Crash Calestorm

10.26.15 Mission Brief: Sept 27, 2261 (Stardate 2261.240) TBS has been 20 Minutes. Per orders from the FTR Admiralty, we have altered course from the Outer Rim border to patrol along the Klingon-Romulan-Federaton borders. ComCreekChat15-10-26.txt

The following log takes place 24 Hours prior to our 10.19.15 Sim… Planet Goram Outer Sector Grid 16 Former Flight Operations Warehouse The Jesters had operated out of the ruins of the Starfleet ground base for years until Starfleet swooped in and took back Goram. He’d lost a lucrative smuggling contract once the client got wind of Starfleet, equipment had been confiscated and several of his goons had been arrested. He was a little ticked off you might say. Yondu Aldanta, pirate leader of the Lunatic Jesters, hid in the shadows on the upper catwalk. The Fleeters had been nosing around the outer sector warehouse for the last couple of days and he intended some payback. He stroked a sniper rifle as if it were a lover, his calloused hands caressing the weapon in a very obscene manner; it was a heavily modified Klingon Tepes1-class, almost unrecognizable from the original configuration. The rifle was loaded with a round of pure Black Pearl, encased in a quick lapse tranquilizer dart. In addition to the Pearl, the tranquilizer concoction was further laced with Necro and Nox, two highly potent narcotics also popular with the black market and the combination would prove to be one Hell of a time on a high. Yondu allowed a big smile to split his blue skinned and weather beaten features. He had waited and sure enough, several targets presented themselves. = = = = “This is it?” Calestorm’s tone was not impressed. In fact it was disgusted. “Commander, have you taken leave of your senses?” The tall and lean woman turned with her field jacket rustling slightly as she shifted position to look directly at JoNs. Unimpressed captain was unimpressed. Commander Kansas JoNs of the USS Washingtons Crossing favored the older Human women with a rare grin; unlike her blood cousin, the upright - or was that uptight? - by the book Caitian was not one for humor. “No, I have not, Sir. This warehouse structure was the original location of the landing port. With the proper conversion, I feel as if it would make an excellent secondary base for Goram with the possible expansion including Special Operations training and command base.” Said cousin, Lieutenant Jumper Honor-Scar of Calestorm’s own command, the USS Comanche Creek, picked up the conversation from there. “My flight squad recorded the structure on one of the initial aero recon sweeps and earmarked it for Commander JoNs’ long term project investigation teams, Captain.” Cale turned to Staff Sergeant Vega of the ‘Creek MARDET as he too considered the options. The senior NCO gave the structure a critical eye. The junior Jarhead he’d brought with him to qualify for field time management had recently been promoted to the rank of Corporal and the man had so far done what he was supposed to do – shut the hell up and observe. Vega shrugged eloquently in reply. “It’s as good a place as any for a forward training facility and contact waypoint, Ma’am.” Crash waved the team forward in response. JoNs gave the Security guard on point guard duty a nod and the shore party entered the warehouse through the open double slider doors. = = = = Aldanta took a breath, released it and squeezed the trigger. = = = = The dart didn’t strike the intended target, which had been the felinoid wearing the modified Starfleet uniform of the SEAL team attached to the Border Patrols First Threat Response Program. The toxic ballistic had nailed the senior FTR officer on site square in the neck as she crossed in front of the firing; it had only taken a second. Calestrom jerked from the impact and went down with a gurgle of vomit spray from the force of the toxins entering her bloodstream. Yondu muttered “Dammit!” under his breath and quickly prepped for another shot = = = = He didn’t need to take a second shot to cause any more trouble for the Fleeters. The pirate had heard rumors and fact regarding the side effects of the drugs crammed into the dart, mainly that they could bring the violent, animalistic side out in certain cases. He’d wanted to hit one of the Caits just ‘cause they were felinoid and much closer to their forebears then the Humans – in his opinion. But, this? He’d not expected this. This was the jackpot! With a scream she bolted up from her crumpled position, throwing off Honor-Scar and Vega who had gone to help the fallen officer. Skin bubbled as if hundreds of worms were just under the surface. Arms and legs grew elongated, ankles and lower legs snapping into an inverted position like those of an animal. Fingers grew as nails turned razor sharp. She gained at least four inches to her height. Fur the color of gray-silver sprung out, blending into and matching Calestorm’s hair color. Facial muscles contorted and grew, ears grew. With a leering and toothy smile, Aldanta used the satisfying confusion and terror to make himself scarce. = = = = JoNs dove behind the storage crates, scrambling for purchase as she hit the flooring next to her cousin and across from the Humans who had taken cover across the aisle. A burst of weapons fire followed by a scream and thud indicated that the Security guard had been subdued. As the senior officer present after Calestorm, uh, did whatever she had just done, the Cait was already running mentally running through their options. “Sergeant Vega, we require a sound tactical plan.” “Commander, with due respect I’m a Marine not Van Helsing dammit!” Corporal Carl ‘Leroy’ Jenkins chose that moment to comment. “Van Helsing? Wasn’t he supposed to be a vampire hunter? The Cap’n looks way more like a wolf or something. Aren’t they extinct on Ear--” “Shut the frag up Carl!” Vega risked a quick look over the crates and then turned his attention back to the Commander, “--we can’t hurt her. There’s got to be some way to take her down with a minimum of bloodshed.” Vega was cut off from whatever he was about to say as an empty cargo barrel went sailing over their hiding area followed by a mighty howl. Everyone ducked down further. Honor-Scar shifted position slightly to look around her cousin at the Human Male. With ears flattened, her lowered tone came out sarcastic. “Hurt her, Staff?” The older of the two female Caits hissed and gave a quick chop of her right paw through the air. The vocalization and gesture wasn’t meant to be derisive, it was just the Commanders way. As the senior command officer present, JoNs took over the shore party immediately with no hesitation. “Honor-Scar, comm the Comanche Creek and get a Medical team on site as soon as possible, we’ll likely need them…,” her purred voice trailed off and she winced as another roar reverberated through the abandoned warehouse. She exchanged a quick look with her cousin who gave a wordless nod of either confirmation or approval. JoNs continued speaking. “There’s no way we can take her in the open, not if she’s hunting.” The NCO spoke quickly and concisely, years of training and skirmish experience bolstering his instincts; he sensed an unspoken plan of action and inquired of the two Caitian officers. “Okay, what are you two Sirs thinking? We’re certainly not going to rush her.” JoNs shook her head in the negative. “At least not technically, but we do need to bait her. She’s hunting and half out of her mind with rage. All of us rushing her will do no good and if we leave the warehouse and go out in the open she’ll just pick us off. And I’m not beaming out without her. Here’s what we’re going to do…” = = = = “Leeeeeeroy Jenkins!” The Corporal rushed at the transformed Calestorm, a makeshift riot shield from discarded warehouse materials held in front of him. Vega followed, tense and ready for combat. Crash caught the riot shield and flung it and Jenkins through the air; twisting, the newly promoted enlisted man got the shield under him as a deflection sled for the rough landing. The “bait” had worked and she now focused her animal rage on Vega and howled. A hail of heavy stun phaser fire lambasted the Captain in several dozen pinpricks of blue as JoNs and Honor-Scar fired as quickly as they could. She stumbled to one knee and Vega chose that moment to attack; he rushed forward and with a well-place roundhouse born of plain old fear connected squarely with the wolf-things snout. Calestorm yelped like a dog and staggered backward, going down with a thud under the hail of stun and the belt from Vega. She laid still, her chest rising and falling rapidly in indication that she was still alive. An uneasy silence descended on the warehouse that had almost been the scene of unimaginable carnage. JoNs emerged from cover, phasers still drawn as she closed in on where Crash had fallen. Vega held position as backup…just in case. The Commander knelt to tentatively take a manual neck pulse with a paw. Honor-Scar went in the direction where soft moans were now coming from, likely the fallen Security guard. Both of the felinoid officer’s tails were completely puffed out, just like freaked out housecats. The Sarge really couldn’t blame them, however. As Vega and the JoNs watched in disbelief, the older woman reverted to her Human form among the rags that had once been a Starfleet uniform. Honor-Scar broke from the group to place a second communication to ‘Creek, claiming no fatalities but urging the medical team to hurry. The quiet was only broken only by a lone voice that called out from behind a jumble of crates where he had landed. “Are all deployments this…Furry?” Corporal Jenkins was just fine, thank you very much. “Shut the frag up Carl!” Vega barked out. Happy Halloween, Folks! =)

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 10.19.15 Mission Brief: Sept 27, 2261 (Stardate 2261.240) TBS has been 1 Week. We are beginning preparations to launch out from the planet Goram, leaving final base reestablishment preparations to the remaining First Threat Response Teams in orbit. = = End Brief = =

Hi Folks: Due to there being three attendees, the (10.12.15) Sim was cancelled. Moving forward, our 10.19.15 Mission Brief TBS is 1 week and we are beginning preparations to launch out from the planet Goram, leaving final base reestablishment preparations to the remaining First Threat Response Teams in orbit. Thanks! - Crash

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 10.12.15 Mission Brief: Sept 20, 2261 (Stardate 2261.233) TBS has been 24 Hours. Cargo Bay 3 has apparently been converted into a hockey rink. = = End Brief = =

Hi Folks: Due to there being three attendees, the Sim was cancelled. Moving forward, our 10.19.15 Mission Brief TBS is 1 week and we are beginning preparations to launch out from the planet Goram, leaving final base reestablishment preparations to the remaining First Threat Response Teams in orbit. Thanks! - Crash

10.05.15 Mission Brief: [/b]Sept 19, 2261 (Stardate 2261.232) TBS has been 2 Hours. We pick up where we left off with the 09.28.15 Sim. ComCreekChat2015-10-5.txt

Fair celestial winds and flowing stars to the USS Reaent on her 20th Anniversary and final journey!

10.05.15 Sept 19, 2261 (Stardate 2261.232) Mission Brief: TBS has been 2 Hours. We pick up where we left off with the 09.28.15 Sim. Mission Summary: Calestorm speaks with Byblos regarding the altercation with Wesley; TAral accompanies her. Shalin and Schultz track internal power fluctuations; Cargo Bay 3 is now a hockey rink. Time Between Sims is 24 Hours.

Chat Log - 09.28.15 ComCreekChat15-9-28.txt

09.14.15 Mission Brief: Sept 16, 2261 (Stardate 2261.229) TBS has been 4 Days. Operations continue to proceed with the refurbishing of the planetary base and outlying way stations on the planet of Goram.

09.14.15 Sept 16, 2261 (Stardate 2261.229 Mission Brief: TBS has been 4 Days. Operations continue to proceed with the refurbishing of the planetary base and outlying way stations on the planet of Goram. Mission Summary: The CMO counsels one of the fight participants. The CENG with assistance from a Security officer deals with a uncooperative computer system. Time Between Sims is 72 Hours

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 09.21.15 Mission Brief: Sept 19, 2261 (Stardate 2261.232) TBS has been 72 Hours. With 10 days left of our assignment at Goram, the crew begins to transition repair projects and patrol assignments over to the Reluctant and Washington’s Crossing crews. Internal matters are dealt with on board the Comanche Creek. = = End Brief = =

Crash Calestorm -> ::enters TurboLift:: Marine firing range! ::barks out the order:: - 08.31.15 Chat The following log takes place immediately after our 08.31.15 Sim… Captain Ashton Calestorm made short work of every target that popped up on the stationary course section of the firing range. One headshot, two head shots. All her frustration was being channeled into blowing away the inanimate objects; a dummy head disappeared in a spray of synthetic ooze. She assumed the MARDET was giving her space considering the course had emptied out quickly as soon as she had started going to town on the hapless targets. Rumors, facts and untruths traveled the same speed on a Starfleet ship and that was much faster than you’d imagine. Therefore, the Executive Officer and resident Mission Specialist regressing to the level of five year olds were the top priority – and topic – right now. Hell, word had already leaked back to Coyote! That really ticked her off. The Admiral had commed her personally regarding the matter. Really?! Calestorm had been Hell on Wheels - or maybe a more appropriate description was Hell on Wings? - during her piloting days, this was true, so perhaps this fight snafu was karma coming back to bite her in the ass. Crash understood that ships had always had an active gossip line, from the wet Navy of years past to the first interstellar launch of the Enterprise NX-01. Talk among crew was a natural reaction during missions in space that lasted for months at a time. This Rust Belt Mission was no exception and her people needed to let off steam by talking about this and that, who was hooking up with who in a relationship since ‘Creek employed a relaxed policy in that area. Or who had beaten who senseless during a brawl… In some ways, the ‘Creek was a throwback to the NX-01 Enterprise. Not that Cale would ever compare herself to one of the first true explorer captains of the pre-Federation era, Jonathan Archer. But from what she could gather from the historical texts and recordings, there had been a relaxed relationship policy among his crew as well. And while doing some research on their current mission she’d also stumbled across a log recording by the former line captain regarding Lieutenant Reed, his Security Chief and Major Hayes, the MARDET commander, getting into a full on brawl. She felt a little better that she’d not been the first Captain to have two senior members get into a ruckus with one another. The point was that tempers could flare on long missions as a hazard of the profession. Another similarity with the NX-01 was that the ‘Creek would be on their own for long durations; the arrival of the Reluctant and Washington’s Crossing to assist with the planetary base refurbishments would help, but for the most part she and her crew had been on her own as per usual with the inspections of abandoned listening posts and bases scattered across the Federation Border The rumors about this particular cluster frell had to be waylaid and she needed to deal with Wesley and Byblos; she just didn’t trust herself right now. If those two hadn’t beaten each other senseless…she scored three direct hits on one target head – again, maybe a little overkill there – and was reloading her cell clip when a cleared throat undercut by purring caught her attention. She turned to the direction of the sound and just off the edge of the firing range stood Lieutenant Honor-Scar, Comanche Creeks Commander of the Aero Wing. The golden furred Caitian wore her usual flight suit as well as protective eyewear and ear plugs on her overly sensitive ears. “Yes, what is it El Tee? Everything okay with the flight rotations? Are those newbies that the EX Oh cleared for status doing okay?” Honor-Scar waved a paw in respectful dismissal of the question. “Aye Sir, the rotation is fine. But I’d like to know why I’ve not seen your name lately. You’re usually off this ship faster than a slippery mercenary at an illegal flight hop.” As a former mercenary herself, the young cat had a way with words, yep. “You came all the way to Marine Country to ask why I’ve not been out and about lately?” An ear flipped back. “I represent the joint venture of Honor-Scar and Vega, Captain Trackers at Law.” Cale shot an accusatory glance around the area for said Vega, the MARDET's Staff Sergeant, but of course he was nowhere to be seen; smart man. She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Vega had been worried when she blew a gasket upon finding out what had happened between Wesley and Byblos. They’d been out in the field and it had been just her and the Staff and one unconscious pirate. The Security and Marine teams that had arrived to assist them had been too busy securing the scene to notice. It’s really hard to worry a Marine - and Security, and Medical - but Crash seemed to excel at these talents thank you very much. The silence that settled was companionable, and the captain did a quick spot check on her weapon. When it was obvious the older woman wasn’t going to answer the initial question of her flight plans, Jumper spoke up again with her purring lilt. “Sir, I’ve noticed you get this, ah, predatory vibe when you get really angry. Maybe some flight time would relax you.” Crash gazed at her CAG. To be called predatory by a predatory species – even though the Caits were of course felinoid and somewhat removed from their ancient forebears – she did find that amusing. She smiled. “So…I get all predatory?” “Yes, Captain. Staff Sergeant Vega described it that you get kind of Earth wolf-ish looking.” Her smile went crooked. “Did he infer I’m a werewolf?” “Wait, what? What’s a werewolf?” Calestorm sighed, “Never mind, Honor-Scar,” then then gave another smile for the felinioid’s benefit. “I’ll sign up for the next patrol I’m available for, ‘kay?”

Everyone is having kids in the novels? Great Bird of the Galaxy, I'm obviously not missing out on much with the current Next Gen/VOY/DS9-era novels. And I've never had the desire to play Star Trek: Online; for superior science fiction gaming I'm all about Mass Effect.

08.17.15 Sept 11, 2261 (Stardate 2261.224) Mission Brief: Time between Sims is 4 Hours. The Jester Posse pirates harass our ground crews. Mission Summary: Doctor TAral performs surgery, attempting to patch up CDR Wesley and Mission Specialist Byblos who got into a little argument with one another. CPT Calestorm remains on the surface of Goram. Private Cammie (Tifa NPC), LT Shalin and Morale Officer Tchana assist where needed. Time Between Sims is 24 Hours.

Note: the 08.24.15 Sim is cancelled; the Mission Brief is postponed to the 08.31.15 Sim. = = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 08.24.15 Mission Brief: Sept 12, 2261 (Stardate 2261.225) Time between Sims is 24 Hours. Sporadic activity from the Jester Posse remains ongoing though indications are they are pulling out of the system. The first wave of our Border Patrol FTR (First Threat Response) sister support ships have arrived - the USS Washingtons Crossing (SFSOCOM Liaison) and the USS Reluctant (Bison-Class Cargo) to assist with Goram Base operations. See Org Chart attachment. = = End Brief = = FTR_Org_Chart_V1.6.pdf

(This is for when, you know, she's coherent again...) To: Audraya Wesley, Commander From: Ashton Calestorm, Captain Re: Altercation Mister Wesley: Due to the unfortunate altercation you participated in on Stardate 2261.224, your orders are as follows: 1.) You are to remain in the care and treatment of Doctor TAral until she sees fit to release you from the Medical Bay. 2.) Upon your release, you will be assigned a Marine escort for the duration of one (1) week. The escort will be on duty through your shift and meals taken in public places such as the mess hall. 3.) Your escort will go off duty when you enter quarters; you are not to leave quarters except for your shift, any subsequent training activities, and meals taken in public places such as the mess hall. 4.) You are not permitted to enter the firing range(s) or participate in flight time for a period of one week. 5.) I require you to research and compose a paper comparing two fighting styles of your choice, with your conclusion as to why one fighting style is superior to the other (if applicable). 6.) The requirements for the composition are as follows: - Ten to fifteen pages long - Sources must be cited - Use the spellcheck feature on your content - Three weeks to the day from your medical release date the assignment is to be in my inbox, if not before 7.) Thank you for your understanding and cooperation on these matters. 8.) I suggest you don’t become ornery with me on these matters.

(This is for when, you know, he's conscious again...) To: Byblos, Mission Specialist From: Ashton Calestorm, Captain Re: Altercation Mister Byblos: Due to the unfortunate altercation you participated in on Stardate 2261.224, your orders are as follows: 1.) You are to remain in the care and treatment of Doctor TAral until she sees fit to release you from the Medical Bay. 2.) Upon your release, you will be assigned a Marine escort for the duration of one (1) week. The escort will be on duty through your shift and meals taken in public places such as the mess hall. 3.) Your escort will go off duty when you enter quarters; you are not to leave quarters except for your shift, any subsequent training activities, and meals taken in public places such as the mess hall. 4.) You are not permitted to enter the firing range(s) or the fabrication shop for a period of one week. 5.) I require you to research and compose a paper comparing two fighting styles of your choice, with your conclusion as to why one fighting style is superior to the other (if applicable). 6.) The requirements for the composition are as follows: - Ten to fifteen pages long - Sources must be cited - Use the spellcheck feature on your content - Three weeks to the day from your medical release date the assignment is to be in my inbox, if not before 7.) Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in these matters. 8.) I suggest you don’t become recalcitrant with me on these matters.

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 08.10.15 Mission Brief: (Sept 11, 2261 (Stardate 2261.224) Time between Sims is immediately after our last Sim. On recommendation from the Command Staff, official orders from First Threat Response Command have been sent regarding the planetary base; the facility will be reactivated as a forward observation installation for the Border Patrol; additional FTR support ships are inbound to assist. = = End Brief = = chatlog2015-8-10.txt

To: Dr. TAral, Lieutenant Commander From: Ashton Calestorm, Captain Re: Medical Orders Doctor TAral, As of Stardate 2261.224, you have two energetic miscreants in your services for medical treatment; these persons in question are obviously Mister Wesley and Mister Byblos. My orders pertaining to this situation are as follows: 1.) I ask that you keep them under observation for an additional 48 hours beyond their projected recovery time. 2.) Their beds are to side by side, though privacy separations are permitted. 3.) A rotating shift of two (2) Marine guards and two (2) Security guards will be posted outside the Medical Bay at all times for the duration of treatment, recovery and observation. 4.) They are not to leave Medical before the duration of their stay is over. If you - or your staff - are given any trouble, contact myself directly regardless of the shift time. 5.) Contingent on your medical expertise, I am to be contacted directly by either yourself or the medical officer on staff when your patients are officially released.

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 08.17.15 Mission Brief: Sept 11, 2261 (Stardate 2261.224) Time between Sims is 4 Hours. The Jester Posse pirates harass our ground crews. = = End Brief = =

08.10.15 (Sept 11, 2261 (Stardate 2261.224) Mission Brief: Time between Sims is immediately after last weeks Sim. On recommendation from the Command Staff, official orders from First Threat Response Command have been sent regarding the planetary base; the facility will be reactivated as a forward observation installation for the Border Patrol; additional FTR support ships are inbound to assist. Mission Summary: At the main base, Mission Specialist Byblos and CDR Wesley work out some differences.PVT Cammie (Tifa NPC) and Moral Officer Tchana watch the festivities in contemplation before stunning one of the two combatants. CPT Calestorm and SSGT Vega (Crash NPC) remain in the field with the pirate they surprised at Way Station Alpha (a forward training/observation area a distance from the base); Medical and Security teams are with them. Dr. TAralarrives on site to render further assistance to the prisoner before going back to the Base to handle the downed XO and Byblos. Time Between Sims is 4 Hours.

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 08.03.15 Mission Brief: (Sept 7, 2261 (Stardate 2261.220) The Comanche Creek orbits the planet Goram. ‘Creek teams continue to evaluate the validity of the former Vulcan training base. With the possibility of rogue pirate activity, security remains a concern with proximity to the border. = = End Brief = = ComCreekChat15-8-3.txt

= = USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 = = = = Mission Brief = = 08.10.15 Mission Brief: (Sept 11, 2261 (Stardate 2261.224) Time between Sims is immediately following our last Sim. On recommendation from the Command Staff, official orders from First Threat Response Command have been sent regarding the planetary base; the facility will be reactivated as a forward observation installation for the Border Patrol; additional FTR support ships are inbound to assist. = = End Brief = =