First, I have encrypted this log because of the sensitive nature of the events that I shall describe. I was first contacted by Section 31 some time ago regarding the Devidians. They were attempting to convert an entire sector of space into a feeding ground. The details were submitted to Admiral Hollister, commander of the black ops section of Starfleet intelligence. That wasn't my first encounter with Franklin Drake, and it certainly wasn't the last.
There have been several more missions that I ran for Drake, all heavily classified. While I didn't feel the need for personal copies of the previous reports related to those incidents, Drake's tone and the unusual circumstances surrounding his request has caused me to re-evaluate that decision. Hence, this log.
After defending the Klingon homeworld from the Undine attack, the defense forces were summoned to the Klingon High Council. After beaming down, I met with several dignitaries and engaged in small talk. The victory celebration intensified when Chancellor Jm'pok and Admiral Quinn took the stage. But before either could get the chance to fully address the gathering, there was a flash of light.
A woman stepped forth from the light and stood over six feet tall and wore a strange (perhaps metal?) outfit. She told us that we had drawn the attention of those who had long been watching and that we would be wise not to draw their attention again. The Klingon Councilors who had stood up to her were killed by her. She used no identifiable weapon, but with a gesture she levitated them off of the ground and then they were encased in some kind of field. With a second gesture, the light exploded and the Counselors were just...gone. She then disappeared through a summoned aperture very similar to the one that she arrived in.
The races united in response to this new threat and the Klingon war is now over, but the leaders of the Federation, Klingon Empire, and Romulans are all nervous. When I beamed back aboard the Perseus, there was a message waiting for me in my ready room. Drake had sent me a text message telling me that he had an assignment for me and that he would establish a secure communications link at 22:00 hours. That was two hours ago and I still have an hour and a half to wait. I will update this log when I know more.
I spoke to Drake last night and Section 31 is definitely concerned about the Iconians. He wants me to go to Indara IV and investigate an Elachi outpost there and recover intel as well as collect all data for analysis. After all hostiles are eliminated, he wants me to run some crime scene processing drones. I have no idea why, but those are the orders. When I asked him what is it that he isn't telling me, he replied "Why Richter, whatever do you mean?" Despite myself I am beginning to like him.
Section 31 may be covert and they may resort to dirty tricks, but like it or not they are a necessary evil. I suppose that I am an asset now, like T'Par. I only hope that I am never tasked to betray the Federation in order to plant false evidence with an enemy. I'm not sure that I could pull that off. I have also been wondering about that test that Drake sent my crew and I through. What will be the outcome of that, I wonder? I cannot shake the feeling that that was a leadership test of some sort. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't the only one I had to pass before I find out any real answers.
I have to admit that I enjoy the cloak and dagger, but trust works both ways. Section 31 may trust me, but I am still uncertain about them. I know that that their primary motivation is to protect the Federation at all costs, but if I had a greater understanding of it's oversight and command and control I would feel a lot better about it. For example, does Drake lead it or is he just the face of Section 31? If he doesn't lead it, then who does he report to? Just how much does Starfleet command know about Section 31? Many questions and few answers. Still, I can't honestly say that knowing what I know, I would have done anything differently.
The threats to the Federation are real and the Iconians are an existential threat, of that there can be no doubt. They have managed to play the races of the Alpha quadrant like pieces on a chess board. Using one race to weaken the other while they study us for weakness that they can exploit. That means that they are methodical and studious, but the appearance of the Iconian when their initial assault on the Alpha quadrant failed indicates that they are also vain and prone to rash action. Their technology may be formidable, but their psychology is approachable from a strategic standpoint. No doubt that Section 31 and Starfleet Intelligence (SI) is aware and working on the problem.
Inara IV was a nightmare. Transporter blocks prevented beaming down into the facility which was underground. The solar system is also located within a nebula and this protected the base from prying sensor scans. The Elachi and their masters are clever, I'll give them that. I lost three good crewman on that assault, the details of which are to follow.
We beamed down about 1.5 clicks from the base and proceeded on foot. Initial scans of the exterior entry showed minimal power and a landing pad for small craft. The pad was empty and there were no patrols. Something didn't seem right, but without concrete facts you can't hold back. We moved.
As we neared the entry, Lieutenant David Winters tripped a laser mine. It cut him to pieces. Our foes were now alerted to our presence and we had to act quickly. Hoping that photon grenades air bursting would overpressure the mine's activation switches, we all threw them. The blasts detonated many mines and we were now officially out of time. We made a run for the door as swiftly as we could. Thankfully, none of us had a repeat of Winters' experience.
As we entered the facility we came under fire. Returning fire, we again threw photon grenades and followed with automatic phaser fire. Leapfrogging up the hallway, we advanced. The Elachi gave as good as they got and Ensign Christina Eberhardt died in the firefight. A disruptor blast hit her square in the nose and the rest is too gruesome to describe. She had just joined the assault team two weeks ago.
The Elachi broke and fell back giving us a pause in the storm of energy bolts being traded back and forth. I ordered that plasma grenades be armed and mines placed to cover our six. Then we continued our assault. The Elachi fell back to their research labs and bunkered down. It was obvious that though the Elachi were a scrawny race, they knew the dance. There were also pretty knowledgeable about the music. As we moved forward, a mine exploded. Now they know that Starfleet has some nasty surprises as well.
The fighting was sharp, but brief as the Elachi position collapsed. They fought to the death and we could take none of them prisoner. Even the wounded self terminated rather than to risk capture. That was when we realized that we were standing in dissection labs. Body parts were everywhere and the floor was sticky with green blood. We also discovered a holding area and store rooms in the back of the facility. The store rooms were filled with Romulan gear and the holding cells were empty or so we thought.
Chief Richard Evans was securing the left bank of cells when he began screaming. We all looked to see his head forcibly taken through the bars of the cell that he was walking too close to. A Romulan male took his right hand and jammed his fingers into Chief Evans eye sockets and then he ripped the top of the Chief's head off. We killed the Romulan in order to try to save the Chief, but we were far too late.
You hear about how strong a Vulcan or a Romulan are, but until you see something like that, you just don't have an appreciation for it. It seemed so...surreal. I don't know how long the shock lasted, but it was a little while before we were moving again. This time taking care not to get too close to the cells. They were all empty. Once we had verified that all hostiles were neutralized and there were no survivors, we deployed the crime scene processing drones and let them do their job.
The drones recorded every detail of the complex and I downloaded the data from the main core for analysis. After the drones had completed their work I asked them for a report. They told me that the body parts, gear, holding cells, and number of Elachi indicated that the crew of a large ship had been disposed of here. They also informed me that a cell had traces of human and Romulan DNA and that several blond hairs were found there. Sela! It must have been the Empress! But where is she now? The only thing that I know for certain is that she did not share the fate of her crew. Was that a good sign or a bad one?
I forwarded the data dump and drone findings to Drake on a secure channel, but Drake could offer no confirmation on my findings. All he said was, "We'll see." He's cautious, but the last thing that I want to hear with three dead crewmen is 'we'll see'. I argued, but he wouldn't budge. He said that he would contact me when he had another assignment for me.
On the one hand, I want to know more. On the other hand it is far safer for me to know only as much as I need to know. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. The cloak and dagger are looking a lot less sexy about right now. I lost some damned good people. But if the Iconians work out to be as bad as I think that they are, we are going to lose a lot more. They have to be stopped, whatever it takes.
I received another coded communication from Section 31. Surprisingly, it was T'Par. I asked her if she were still working for SI or for Section 31 and she evaded my query. It is amazing at just how well a Vulcan can evade a topic that they don't wish to discuss. When I told her that it would be illogical to continue questioning her about her employers, I could have sworn that there was an amused expression on her face. But then she got straight to business.
She informed me that there were difficulties cracking the encryption. They had managed to cull a few pearls from the data, but the vast majority of it was still unknown despite the best efforts of SI and Section 31. One of the pearls they had recovered was about a race that had opposed the Iconians in the galactic revolt. They gave me coordinates for the homeworld of that race and instructed me to make first contact with them. My mission is to learn as much about the details of that war as possible with an emphasis on strategy and tactics, to recruit that species as an ally in the new fight if possible, and to establish diplomatic relations.
T'Par further informed me that once first contact was achieved, an ambassador would be sent forthwith to deepen diplomatic and communicative ties. I asked her the species identity and for any other details that she could furnish, but it was a vain request. She informed me that nothing aside from the notation that they were a participating race in the revolt and the location of their homeworld had been retrieved from the data mining. I had to go in blind.
"Usually, I like a little more intel with my intel" I told her, but all I got from her was that hint of amusement expression again. Her tone grew serious when she advised me to be cautious in my daily activities. I asked her if she had any specific intel regarding that warning. She replied, "No, but given your actions lately there is a 97.6341% chance that the Iconians regard you as a problem," and then ended the transmission.
I have given the coordinates to navigation and it appears that the star system that we are looking for is in uncharted space. We are enroute with an ETA of 4.73 days. I have also ordered upgrades to all of our universal translators as well as the installation of advanced phonic detecting subroutines to our ship and first contact team translators. The last thing I need is to offend a race because of a faulty translation. I will update the log again when there is news to report.
It has been three days and our advanced scans show something incredible, the star system that we are enroute to has been destroyed. The sun still burns, but it shows an advanced age and there are no planetary bodies in orbit about it. Astrometrics reports that the sun is hundreds of millions of years older than it should be, given the age of the stars surrounding it. There are also no planets in orbit about the star. In short, it is a desert in space.
I have communicated our findings back to Starfleet and to Drake. I have also assigned a science team to begin working out what happened to that system. Is our information accurate? Was this a natural occurrence of some kind? As with so many other things these days, there are many questions and few answers.
We have arrived at the target star system. Where once there was a system of four terrestrial planets and six gas giants, there are now no planetary bodies at all. Sensors detect a large quantity of anti-graviton particles hosted by a dying star, and little else. The science team I established to investigate this situation is stumped as to how this happened. One disturbing possibility is that it was an engineered event.
While the recovered data from Indara IV has proven resistant to decryption, hints have emerged that the Iconians may have sought vengeance for this species participation in their downfall. We know that intel recovered from subspace after the Romulan gate activation tells us that the Iconians have been diligently working toward re-establishing themselves as the dominant race in the galaxy. They have recruited servitor races and made plans to destroy potential roadblocks to that objective.
We also know that they are prone to rash actions when tempted, such as their appearance on Qo'nos and the murder of the Klingon High Council members after the Undine assault was repelled. Add to that the data recovered on Indara IV that mentions this star system, the fact that the people here assisted in the revolt, and that there were observational records found within the data, and a highly disturbing possibility arises. Did the Iconians destroy this star system in order to obtain vengeance for the revolt against them? And if so, how far are they prepared to go in order to insure the success of their conquest of the Alpha quadrant?
The stars in this region of the galaxy suggests that this star is far older than it's nearest neighbors. The presence of anti-gravitons raises the possibility that gravity in this system was disrupted on a massive scale resulting in the system's planets flying off into space. Without the sun, all life on these planets with the possible exception of aquatic life down by thermal vents, would perish.
Astrometrics has also discerned that subspace weapons were used sometime in the distant past. While this explains why the inhabitants of this system could not evacuate, it does not explain the severe gravitational disturbance that we have found. Warp travel into and out of the system is still possible, but very difficult. Our arrival in the system was abrupt, but we suffered only minor damage. The damage to subspace has lessened over time, but the road is a very rough one. I have assigned survey teams to chart the extent of this damage and to recommend ideal routes into and out of the system.
I have also directed astrogation to search for and to chart the current locations of the systems planetary bodies. I have been informed by my investigators that the planets may offer the best starting points for our ongoing investigations. Despite the devastation here, I cannot help, but to feel that the Iconians know that we are here. I will follow up when I know more.
We have found the homeworld we sought. It is a desolate place now, a dead world moving silently between the stars. The bodies of the dead are everywhere. If ever there were a place where ghosts walk, it is there amongst the corpses of this world. We still do not know the method used to loose the hold of gravity upon the orbits of those worlds, but the effect of doing so was devastating to the indigenous people. They were an avian race who built their buildings so that it required individual flight to ascend or descend the upper levels of their structures. There are no stairs or elevators, but rather large landing areas where groups of them could arrive or depart. The halls and rooms were built to allow one to stretch their wings comfortably. It must have been something to see.
Now their world is silent and frozen. A graveyard to a dead race. We have been searching for libraries, records, and computers, but it appears that much of that material has succumbed to the passage of time. We have yet to even encounter the name of the people that lived here. Thus far they are only known as species 9731, but it seems a disservice to them to assign such a cold and clinical designation. Aside from the deformation of many individuals, there are readings indicating that there was a substantial degree of tetryon radiation similar to the readings that were found by the Voth scientist, Nelen Exil, on the Solanae Dyson Sphere. He believes that the tetryon radiation found both here and on the other planetary bodies of that solar system indicate that the Spheres were linked and used as a weapon to disrupt the gravity of the star. The power required to achieve such and end must have been incredible, but as ever, questions remain.
Did the Iconians build the Solanae and Jenolan spheres to destroy that solar system? Were they aware of the backlash and necessary evacuation into subspace or was that an unintended consequence? We may never know the answers to those and other questions, but based on what we already know of the Iconians and their tendencies, I would not put it past them to treat a servitor race as expendable in the pursuit of vengeance. In fact, I believe that I am just now starting to understand why Obisek's people call them demons. To deliberately destroy every man, woman, and child of an entire species deserves the title of demon.
Looking at the ruin that the Iconians brought to species 9731, I cannot help, but to be angry at the annihilation of an entire race. Looking at the corpses of children clutched tight to their mother's body and the stark expressions of terror on other corpses indicate a horrifying vengeance. What kind of mentality does it take to commit such an atrocity? The Iconians are a race that does not know compassion or mercy, that much is clear to me now. Given the cold hearted finality of their destruction, even the word genocide does not convey the malice behind such an act of slaughter.
I have forwarded the raw reports and videos of my science teams to Starfleet and Section 31, and requested archeological teams and xenobiological researchers to examine the homeworld of species 9731. Additionally, teams from both the RomulanRepublic and the Klingon Empire will be responding making this a joint investigation. Science Officer Nelen Exil has also requested that this data also be sent to his people as well, and I concur. The Voth need to understand what it is that they are trying to obtain and the danger that it represents. Perhaps their ardor to acquire one or both of the spheres will be cooled if they understand the existential threat that such an acquisition represents.
Regardless, the Iconians are evil. Once you admit that, then you accept the responsibility of combating that evil. In fact, we have been fighting them for a long time now because we have been fighting their proxies. In ancient Greece, the Athenians and the Spartans wore themselves out in the Peloponnesian War. That made King Philip II of Macedon's job of conquest a much easier task. Will the Iconians find the Federation as Philip found Sparta and Athens? A troubling question to be sure.
While it is true that our war with the Klingon Empire has ended, the Undine are proving to be a formidable foe and their fury is far from spent. Additionally, the Borg are still in possession of Vega and fighting the Federation to break out. Worse, there is the unmistakable feeling that these cat's paws are being used to weaken both us and them for the end game. While we have thus far been foiled from learning more about the previous rebellion, there is still time, but it is certain that the clock is running out.
I mentioned before that I believed that the Iconians knew that we had discovered their handiwork. I still cannot help, but to feel as if I am being watched. Even while I toured the carnage on the avian homeworld, I felt as if hostile eyes were locked on my every move. I suppose that the scenes of devastation and horror I witnessed would be enough to give me the creeps, but there is a feeling that it is much more than that, and I have learned to trust my feelings. Therefore, I have ordered that all teams remain on yellow alert and be armed. Crews don't work well under those conditions for very long, but I will not be caught off guard by the Iconians again, like I was on Qo'nos.
I will update the log again when I know more or have been assigned a new mission.
I have been underground for a while now. Long enough that I have lost track of time. Has it been two days? Three? More? Frankly, I don't know. What I do know is that I am surrounded by blackness. It is a dark so powerful that a spark would seem as daylight. I decided to continue my personal log unencrypted so that in the event that I die down here, someone will know who I was and why I was here. I don't know why, but it seems important that somebody will know the name that belongs to my bleached bones should they ever be found.
I suppose that the best place to start this tale is at the beginning: My name is Wulfric Richter, and I am the Captain of the U.S.S. Perseus of the United Federation of Planets. We are at war. It was never declared against either us or our enemy, but we are at war never the less. Our adversaries are the Iconians. The Remans call them the demons of night and air, and judging by what I have seen of one of the females of their species, I think that the title is probably well earned. The Iconians had induced the Undine to launch an attack against the Federation and the Klingon Empire, and I was in command of one of the starships that helped to repel that assault.
When the fight ended, there were significant losses on both sides. To our credit, we destroyed a planet killer belonging to the Undine before it could be used against Qo'noS. In the aftermath, the Klingons sought to honor both the fallen and the victors of that brief, but vicious encounter. They invited everyone who had given aid to their homeworld to a gathering with the Klingon High Council. Where before we had been enemies, now we had a chance for peace at long last. During the event, the Iconian female I mentioned earlier suddenly appeared out of a portal that materialized on the Council dais. When the Klingon High Council moved to seize her, she killed all of them save for the Chancellor. She then warned us not to attract her people's attention again, and departed as mysteriously as she had arrived. Her visit galvanized the races of the Alpha quadrant and we are now actively on a war footing with the Iconian people and their servants.
The records of the Iconian's defeat and withdrawal resulting from a galaxy wide rebellion in our distant past are lost to us now, but we knew that we needed information about them and their ability to wage war. Some things we surmised from captured data recovered from subspace, other things we learned from their first contact with us at the victory celebration on the Klingon homeworld, but despite what we had learned it was clear that we didn't know nearly enough. And so every intelligence organization of the Alpha quadrant set to work to find the information that we desperately needed to engage our common foe.
While searching for every scrap of information on our new enemy, Starfleet Intelligence received word about an abandoned Elachi base that was located on Tamarask Prime. They believed that the base had been abandoned long before the fall of the Romulan Star Empire and there was the possibility that there may be intelligence to be had there. My orders were to investigate the base and to seize anything that may provide information about the Elachi, the Iconians, or their other servant races.
We arrived in the Tamarask system and made a full scan of the system. We found the base, but nothing else. There were no power signatures and no life signs other than native fauna. Transport inhibitors prevented beaming directly into the base, so we targeted an area just outside of the main entrance. I beamed down with Science Officer Tamika Davis, Tactical Officer Yuko Kamura, and Engineers Andrew Isom, and Hilde Lund. Upon beam down, we performed scans and found that no one had been at the base for decades, possibly longer. The base was sealed and that boded well for us given that no one had entered the base since it's garrison had departed.
We explored the entry and the immediate area and found nothing of interest, so we penetrated further into the base. As we continued deeper into the installation, Science Officer Davis reported strange signals on her tricorder. Instead of a solid, steady signal, she received a power signal that was intermittent. I asked if it were possible that the signal could be a result of faulty circuitry and she stated that it was a possibility.
As we rounded the back hallway of the facility, we discovered why the signal was strange. There was a shimmering as a cloaking field went down and we found ourselves face to face with an Elachi security squad. It was a trap! I saw Kamura's hand move quickly to her phaser, but before she could draw it the Elachi opened fire. Isom and Davis died right then and there. Kamura, Lund, and I backed off quickly and we returned fire killing three Elachi.
With no cover and in a bad tactical situation, I called for grenades. We had to break the Elachi's momentum and that was the only option that I had. We first threw photon grenades and then followed that up with incendiary. The photon grenades disoriented our foes and the incendiary focused the Elachi's attention on their own burning clothing and flesh. While we had broken the Elachi initiative, we didn't have time to appreciate our changing odds.
There was a sharp tremor and the floor beneath my feet began cracking. I ordered Lund and Kamura to run back the direction that we had come, but it was too late. The floor opened on a pitch black maw and we, and the Elachi fell into the darkness. I only fell for a couple of seconds, but that was enough to cause injury. I broke at least two of my ribs and my left collar bone, Kamura died as a result of injuries sustained in the fall, and Lund...she was just gone. It was as if she had just vanished in the fall. I couldn't find my phaser and I had used all of my grenades. Worse, I couldn't see the Elachi, but I was certain that the fight wasn't finished if any of them had survived the fall.
I drew my combat knife and I began to take stock of my surroundings. There were some Elachi dead nearby, but nothing else of interest among the floor fragments and broken supports. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I spotted my adversaries. Two Elachi, one badly injured and one apparently uninjured who was aiding the injured one. As I was creeping toward them, the uninjured Elachi suddenly let out a scream. At least, it seemed a scream to me. A form attacked him in the darkness and drug him kicking and screaming from the site of the fall. His screams died as soon as he was fully engulfed in the darkness leaving the cavern in a stunned silence. All I saw was a swift moving shadow amongst the shadows. It was large and it was powerful and deadly. Definitely a predator and used to living underground judging by the ease with which it took the Elachi.
The wounded Elachi then sat up and quickly rummaged through his kit until he had found a silver ball about the size of a grapefruit. He twisted it and it flashed once, and then he threw it. Thinking it was a grenade, I got close to the ground, but the device didn't blow. Instead it flew under it's own power and proceeded in the direction in which the Elachi had been taken. I didn't know what that thing was, but I doubted that it was anything good and I didn't want to be around if it came back. I crept up behind the survivor and I slit his throat. Wounded or not, he was a hostile and I treated him as such.
I heard weapons fire from the direction that the silver ball had gone and that was immediately followed by an animal like howl of pain. The sphere had found it's prey and that meant that I didn't have much time. I went through the Elachi's kit and I didn't find anything that I could use. I took my hand light and surveyed my surroundings. I was in a wide area, approximately forty feet below where I had been previously standing. Remnants of the floor surrounded me and that was when I discovered what had happened to Lund. She had been crushed by fragments of the floor as evidenced by bloody strands of her hair that was coming from under a rather large section of floor. A bad way to go for a good officer.
I began looking for a way up when I spotted the silver ball returning. If I were going to live I had to leave and quickly. I surreptitiously moved toward the darkness and came to a sort of shelf. Using my light, I looked below and spotted water about sixty feet down. I snapped off my light and bent over preparing to jump. As I crouched down an energy bolt passed right through where my head had been. My enemy had found me. I jumped and preyed that the either the water would be deep enough for me to survive or that the end would be quick.
A long fall into a body of water with a broken clavicle and two broken ribs is not fun, but I survived. I hit the water hard and the jolt caused agony in my side and in my left collar area. I reached up and checked my collar area to see if my fracture had become open, but I was lucky. It was still closed. God only knows how I managed to keep my knife and my light, but I did. Swimming was difficult and I managed to tread water with one good arm.
Looking up I did not see my adversary, but I knew two things. The first is that it was still up there and trying to figure out the best way to kill me. The second thing was that there are predators down here and I am on the menu. If I wanted to live, I would have to be damned careful. Using my light, I again surveyed my surroundings. I could see no land down here, but on the bright side I wouldn't be thirsty. I then used the light to see what was below the surface of the water. I spied an opening about 15 feet down. During my days at StarfleetAcademy, I had been a scuba diver in the local waters. Diving a wreck is dangerous and diving a cave is worse, but it was either that or keep afloat and hope that I don't get killed by that silver ball or by drowning secondary to fatigue. I made the decision to dive.
I took many deep breaths and held the last one before I went under. I can't tell you how far I swam or how long I was under water, but it felt like an eternity. I could feel panic grip me as my lungs screamed for air. Just when I thought that I was going to drown, I saw it, an opening just ahead! I kicked to reach the surface and my chest was on fire when my head finally broke the surface. Air! Each breath was bittersweet as pain coursed through my chest with every breath. This time when I looked around, I found dry land. I swam to the shore, and never was I happier to lay face down on bare earth.
I was exhausted, but I was alive. I was also shivering. I needed to dry off and rest before I moved on. I don't know how long I slept, but I awoke sore and hungry. My combat rations were sealed in a water tight package for which I was deeply grateful. As hungry as I was, I needed to ration it in order to maximize my chances of survival. I took a few bites and re-sealed the meal in it's packaging. Time to take an inventory of my equipment.
I had a combat knife, three days supply of rations that needed to be extended for as long as possible, plenty of water, one individual first aid kit with sealed bandage, a broken compass with luminous dial, a damaged tricorder, and my mind. Apparently the case seals on the tricorder were damaged and some water entered the casing and caused a short. I can no longer tell time with it and the display has a double image. Otherwise, it still functions. I used the tricorder to scan my location and I learned two things, first the water was safe to drink and second, there were several paths out of this area. I chose the path that led upward. I have slept twice since then, but sleep is difficult when you have predators on your mind. Initially, I slept only as a last resort. But now I believe that to have been a mistake.
Under such circumstances, you sleep deeper and would therefore be more vulnerable to a predator. I have decided to take frequent naps rather than a longer sleep period. Because of this my sense of time is now severely distorted. I tried to establish some system of marking the passage of time, but the damage to my tricorder is worse than I had initially surmised. There are holes in it's database where data has been lost and I am not certain that it is fully accurate in it's scans. I may have to try to open it up and see if there is some way to restore functionality.
But right now, I need to get moving. I have decided to take some time while I am resting and eating to make log entries as I am able, so entries will therefore be erratic and infrequent. If something happens that I think is important, I will take the time to record the details.
Captain's supplemental log, First Officer Elisa Flores reporting. Our investigation of Tamarask Prime has been a disaster. Admiral Richter beamed down to the surface with a support team on orders from Starfleet Intelligence. His mission was to investigate a supposedly abandoned Elachi base and recover any intelligence that he discovered there. Seventeen minutes and twenty-six seconds into the investigation, we detected several new lifesigns and weapons fire in the base. Before we could initiate communication with the away team, five Elachi cruisers warped into the system. Navigation reported that they were on an intercept course and in attack formation.
I brought the ship to red alert and ordered the helm to break orbit in order to give us room to maneuver. Science Officer T'Vrell reported that she detected several explosions in the base and that she wasn't reading lifesigns anymore. She then raised the possibility that we had lost both the Captain and the away team. While I admit that the possibility exists, Admiral Richter has survived worse odds.
Given the situation regarding the closing Elachi ships and the fact that we could not be certain as to our away team's fate, I decided to withdraw and to return with a task force to repel the Elachi as we search for our missing personnel. I ordered the helm to lay in a course for Starbase 127, which is the nearest Federation outpost. As we entered warp, we were hit with fire from the Elachi formation. We suffered damage to our field displacement manifold, but were still able to achieve warp despite the damage.
Chief Engineer Zarva reports that the damage is limiting our ability to maintain a stable warp field at speeds above warp two. However, in order to effect repairs she will have to take our warp engine off line. I suspect that the Elachi intended to disable our engines with the goal of either capturing or destroying the Perseus. Therefore, I do not intend to sit dead in space and wait for them to try again while we effect repairs to the manifold. Unfortunately that means that if there are survivors on Tamarask Prime, it will be eight days at a minimum before we can return and try to locate them.
I can only surmise that we were set up. Somewhere along the line, false intelligence was fed to us in order to draw us to the Tamarask system, but to what end? With the Elachi in control of the system, I can only hope that they can hold out that long as the enemy seems intent on their neutralization.
Flores, out.
(Personal log of CMDR E. Flores)
I can't describe how bad it feels to leave people behind in hostile territory. Are they alive? Are they injured? Have they been captured? I honestly don't know. They are more than just crewmates and my Captain, they are my friends. Hell, Wulf and I used to tutor Davis in Xenolinguistics at the Academy and the next day she would return the favor and help us with our quantum mathematics. From the Academy to the Undine invasion, we have all served together aboard one vessel or another. Richter has always believed that those of us who were with him from our orientation cruise were a good luck charm against failure.
All of our careers were catapulted after Vega, and we rode along on Richter's coattails as he advanced. He fought tooth and nail to keep us together, bless his soul. Every time that Starfleet tried to separate us by reassigning one crewman or another, Wulf would go to the Admiral and quash it. He would tell Admiral Quinn, "How can I be expected to give the results that you have been getting, if you remove the reason for my achievements? I know my team and I trust them. We have been to the mat together and we have served and bled together. Don't break up my team up now, sir." I can't help, but to smile when I recall the passion on his face and the sincerity in his voice. Once he had finished his appeal, the Admiral would give in and the reassignment would be disapproved for the good of the fleet, and then we would go on to our next amazing achievement. In our time after the Academy, our crew has become one of the best and most successful in Starfleet, and it is very difficult to argue with success.
There is a pride that comes with accomplishment, each victory drives you forward harder and faster. You can't rest on your laurels or you will falter. If anything, that has been the impetus to test our limits and has kept us driving forward and seeking the next challenge. I always knew that Richter was special, and not just because we are friends. That man doesn't fail. Frankly, I don't even think that he even knows the meaning of the word.
I will never forget standing behind him on the bridge during the Klingon ambush and watching him take the Captain's chair for the first time. It just seemed...right. I don't know if I believe in being born for command or not, but if there is such a thing, then Richter was born for the job. There is just something about him that inspires you and makes you want to join him. I guess that's the definition of leadership in a nutshell. A man like that doesn't go down easy. It's Kamura, Davis, Lund, and Isom I'm worried about.
Kamura's favorite color is yellow, Lund is sweet on Isom, and Isom loves to fish...I have known them all for years. That is the hardest part of command, losing people that you know as friends and have served with you for a long time. Truthfully, this crew is closer to me than my own family. It is heartbreaking to have to tell a family that they will never see a crewman again. How do you assuage their grief? What can you say or do that will lessen the pain of that loss? Captain Richter and I made many death notifications for our lost comrades after Vega. Each one was more painful than the last for he and I. Great, now I am getting maudlin. Enough of this. Damn you, Richter! You keep our friends safe, and get your ass back to work!
I'm off to sick bay and then to bed. Doc has the butcher's bill for an EPS relay that blew in engineering when we took fire departing Tamarask. Eight days... eight days and then we are going to see how the Elachi like being on the receiving end. They have payback coming and I intend to see that they get it in spades.
My situation has gone from bad to worse. My breathing has become labored and I am coughing up blood. I also have a fever and severe headaches. There is heavy mold in these caverns. Each time I wake up from one of my cat naps, I find my equipment beginning to be covered with mold spots. So it is possible that I am developing a mold infection in my lungs. I tried to run a scan with my tricorder, but it has deteriorated since my last log entry and the scan won't complete. I suspect that it is something of a cascade failure in the circuitry. At the current rate of failure, I don't think that it will function for much longer. I may be able to rig it to overload the battery pack, causing it to explode. The explosion would not be large, but it might be large enough to scare off the predators that are down here.
I have also ran into two more carnivores while trying to find a path to the surface. The first one I caught in the beam of my hand light. I got the peculiar feeling that I was being watched, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I began looking around and spotted something lurking off to my left. It was dusky with many hues of brown on it's body. It didn't have fur, but was covered in scales. The mouth had rows and rows of sharp teeth and there appeared to be compound eyes on it's head, similar to Earth's housefly, but recessed into the skull. As far as it's size and shape, it was about the size of a large dog and similar in appearance. My light apparently startled it, and the creature darted off into the darkness with incredible speed.
The second instance is the more peculiar. The hairs on the back on my neck stood up again, and I got the feeling that I wasn't alone. Recalling my earlier encounter with the other predator, I began looking for what was with me. But I couldn't see anything. I checked the floor of the cavern, the ceiling, and all around me, but I didn't see what was causing my sense of ill ease. That is when I started to pay closer attention to my senses, I picked up a couple of rocks and began tossing them in the direction that my feelings of unease were concentrated in thinking that I could startle the beast into movement so that I could detect it. The third rock I threw struck something. The rock's flight stopped suddenly in mid-air, and I heard a thud. My adversary was invisible! I have heard of predators that could shift phases like the blink dogs of Cetus VI, and apparently I have discovered such an animal here. It scrambled off after the rock strike, and I heard it tearing through the caverns.
As exciting as the xenozoological find is, it also means that my danger is worse than I knew. In addition to predators, I now have to contend with carnivores that cannot be detected with the eye. I still haven't forgotten my silver friend, either. Although I have not seen it since disappearing under the waters at our first encounter, I get the feeling that it has not given up the chase. Frankly, I have been something of a magnet for enemies who are out for my blood, and I have no reason to believe that that has changed.
Worse, I think that I am going deeper into the planet rather than toward the surface. I have heard nothing from either the Perseus or my First Officer since falling into these caverns. I was hoping that deep scans of the planet could potentially reveal my location, but that assumes that the Elachi left the Perseus unmolested, and that I would be able to eventually extricate myself from the mineral interference in Tamarask Prime's crust. Therefore, I don't know if my ship and crew are safe.
My First is a damned good officer, and I know that she won't take any unnecessary risks, even to rescue me. We met each other at StarfleetAcademy and became fast friends there. If you saw one of us, the other usually wasn't too far behind. Had Flores' proficiency scores been a bit better, she would have beaten me out for the Captain's number one on our orientation cruise. She's a hell of a woman, and Starfleet through and through. I am lucky to have her on my team.
I trust Flores with my life and with the lives of my crew, but still I worry. You always hear that it is the not knowing that is the worst in a situation like mine, but that is something that I really didn't have a true appreciation for until now. That I would put my parents and friends in a similar situation if I die down here bothers me the most. But there may be no solution to this puzzle. It is a possibility that has been running through my mind of late. Will I become one of Starfleet's question marks in a future episode of "Whatever happened to...?" If I die, will anybody ever find my body and log? Or will I remain down here forever, undiscovered in a lonely grave on a world far away from my own? My deteriorating health, the presence of predators, and being lost underground makes that a distinct possibility. But in truth, I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm just a country boy from Texas with a German name. My dad was German and my Mom was American. Mom wanted to name me Theodore after her father, but that was one of the few arguments that Dad had managed to win, and I was branded Wulfric. That caused me no end of trouble in school, but I eventually got used to it. I used to go out on the ranch at night and look up into the night sky and dream. My fondest wish was to walk amongst the stars, and when I was accepted into StarfleetAcademy, that was the happiest day of my life. Ever since I was a kid, I used to dream of having adventures in the heavens and meeting the diverse peoples that dwelt there. I wanted to find new planets in the distant reaches of space, and discover new civilizations. StarfleetAcademy was just the first step toward achieving that dream.
I didn't get to be the explorer that I wanted to be, but I accomplished some of it, and that is a rare thing to do in it's own right. I have walked amongst the stars and discovered a new civilization. But the fighting of wars and defense of the Federation has been my charge amongst the stars. My career as a Starfleet officer has been a thing nearly without precedent. I was handed my first command during my orientation cruise as a cadet when I received a battlefield promotion to the rank of lieutenant, and my rise through the ranks has been meteoric from there. My last promotion was to the rank of Vice Admiral, and I am not even thirty years old. That's something to be proud of. So if I do end up dying down here, I have no regrets. It has been one hell of a ride, and if that ain't a fact, God's a possum.
But I will be damned if I am giving up now. I will fight to survive until I draw my last breath. If death takes me, the lazy bastard will have to work for it. So if you do find my carcass in this God forsaken cave system, know that I never gave up. This will be my final log as I am pulling the data disc out of the tricorder and will try to convert it to a makeshift proximity mine. I hope that whoever finds this log has the love of exploration in their heart as I once did. If instead, you are like me and you are lost and looking for the way out, I hope that you find it and that you once again see the ones that you care about.
We have arrived at Starbase 127 and have begun repairs on our warp engine. I have met with Commodore Eric Dalton and requested the assignment of a battle group to fend off the Elachi presence in the Tamarask system while we attempt to recover our away team. The Commodore was sympathetic to our desire to return quickly, but he had conferred with Starfleet Command and was ordered to wait until a joint task force could be cobbled together with the Romulans and Klingons. The purpose of the joint task force was described to me as political rather than oriented toward the mission objectives.
When I asked if Admiral Quinn was aware that Admiral Richter is among the missing, I was told that he was, but that the determination that there were no life signs after the detected explosions on Tamarask Prime gave little hope for his survival. I attempted further argument with the Commodore, but he cut off my continued resistance to the stand down orders and dismissed me. As the Commodore had given me no other option, I left his office and returned to the Perseus to begin my vigil.
Personal log of CMDR E. Flores
Stardate: 4102.27.6
I can't believe what I was told. Starfleet Command has ordered me to stand down until a joint task force can be put together to drive off the Elachi before we search for Wulf and the rest of our away team. Commodore Dalton added that the orders came from Admiral Quinn himself, and that Quinn was aware that Wulf was missing. I don't give a damn whether there were signs of life or not after the explosions on Tamarask Prime, we have survived worse circumstances and come out on top. I am a soldier, not some stinking politician. Politics should never come before the rescue of Starfleet personnel. If I ever defer to politics instead of working to solve the problem, I know that it will be time for me to leave Starfleet.
T'Vrell noted that I was visibly upset when I returned to the Perseus. When I explained what had happened in Commodore Dalton's office, she became contemplative. I asked her what she was thinking, and she told me that the problem of being at cross purposes with Starfleet were problematic, but not completely beyond resolution. Unsure of her meaning, I asked her to clarify. She said that Admiral Richter had made friends with the RomulanRepublic's leader, D'Tan, and with Ambassador Worf. She added that each could insure an appropriate and timely response by their governments provided they were made aware of Admiral Richter's predicament. Vulcans may not lie, but they certainly are crafty.
For the first time since we encountered the Elachi in the Tamarask system, I smiled. I ordered her to set up a joint comms link with both of them immediately, and I headed to the bridge. Shortly thereafter, T'Vrell informed me that the Ambassador and D'Tan were ready to speak with me in the ready room. As I sat at the Captain's desk, I activated the comms and the images of D'Tan and Ambassador Worf appeared. I welcomed them and apologized for the urgency with which they were summoned, but I also stated that the matter was indeed urgent. I explained our mission in the Tamarask system and informed them that Admiral Richter was missing. Ambassador Worf spoke first, "If the Admiral is missing, then why are you not working to rescue him instead of speaking to me?" I then explained the politics of the situation and the Ambassador took it a good deal less gracefully than I did. He then said "Richter is an honorable man. You will have your ships if I have to send them myself. They will meet you at Starbase 127 as soon as possible." And then the Ambassador abruptly signed off.
Then D'Tan spoke, "We also received intelligence that placed Commander Jarok and her ship, the Lleiset, in danger. Fortunately, both she and her crew survived the trap. I will not allow Admiral Richter to suffer such an end after all that he has done for the Romulan people. Romulan ships will be dispatched immediately to join you, and the Klingons at Starbase 127. If the Admiral yet survives, we will see to it that he is rescued. Thank you for alerting me, Commander Flores." And with that, D'Tan logged out. It's nice to have friends in high places.
Now all I have to do is to wait for my own storm to emerge for going behind Starfleet's back. That one will hit very soon, I think. They can punish me if the mood strikes them, but Wulf would do the same for any of us, so let the chips fall where they may. I just pray that we are in time to make a difference.
The Romulans and the Klingons have joined us at Starbase 127, and all necessary repairs have been successfully accomplished. In two hours, the Romulans will depart, and we will follow them one hour later. The Romulans have developed experimental cloaking technology that was initially designed to avoid Voth detection. The intent is to allow the Romulans to infiltrate the Tamarask system and gather intelligence on the Elachi forces located there. The Klingon and Federation task forces will arrive in Tamarask one hour later, with the Klingon forces cloaked. While the Romulans shared their advances in cloaking technology with their Klingon allies, there was not enough time to alter their ships. It is my hope that the Klingons can avoid detection by having their warp arrivals accounted for by our uncloaked Federation ships.
The hope is that the Elachi will be blinded to our allies and will attack the Federation task force directly. When they engage us, the Klingons will drop their cloaks and open fire. The Romulans will transmit an encrypted intelligence burst to us and will move into a flanking position to attack. Should they be detected, they are to withdraw and await the arrival of the main force. We hope to engage and destroy or drive off all Elachi forces quickly, and then search for our missing away team. In order to insure that the Elachi do not initiate a counter attack, the Klingon fleet will move out to intercept positions around Tamarask Prime, while Federation and Romulan forces will take up defensive positions in low orbit, and beam down ground teams as necessary.
Ambassador Worf is commanding the Klingon forces aboard the I.K.S. Mogh, and the Romulan forces are being led by Commander Jarok aboard her ship, the R.R.W. Lleiset. Each seems to be a fine choice by their governments. The plan is sound and all forces are eager to take the fight to the Elachi.
I am concerned about being able to detect our missing personnel on the surface of Tamarask Prime. After reviewing the raw data repeatedly, T'Vrell advises that there may have been interference with our sensors, but she is uncertain about how that happened. I have tasked her to solve that problem before we reach the Tamarask system.
Flores, out
Personal log of CMDR E. Flores
I have a few pounds less ass today than I had yesterday, but I am still in command of the Perseus. At least I will get to finish the mission, but the Commodore was not a happy camper. A letter of reprimand is a small price to pay for going behind Starfleet's back with the Romulans and Klingons. I just hope that it wasn't all for nothing. To my surprise, Ambassador Worf came to Starbase 127 to personally insure that Starfleet got in the game. I suspect that probably had something to do with the Commodore's irritation, but as a subordinate I will likely never know. Say what you will about Klingons, but they do not suffer fools gladly.
Another surprise was the apparent regard that the Ambassador held for Wulf. Knowing the kind of man that Richter is, and that he and the Ambassador had been forced to rely on one another during the Iconian gateway disaster on New Romulus, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised at all. Ambassador Worf was once a Starfleet officer, after all.
There remains only one possible wrinkle in our plan to find Admiral Richter and our away team, and that is because T'Vrell believes that there was some kind of interference in our scans of Tamarask Prime. She has gone over the raw data time and again, and she says that it suggests that we were not getting all of the data. I told her to find a solution to the problem before we arrive in the Tamarask system. True to form, she just raised one of her eyebrows and said "indeed." If there is anyone who can find the answer to that problem, it will be her.
Had you told me when I was just a first year cadet at Starfleet Academy that we would one day be allies with the Klingons and Romulans, I would have laughed. But now we are launching a search and rescue mission with them to fight an advanced enemy in unexplored space. Truth is stranger than fiction. In prepping for this mission I have been researching the Elachi, and I don't like what I have found out. They have helped kidnap entire Romulan colonies, taught the Tal Shiar how to program their captives, and if that isn't bad enough they have done far more horrific things on the orders of their masters, the Iconians.
I have never hated a species before, but I can honestly say that I hate the Iconians and their servants. The species of the galaxy have evil in abundance all on their own, but the Iconians are an evil of a much higher magnitude. In short, they don't care about sentient life other than how it can be used to serve their purposes. We are nothing to them. If ever there were a race that deserved genocide, it is they. They have set the Undine upon the races of the Alpha quadrant, they have experimented on those races in order to determine physical and mental weakness, they likely were behind the destruction of Romulus and the massive loss of life there, and I am certain that they have done much worse than that. If you expect to survive, you cannot allow such an enemy to live.
I once thought the Borg was the worst threat that any sentient could face, but I suspect that even they are the pawns of the Iconians. Each race is nothing more than a chess piece to be used by them. Disparate pieces in a galactic game of tri-d chess. The real question is are they merely toying with us or are they unable to face us? Our mission to Tamarask Prime was to hopefully provide an answer to that question, but we were ambushed. That we were suckered into such a trap is galling, but it also means that Starfleet Intelligence may be penetrated at worst or merely manipulated at best. Neither possibility is pleasant. As much as I dislike Section 31, we may have stumbled on the main reason for it's creation.
How many enemies can Starfleet face and expect to survive? We have fought the Klingons, the Borg, the Voth, the Gorn and Ferasan, and the Tholians across the galaxy. How long can our strength last? How long can any society endure the strain of combat? Even the Spartans were weakened in their war with Athens and made vulnerable to Phillip II of Macedonia who had an army trained and waiting. Sooner or later, we will need to rest and recover our strength. I have a feeling that when we get to that point, we will finally engage the Iconians directly. But that is the future, and we still have an Admiral and away team to rescue. One hour and thirty two minutes until go time. I had better make the rounds on the Perseus, and make certain that all is in readiness.
We arrived at the Tamarask system thirteen days after we lost contact with our away team. The Romulan upgrades to their cloaking technology may work against the Voth, but the new system failed against the Elachi. They managed to remain hidden for a several minutes, but then the Elachi detected their presence and attacked. Commander Jarok lostnearly one third of her fleet before she could escape. While she did inflict casualties on the Elachi in system, the damage was negligible given the number of ships arrayed against her.
The Elachi had significantly reinforced their position in system and strengthened their hold on Tamarask Prime. We were fortunate that the Klingon fleet avoided detection upon our arrival in system, but we did not have the element of surprise for long. As the Elachi closed on our position, they detected the cloaked Klingon fleet and began to reposition. I ordered all forces to attack. As we hit the enemy, Commander Jarok's fleet warped back into system and closed on their flanks.
We were fortunate to have caught them before they could solidify their defensive strategy and dispositions. The fighting was sharp, but we carried the field, and forced the Elachi to withdraw with half of their forces destroyed. We scored heavy damage to one of their dreadnaughts and varying degrees of damage to the rest of their fleet. The Klingons lost four ships and the Romulans lost another two. Federation loses were light in comparison as we only lost the assault cruisers Sumter and Anzio. Unfortunately, the medical ship U.S.S. Salk suffered heavy damage to her engines, life support, and hull. So much so that she had to be evacuated. This has overloaded the U.S.S. Walter Reed with the combined fleet's wounded.
Secondary to our losses in battle, I have requested that the Romulans support the Klingon fleet at their intercept positions around Tamarask Prime, and Commander Jarok agreed to the change of plans. If I had reserves I would have called them into service to fill that role, but that was not an option. Losses aboard the Perseus have been nineteen dead and thirty-seven wounded. Damage control teams are repairing our forward shields and rear weapons, as well has hull breaches on decks seven and eight. All in all we have paid a high price for one away team, but you don't leave people behind.
Commander T'Vrell's solution regarding solving the problem of interference with our sensors was an ingenious one. We used the science vessel U.S.S. Newton as our central hub and linked a Romulan and Klingon ship to her, and then re-scanned the planet. T'Vrell advised that each race's scanning capability was essentially equivalent, but that each technology had greater strengths than the others. She believed that by using these differences, she could write an algorithm to overcome the interference. She succeeded and while the signal was weak, it was still able to give us the information we needed about the planet. The Elachi used this naturally occurring interference to hide their base from casual scans. In short, if you weren't looking for it you wouldn't find it. Initially, we believed that this was the result of Iconian technology, and not a natural occurrence.
While we were scanning, we detected a massive underground cave system extending for hundreds of miles in every direction beneath the base. Vast caverns, underground lakes and rivers, and hundreds of miles of tunnels. A maze, in short. It was while scanning this massive geological structure that we detected an explosion deep under ground. T'Vrell advised that the explosion's energy was consistent with the energy that would be released should the power cell of a tricorder be overloaded. We had found our away team.
I placed T'Vrell in command and proceeded to the transporter room. Beaming down into that underground chamber was a chilling experience. There were several animal carcasses on the floor that were apparently killed in the tricorder blast. We began to look around the cavern and we spotted a body on the floor in a tattered Starfleet uniform. The body of one of the native predators was laying across it. As we reached the grisly tableau, I realized that it was the Admiral. He was bleeding heavily, and had several large gashes across his face and chest, as well as being covered in a black slime. Medical scans also indicated fractures and internal bleeding, but he was still alive, if only barely.
I contacted the Perseus and declared a medical emergency. I had Admiral Richter beamed directly to sickbay for emergency treatment. That was when I was informed that the remains of the remaining members of the away team had been discovered by the search and rescue teams sent into the base. We recovered our dead and transported them to the ship's morgue. While we recovered our away team, Admiral Richter has been critically injured and he may not survive.
I returned to the ship and advised our allies of our findings. Both Ambassador Worf and Commander Jarok expressed their sympathy for our losses and hope that the Admiral will recover both as representatives of their government, and personally. In preparing to depart, we scanned the debris of the Elachi ships and recovered everything that had intelligence value. I thanked both the Klingons and the RomulanRepublic for their aid, and we departed with the U.S.S. Salk in tow.
I have forwarded my reports to Starfleet Command for review and am now headed down to sickbay to check on our wounded.
Flores, out.
Personal Log of Elisa Flores
Beaming down into that cavern was a nightmare. First those animals torn apart by the tricorder explosion, and then finding Wulf like that. Apparently, Wulf set his tricorder to overload the power supply in order take out the attacking fauna. It worked, but not completely. When I came to the scene of the battle between Richter and the beast, both were covered with wounds. Hell, Wulf still had his combat knife gripped in his right hand. I nearly didn't recognize him with all of that black slime caked on his face and body. Medical scans said that he was still alive, but only just barely. I called for an emergency transport to sickbay and rolled that creature off of him. That was when the other shoe dropped.
The remains of the rest of the away team were found by the SAR teams that we sent into the base. Of my friends that beamed down to Tamarask Prime, only one survived. But Richter's survival is not assured, according to the CMO. The infection is extensive and aggressive. The Doc advises that his chances are 50/50 at best. What if I had gotten here at day eight instead of later, would that have made a difference? What more could I have done? Questions that every commander asks himself at one time or another, but I never thought that I would be the one asking them.
Ships lost, crewmen dead and injured, an Admiral that may not live to tell the tale, what was it all for? Why did the Elachi lure us here to kill us? Something tells me that there is a great deal more to this than meets the eye. But Wulf didn't flinch when he was all alone down in that hell hole. Doctor Bradley gave me a recording chip that Richter had on him. It was intended as his final log. He explained that he had been caught in an ambush and how our friends had died. But he never gave up. He fought to the very end against desperate odds. To use his words, that Texas country boy with a German name did the extraordinary down there. He didn't fold. How can I do less?
I have authorized the Admiral's transfer to the U.S.S. Walter Reed. While the sickbay on the Perseus is state of the art, the Reed is better staffed and equipped. I have temporarily reassigned our CMO, Doctor Althea Brooks, to the Walter Reed in order to supervise the care of the Admiral. I believe that his chances for survival will be greater there than onboard the Perseus.
All that there is left to do now is pray for his recovery, lick our wounds, and grieve.
I feel like hell. Doc tells me it's a miracle that I survived. Lungs transplanted, left eye gone, broken ribs and clavicle, spleen replaced, and a systemic mold infection to beat the band. I'm healing, but it is a slow, drawn out process. The ship's counselor has been in several times to see me as well. Frankly, if I hear that I have to keep a positive outlook one more time, I'm going to puke.
I'm told that Drake, from Section 31, sent over a set of genetically compatible lungs for me with a drug that knocked down my raging infection. According to the CMO, it saved my life. I don't even bother asking questions anymore, I'm just thankful that I am useful to them because it gives them an interest in my health. But it's more than that. I find myself believing in their mission. There are indeed some threats that require an all or nothing black ops approach, and the Iconians are such a threat.
Tamarask Prime wasn't an intel gathering op as we had expected, it was an assassination attempt on my life and it damned near succeeded. Commander Jarok was also targeted and escaped, but there are many members of the RomulanRepublic, Klingon Empire, and Starfleet, who were not so fortunate. Looking at intel reports from the various intelligence agencies and from Section 31, it is obvious that the Iconians are eliminating the best of the best of the Alpha quadrant races. One can only conclude that the time for open war is drawing closer.
While the races of the Alpha quadrant are now united, we have been weakened by fighting amongst ourselves, the war with the Undine and Borg, and by a serious lack of intelligence on our Iconian foes. Given the recent revelations with the Undine, it is no wonder they are pursuing us. It is also highly unlikely that we will be able to convince them that we are not their enemy given their extreme aggression and rage. Every attempt to resolve our issues has been met with death. They aren't interested in hearing what we have to say, how do you open dialogue with a people like that?
So we are either going to have to kill a significant number of their population or destroy something critical to them, or both. Perhaps then they will come to the bargaining table, but not before. Any race that declares that the weak shall perish is not going to negotiate with anybody it thinks is weak. Despite halting their invasion, destroying their forces wherever we find them, and even visiting fluidic space to destroy the Iconian gateway and Borg, they still think that we are third class life forms. We need to get their attention and make them worry. It's either that, or destroy them as a species. The Iconians are much the same.
Long have we studied the Dyson spheres built by the Solanae at the direction of the Iconians, and we still don't understand them. Renewed searches on both spheres have not turned up any new intelligence regarding our newest foe. Apparently, the Iconians scrubbed the galaxy before retreating wherever they went. The Reman's speak of the demons of night and air, but they speak of little else. The fragments of what they know must be painful to them, because they won't even give the name 'Iconian' voice. Honestly, I doubt that Obisek could provide any more details because I doubt that there are any more to give. But what could have happened that would have affected a people like that? What did the Iconians do to the Remans that the memory lives on long past the unremembered deed? They don't remember the Iconians specifically, as much as they remember the terror and it is that which was transmitted through the generations. If anything, the terror and the name of the Iconians in that context have become synonyms for each other.
It would take a hell of a lot to unite a galaxy in hatred, but that is what the Iconians did and it cost them dearly. The united races wanted only to exterminate every last Iconian man, woman, and child. They destroyed their homeworld and frankly, they may even have hated them so much, that it might have actually been the victors that eradicated all evidence of them so that they could be erased from the collective memory of future generations. It would be as if their Iconian tormentors had never even existed. But if that is true, then why leave the gateways? Many questions, few answers.
What is also obvious is that the Iconians are as unreasonable as the Undine, if not more so. What does it say about a people who had to retreat to the limit in order to survive because of the hatred that they inspired? Despite their self imposed isolation, they never examined why they died or why they were forced into exile. They never searched introspectively to examine their own arrogance or even felt a hint of pity for the suffering that they were responsible for inflicting. No, they just nursed a grudge for thousands of years. That is an intense hatred and one that may mean that they will ultimately have to be annihilated as a race. Coming from a Starfleet Admiral, that is a hell of a thing.
I am sworn to uphold the Prime Directive, even if it costs me my life. Our highest values despises the extreme of genocide. In the Academy, we were told over and over again that diplomacy can always find a way. But what if it cannot? What if by relying on diplomacy, we doom the Federation? Had I been told about the Iconians when I was at the Academy, I would never have even considered extermination as a military option. But what I have seen since the conclusion of my training forces me to reconsider that position, despite my personal distaste for it. I believe that is the very reason for the creation of Section 31.
Starfleet is about the nobility of men and the spirit of exploration. We send our best and brightest out into the galaxy to be a beacon of hope for other civilizations. We stand for what is right and true. You cannot contaminate that with the mission of Section 31. The threats that they are called upon to confront represent the worst case scenarios. The exception to the rules that Starfleet just cannot be expected to deal with and remain true to it's calling.
Rather than to tamper with that mission, we have Section 31. A special breed of people who recognize the great value of the Starfleet mission, but who are the bastards capable of dealing with such problems so that Starfleet can maintain the moral high ground. Like it or not, I guess that I am one of those bastards now. I still fervently believe in Starfleet and our mission. I still believe in diplomacy. But if the survival of the Federation depends on the elimination of a threat and there is no other option, I am fully prepared to do what must be done because the Federation must survive. I can't even imagine the galaxy without that example. Does that mean that I have to sell my soul to the Devil in some arcane, Faustian bargain to prevent it's destruction? Not if I can help it.
Regardless, I intend to find out who is behind these assassins and end them. I have obtained authorization from Admiral Quinn to contact the Klingons and the Romulans for their support in this operation. What I didn't tell him was that I was going to bring Section 31 into this as well. I have a feeling that it is going to take a concerted effort to accomplish that objective. It's my baby, and I will be responsible for it. But first, I have to heal.
The CMO says that it will be weeks before he can implant my new eye or regenerate my scars. He advises that the any new tissue introduced or generated at this point will have the potential for harboring the mold infection similar to a reservoir. Given the aggressive nature of my infection, even my ground equipment had to be destroyed. Apparently, that mold was pretty rough stuff. The good news is that the counts drop every morning, but they drop slow. So I am confined to sickbay until the count is clear and the Doc is certain that I won't relapse. Not happy about that, but nothing I can do.
As a final note, I am damned proud of Flores and my crew. They never forgot me and they risked their lives to come and get me. I would put them all in for commendations, but Flores beat me to the punch. She's turned out to be one hell of an XO. When she wants it, I will make certain that she gets command of a Vesta. I still remember her fawning over that ship as we rode a shuttle to Captain Taggert's vessel. It's hard to believe that it was only a little over a year ago that she and I were just lowly cadets together. Seems a lifetime away though. A meteoric rise through the ranks, but that was driven by choices that were already made for me. I was a Starfleet officer, what else could I do?
Richter, out.
Computer, encryption level Alpha six. Access for Richter only. All following entries in personal log, same command. No overrides.
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