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RAdm S.Coyote

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    New Topeka Colony First Threat Response Offices
  1. To: CPT Audraya Wesley From: RADM Shauna Walking Coyote Re: Sigma 759 - Salvage Operations Captain Wesley: I’ve received your report. Excellent work - as usual - from you and your crew. Salvage operations will move forward; continue to gather what information and equipment that you can. Yes. We may keep it. - Admiral Coyote PS: Captain Calestorm says, and I quote, “ooooOOOOOoooo…sounds like fun!”, unquote.
  2. = = = = Starfleet First Threat Response Command = = = = = = = = Secure Channel November Xray Niner = = = = = = = = Begin Transmission= = = = From: Shauna Walking-Coyote, Rear Admiral, First Threat Response To: Ashton Calestorm, Captain; Audraya Wesley, Captain; Kansas Vacer JoNs, Commander Re: Command Personnel Promotions and Positions The following promotions and positions are effective immediately: Captain Ashton Calestorm is hereby requested and required to relinquish command of USS Comanche Creek to Commander Audraya Wesley, Executive Officer, USS Comanche Creek, and ordered to report to First Threat Response Command Offices, New Topeka as Assistant Commander of Operations (Space) and expected to undertake the duties therein. Commander Audraya Wesley, is hereby promoted to the rank of Captain, and is requested and required to assume command of the USS Comanche Creek as Commanding Officer from Captain Ashton Calestorm and expected to undertake the duties therein. Commander Kansas Vacer JoNs is hereby requested and required to relinquish command of USS Washington’s Crossing, NCC-0689, to Lt. Commander Avira Sh'ariathehr, Executive Officer, USS Washington’s Crossing and ordered to report to the USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 as Executive Officer and expected to undertake the duties therein. = = = = Starfleet First Threat Response Command = = = = = = = = Secure Channel November Xray Niner = = = = = = = = End Transmission = = = =
  3. = = = = Starfleet First Threat Reponse Command = = = = = = = = Secure Channel NX-Niner = = = = = = = = Begin Transmission = = = = From: Shauna Walking-Coyote, Rear Admiral, First Threat Response To: Shan Shalin, Karl Schultz, Byblos, T’Chana Re: Personnel Promotions The following promotions are effective immediately: Chief Engineer Lieutenant Shan Shalin is hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Security Midshipman Karl Schultz is hereby promoted to the rank of Ensign. Mission Specialist Byblos is hereby promoted to the rank of Warrant Officer Second Class. Morale Officer T’Chana is hereby promoted to the rank of Crewman Third Class. = = = = Starfleet First Threat Reponse Command = = = = = = = = Secure Channel NX-Niner = = = = = = = = End Transmission = = = =
  4. The following log takes place just prior to the start of the 08.31.15 Sim… USS Comanche Creek Goram Orbital Sept 12, 2261 (Stardate 2261.225) We're in a dangerous region of space…We face attacks from all sides, enemies everywhere we go. The last thing I need is to hear that two of my senior officers have been admitted to sickbay, because they suddenly regressed to the level of five-year-olds! – Captain Jonathan Archer, Star Trek: Enterprise “Harbinger” (2004) After an extended patrol stint planetside, Captain Ashton Calestorm had finally managed to grab chow, rack time and a shower. She’d just shrugged into her uniform tunic for the upcoming duty shift when the call button sounded on her desk. Grumbling quietly to herself, she finished dressing and then swooped across her quarters to the office area. Jabbing at the access she said in a clear voice, “Calestorm here.” “Sir, I’ve Admiral Coyote on a Priority Three channel from New Topeka.” “Put her through.” Cale settled down in the chair at the desk and awaited the connection to establish. The Native Old-Earth American features of Rear Admiral Shauna Walking-Coyote snapped into focus on the visual feed. She did not frak around with the niceties, but she and Ashton had been friends for a long time and had been well past all that. “What’s this I hear about two of your officers brawling?” A sigh escaped her lips. “Let me guess, the First Threat Response rumors got a warp boost courtesy of the arrival of the Reluctant and the Washington’s Crossing here at Goram?” “That would be correct, Captain.” “Aw, dammit.” Crash couldn’t help it; she leaned forward and rested her forehead on the flat desk surface. “….you’re having a lot of fun, aren’t you?” Her head shot back up. “Oh, yeah, this mission is a regular laugh riot over here, Admiral. Crazy-ass pirates, Black Pearl narcotics, an abandoned planetary base that’s slated to be overhauled.” Her tone was peppered liberally with sarcasm. “And the two rapscallions in question are Mission Specialist Byblos and Executive Officer Wesley.” Yep, the sarcasm was still there with a healthy dose of growled tone. “Were you there when it happened?” Calestorm gave a look that could only be described as a very respectful, Duh, and answered, “Shauna, if I was there, do y’all really think we’d be havin’ this conversation right now?” “…right. Forget I asked.” “The answer is of course, No; as those two were busy with their little ######--,” she cleared her throat and reverted to a better sounding descriptive word, “--erm, boxing match, I was bopping around the countryside on a hover cycle with Staff Sergeant Vega. We’d been in pursuit of a Lunatic Jester gang member; more on that later, one crisis at a time. The report will likely be in your inbox in 24 hours.” “Are you referring to the report on the Jesters, or the report on the brawl?” “The report on the pirate gang activity, Admiral.” Crash paused and then stated matter-of-factly. “I actually have no plans to make a direct report on the fight to you or anyone else within our command.” Coyote’s eyes narrowed. “May I ask why you will not be making a report on this incident between two of your crew, Captain? One of whom is your Executive Officer and the other an established Contractor operative?” The commanding officer of the Comanche Creek chose her next words carefully, pausing for a moment to glance off screen before turning her attention back to her commanding officer. “It’s not worth the effort, Shauna.” The Admiral made a sight motion with her hand as in ‘go on’. “Admiral, let’s say I go and pursue this matter through the proper channels? I could kick Byblos’ ugly tail straight back to the Outer Rim and boot Mister Wesley’s curvaceous rear into another disciplinary stint with the Marines. I’d prefer to handle this off the record and personally.” Shauna remained quiet and listened and Ashton continued her explanation. “According to the witnesses that I talked to, Byblos questioned Audraya’s tactics and leadership. The conversation – if I can call it that – further degenerated into a mutual ‘I’ve had a harder life then you’ and ‘you have no idea the things that I’ve been through’. Crash gave a helpless gesture with one hand, visible in the two way feed. “The two of them lost their tempers - says the woman who as a Navy Lieutenant leapt across a conference table at a Marine Colonel, but I totally digress - and things escalated from there.” She glanced down and picked up one of the data slates resting flat on her desk and began to read off the injuries. “Detached retina. Bruised kidney. Missing teeth.“ The captain shook her head once, quickly, and then bypassed reading off the remainder of the injuries. “They screwed each other up real good…and I can’t order pride away, Admiral.” Coyote was quiet for several moments, her gaze looking just past the viewer feed at something. Then she had made her decision and spoke. “So, you’ll handle this internally?” Calestorm changed at that moment. Not a physical change, it was more of a shift in personality and mannerisms. Shauna had seen the change a few times during their service together and Crash’s silver-white, short cropped hair only added to the illusion. ‘It’ was as if you were looking at an alpha female wolf. “Aye, the matter’s already being handled, Shauna. I’ll forward the directives I’ve doled out onto you.” Oh, and that slight growl was back…
  5. The following log takes place after our 48 hour TBS and prior to the 11.18.13 Sim… USS Comanche Creek Main Science Lab, Observation April 20, 2261 "Look at the one little dude in the back, right there Shauna," Cale indicated with a gesture the mech-spider she was speaking of, it's carapace and legs a patchwork of small copper, silver and matte black colored panels, "it's obviously been used, repaired and re-used for whatever. Our MED-SCI and Engineering teams have found additional evidence from the limited program buffers as well." Admiral Shauna Coyote eyeballed the spider in question. "So you feel as if these USB Spiders aren't a threat?" Crash looked at her commanding officer askance and considered a sarcastic response, was deflected by said commanding officers 'don't go there' eyebrow and instead answered with a "No, Shauna…I mean c'mon! If a group of 'em ain't in sleep mode, they're doin' the dang Conga." "Actually, I believe that is the Hokey-Pokey..." "Ohhh-kaay. That's not disturbing…." The captain pulled her attention from the dancing spiders and shook her head to clear it, again turning her focus on the other woman. "I'm not sayin' these things can't be dangerous. We know US* originally intended the Beta Spiders for use in Security. But this batch is a mis-match of parts and limited programming, aside from years of sales and changing hands in private collections or as conversions to kid's remote controlled toys, as that Intel report showed us." She spread her hands. "My people are working on this. The early reports show Mudd did something to sidetrack the little buggers from causing havoc and downloading data from the listening outpost. That message he imbedded in the one big Spider? The recording infers he got himself tangled up with the Dragoons." Coyote cocked her head to one side in speculation and asked Cale, "You want to send a rescue team in?" "No way. Taboo Cat* and her people are already on point in the Outlands; have the boys and girls keep doing the undercover thing and confirm any leads on Mudd. For now." "You don't think the Dragoons will kill him?" "Harry Mudd's a survivor. He'll be fine 'til we can corral him." "And the Olympic Carrier?" "Ambitious idea, sloppy job. Let's assume the Dragoons captured and then launched the missing pleasure ship months later? The Widows Run access corridor is irradiated six ways from Sunday and travel access from the Outlands is limited. But… Harrington Base is still here, obviously." Calestorm shook her head. "If we had a true professional group, I think thing's would've gone way south way too quick." She cocked her head and continued speaking to the Admiral. "You remember when we were neck deep in the Cartel Wars?" Coyote gave a half smile. "Of course I do." "And you agree it as a large-scale dust up? I'm not saying these current Cartel skirmishes ain't an issue, 'specially if we have smaller non-Orion groups like these Dragoons gettin' involved." The FTR commanding officer gave a low growl in her throat. "I know Mudd's recording was distributed, but I want your verbal breakdown. What's Mudd's part in all this, Crash? Your opinion, off the record." "Goin' by our little adventure with the M-5 creature and the evidence we found in that transport crate, he likely started an illegal cargo company. Karma came around to bite him in the ass and he got stuck in a hostile takeover, shanghaied with the Dragoons. But, he's doin' his own guerilla warfare." She indicated the spiders to illustrate the point she was making and then said, "Hell, even a rogue like him realizes that certain other rogues are bad for business." A companionable silence settled between the two friends as they observed the USB Spiders and then Admiral Coyote brought up another matter to be discussed. "Colonel Tavington would like your skin on his office wall." Ashton made a rude sound, the snort equal parts amused and weary. "Then he needs to get in line. Lot's of people have wanted a piece of me over the years. " "Indeed." A rare happy-go-lucky smirk snuck its way across the Admirals features. "I heard Commander Wesley deflected him quite well." The captain smiled and gave a little two fingered salute of agreement as she glanced at her commanding officer. "If I didn't think she'd be insulted I'd suggest my XO go into the Diplomacy Corps." "Not that you're not always a pain in the rear end, but you're being even more ornery than usual. What's going on Crash?" "I don't want that British – no offense Doctor Maturin--" Cale called across the office area to the Acting Chief of Science, who also hailed from the British Isles of Old Earth. Maturin responded with a wave and said, "No worries and understood Sir," and then turned his attention back to a desktop monitor showing a schematic of the Spiders. "--Desktop Warfare Geek to get hold of these guys is all! He'll probably expand the original tech to make more of the Spiders and turn 'em into some" the ships captain waggled her hands to illustrate her point, "weird ass IED army and launch 'em at the Klingon home world." "Colonel Tavington is no Admiral Marcus*." "Ah understand that. And I know that he and his Intel team are on site to help us protect Harrington Base. Just…see what you can do to get these guys remanded into the custody of his Bosses, bypass Colonel Tavington on this. In the meantime let my people continue watching over them. Just a hunch is all." Coyote looked at her line officer, her expression speculative and calm with a hint of humor. "Fine. I'll see what I can do to sidetrack the, ah, British Desktop Warfare Geek." "Hell, he probably used to play on-line game that was so popular years back. Pirates vs. StarCom: Space Battles? Or whatever it was called.…" Calestorm paused and glanced back into the observation room that held the Spiders. "What's that little group doin'? The Hokey Pokey?" Maturin had walked up beside the two senior officers and said, "No Captain I believe that is known as 'Twerking'. It's a rather questionable dance popular with younger adults." Crash did a face to palm gesture. Admiral Coyote responded to that tidbit of information with, "That which has been seen cannot be unseen…." * United Syndicate * Call sign of CDR Kansas Vacer JoNs of the USS Washington Crossing (SPECOPS ship and crew on assignment to the First Threat Response Division) * Admiral Alexander Marcus (Star Trek: Into Darkness 2013)
  6. = = Encryption Level Ghost 17-54 = = = = Harrington Sector Joint Protection Detail = = To: Starfleet Intelligence, Border Patrol FTR, Marine Corps SPECOPS, Starfighter Operations Command From: Colonel William Tavington, Starfleet Intelligence Re: Orion Cartel Inter-Factional War SI agents deployed to the Outlands have reported that the Dragoons have resurfaced and are involved in the internal and factional skirmishes of the Orion Cartel. The civil war remains confined to the outer Mingo territory for now. The Dragoons were originally active in the skirmishes between the Federation and the Orion Cartel (2228 to 2231). Reports from our agents indicate the riff raff are commanded by a pirate who is known only as ‘The Wraith’. As with their forebears they employ light attack tactics, using starfighters and shuttles for guerilla attacks. The debris analyzed from the intercepted shuttle and the Hornet 20 dash camera footage of the fleeing starfighter indicate standard civilian class craft with the usual modifications favored by pirates and smugglers; current speculation is these two unknowns were advance Dragoon scouts. Questions as to who modfied the Olympic Carrier remain unanswered as the Dragoons do not appear to have the necessary equipment or numbers to handle such an undertaking, according to our field agents. The DIY ships and crew from the Border Patrol, Marine and Starfighter Divisions will remain within the Harrington sectors and attached to Harrington Starbase to provide added protection. William Tavington, COL Starfleet Intelligence = = Encryption Level Ghost 17-54 = = = = Harrington Sector Protection Detail = =
  7. You know, it's an ugly business doing one's duty…but just occasionally it's a real pleasure. - Colonel William Tavington, The Patriot (2000) Harrington Base Main Conference Room Colonel Tavington had breezed out of the conference room, leaving the Border Patrol officers in his wake. When the coast was clear, Colonel Mitchell Patton spoke up. “That’s who we have as the on-site Fleet Intel lead?” His tone indicated he was not impressed. Crash chimed in. “He’s an Intelligence officer who gives the other Intel officers a bad name. I’ve got 19 and 20 year old transfers on ‘Creek straight from the accelerated Academy training who have more of a clue than him!” The meeting had gone well logistically and tactically but not according to personality. Calestorm and Tavington had clashed mainly due to the man’s proper yet abrasive nature; Patton and Coyote had managed to remain civil with some effort. “I understand his approach to the situation, but he doesn’t have to be so danged uppity…” “I’d rather take on a squad of Klingons…” Admiral Shauna Coyote let her two officers continue with a few more choice comments and then waved them both gently to silence. “I agree with the two of you that he’s not exactly diplomacy material. But he is who we need to work with to keep the Harrington sectors secure. I expect you both to maintain at least some civility with him.” Calestorm perked up. “I didn’t leap across the table at him. Does that count?” Mitchell just shook his head and smiled. “Yes.” She winged a good natured look at her long-time friend. “I was impressed.” “…can I do a fly by on his shuttle?” “No.” “Please?” “No.” *Author Note: This Colonel Tavington is not as deliciously evil as the Tavington appearing in “The Patriot”, but is based on the character.
  8. The following log takes place immediately prior to the 08.19.13 Sim… Stardate 2261102. USS Comanche Creek NCC-214 Captains Ready Room A ping sounded, indicating that the final invitee for the inter-galactic conference call had signed into the secure audio/visual wireless feed. The officers in attendance were Admiral Robert Bennett* of San Francisco Command, Rear Admiral Shauna Coyote of Border Patrol First Threat Response Command, Brigadier General Mitchell Patton of Border Patrol First Threat Response Marine Command, Commander JoNs of the USS Washington Crossing on detached duty from Special Operations Command to the FTR, and Captain Calestorm. Admiral Coyote started the meeting, her real time image showing clearly on the multi-split screen desktop viewer in Crash’s office. “We all know why this meeting has been called so I’ll skip the preliminaries and go right for the source: the Intelligence from Mareena was interesting reading.” Crash nodded in agreement. “The courier that brought us the chit was pretty banged up but as you’ve all read in the reports he pulled through thanks to the ‘Creek medical staff. I’ll straight up go on record to say it don’t really matter if it was Black Kris operatives that nailed him or outside operatives from another faction.” The Native American officer spoke again. “It would seem that the Orion Cartel and its loose association of factions are going through some changes, this much we can be certain of. As for the Black Kris going legit, we know from the background checks conducted by Starfleet Intel that Lady Mareena has the credits and contacts to back the play. Obviously, our concerns are the Outer Rim and the frontier sectors and how it affects the borders if the smugglers and pirates are mixing it up. A lopsided grin quirked General Patton’s mouth as he asked Crash, “How is the Byblos fella settling in? You and the Commander list him on the manifest as a ‘Mercenary Specialist’? “He’s already found his way to the MARDET range for target practice and the jarheads - no offense Sir - hardly batted an eye. Our former heavy weapons expert, Staff Sergeant Vega, has already informed me he’s eyeing the Big Guy as a de facto replacement after word got around about the contraption Byblos was firing on the range.” “And speaking of the Staff Sergeant - how is his RRF coming along?” “Commander Wesley and I are happy with the results. Vega has gathered representatives from all our departments and they’re in final training now; it’d be best for any bad guys to stay on their good side when we deploy them as our forward squad.” “And the recent personnel assignments to the FTR?” This question came from Admiral Bennett. “I expect the newbie Caitian for Sciences to settle in nicely once he sheds the greenie fur. The shave tail Marines’ll be fine once their betters get a hold of them, and the Damage Control teams are doin’ fine last I heard.” And speaking of Caits, the purring lilt of Commander JoNs gently interceded at that moment. “Captain, what’s your opinion on the Cartel and this supposed civil war?” The most junior officer of the command group had eloquently steered the talk back onto main topic of the Outer Rim territories. JoNs and her thirty man - and women - crew earned their pay as SPECOPS Commandos, but Crash had noticed the felinoid could be quite the diplomat since they’d started working together. To the cat’s inquiry, Crash shook her head in the negative. “This is way beyond the Orion Cartel, Commander, way beyond. Hell, we’re not even in the same astro ballpark. The evidence our scans have located,” she waved a hand to emphasize the darkness of space beyond the bulkheads, “with the wreckage of the Ferret-Class LAC* and that Weasel-Class Courier boat? We got some independent civvie involvement goin’ on here; it ain’t just the Orion Cartel factions.” The San Francisco-type interjected. “And you believe what this Mareena has to say, Captain?” “I do. She’s gettin’ out while the gettin’ is good and goin’ her own way as a security consultant and I can’t fault her for that; she’s really no different from the civilian security contractors that the Starfleet employs and pays for their particular services.” Earth Deskbound really didn’t care for the comparison judging by the flash of annoyance in his eyes, but he stayed quiet. It’s not that Crash didn’t like him but Bennett had taken over the position at San Francisco Headquarters from Christopher Pike* and Bennett was no Chris Pike. Calestorm shrugged one shoulder slightly as she continued speaking. “It only took the scurvy lot of them two years since most of the home Fleet was wiped out by that nutcase Nero, but let’s roll with the assumption that the frontier smugglers are bolder, finally making a move on the Federation sectors to expand on business...” Admiral Bennett then asked, “Recommendations from FTR Command?” “We maintain watch. Increase our patrols in the Federation sectors, especially at the known hot spots such as Harrington. No action will be taken unless needed.” Coyote answered Bennett with Patton, JoNs and Calestorm nodding in silent agreement. The meeting continued for another forty minutes or so as personnel, ship assignments and future missions were further discussed. As Command Staff meetings went, this one was rather painless and Cale didn’t even feel the need to slip some alcohol in her cooling tea or something like that. The participants signed off of the as the conference call disbanded until only Crash and Wile E remained on the line for a private word with one another. “You’re worried.” That was Shauna for you - short, sweet, to the point - and she really hadn’t changed much over the years. Calestorm eyed the Admiral over the two-way visual feed, her expression innocent. “Three words: Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot*.” Coyote smiled, chuckled and waved a hand at her sometimes hard-charging line captain. “I’m glad you didn’t say that during the meeting. JoNs and Patton would have been fine, of course, but I think you would have given Bennett apoplexy.” “The boy ain’t exactly frontier officer material and I didn’t wanna scare him. Lemme put it this way Shauna: I’m a concerned galactic citizen.” The Admiral made a gentle motion for her to continue, the gesture picked up in the secure wireless feed. Crash returned the smile at her commanding officer and longtime friend, the expression both wistful and weary. “I mean, considering the last time something like this happened with the Cartel and independent civilians and professional smugglers making big moves on territory was the Orion Cartel Campaign of 2228*? You know, where those two young and intrepid fighter pilots cut their teeth? Yeah, I’m a bit concerned right now.” “We had some good times then Ashton.” “True...” Crash paused and then the older women finished in unison the long-running joke between the two of them, “…when we weren’t getting shot at!” The shared laughter died off but the smiles remained despite the serious overtones of the conversation. “You keep yourself and the crew safe as you can Captain Crash.” “That’s always the plan Admiral Wile E, always the plan; Comanche Creek out.” = = = = *As played by Harve Bennett (Producer, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier) (1989) *Light Attack Craft (Copyright note: the Ferret-Class LAC is featured in the Honor Harrington novel Ashes of Victory (1998) by David Weber) *Captain/Admiral Christopher Pike as seen in Star Trek (2009) and Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013) *Sarcastic military slang used to describe a non-ideal situation *Calestorm and Coyote received campaign ribbons for their participation in these skirmishes
  9. Mitchell Conrad ‘Mitch’ Patton lll Age: 55 Height: 6’0 Weight: 185 lbs Skin: White Hair: Blond, graying at the temples Eyes: Blue Affiliation: Starfleet Marine Corps Rank: Brigadier General Specialty: Infantry Secondary Specialty: Intelligence/Counter Intelligence Current Assignment: Starfleet Border Patrol First Threat Response Program Ground Operations Commander, New Topeka Colony Mitchell Patton is from a Caucasian Human background born to Shana O’Hara and Hauser Patton. He grew up in the town of Saint Joseph, Missouri (Earth) and attended Maxwell Forrest High School. Upon graduating he enrolled in college and completed a four year degree in Political Sciences. He enrolled in the Starfleet Marine Corps, completing basic training at Parris Island, Carolina as well as an accelerated commissioned officer training program. Graduating with the rank of Lieutenant, Patton deployed and commanded his first platoon with the Starfleet Infantry Forces during the mining colony wars of Coridian. Mitch would go on to serve on a variety of duty stations ranging from starships and ground assignments to frontier colony outposts. In 2251, Major Patton and his SPECOPS squadron were dispatched to handle a situation at Federation Colony Outpost Flagg. The outpost had been compromised by the ‘Elite Vipers’, a terrorist faction under the leadership of the ‘Viper Commander’. A pitched battle followed to retake the main colony communications node and rescue of hostages, injuring Mitch and several other operatives. The Viper Commander, escaped capture and it’s unknown if he or she is still active with the pirate faction. Recovering from his injuries, Patton was released to full duty and would go on to complete several more assignments and continue to be promoted through the ranks. He would also begin to serve within and acquire skills for the Intelligence/Counter Intelligence divisions of the Starfleet Marine Corps. Mitchell Patton is a personality who is solid and steady, whether you need someone to watch your six or to plant a detonation charge, he is your man. Whatever the mission or assignment he will always provide the backup or assistance as needed and is a firm believer in leaving no one behind. These convictions have not waned as he ‘fly a desk’ as he refers to his administrative command assignments now. Psychological Notation: Mitchell Conrad Patton lll is clear for his new duty posting to the Starfleet Border Patrols First Threat Response Program Ground Ops Commander. He remains clear of psychological or emotional issues that will prevent him from doing his duty. Case File # 456. - Doctor Minh D. Bender, Starfleet Medical, San Francisco Earth. Notes: Maxwell Forrest – Admiral, Commanding Officer for Captain Jonathan Archer in the 2150’s (see Memory Alpha & Star Trek: Enterprise for further details) SPECOPS – Special Operations * Please note that BGEN Mitchell Patton is a Non-Player Character for use on the USS Comanche Creek Sim. Patton will be the commander of First Threat Response Ground Operations and Rear Admiral Coyote's second in command
  10. The main offices of the First Threat Response program had gone into full technological geek mode. The computer monitor screens at each of the desks were devoted to a different aspect of the ongoing mission at the prison colony of Rura Penthe. The information feeds combined live telemetry, real time verbal reports, and additional images and data sent via delayed electronic packets. The office of Rear Admiral Shauna Walking-Coyote was no exception with tech that put the Starfleet Research and Development offices to shame; a false wall had been retracted to reveal multiple large monitors mounted behind the façade. One feed carried the HUDs* of the surface Overwatch. Another focused on incoming reports and updates from the SS Frankenship or the SS Vulture. One monitor would go live when the Veridian* patches worn by the prison infiltration team went active. The telemetry was heavily encrypted and routed through security filter programs and communications satellites. Several of her office staff had taken to calling the operation “The Big Chill”. The coffee and caffeine supplements had flowed freely, trays of sandwiches constantly appeared as the office staff kept their metabolism and strength up. Stims were distributed when the twenty minute power nap no longer sufficed. The FTR offices were hopping with a high intensity focus, yet decorum was maintained at all times. Coyote and Brigadier General Craig Tigard, FTR Commander Ground Operations, had stood a near constant watch since Operation: Lost Souls Phase 2 had officially launched. Tigard ventured a comment. “Word has it that Calestorm has been almost intense in dealings with personnel and the mission objectives. Certain sources claim her usual humor is not at full throttle. Just something we should probably consider.” Coyote’s response was polite, though clipped. “Field probation and demotion will have that effect. She’ll be fine.” The battle-vetted Marine raised an eyebrow, glanced at his commanding officer, but made no further comment as he turned his attention back to the monitors. Lieutenant Kevin Riley appeared in the open doorway to the office. “Sirs. We have communication from the Franken. Interior team assumed to be on schedule. Ground Team on standby. Franken and Vulture orbitals remain on standby. Scatter is expected; veridian signals will be routed and incoming on Monitor 3.” The Native American admiral acknowledged her chief aides report with a nod of her head and Riley quickly ducked back out to the outer offices. To Tigard, she said, “The Big Chill. Fitting name for that godsforsaken place…let’s hope everyone comes home alive...” “Always the hope, Admiral. Always the hope...” *Heads up Display, helmet. *A small tracking device/patch affixed to clothing, employed in Star Trek 6: The Undiscovered Country.
  11. You know that instinct to leap without looking, that was his nature too. And in my opinion it's something Starfleet's lost. – Captain Pike to James Kirk on George Kirk, Star Trek 2009 The following log takes place 24 Hours prior to the 10.08.12 Sim... July 8th, 2260 (Stardate 2260.190) Starfleet Border Patrol First Threat Response Command Offices New Topeka Colony This day was not going well for Captain Ashton Calestorm. She had not expected while attending pre-launch briefings following extended shore leave, to receive a summons to an inquiry. It was a private session, involving Cale, Commander Wesley, Brigadier General Craig Tigard* and Rear Admiral Coyote. The Admiral had received permission from the Starfleet JAG to handle the matter privately and ‘keep it in the family’. True to the nature of the Admiral in question, the Admiral’s Mast was handled with brutal efficiency. Tigard and Coyote sat at a long conference table. Calestorm stood at the far end, facing towards the senior command officers. The Commander occupied a smaller conference table set off to one side where Coyote’s aide-de-camp, Kevin Riley*, took notations. Coyote regarded Crash across the short distance. The silver-white haired woman stood at ramrod straight parade rest, her expression neutral, attention fixated at a point on the far wall. In contrast, the dark haired Coyote had the dark thunder of emotions flitting across her eyes. “Captain, your proposal for the planet of Grayson to be admitted to the Federation is fast tracked. Negotiations are underway, a diplomatic team has already made orbit. The protection Barrier will be disengaged. Grayson will most likely become an ally. The Starfleet Corp of Engineering is handling salvage and ship recovery opportunities within the region.” She paused, glanced at a hard copy printout, and continued. “In addition, while on shore leave, you met with an unauthorized contact. Further intelligence was gained for Lost Souls: Phase 2 while existing information was corroborated.” Shauna folded her hands together on the tabletop. “Good work.“ A pause. “But, in case you haven’t put two and two together, your ass is mine.” “Yes, Ma’am. I did manage to figure that one out on my own. Thank you Ma’am.” Cale heard a cough from Riley. General Tigard became very interested in his digital data slate, one eyebrow raised. Commander Wesley face palmed. Coyote blew a breath out her nose in annoyance. “Captain, that will be quite enough. I’m aware that field decisions will be made without prior clearance from the First Threat Response Command Offices. You instigated a First Contact situation. You met with an intelligence contact. Both were unsanctioned events.” The Admiral slowly stood from her seated position and enunciated very clearly, almost dangerously. “You’ve always had a knack for running with the demons and going where the angels fear. It is a trait that I admire. It is an instinct that has served you well over the years.However, it is also damn infuriating!” “You specifically stated in your after-action report that would take full responsibility for the First Contact and the involvement in the Grayson political-social culture. In addition, you were clear that the off the record meeting was your responsibility as well.” “You will answer for those responsibilities now, Mister Calestorm. You are reduced in rank to Commander for one solar year depending on probationary circumstances and performance of restricted duties. You will maintain the posting of Executive Officer for the USS Comanche Creek.” Shauna turned her hawk-like attention to Audraya. “Commander Wesley. Effective immediately, you are in command of the USS Comanche Creek. Congratulations, Acting Captain Wesley, though I’d prefer the promotion be under better circumstances.” “If there is no further business, this Admiral’s Mast is concluded. Dismissed.” As the FTR officers departed, Calestorm remained at parade rest and avoided eye contact as much as she was able; she spared a quick glance to Scooter as the Orion officer passed by. Shauna somberly gathered hard copy flimsies from the senior command staff table then made her way over to the longtime friend and fellow officer that she had just cut down; leaning in towards the slightly shorter woman, she whispered in Cale’s ear. The whispered comment made Crash stand straighter, if that was possible. Admiral Coyote exited the room without another word, leaving her former senior line captain alone with her thoughts. *General Tigard, Officer in Charge of First Threat Response Ground Operations *Lieutenant Kevin Riley, Classic Trek Series. We don’t own the character, we just play in his universe(s).
  12. New Topeka Colony Starfleet First Threat Response Offices The office entry door abruptly swung open; no knock for admittance, no intercom. Lieutenant Kevin Riley, her aide-de-damp, appeared in the open doorway. “Admiral”. Admiral Shauna ‘Wile E’ Walking Coyote was not amused at the interruption. “Mister Riley, my instructions were clear—“ “Admiral.” He over talked her. Riley never over talked Coyote. His tone, his manner was focused. His eyes held none of the customary twinkle or nervousness. “…what’s wrong?” The younger man spoke in a clipped and precise tone. “We received a message packet from the USS Washington Crossing*.” The younger man cleared his throat and continued. “Commander JoNs flagged the packet per orders from Captain Calestorm. It’s a Prime Directive issue, Ma’am….” His voice trailed off. **** Shauna spent the better part of three hours reviewing the information and reports. All appointments and scheduled conference calls that afternoon we’re cancelled and rescheduled. The senior officer methodically worked her way through the information packet, email after email, report after report. First the ground teams, ship-based monitor and tracking teams, on-site senior officers and department chiefs, and finally the command staff. And then she re-read. And re-read again. It was two weeks worth of updates, and Coyote expected more reports to be incoming within the next transmittals. She knew that she had a problem though; she’d call in some favors to keep the politics as low key as possible. What would temporarily prevent the long term consequences from hitting the oscillating device was the ongoing prep work for Operation: Lost Souls. It had taken the better part of a thirty year career, and the proverbial brick wall had been crashed into. She toggled the intercom inset on her desktop surface. Riley’s voice immediately answered. “Admiral?” Her tone came out flat, even to her own ears. “Get me a secure wireless to the JAG*. I want to speak with someone now.” *The USS Washington Crossing, K. Vacer JoNs commanding, maintains a picket position at the Gygax Barrier. The USS Comanche Creek remains within the Barrier region, in orbit above the planet of Grayson. Due to communications issues, star fighter/shuttle couriers from the ‘Creek regularly travel outside the Barrier expanse to relay communications transmittals between the two ships. *JAG, Judge Advocate General of the Federation Starfleet.
  13. FTR Command Offices New Topeka Colony “...wait, what?” Rear Admiral Shauna ‘Wile E.’ Coyote’s expression vacillated between curious and concern at the news her line captain had just given her. “A barrier?” “Aye, Shauna, a gray-black barrier of mist, to be exact. Our communications signal isn’t penetrating, and we're not getting any outgoing signals from the interior.” “Has the USS Washingtons Crossing rendezvoused with you?” “Yep, they’re maintaining a flanking position as we speak. I expect Commander JoNs will contact you momentarily.” Coyote nodded and then asked, “Crash, why aren’t you doing your usual thing and going boldly forward? You know you have the clearance to handle this in whatever way you see fit.” “Well, y’know, I’ve been unfair to you, Admiral Coyote, what with ‘creatively determining’ your orders. So, I’m turning over a new leaf and will be checking in with you at every step.” Admiralty Radar detecting bullsh*t. “And you expect me to believe that, because?” Crash rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. This misty barrier thing,” she quoted the air with her fingers, the two-way visual feed picking up the gesture, “surrounding an entire sector is a new one to me. I wanted to get your take.” Coyote smirked; that was more like Calestorm. Her friends command style was set to Go Where the Angels Fear to Tread and Damn the Protocol. The quality was both endearing and maddening, why Coyote had wanted her for the FTR program in the first place and also why she wanted to excoriate her at times. But, Crash was no fool; she’d get that second opinion, or a third, or a fourth before making a final decision about certain situations. “What’s Commander Wesley’s opinion?” “The Commander and I are doing that command staff silent glances towards one another thing, and our expressions are pretty much the same: what in the hell is this and we don’t get paid enough.” “Plan B?” “Prepping communications, sciences, and engineering to rig up a series of probes, launch ‘em out into the barrier, relay any telemetry. If we still don’t get any feedback, I take ‘Creek forward and we do recon the old fashioned way. JoNs maintains a picket line outside the mist.” Shauna nodded in confirmation. “It seems that you and your staff have all the bases covered, as usual. Good luck and Godspeed, Captain.”
  14. New Topeka Colony Starfleet Apartment Complex Stardate 2260.54 (February 23, 2260) 21:30 Hours Rear Admiral Shauna Coyote regarded her desktop viewer with professional courtesy; the split screen images displayed there - one the Director of OSI*, the other the Director of SPECOPS* - regarded her with the same attentive coolness. It was late in the evening, but she’d not hesitated to take the encrypted communication on the personal computer in her apartment. She knew the device was secure, as she’d checked it herself. There was no unnecessary dithering, no banter, no nothing. “The timeframe for the roundup is still on schedule?” Coyote inquired of her fellow directors. The OSI chief, an older Vulcan, responded. “Indeed it is, Ms. Wile E.” “And my Black Sheep?” The SPECOPS director chimed in. “Your Sheep will be sent to pasture as scheduled. They will then be assigned to a second, temporary pasture.” “And then, they will be pulled from that section of pasture and the Shepherd is to proceed with the final transfer dispersal of the stock?” The Native Old-Americas woman cocked her head to one side. The Vulcan answered. “Yes, that is correct.” “And your preparations?” The chiefs gave a nod in unison, but it was the SPECOPS officer who answered for both. “Our brokers are now seeking confirmation for the sale from our field representatives. We should receive any final information within the next few weeks...” “Very well. I’ll inform my Shepherd….” -- *OSI– Starfleet Office of Special Investigations *SPECOPS – Starfleet Special Operations
  15. The following log takes place two hours following the events of the 04.30.12 Sim… USS Comanche Creek Medical Bay Stardate 2260.54 After being checked out and cleared from any possible decontamination, Captain Ashton Calestorm had retreated into an auxiliary Medical office and placed an encrypted call request through the bridge communications officer. Lieutenant Kvar was at her station per Cale’s previous orders and routed the request, though she’d picked up the tension in the youngster’s voice because of Commander Wesley. Crash blatantly ignored the tone…her bridge officers just had to deal with it if they made that personal choice to have relations within the same command chain… The image of Rear Admiral Coyote popped up on the two way communications feed. “Crash. Commander JoNs and the USS Washington Crossing are inbound.” “Shauna. Good. Give Mister Brigadier General* my thanks. I’ve got an updated situation report for ya.” The commanding officer of the First Threat Response Division indicated that Calestorm continue. “As I told ya, the shadow seems to have gone ‘poof’. My Engineering and Science guys are double checking internal systems to make sure.” “That’s encouraging news, at least.” “Hang onto that optimism. Wesley came down with something, got real sick. She somehow managed to eject…an ooze.” “Well…eww.” “Nice diplomatic answer there, Admiral Coyote. Working theory from the Medical and Sci Geeks is the ooze is a jellied manifestation of Redjac...”* “I repeat…eww.” Cale chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. “Guess Ol’ Red didn’t like the taste of Orion, eh? She’s still down, and…her post-symptoms are like she’s recovering from a flu if I understand my medical people correctly.” “How’re you doing, Crash?” The middle aged woman paused to give her commanding officer a respectful ‘duh’ look. “I just spent a long few hours dealing with some weird ass shadow being that not only possessed crew and an officer from North Star base, but also caused a vampirism outbreak in others?” “Was that a silly question?” Coyote gave her senior captain a gentle smirk. “I’m ticked off as all hellfire over here, Shauna! This…thing, attacks my people? Yeah, I better get some answers from Gygax. There was a reason that Barrons* held out log enough from Redjac’s mental and physical onslaught to leave that clue on the iComanche text screen…we were meant to find the system numbers.” “Just don’t cause any intergalactic incidents?” Coyote raised an eyebrow. Cale indicated with a gesture that she understood the cautionary statement. “We’ll be careful. Don’t see how I can cause any issues, though; the system is unclaimed.” “Keep me informed.” “Aye Admiral, Calestorm out.” -- * Craig Tigard, Assistant Commander FTR, Ground Operations * Credit for the theory/idea on the manifestation goes to Commander Wesley's Player * Lieutenant Commander Tanya Barrons, stationed at North Star Starbase, found dead inside a cargo container on board the USS Comanche Creek.