Life Sciences team hard – too hard at times – and I’ve been forced, several times, to ask him to be gentler and more understanding with the less senior members of his staff (Ensigns Ramirez and Ghendrix have both indicated to me that he frequently asks his teams to work well past their duty shifts, and that they are often berated for not working “to standard.”) Kosher is a definite asset to the crew, and his knowledge of his field puts him among the leading thinkers in Star Fleet. At the same time, I have to think about the crew and those people who have to serve with him. I’m hoping this reprimand will be sufficient for Kosher to get the message. If not, more drastic action may be required.

stardate 84878.55

Personal log.
Captain, USS Exploration.

It’s been a strange week. Or more accurately, it’s been a strange four months. I think a little explanation is in order.

We had been assigned to do a survey mission in the Hromi Cluster. While mapping a type-three nebula, we ran across a Klingon battle group that had been using the Nebula as an ambush point for passing civilian vessels. The battle group, two Hegh’ta-class Birds of Prey, and a Negh’Var Battle Cruiser, surprised us just after we had dispatched our newly outfitted survey shuttle.

(As an interesting side-note, the shuttle, which the crew has affectionately dubbed “The Seeker,” functioned remarkably well and the modifications to the sensor array that Commanders Laroche and Banks put in place allowed us to nearly double our scanning speed and resolution. By linking the sensor array on the Exploration with the Seeker we were able to essentially create a sensor “net”, which mapped the nebula remarkably quickly and also was a large part of the reason we were able to detect the cloaked Klingon ships and raise shields just before they launched their attack.)

Because Commanders Laroche and Banks were aboard the Seeker we had to drop shields briefly for the Seeker to dock. The Klingons were faster on the trigger than we’d anticipated, and during the three seconds when the shields were down, the Battle Cruiser managed to launch a volley of torpedoes. The attack was devastating and we lost most of our core systems – main computer, propulsion, command functions, subspace communications. Main engineering was ripped to shreds. We also lost one hundred twenty-seven good people. People with families. People with children. I couldn’t even order an evacuation – we were in the middle of a nebula and I know the Klingons would have just picked off our escape pods one by one.

We were desperate and we made a desperate move.

The warp core was still intact and although torpedoes were off-line we could still fire our rear phaser banks. Turning our aft side to the Klingons, we started to limp away. Knowing it was a huge risk and our only chance, I ordered the rear shields dropped. The Klingons took the bait and all three ships came around to our aft facing. As they closed within weapons range I ordered the core ejected. Before they could react we were able to detonate it using a burst from our phasers. All three Klingon ships were badly damaged, and we were able to limp away without pursuit.

That’s when the problems really started.

With no warp core and most of the major systems off-line we were in trouble. The nearest starbase was nowhere near enough for sub-light communication to be effective we were forced to rely on our impulse engines to travel at sub (but near) light speeds. As any first year cadet knows, the danger of such travel is the time dilation that occurs when travelling close to the speed of light. So we spent the next week at 90% of c. And while we travelled, time passed – four months in the blink of an eye. Suffice it to say, we were glad to reach the Honod system and see some friendly faces.

We’ve completed repairs and we’re back on our way, but I think the psychological effects of essentially losing four months of time has worn on the crew. We’ve been ordered back to the Sol system to receive some new crew and take a month of downtime. I think we can all use it. I know that I can. Carol’s been wanting to see Bajor and DS9. Perhaps while the ship is at spacedock, we’ll book passage. I wouldn’t mind taking a turn at the Dabo wheel.

stardate 84556.64

Personal log.
Captain, USS Exploration.

It’s been an eventful few months. We’ve just recently put in at Starbase 24 for repairs and a refit to the Exploration. We had a few run-ins with the Borg during our recent excursions to the Gamma Orionis sector and the Exploration was more than a little roughed up. We lost our secondary deflector and the saucer section suffered some serious damage. Thankfully, despite some injuries to the crew, there were no deaths.

It turned out to be a good time to have to put in for repairs. An engineering team from Utopia Planitia had just arrived at the station to make some upgrades to her defences, and I was able to “borrow” the crew for a short period to supplement the available maintenance staff, cutting our repair time in half. Joe (Commander Laroche, our Chief Engineer) was able to make some modifications of his own during the repairs, and recommended a refit to our current deflector dish that would more than double its output. This allowed us to forego reinstallation of a second deflector (a fact that further cut down repair time), improved the manoeuvrability of the ship slightly, and allowed for the installation of a new transpectral sensor array, as well as some supplementary defensive systems. The ship definitely has a new feel to it – sleeker, easier to handle and more capable in a fight.

Even with the reduced repair times, everything took time. Three months on a Starbase is a long time when you’re used to open space. I have to say though, we were made to feel at home. I think that Arthur liked being able to get off the ship and run around. Even though the Exploration has a fairly extensive hydroponics bay, it’s nothing compared to the hydroponics garden they have on the base and he really enjoyed being able to get his hands dirty and do some real digging around. Some of the experiments they’re running in artificial agriculture and horticulture are astonishing. Thanks to their extensive gardens, little of the food on the base has to be replicated. I have to admit that it was nice to be able to eat real, non-replicated food for a few months (though my waistline certainly didn’t need it). I think that when we put back out into open space, I’ll look at converting one of our cargo bays on the Exploration to a larger hydroponics bay and see if we can supplement our food supplies that way. It would also give us the opportunity to run some experiments of our own.

Carol received a promotion while we here - Commander Banks. I could tell how proud she was. She certainly deserved it – her work during our time in Gamma Orionis was exemplary and she pulled our bacon out of the fire more than once. She’s recently taken an interest in astrometrics and stellar cartography and she used her time on Starbase 24 to take a number of extension courses on the subject. With our previous head of the Astrometrics Department (Lt. Commander Geynla) having just recently transferred to the USS Grissom, I’m thinking of giving her the position. I’ll have to run it past Commander T’Fren (my first officer) in order to avoid any possible conflict of interest. I think she’s a good candidate for the job – I know Carol’s not interested in command, but she can definitely run the department and she certainly has the expertise in the field to be effective in the position.

During our stay on the Starbase we received a new crew member, Commander Kosher, from the USS Ukraine. He’s got a good record and I think he’ll fit in with the crew. He’ll be heading up our Life Sciences department (he’s an expert in biology, exo-biology and exo-botany) and I think he’ll do a good job at it. The only concern I have is his leadership ability. He definitely knows his stuff, but he comes across as a bit distant. I know Kosher has his heart set on command, but I’ll have to see how he runs his department before I make any recommendations.

The last of the maintenance crews is just giving the Exploration one last shakedown before we head back out. I’m excited to be back out there. Because of our new sensor array, we’ve been assigned to do a number of survey missions in the B’Tran Cluster and I’m curious to see what we can find out there. It’ll be nice to feel the deckplates under my feet again. I think I’ve almost gotten too used to being on a ship, it doesn’t feel right to stay still.

stardate 84486.25

Personal log.
Captain, USS Exploration.


Another new ship. This is number five in six years – I thought we were supposed to serve on these things for a while. Though I did see the Hippocrates the other day. Her CO is very competent. Young and eager, but competent. It’s good to know that even with all the light years we put on her, she’s still fit for service.

The Mercy isn’t so lucky.

Sadly, while on patrol in the Archanis Sector we were caught in a confrontation with a Klingon battle group and she was lost. There wasn’t much we could do but hold on for our lives – five Birds of Prey and a Vor’cha battle cruiser had more firepower than we could handle, even with our newly upgraded shields and weapons systems. The battle lasted about ten minutes before our hull suffered catastrophic damage and I was forced to order the crew to abandon the ship. We managed to take four of the birds with us, but there was no way we could have survived the onslaught.

Thankfully, the USS Exeter was in the area and managed to swoop in and scare the Klingons off before they could capture any of us or destroy our escape pods. All hands escaped with only a few serious injuries among the bunch.

At least that went right.

Arthur was shaken up but alright. I suppose one of the advantages of being seven years old is that nothing really bothers you too much. To be honest, I think he kind of enjoyed seeing the battle up close. Carol and I had a serious talk afterwards about the possibility of putting him back on Earth. We both agreed that there was danger everywhere and neither of us really wanted to think about sending him away. It’s hard to believe he’s spent more than half of his life on starships now. He doesn’t seem any worse for the wear though.

It seems Starfleet isn’t overly disappointed in me. Although we had to go through all the official paperwork associated with the destruction of a starship, Command recognized the impossible situation we had faced and actually commended me on getting my crew out alive.

I’ve been assigned as commanding officer of the USS Exploration, a deep space science vessel. While we’ll still be involved in some strategic actions, we’re one of the few vessels that are charged with a scientific mandate right now. We’ll actually have the opportunity to go out and do some system surveys and the like. The crew is excited about the new ship and the possibility that we may not have to fire our phasers every day.

I’m excited to be exploring again. I’m tired of the endless fighting, and I’ve gotten a little too good at killing for my tastes. A break from the action will do me, and the crew, some good.

stardate 84483.74

Report to Starfleet (File 241-1231-131A-44X-313)

Security Clearance 10 only

heuristic search tags: subspace entity, subspace mind, subspace alien, telepathy, USS Mercy, Daniel Carver, alternate universe, subspace dimensional rift, amoeboid alien, fluidic space

encryption sequence:

65464984231ASmCs2***CC23F

Filed by: Draymen of Vulcan (Chief Medical Officer, USS Mercy)

Personal logs (Captain Daniel Carver) dated stardate 2613.23, 2612.22, 2495.01 cross-referenced
Lab Report (MADHAV-912A-1231C1) cross-referenced

**Begin report**

At the request of Captain Carver (due to his personal involvement in the events described), this report to Starfleet is being filed by Draymen of Vulcan, Chief Medical Officer.

As referenced in personal logs, Captain Carver had recently had a number of unexplained experiences involving his perceptions of an alien life form attempting to interact with him. After the last incident (stardate 2613.23), in which the Captain was rendered unconscious and badly burned by contact with a highly alkaline substance (pH 12.4 according to medical scans collected immediately after the incident), the crew of the Mercy began conducting extensive sensor sweeps of the ship, both internal and external. Initial scans indicated no anomalous readings. At the suggestion of Commander Sorbek (Senior Science Officer) we extended scans beyond normal parameters to include searches for tachyon radiation and sub-space distortions. Scans involving these broadened search parameters yielded surprising results, indicating a sub-space field radiating from Captain Carver. The field was emitting trace amounts of tachyon radiation. This field was entirely localized to the Captain (see USS Mercy Internal Sensor Log, file 41233.12331.123121.131A).

Upon closer examination, it was found that Captain Carver was existing in a state of dimensional flux. The sub-space field emanating from him was somehow allowing him to exist simultaneously in “normal” space-time and a sub-space pocket dimension. Commander Sorbek postulated that the ship and the aliens that Captain Carver had been encountering may be native to this pocket dimension and that Captain Carver was somehow interacting with them. After postulating a number of possible solutions, Commander Laroche (Chief Engineer) suggested that encapsulating the Captain within a tachyon field may break him free of his entanglement with the pocket universe and jar him completely back into normal space. The Captain agreed and preparations were immediately undertaken.

Due to the danger to Captain Carver, he was held in sickbay during the preparations (which were estimated to take 2 – 3 hours to complete). During this time, Captain Carver was under my observation. At approximately 12:43 hours (ship’s time), Captain Carver fell unconscious. Medical scans indicated that he high levels of tachyon radiation were emanating from him and a visible “warping” of space around the Captain’s form was observed (see USS Mercy Medical Scans, file 1231.131222.31485.133A). This continued for several minutes, after which the Captain awoke. He sustained several chemical burns on his hands, face and chest. These burns were from an alkaline source (pH 12.4 according to medical scans).

 

The Captain reported that he had again been drawn into the pocket universe where he was able to communicate with the sub-space aliens (which he described as amoeboid aliens). According to the Captain, the aliens were able to communicate with him using a limited form of telepathy. His report (Captain’s Log, file 4413.313.1312) is transcribed here:

The aliens were able to communicate with me telepathically. Due to the differences in our physiology and brain structure, the information we were able to share was limited, but I did glean a few key items. First, they exist in a part of fluidic space and are familiar with the Undine (who they call the Keepers). They indicated that fluidic space, unlike our space, is not physically uniform and has a number of “pockets” in which the laws of physics vary. They also told me that I had become entangled in their universe during my experiments with sub-space fields and their effect on neurological decay. I sensed no malevolent intention during my contact with the alien and they indicated that they wished me no harm.

Based on Captain Carver’s report, the burns he sustained were likely due to contact with the atmosphere of the alien dimension (which is likely alkaline-based).

Shortly after the incident, Mr. Laroche completed his preparations and Captain Carver underwent the tachyon bombardment procedure. All scans since then indicate that Captain Carver’s entanglement with the pocket universe has been corrected. As per instructions from Starfleet Command, we will continue to monitor Captain Carver for further encounters with the pocket universe of sub-space aliens and report any such incidents immediately.

**End report**

stardate 84423.4

Personal log.
Captain, USS Mercy.


Something is definitely not right. As I said in my log yesterday, I’ve been experiencing some strange dreams as of late, even when I’m not sleeping. Today things have gone in a whole new direction though.

I was having my morning tea in my quarters this morning. Carol had already left for the day (she’s currently assigned to the delta shift) and Arthur was sleeping in his room. Suddenly, I heard a sound coming from the bedroom area. I couldn’t identify it – it was more of a dull thump than anything. Putting down my tea, I quickly retrieved my hand phaser from the secure storage area and crept into the bedroom. I heard the sound again, a dull thump. Once I was in the bedroom, I realized the sound was coming from the closet.

Bracing myself, I stepped forward and pushed the door release. As the door slid open, I stepped backward pointing my phaser into the recesses of the closet.

Except there was no closet.

The door didn’t open to reveal the rows of uniforms and off-duty clothes I expected to see. Instead, it opened into a strange corridor lit with a greenish hue. I had an irresistible compulsion to go down the hallway. Although everything rational faculty in my mind was screaming not to enter, it was as though I’d lost control of my limbs, as though my physical body and mind had become separated somehow. As I stepped into the corridor, the door closed behind me, disappearing into the darkness.

The air was acrid and heavy. Humid. The walls, ceiling and floor were moist, apparently covered with some sort of thick, liquid coating. I knew I wasn’t dreaming, and despite my mental protests, I did not feel fear. Intellectually I knew I wasn’t being safe, but my body continued onward down the corridor against my mental protestations.

I travelled forward, perhaps ten meters, before coming to a large barrier. What can best be described as a door. Like the other surfaces, it was covered with a thick mucous-like substance. I could see my hand raising up and reaching out to the door. As my fingers touched the surface, I could feel the sensation of the liquid between my fingers but I had no control over my movements. I felt like an observer in my own body.
As I pulled my hand away, the door disappeared, revealing a large, circular chamber. In the centre of the chamber was what appeared to be a chair of some sort, and on that chair was a creature.

It wasn’t large, perhaps a meter and a half tall, but it was completely alien. I’ve been exposed to many strange life forms in my time with Starfleet, but this creature nearly defied description. It appeared to be comprised largely of a thick liquid-like substance with no visible sensory organs. Where one would expect to see a mouth was a large transparent tendril that waved hypnotically. Below this were several smaller tentacles that were still.

As I stood there, the creature moved forward, a sliding movement more akin to water flowing downhill than any sort of locomotion I’d seen before. As it drew closer, it emitted a low gurgling sound. I knew somehow that the creature was not angry or aggressive. It was trying to communicate something to me, but I couldn’t understand.

As it drew closer to me, it’s small tentacles extended, brushing against my hands. The sensation was almost akin to that of a jellyfish sting. Despite the pain, I couldn’t draw away.

The next thing I knew I woke up in sickbay. Draymen, my medical officer, informed me that they had located me in my quarters, unconscious and I’d been comatose for nearly 5 days. My hands had been badly burnt. According to the medical scanners, they’d been exposed to a highly alkaline substance which had left severe chemical burns.

I immediately called for a full sensor sweep of the area and placed the ship under red alert. After relaying my story to the senior bridge crew, I set them the task of finding out what was going on. This is more than just a dream. This is more than just in my mind.

Something strange is happening here.

stardate 84408.32

Personal log.
Captain, USS Mercy.

The last 12 hours have been extremely disconcerting.

It began last night. After Carol and I had put Arthur to bed for the night, she and I played a game of chess. We went to bed a little earlier than usual, at 21:00.

That’s when things began to get very strange.

I had the most vivid dream I’d ever had. So vivid that I still wonder if it wasn’t real.

I was standing on the bridge, completely alone. We were at red alert. The bridge was bathed in a strange green light and the sound of the klaxons was all round me. I remember feeling strangely at ease, as though I knew everything was going to be okay despite the situation. I looked up at the viewscreen and there was a ship I had never seen before. It was massive, but I didn’t feel afraid. For some reason I knew that it wouldn’t harm me or my crew.

I was awakened suddenly by the comm. Starfleet Command had sent a priority one signal from Earth diverting the Mercy to the Rolor Nebula. We were being called upon to search for True Way ships hiding in the Nebula. The USS Relentless, an escort, was being sent with us to provide support. After I dressed, I began to make my way to the bridge. When I got there everything seemed normal. Then I glanced at the viewscreen and the ship, the same ship from my dream, was displayed there. I turned to my tactical officer and ordered a red alert, but when I turned my attention back to the screen, there was nothing there.

The bridge crew must have thought I was losing my mind. We scoured the sensor logs, but they showed no indication of any ship or any unusual readings. I even had my CMO run a full neurological scan on me, but it didn’t show anything.

Maybe the stress is starting to get to me. 

stardate 84335.41

Personal log.
Captain, USS Mercy.

Another promotion. Dad would’ve been proud.

I’ve been on Earth for a few weeks now, sorting out the details after dad’s death. It’s amazing how much work there is to do when someone dies. I always knew how many reports I had to write as a doctor when someone passed away, but that’s nothing compared to what surviving family members have to fill out. Someone in the Federation Council loves forms – there’s form 441.21A (Statement and Proof of Death), 441.22A (Survivor Benefits and Inheritances), 442.12C (Statement and Proof of Familial Relation) and about 30 other forms I’ve had to fill out since attending dad’s memorial service.

I’ve been placed in command of the USS Mercy, a new medical ship, fresh from Utopia Planitia. She’s a beauty of a ship – more than 200 crew, one of the most advanced sensor arrays in the fleet and large enough medical facilities to triage a colony. Arthur’s enjoying himself – our quarters onboard are pretty luxurious compared to the Madhav, and Carol is making herself right at home. Admiral Quinn told me he wanted someone experienced in the field to be in command of the Mercy, and it seems that description applies to me now. Strange, five years ago I was a cadet. Now, I’m thirty-seven, a captain and considered to be a veteran officer. Hard to believe how much the war has changed things in the Fleet. Thirty years ago I’d be lucky to have made Lieutenant Commander by now.

It seems as though everything’s speeding up lately – life, duty, the war. I wish things would slow down, if only for a moment. Sometimes it feels like I can hardly catch my breath.

stardate 84300.21

Personal log.
Captain, USS Madhav.

I received a communiqué from Earth this morning. Seems that dad’s fallen ill and had to be taken to the hospital for medical care. It shouldn’t feel like such a shock – he’s been sick for a long time. It seems as though Iverson’s is finally going to win out. He’s still mentally capable, but his body can’t carry on. In the message, mom said that his lungs and heart are starting to fail. They could maintain him artificially, but he’s already made the decision that it’s time to go.

For someone in this age to die at 65 is unbelievable, but it shows me that even with our advanced medical understanding, there’s still more to know. Mom and dad talked and decided to end support tomorrow at noon. I won’t be able to get back – the border patrols are extremely busy as of late. The Romulans seem, more and more, to be taking shots at our border colonies. Mom understands, and said that dad did too. I contacted command and they indicated that we could return to Sol in a week, once the Antigone gets here to replace us on patrol. Mom said she could hold the memorial once I get back. I always knew this was inevitable given dad’s condition, but it doesn’t make the reality any easier. I just hope that I can help Arthur to understand.

stardate 84297.7

Personal log.
Captain, USS Madhav.

A special day today – Arthur’s third birthday. The senior staff organized a wonderful party in the observation lounge. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many balloons or so much cake (or eaten so much cake, for that matter, as my stomach continues to remind me). Arthur seemed to really enjoy the festivities and he got some extremely thoughtful gifts. I was particularly surprised at Draymen (my Chief Medical Officer) who had a sol’neth built on Vulcan and transported to the ship, during our last stop at Starbase 23. The sol’neth is a Vulcan toy, not unlike a wooden puzzle, but the shapes are made to fit together in several configurations to form different polyhedrons. According to Draymen, “it is an educational tool for building spatial and sensory awareness.” All I know is, Arthur loved it.

I can’t overstate how lucky I am to have command of such a wonderful ship and crew. My senior bridge staff are among the best and brightest officers I’ve ever met. Even our less experienced staff members and NCOs give an amazing effort. Even more than that, though, many of my bridge crew have become my friends. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to know all of them, and to have command over such a group of tremendous individuals is a remarkable gift.

stardate 84284.29

Personal log.
Captain, USS Madhav.

Well, so much for a few months in the Afehirr Nebula to test out my theories. Seems there’s a dearth of ships patrolling our borders with the Romulans and so the Madhav has been recalled to border patrol. As part of our patrol duties, we’ve also been instructed to “extend a hand of friendship” to any Romulan world or colonies who might be interested in Federation protection. It seems that with the general collapse of the Romulan Empire, the Federation is hoping to make friends out of our one-time enemies. The Madhav is well suited to spreading good will among the Romulans. We just recently put in to Starbase 39 and restocked our medical and humanitarian supplies (the latter is Starfleet code for food rations for colony worlds that are starving).

As an interesting aside, the Madhav, and by extension her crew (including myself) have been assigned to the Sierra Defense Fleet. This shouldn’t have a major impact on our assignments or missions, but with this new assignment we may be called upon to participate in general fleet movements or actions as coordinated by our Fleet Admiral, Admiral Allahweh Lucia Brahman. It seems Starfleet is looking to create more cohesive battle groups in order to facilitate the movement of ships and troops throughout the various sectors. For the most part, the fleet seems to be a good bunch, though I’ve met only a handful of the officers so far. But, as they say, the more the merrier.

stardate 84284.07

Lab Report (MADHAV-912A-1231C2)

Working with Mr. Laroche, I’ve been able to make some modification to the cortical stimulator we’ve been using to test my theories on neural decay. However, until further simulations are completed, I am holding off on further tests. Based on my calculations using the results of the first test, I failed to take into account the potential interference of Higgs boson particles and tauons. Fascinatingly, it seems that a major part of our synaptic activity is controlled not only by the movement of electrons through the neurons and axons, but that the spin of the elementary particles, the interaction between the electrons and other elementary particles and the wave pattern of both the electrons and other elementary particles within the brain tissue. Essentially, it seems that the interaction between the various elementary particles within the brain tissue (as very clearly delineated in the works of Dr. T’Sol of Vulcan) creates what is, in essence, a personal sub-space “pocket”, for lack of a better word, in which the interactions between the physical brain tissue and the elementary particles operate in ways that are not described by the typical laws of physics, but operate according to an entirely different set of laws, which I have not yet fully begun to explore.

This sub-space pocket is extremely intriguing insofar as it corresponds to many cultures idea of a “mind” as separate from the merely physical and chemical reactions of the body. Further exploration of this idea may even allow me to understand how brain injuries, mental illness and other neurological diseases are the result of improper connection between the physical object of the brain and the sub-space laws which influence its operation. Fortunately, the Afehirr Nebula is an ideal testing ground for these theories. With the proper instrumentation, the naturally occurring sub-space pulses in the nebula allow for brief observations into the mental sub-space pockets of a given patient and an examination of the laws governing interaction of the particles therein. If we can have a few months to test the theories we may be able to refine my calculations and make my modified cortical stimulator effective and practical for real-world medical applications.