"Failed and Failing"

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

"Failed and Failing"

Harper Log 06.08.05

April 3, 2397 and February 23, 2393

USS Agincourt, Vechwa orbit. ch'Fven, Romulan space.

 

I have seen this before, and it nearly killed me. At ch'Fven.

 

You've never heard of it, I suppose. If we'd won, you would have. Some things are like that – victory or silence.

 

ch'Fven was a small world, smaller than most moons, even. It was in a system in the back of nowhere, and had no resources to speak of. All in all, a galacticly boring sand pit. But it housed an important Tal Shiar facility – weapons R&D. Quite a number of nasty surprises had come out of ch'Fven before Starfleet gathered enough solid intel to hit it. And once they did… Most of us barely made it back from that disaster. Some of us never made it back at all. And some returned months later, broken, haunted, all but destroyed at the hands of the Tal Shiar.

 

It was in the last months of the war, right before the fleet gathered for the final push to Romulus. Timing was critical, and personnel had been pulled from every ship and starbase remotely 'nearby' to form the assault team. It was one of the few times during the war that a truly blended team was used; normally joint missions involved multiple teams with different objectives. For ch'Fven, experience and skill had counted for more than wearing the grey or the gold.

 

We were led by Captain i'Varis, a cagey veteran of the Dominion War with a personality like a tidal wave. Although his hair was solidly grey and starting to recede, he was as fit as a man half his age, a point which he demonstrated ably by dumping half the team on their posteriors in combat drills. Daily.

 

I'd been a Lt.Col. for a handful of weeks when I got the orders. I was assigned to the team primarily for my tactical abilities – or as i'Varis put it once, "because when the situation blows sky-high, you spend the least time gaping at the fallout." I was the ranking Marine, but i'Varis's second was a commander with a few more years of experience than I had. Marrington. He was good, no question. Problem was, he had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. In the two weeks of travel from Starbase 117, where the team had assembled, to ch'Fven, "jarhead" was probably the least insulting thing he'd called the Marines. Never in i'Varis's hearing, of course – no one could be that stupid. We all pretty much despised him in return, naturally.

 

My team was supposed to locate a new warhead – tricobalt and a highly unstable compound called maleterium – and disable or destroy it, preferably without taking the whole planet with us. And bless the Tal Shiar paranoia that there was only the one, so far, and the plans only here in the system… Another team would fix that.

 

We went in. At first everything went according to plan – which really ought to have been our first warning, come to think of it – but once we were well into the facility things took a rapid turn for the worse.

 

They must have cracked our comm codes; I can't imagine anyone involved in that operation tipped them off. There was no warning; no footsteps, no alarms, not even a whispered order, but suddenly the hall was filled with bright energy beams. They seemed to come from everywhere at once. We returned fire, though if we hit anyone through that blaze of light I'll never know. Finding cover was well-nigh impossible.

 

I could hear someone talking rapidly, calling in the fifth team, the one assigned to bring down the shielding, for backup. Or warning them off – it was difficult to hear. My ears were filled with the whine of energy fire, until it was hard to tell what was a shot and what was residual ringing.

 

Then a shout from down the corridor drew my attention. Another team was coming towards us from around the corner. They were under fire as well, clearly giving ground before the onslaught. Then Captain i'Varis turned the corner. I tell you, I have never been more relieved to see a man in my life. In truth, he didn't have any more control of the situation than I did, but his presence was reassuring all the same. Certainly it seemed to quell the panic that was starting.

 

Rathburn, one of i'Varis's men, got to work on a door panel. The rest of us continued laying down fire, but we were outnumbered and trapped. The hallway minimized their numbers to some extent, but by the same token turned us into targets in a shooting gallery. There was nowhere to retreat to, and yet we were falling back. The only thing to be grateful for was that accuracy and range had been sacrificed for power in disruptors. Otherwise we'd all have been dead right then.

 

The door lurched partly open and we began retreating through it. I caught a glimpse of the room beyond – a jumble of equipment, an acrid scent of chemical fire – but my attention was on the Romulans. They advanced rapidly, scorning the limited cover, trying to reach us before we were all inside. My shoulder bumped someone behind me; my shot went wild. Then I was through the doors, dropping away, clearing the way for the last people to come through. Beside me I could hear Rathburn's rapid stream of whispered curses; I guess the inner door panel wasn't cooperating.

 

i'Varis was the last one in; no surprise there. He backed through the door, spraying fire. The door began to close almost on top of him, and he put up his phaser rifle lest it catch in the doors. Then Rathburn cursed viciously as the doors jammed, drawing the captain's attention.

 

And in that moment, that one moment of inattention, of carelessness, a disruptor blast came hurtling through the narrow gap. i'Varis reeled back, his uniform smoking and a hole in his gut. Even with a disruptor, that's not immediately fatal – I should know. But it's painful as anything, and puts you down for the count and then some. He dropped to the floor, barely conscious. Certainly not lucid.

 

The door closed.

 

For one moment, I stood frozen. This wasn't supposed to happen… but it had. I gathered myself and starting giving orders. Jam the door, make certain they can't open it the same way we did, find the other ways in and out of here. Marrington, I remembered. I needed a secure line – as secure as we could make it, anyway. How much did the Tal Shiar know? Stupid question. Where were we? Not in the part of the complex I'd committed to memory; I knew this area was labs but not the specifics of its layout. Medical attention for our wounded, get them under cover if we can, down three men, one of them dead, lucky it wasn't worse –

 

Yes, I really do think like that in a crisis. Stop looking at me like that. Multitasking is no bad thing, if it doesn't make you indecisive.

 

Turns out we were in one of the chemical labs. Marrington's team wasn't far away, though on the other side of the lab – we'd come in the 'back' door, so to speak. He'd join us; together we'd find some way to salvage this mess.

 

I took a deep breath and looked around. Shen was tending to the Captain with what limited medical supplies we were carrying – less than the standard field kit; we were supposed to be light and they'd wanted to make room for mission-specific equipment – in this case, that's just a fancy way of saying multiple flavors of explosive devices. Beside them, Ouijjel waited, white-faced and sweating, her arm mangled badly enough that I doubted she'd ever use it again. Rathburn was locking down the door, and everyone else was watching one of the two doors warily.

 

A commotion around the far door turned out to be Marrington; he brought his squad in quickly and we locked the door behind him. They weren't being pursued, at least.

 

I gave him the run-down as quickly as I could. There wasn't much to tell. He nodded, strode off to look at the captain, and the next thing I knew, Marrington was putting goldshirts on both doors. I looked around for Ff'n and Garrad, our best marksmen, but no sooner had I motioned them to places than the commander shook his head at me and waved them back. That startled me, but perhaps he had other plans for them. I starting making my way over to him, carefully avoiding the equipment scattered around the lab. By the time I reached him, he was conversing with a petty officer whose name now escapes me. It looked serious, so unwilling to interrupt I stood a stride away, waiting. When they finished, however, Marrington made to turn away from me. I stopped him, started talking – I forget what exactly I said. I know I asked about Ff'n and Garrad, and I think I started to say something about possible exit routes – but he cut me off.

 

"Colonel," he said, "stay out of our way, shoot what I tell you, when I tell you, and try not to get anyone else killed. We'll finish this mission." Then he walked away, leaving me open-mouthed.

 

When I returned to the quiet huddle near the back door, my squad and one of i'Varis's people gathered around. S'v'ka asked me what Marrington had said, and I suppose I must have been in shock still, because I did something incredibly stupid.

 

I told the truth.

 

They were outraged, of course. No one had liked Marrington to begin with, and they were decidedly un-thrilled with this high-handed response. There was a lot of grumbling, but no one spoke up – then.

 

As it turned out, Marrington's idea of 'finishing' the mission was pretty far from mine. Turns out he was only interested in getting everyone out of the compound. Never mind that we'd never get another shot at the place. Never mind the number of good people we'd already lost to the dirty little toys they developed. Never mind the entire course of the war – not to be dramatic, you understand, but one new weapon can change history. No, he'd decided the only thing left to do was get out with as much of the team intact as possible.

 

I listened in disbelief as the plan unfolded. No diversions, no attempts to destroy things as we went, no taking anything with us. It was as if he'd declared the mission a total loss already. I wasn't willing to accept that. Yes, we were in a bad situation. Yes, we'd lost one man already and two more were wounded badly. We were still twelve hale enough to give the Tal Shiar a little hell, and ten more outside this room, trying to complete their own portions of the mission. Didn't we owe it to them to finish our part?

 

We couldn't do anything right away, thankfully. It would have been suicide to use either of the doors as an egress. Instead we were going to cut through a wall, and in order to do so, we needed to shut-down some of the security protocols. He and one of his people started on that, leaving the rest of us to, essentially, our own devices. Officially, guard duty, but there wasn't enough room to put five people on each door.

 

I was immediately approached by Garrad and S'v'ka, both of whom were disturbed by Marrington's plans. They wanted to know why we were calling off the mission. I had no answers for them. That was tough. They started offering ideas, and I had to tell them to knock it off. Garrad gave me an unreadable look and backed off, but S'v'ka paused a moment, considering, then said, "Don't worry, Colonel. We'll be fine," which struck me as strange because I wasn't yet particularly worried. He walked over to F'fn and started talking in his ear.

 

If I'd been older and wiser, maybe I could have done something about it right there. But then, the only way you get older and wiser is by living through situations like that.

 

It's the 'living' part that's tricky.

 

It was looking at Rathburn that gave me the idea. He was sitting by himself, tucked against a lab table and seeming… lost. Sometimes his gaze strayed to the captain, but mostly he just focused on a spot at his feet. Marrington hadn't said a word about or to i'Varis's squad. There were three of them left, two of his and one of mine – amazing how quickly I fell into that pattern of thought. Ibarra and Hanley looked almost as bad as Rathburn. I felt sorry for them. They were specialists – web monkeys, slicers. They weren't supposed to wind up in the middle of a firefight of this magnitude. Oh, not that I thought they couldn't handle themselves when it came to it, but, well, you develop expectations, you know? And when they prove wrong, the world sort of drops out from under you for a minute, and you have to find your footing again… And computers, by and large, don't shoot at you.

 

That brooding couldn't be good for them, or the rest of us. I decided to put them to work, hopefully killing two birds with one stone – get their minds off it and try to accomplish part of our goal. The lab computers might not have access to all the data we wanted, but hell, that was what we had hackers for, right?

 

They took to the job eagerly, and I left them hunched over a console, data scrolling by faster than I could follow. In the flashes I caught, though, there were definitely some schematics, so perhaps we wouldn't be leaving empty-handed after all.

 

New rule: make certain your systems experts know how to avoid one another.

 

Not two minutes later, Marrington came storming over, demanding to know who else was mucking about in the security systems. I intercepted him before he could round on the trio; it wasn't their fault, after all. My orders.

 

"I thought I made myself clear, Colonel," he said as I tried to steer him away from the others. "We concentrate on extraction only."

 

With my best poker face plastered on, I replied, "Well, sir, as not all of us can contribute to that goal at the moment, I thought we might be able to salvage a portion of the mission objective." He wasn't budging any further. At least we were more-or-less out of earshot –

 

Never mind.

 

"What part of 'nothing else' do you have trouble with, Harper?" he roared. "You'll give away our position and our plans!"

 

At the time, I thought he was the biggest idiot ever spawned. In retrospect, he was probably just as uncertain as I was. More so. Things collapsing like that is bad enough; worse when you're the one who has to pull out the rabbits. Marrington was no i'Varis, and whatever his other faults, he knew it.

 

"They already know our position – we weren't exactly stealthy about getting in here! And they already know what we're here for; they've clearly got information on the whole op. Beyond that, our only so-called 'plan' seems to be 'run for your life.' Not exactly a marvel of strategic planning."

 

All right, I shouldn't have said that. And I probably deserved what I got. At least I had the sense to keep my voice down, not that it wasn't obvious we were arguing.

 

His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. He pinned me with a venomous glare. "I'll remind you who is the superior officer here," he hissed. "Are you questioning my orders?"

 

I wanted very badly to say yes, even though that's one of those questions you usually answer before you’ve even registered them properly. We stared off for a long moment while I argued with myself, but in the end, no matter what I thought of the man personally – or even professionally… Well, you follow orders. And the middle of a mission gone bad is no place to be having philosophical discussions about who's entitled to give those orders. So I surrendered, tossed off a curt acknowledgement, and went to make arrangements for the wounded. We weren't going to leave anyone behind – that much we agreed on. At least… No, it wasn't his fault, what happened later. Wasn't anyone's fault, really.

 

Ouijjel could walk, she insisted, despite the arm. She'd clearly gotten a painkiller, but it must have been one of the ones that don't fog you too badly, because her eyes were clear and glaring up at me. I took her at her word. i'Varis was another matter. I was concerned about how we'd carry him – he wasn't a small man – but Sulek just hauled him into a fireman's carry and stood there looking at me unblinkingly. Vulcans. Well, it wasn't the best way to transport him, but as we didn't have a stretcher, it would simply have to do.

 

At first the halls were clear; we made good progress despite the labyrinthine corridors. Then from the direction of the lab there came a massive explosion, enough to shake the whole complex. Comprehension slammed into me; I turned to look at S'v'ka, who wore an expression of badly-faked surprise. "Are you insane?" I hissed, furious at their duplicity, but was stopped from elaborating further when a hand seized my shoulder and spun me around. I looked into Marrington's rapidly purpling face. The man really could be a fool; my rifle was now pointed right into his gut. I moved it. Reluctantly.

 

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" he demanded.

 

"Commander, I assure you, I didn't –"

 

Just then a cry went up, followed by the distinctive thwap of a dispruptor. Energy hurtled down a side corridor towards us. Someone cursed venomously, and everyone sprang for cover as return fire blazed out. Marrington let go of me and hustled up the hall to position the rest of the team, while S'v'ka and Shen laid down cover fire. Garrad and hurried across the side corridor, keeping low, and found positions to cover S'v'ka and Shen's retreat. Behind me I heard the quick staccato rhythm of the others' push for the exit.

 

Move and fire, move and fire. I know we were hitting them; sometimes there was only one person firing back at us. But before long another group would show up, or two, or three. I had a sudden, fantastic vision of some endless room filled with identical Romulan troops. The numbers in front of me were so thick, I was convinced they were going to turn up behind me as well. I had to keep telling myself that it wasn't my problem just then, that I had to trust Marrington and the others up front. If only I actually trusted Marrington.

 

The fire was heavy, and unavoidable, but the exit was close now. I sent a grenade back at the Romulans and some of the others followed suit, causing an explosion which shook the whole area and brought a scattering of debris down on us. It did stop the disruptor fire for a few moments, though. But the respite was brief.

 

The heat in that corridor was becoming oppressive. The tang of ozone coated my tongue and stuck in my throat, and my breathing was loud in my ears. As though underwater, I heard a cry, turned to look – Sulek had fallen, dead or wounded I couldn't tell. i'Varis lay slumped atop his motionless form.

 

"Keep moving!" Marrington yelled, as still more reinforcements – where the hell did they hide them all? – arrived.

 

Garrad muttered, "Sod that," and ran towards the fallen pair. A bright blast of energy cut her down not two steps away. S'v'ka turned back –

 

"Keep moving." When had my voice gone so cold? Wide-eyed, S'v'ka stared at me, though I could spare him little attention just then. "You heard me, Sergeant."

 

He went. So did I, though it was a lot harder to follow my own orders.

 

Outside the air was cooler, drying the sweat on my brow and making me shiver. It was also thinner, making me labor for a full breath. It was still full of disruptor fire.

 

Despite that, things were getting better. We'd emerged on the test field, a large space behind the complex littered with rocks, targets, and hulking equipment. No longer hemmed in by the hallways, we had greater leeway to pick our positions and our cover. As long as it wasn't landmine-testing day, we'd be all right.

 

Trouble came when Marrington and Hanley were pinned down behind a… a large something. I signaled Mead; he and Shen had a better angle than I did. They concentrated fire on the Romulans, providing an opening for Marrington and Hanley.

 

I'd barely taken my eyes off them, then from the muzzle of a Romulan came three crashing green pulses. Whap. Whap, Whap. And then the sound of pure agony as the energy from the disruptor tore into Hanley. Marrington turned to catch her, slinging her arm over his shoulders. In doing so, though, he presented a beautiful target to the enemy, an opportunity they were not slow to take. A moment later, it was Hanley doing the supporting – but the commander was dead. Unquestionably.

 

Well, there wasn't much left to do. We were almost on top of the shield boundary; either Major Dorset's team had been successful or we were about to be trapped but good. The scattered rocks out there made good cover, but a few minutes of concentrated fire and we'd be in the open.

 

Damned if it doesn't sometimes happen like in the holo-dramas. The shield was down, and we just kept going, hoping the edge of the scatter-field wasn't much further. Then my vision was full of swoops of color and zipping motes of light. When it cleared, I was looking at the clean chrome of a transporter room.

 

The next few minutes are a blur to me. We got off the transporter pad and collapsed right there on the floor. There were med teams scrambling around, a babble of questions and orders. Major Dorset was there at one point, making a report it's a miracle I remembered. At least two other people were talking to me at the same time, asking questions I didn't have answers for, and on the whole the entire experience is one I'd rather not repeat.

 

It took forever to get the entire incident straight. We lost one of the teams entirely, trapped in a bio lab when something exploded. Those of us who got out in one piece – well, mostly. That's when I got the first hole in my shoulder – were debriefed back on 117. I don't know for certain what the goldshirts said. Those Marines I spoke to told me they made the same recommendation I did – no more mixed teams, not without proof that the people could work together.

 

They seemed to take it to heart – as far as I know, that was the last time during the war they tried it. I suspect it was part of the reason they invited me to work on the Prometheus project. Marines on every ship. It's not a bad idea, but it is a delicate one. So far it's worked out, but if it should ever fall apart… The consequences for the entire fleet could be terrible. But to be honest, I'm not really thinking about the fleet these days. I could go the rest of my life without seeing another ch'Fven and be quite content. I've collected enough nightmares as is.

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Wow. I love reading character logs, and always enjoy them all, little mini short stories about Trek.

 

Colonel, this one had me "turning the pages" to see what happend next.

 

Wow.

 

Kansas