Some sort of temporal anomaly has swept through the Narragansett. The after-effects have been… disconcerting. Details have been difficult to parse together. My memory can’t be trusted to fill-in any blanks, and neither can my logs (or any ship’s record for that matter). Couple that with the frustrations of having to be debriefed ad-nauseam by Temporal Investigations has led to some short tempers. And really, how can I know if the timeline has been altered if I can’t remember any of the details that transpired during our “temporal incursion”?
The engagement at Deep Space 9 was brief, but devastating. I was in Torpedo Room 1 when we came under fire. Things went downhill rapidly. I lost four men in the first attack. Consoles were detonating left and right. We were able to maintain torpedo capability well in to the engagement, however some sort of cascade failure in structural integrity caused a collapse in the section around the torpedo room. Access was cut off, and I was trapped under some rubble. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I came around two of my techs had gotten me unburied and had managed to set my broken leg with the emergency osteogenic stimulator. Once it became obvious that we could not dig our way out, we spent the remainder of our time attempting to establish communications with the bridge. There was a brief, harrowing time when we were trapped with an armed quantum torpedo on the rack, but LTJG Nelson was able to transport it out safely. We briefly lost communications again, but Engineering was able to get a team to cut through the rubble with plasma cutters. As we now sit docked at DS9 and the yard-dogs swarm about the ‘Gansett, I can’t help but ponder my own mortality. Death in the face of the enemy is part of the job. Staring down a live torpedo that could vaporize you and your men, well, that’s not.