[Begin Personal Log — Commander Adeola Johnson]

You know the silence I’m talking about. The kind that comes before everything changes.
That’s what filled DS4 just after 0300 this morning—one of those long, impossible silences that makes even the deck plating feel uncertain beneath your boots.

A harmonic ripple from the subspace rupture zone lit up half the station’s sensors. Whatever’s left of the Underspace is still shaking the bones of this frontier. Civilians on Changxi IV panicked. Communication stuttered. And just like that, the silence became something worse—the signal stopped.

That’s when the call came in.
Orbital defenses around Changxi IV are down. Something has degraded the surface transport fields. A Vaadwaur strike wing is inbound. Reinforcements are hours—maybe days—out.
We’re it.

I gave the go-ahead to finalize our load-out, even if I’m still not comfortable with the decision. We pulled the passenger pod off and slotted in a Sentry Pod starboard to complement the Tactical Pod. Combined, they give us stronger field coverage, faster micro-torpedo targeting, and a lot more bite than the Seoul’s had since the Dominion War.

It’s not the choice I wanted to make; it feels like a bitter pill to swallow.

My request included an increase in torpedoes across the board: 180 photons, 75 microtorpedoes, and 12 EMPs. Phaser coil reserves too. DS4 approved the lot under emergency fleet readiness. T’Vaal called it “a logical preemptive action.” I call it what it is: we are arming for a battle we might not win.

My entire career I have dedicated to security; I understand the implications of prioritizing personnel and weaponry over spacious living quarters, especially concerning the use of compact, modular phasers. It means we’re preparing for failure. It means we’re expecting casualties.

And if I’m being honest… it makes me nervous.

The crew’s locked in. R’Kala’s already running overlapping targeting simulations. Espinoza’s rerouted helm control to auxiliary just in case we take a systems hit. Patel’s coordinating phaser coolant cycling with Engineering. They’re moving like they’ve seen this before—and some of them have.

But this feels bigger. Stranger. The sky isn’t just dark—it’s broken.

We depart in fifteen minutes. No ceremony. No flag waving. Just another ship heading out to hold the line while there’s still a line left to hold.

We’re not going into a fight. Not officially.
We’re going into a rescue… fully armed, fully loaded, and half-prepared to die trying.

[End Log]