"Limits of Intelligence" - Part 1 - NonPlot Log - Commo Sebastian Ascari, SFI

Posted on 241605.18 @ 9:59am by Commodore Sebastian Ascari

Mission: Non-Plot Log
Location: Stellar Reference: XKR-21199-B
Timeline: Current-ish

Log Title: "Limits of Intelligence" - Part 1
Location: Cartography Reference: XKR-21199-B
Setting: Rocky, ice covered moon

*****
A note from the author: This log doesn't have anything to do with previous or future plot logs. This is a 'side plot' for reading enjoyment only involving intrigue with fleet level characters. Hope to make this a regular series of entertaining logs strictly for enjoyment. So with that, enjoy!
*****

His stomach churned as he clung to the gray military shoulder straps tightly pinning his body to a thin metal seat. With a clenched jaw he hoped his teeth would endure the beginning of this unplanned excursion along with the rest of his body such as it was. Before he had any longer to ruminate on his current environs a wave of bone jarring turbulence hit the military transport shuttle throwing him forward painfully into the straps digging into his torso and then back again into the hard metal backing of his seat. His stomach took up residence into his throat as he swallowed attempting to keep a wave of growing nausea from getting the better of him. His head, covered by several layers of insulated protective clothing with that clad in a thick Starfleet issue parka hood, still managed to bob not unlike the silly plastic bobble headed toys that adorned various cockpits; an enduring, if not, anachronistic tradition carried on by many pilots.

His extreme annoyance and discomfort had not gone unnoticed by the marine detachment that had been assigned to accompany him to the surface of a hostile, desolate, moon light years from anything remotely civilized. Another horrendous wave of turbulence violently shook the transport as the engines strained and whined under the onslaught to keep the craft upright. The hull creaked, the engines whined, and several curses flew as the transport descended further toward the surface. While he had never experienced air sickness and never had much of a problem with Zero-G training or low gravity conditions this descent was trying his patience and straining his already hyper stimulated senses. Minutes felt like hours as the noise, sudden altitude drops, g-forces, and jarring, bone-rattling turbulence took its toll on not just him, but the entire crew compliment whether they showed any signs of discomfort or not.

"You should have been there when we flew through that maelstrom back on GX-Proxima 119", the marine next to him shouted over the din of struggling engines and the wind and ice pelting the exterior hull of the descending transport. "Now THERE was some turbulence! Makes this ride look like an amusement park ride for the kiddies. Lieutenant had too many rations that morning for breakfast, we hit that storm, and you have never seen someone turn so many shades of green in such a short period of time. Lieutenant...what was his name Francis? Mitchel...Mattel? "It was Maxwell", another nearby marine shouted. "Maxwell that's the one. Anyway, puked up his insides and then some all over that transport! I've never seen so much liquid come of a person other than blood. Must have been two liters of puke!"

He weakly smiled at the marine as he glanced at the other soldiers surrounding him strapped to their seats against the sides of the shuttle. Most of them looked unfazed by the deafening noise and turbulence furiously assaulting the descending craft. A few marines carried a concerned look in their eyes hinting they too wanted this transport to reach solid ground just as much as he did. He closed his eyes briefly trying to steady both mind and body amid the raging tempest, but they suddenly snapped wide open his pupils narrowing to tiny dots, as the shuttle violently pitched upwards and then fell what seemed like a short eternity before its struggling pilots reestablished stable flight. His jaw mightily ached as he grit his teeth together in a losing battle to retain his composure. Every muscle in his body was strained against the forces of nature hammering the transport with the fury of an all-out Klingon assault. Actually, the Klingons were perhaps more gentle in retrospect that this accursed moon's weather.
The path that had led him to being aboard this transport was an unlikely and unusual tale. Six months earlier scientific probes conducting surveys in the vicinity had detected unusual energy and radiation patterns emanating from what was thought to be an unremarkable planetary system. The probe's automatic intelligence flagged the moon and later returned to conduct detailed scans. What it discovered was transmitted to Starfleet and Federation Science divisions. Within two weeks, two science ships were racing to the moon at maximum speed. Upon arrival detailed scans and away missions were conducted by the science teams. Their findings were sent to Starfleet's highest levels thus beginning the series of events over the past three weeks culminating in his arrival at this moon and how he now found himself in such unfavorable circumstances. The race here at high warp speeds had taken two weeks. Starfleet top brass had ordered him to personally investigate this matter and see firsthand what the science teams had stumbled upon by random chance.

Commodore Sebastian Ascari, the Director of Starfleet Intelligence, continued to clutch at his shoulder straps. Field work wasn't something that was expected being an intelligence director, however when the bulk of Starfleet and Federation top brass said to jump – he jumped despite his lack of enthusiasm for the details of his assignment of which there were precious few.

The moon below him was an inhospitable, hellish sphere of wind, ice, snow, and deadly cold temperatures. Survivability on the surface was measured in minutes without adequate survival equipment, training, and supplies. No sentient being would willingly visit this useless ball of rock and ice and yet here he was despite the unforgiving and inhospitable environment.

Transporter use from orbit had ultimately been judged to be too hazardous to attempt given unusual currents of ionizing radiation in the moon's upper and lower atmosphere. Science teams had yet to determine the source of the radiation fields or even determine its nature which necessitated using shuttles and transports to brave the moon's powerful and unyielding subzero storms. Beyond the atmospheric storms threatening to claw the tritanium directly off the exterior hull lie the reason he had been sent here. He hoped the show was worth the price of admission.

"So then the captain steps out onto the deck just before landing”, the marine next to him continued with his off color story, “and slips on the vomit dripping from everything. The lieutenant, who is greener than an Orion slave girl, crawls over to the captain to apologize and..."

A klaxon suddenly sounded piercing the sound of the roaring winds battering the outer hull. Two rotating red lamps flashed at the rear of the shuttle diverting his attention from the marine's graphic narrative in which he was close to reenacting the lieutenant's fate in so by losing his lunch.
"Approaching the landing zone", the pilot's voice sounded over the loudspeaker. "Standby for touch down. Storm conditions exist over the LZ. Bravo Team, escort the Commodore and get your people inside as quickly as possible. Conditions have deteriorated beyond what was previously forecasted. We'll remain behind and secure the transport.” The pilot's voice cracked off replaced again by the howling external wind.
"Looks like we're nearly there Commodore. Anxious to see what all this hullabaloo is all about. It isn't every day we get sent to protect the director of Starfleet Intelligence and get dragged halfway across Federation space to boot.”

"I don't usually make house calls however I'm grateful you and your team are along for the ride. And keep those stories coming, I need something to help deal with that”, he stated pointing at the bulkhead and what lie beyond it.
"Just another day at the office for us sir. Glad to be of service."

"FIFTEEN SECONDS! OPENING REAR DOORS!”

Ascari turned to look at the rear of the transport as it hit the surface of the moon with a horrific thud his tight restraints biting painfully into his upper arms. The heavy doors at the rear of the shuttle opened flooding the internal cabin with brilliant, white light blinding him for several moments as his eyes struggled to adjust to its harsh intensity. That adjustment period quickly accelerated as a piercing, life draining cold entered the cabin with the fury of an angry lion and the speed of a phaser beam. Temperatures during the day on this moon hovered just above what a human body could endure. At night, without shelter and equipment, survival was impossible Fortunately, the moon's unusual rotation meant that a single day lasted roughly 50 standard hours. That period had just started a few hours prior to give the landing party as much time possible to investigate however the Commodore was resolved to have this locale far, far behind him in 50 hours’ time.

The bitterly cold air relentlessly clawed at the soft tissues of his face and stung the warm inner recesses of his moth and nostrils despite goggles, a heavy parka, gloves, and an electrically powered thermal suit he was wearing designed to counteract the extreme temperatures.

Strong arms suddenly released his tight restraints and pulled him to his feet which were far less stable than he preferred. The journey to the surface had left him shaken, but the intense cold was quickly putting the spring back into a step dulled by a difficult journey. “Let's go Commodore. I don't recommend we remain out here any longer than necessary given the current conditions.”

Ascari nodded shaking off what he could of the ill effects that plagued him and headed toward the sea of unending white that filled the rear of the transport. As he moved down the ramp he stepped down onto a frozen surface and looked out across the horizon. Immediately in front of him was a mammoth mountain range that rose high above him its peaks capped in a permanent cage of ice. Snow, the consistency of sand, pelted his body its gritty texture blasting the small amounts of skin that were exposed to the elements. He found it odd that such a desolate place could harbor a breathable atmosphere however this planet seemed full of surprises.

He turned and craned his neck upwards gazing up at a massive spire of rock and ice that seemed to rise a half mile or more into the heavens. The sunlight hit the surface of the natural structure illuminating it with an ethereal, almost blinding glare, which gave the structure a supernatural quality that it wouldn't otherwise possess. As his eyes traced the surface of the giant spire downwards they stopped upon his destination at the base of the rocky monolith. A giant cave with a dark, open maw for its entrance lie in stark contrast to the brilliant white that dominated the surface.
Without delay, the marines with Ascari in tow, set off for the entrance of the cavern several hundred meters away as a merciless wind greeted the new arrivals with snow, ice, and an unrelenting fury.

== To Be Continued ==

Commodore Sebastian Ascari
Director, Starfleet Intelligence

and

Various NPC Marines



Written, directed, and produced by: Tav