Cassie Granger

New Topeka Colony Base OPS Office of the Battalion Commander D-Day It was definitely a slow news day. Base OPS was pretty laid-back, most taking their time to grab a cup and wander down the hall. It was the best status barometer they had. Sprint meant bad news; wander meant fairly even, status quo, or nothing going on at all - which was rare. There didn’t seem to be an in-between, which made it pretty bad for anyone whose gears needed oil. At precisely 0915, Warrant Officer Cassie Granger planted herself at attention in front of Battalion Commander Lt Colonel Beckert’s desk, ignoring the terrified stare of his aide, Lance Corporal Kidren. “Morning, Gunner,” said Beckert as he turned to greet her, using the familiar term for Marine Warrant Officers. “Stand easy. It’s too early for that. Looks like you had a good climb the other day. You hike all the way out?” The extra color she’d gotten from the hike must be showing. Taking an easy parade rest, Cassie could feel Kidren’s tension grow, even with her eyes-front. “Morning, Sir. Yes, sir. Nice day. Hiked the fifty first. Climbed the night. Arrived in time for sunrise.” “Can’t beat it for view.” He glanced out the window with a sigh. “This time of year the eagles should be nesting. Should have taken your suggestion, Gunner. Should have done the climb with you. Never know what you’re goin’ to see up there. You okay?” He turned to Kidren, who had begun to cough to cover his oh ###### look. His face paled even more and he looked like he might faint. “Yes, sir. Just....” He coughed again, this time more of a choke. “Take a break, Corporal. I can take it from here.” With a cursory thanks, he was gone like a shot. Beckert eyed the door for a minute after it closed. “Damn, that kid’s been acting strange for a few days. Must be the season.” Cassie reserved comment. “Anyway, your secure creds.” He handed her a datacrystal after she pressed her thumb onto his PADD, confirming receipt. “Keep it close - but you know that. ‘Creek’s waiting for you. Report within the hour, and good hunting.” “Thank you, sir. Hunting’s always good.” After his grinning nod and firm handshake she came to attention, spun on her heel and left. In the corridor, she passed Kidren, hanging over the water fountain, wetting his forehead. She said not a word.

SOCCENT* Alpha Quadrant Aquiri Station Office of the Commandant Seven Days Pre-Deploy At precisely 1400 hours, Marine Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger entered Colonel Tigard’s office and came to attention in front of his desk. “At ease, Sundance,” he said, waving a hand. “Have a seat.” Tigard never was one for keeping strict protocol, but Cassie did anyway. Marine training? Force of habit? Respect? All of the above. She dropped into the chair while he gathered his notes and leaned back to give her the once-over he always did after debriefing. “Good job on Operation Cobra, Sunny,” he said finally. “Bit the head off that one.” “That we did, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” she said, mirroring the colonel’s satisfied grin. “Got another one for you and wanted to fill you in myself.” He paused. “It’s long term, and it could be touchy, depending on how you play it.” “Sir?” It wasn’t like him to label anything touchy. Dangerous, hazardous, life threatening maybe - but hell, pretty much everything they did was all that and more. Touchy? “Not... in the terms of the operation. In terms of the CO you’ll be working with.” He rocked to a stand, his hand pressing an area of the desk on the way up. On a portion of the wall behind him the formal ID portrait of a Starfleet captain materialized. He turned to face it. “Ashton Marie Calestorm, Captain of USS Comanche Creek, Border Patrol. Code name ‘Crash.’ Eyes like a hawk. Temper like a wildcat. Know her?” He pursed his lips to glance over his shoulder for Cassie’s reaction. “Only by reputation, Colonel. ‘Creek’s Black Sheep. Heard they’re inbound from a nasty mission that should’ve been diplomatic. Lost a shuttle. Took some hits.” Tigard nodded and returned to his desk as the image faded. “Exec and CAG took it hard. Captain not so bad. Still helluva situation.” The hefty biceps clearly visible beneath his uniform flexed in tandem with his clenching jaw as he leaned over a PADD on the desk. He paused for a second to run a hand through his close-cropped hair, silver with age. Cassie wondered if he’d take first again in the Sector Games coming up next month. “Captain Calestorm.” He drew her name out like she was some kind of legend, but anyone who’d stick it out on the edge for any length of time tended to generate legends. His arms crossed, a wistful look spoke of some kind of connection? Not her place to ask. “They call her a renegade, but I’ll tell ya, Sunny... she’s a powerhouse,” he said, sliding the PADD across the desk towards her before rounding the desk to perch on its corner. “She’s a straight shooter. Knows her stuff. Won’t stand for any bull and can dish it out when she needs to. If she’s a renegade, hell! We need more renegades like her out here. She’s good stock. Good breed. Remember that.” Definitely some kind of connection there. After a quick read she handed the sketchy bio back. “And now you’re asking yourself why I’m telling you all this,” he said, bouncing the PADD in his hands a few times before tossing it on the desk where it fell with a muffled thump. “Just a heads-up is all. You’re their new navigational officer.” The hell? “And SPECOPS liaison. Operation Shadowbox. More on that later. “Cale’s tough, Sunny - but justifiably so. My concern? Your profiles are too similar. You’re too much alike. But in the end, if you can put up with each other you’ll find out that you two have more in common than either one of you is willing to admit. “Her exec?” He moved back to his chair, taking a moment to settle in and check out the ceiling. “Commander Audraya Wesley. Orion. Academy grad attached to a Marine wing for a while, so she knows the ropes, including ground operations; commanded a platoon on Sherman’s Planet during a skirmish with the Klingons there. That’s not saying she has any love for the Corps, only experience with it. Hell, it may have even put her off, made her hostile to it - I don’t know. Hot temper, but not as quick as it used to be. Damn good exec.” That look again. So, not a connection to them, personally, but to their mission. Missing the action. An office at SOCCENT instead of combat? Hard trade for a career Marine. “You’ll meet the ship at New Topeka. Mission is need-to-know, so you’ll get your briefing when they do. Shipboard doesn’t mean you leave your toys behind - take ‘em all. Wheels up at 1800. Docking ring A, USS Hesperus. They’re due on the rim, going to drop you off. Dismissed.” At precisely 1430 hours, Marine Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger snapped from her chair, came to attention in front of the commandant’s desk, gave a sharp salute, spun on one heel and strode through the office door, bound for New Topeka and the USS Comanche Creek. *SOCCENT - Special Operations Command Central *SPECOPS - Special Operations ____________________ New Topeka Colony Devil’s Point Three Days Pre-Deploy Cassie’d passed through New Topeka several times. It was pretty much like most backwater planets, though she had to admit it had a few more perks. At least it was class M. Gave variety for those who were used to it. Not much like Bertaria, where she was raised, where most of the green was coaxed out of the ground by agriculturalists. New Topeka had its points, one of which was Devil’s Point, a 2000 ft jagged promontory about 50 miles from the colony. Close enough for access, remote enough so only the most adventurous scaled its walls. Best place on the planet to watch the sunrise, especially on a brilliant spring morning with a clear sky. From the north, hikers - if they had the guts - took a serpentine class two trail that occasionally merged into class three. If they really had drive, they took the southern route, up a craggy cliff dotted with overhangs, the last of which jutted a hundred feet out, over the canyon 1800 feet below. It formed Devil’s Table, an overlook with a spectacular view of the colony and surrounding terrain. This was Cassie’s choice, and it looked like she’d be alone on the face. Wouldn’t be the first time; won’t be the last. Waiting a week for her deploy had worked its worst, forcing her into the brush of the semi-arid desert in this area of the planet. She planned an ‘assault,’ approaching the monolith from the north, through a fairly dense scrub forest. She’d hunker down, grab a bite, give her gear one last check and wait for moon-set. Then she’d circle to the west to scale. Eastern side was slippery. North was populated - though popping over a precipice with hikers on the trail did have a certain entertainment appeal. South had too much primary growth. Made the rock crumble to talus with a step or a grab. No place for cams, no secure handhold or foothold. The soft whine of a hovercycle passed nearby, then faded as it rounded to the north slope and slowly rose to the Table. Campers. Good. All the better. Moon-set came at 2214. Time to climb. Though she’d taken this route several times, she took no chances, having seen her share of veteran climbers maimed or killed from stupid moves on what should have been an easy ascent. Half way up a few muffled voices drifted down. Had to be those campers. Whiff of a campfire. Not a good idea as dry as it is, but there wasn’t much to burn on the Table. Sunrise came late despite the season - somewhere around 0900. Every now and then she paused to listen. The closer she got the more distinct the words, the more she thanked the Corps for her padded equipment. Sounded like no more than two. Along about 0831, give or take, she hauled herself slowly, silently onto Devil’s Table. Deep, regular breathing slowed her heart as she lay there a moment to catch her breath and take in the scenery. The prominent feature: a silhouette of the last 200 feet that gave Devil’s Point its name rose against a lightening sky. In the foreground loomed boulders ringed by just a few scrub bushes. And no more than 20 meters away lay two humans, their bodies molded into one, their sweat glistening in the first light of dawn. No sign of a bedroll, no tent, but a requisitioned Marine hovercycle parked against a bush. Even in the pre-dawn light she recognized the one on top - Lance Corporal Kidren, Lt Colonel Beckert’s aide. The other... ######. Beckert’s seventeen-year-old daughter. Not a good move. And neither one had a stitch on. Neither one paying any attention to anything except... what they were doing. Pulling herself to a sit, she grabbed her canteen for a sip as she watched the sunrise. The two, totally absorbed in each other, took no notice of her. By the time she’d gathered her gear and fixed it for rappel, they fell apart, laughing, chests heaving, skin flushed. Kidren lay staring at the stars for a moment before he noticed Cassie out of the corner of his eyes. “Damn! ######, ma’am!” Cassie couldn’t say she’d ever seen a faster attention from a prone position - or a more revealing one. And the red flushing the girl’s face sure wasn’t from sunburn. She took a moment to make the final wrap for her rappel. “As you were, Corporal. I’m on my way down,” she said, tossing the rope over the edge. “No! Wait, ma’am... ######....” Clothes out of reach, he grabbed a towel for protection. “... .how long have you been here, ma’am? I mean....” He shook his head and began to pace, frantic. “You’re not going to say anything to the Colonel, ma’am... are you? I mean... ######! ######, ######, ######!” “Been here long enough, Corporal Kidren. And it looks to me like I’m not the one you should be worryin’ about.” She glanced from the girl to the Marine cycle, then pinned him with her eyes. “Think it’s time to get home.” Checking the security of her rope and harness, she dropped over the edge. Welcome to Devil’s Table, Corporal - where you never know who you’re goin’a meet.

SOCCENT* Alpha Quadrant Aquiri Station Office of the Commandant Seven Days Pre-Deploy At precisely 1400 hours, Marine Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger entered Colonel Tigard's office and came to attention in front of his desk. "At ease, Sundance," he said, waving a hand. "Have a seat." Tigard never was one for keeping strict protocol, but Cassie did anyway. Marine training? Force of habit? Respect? All of the above. She dropped into the chair while he gathered his notes and leaned back to give her the once-over he always did after debriefing. "Good job on Operation Cobra, Sunny," he said finally. "Bit the head off that one." "That we did, Sir. Thank you, Sir," she said, mirroring the colonel's satisfied grin. "Got another one for you and wanted to fill you in myself." He paused. "It's long term, and it could be touchy, depending on how you play it." "Sir?" It wasn't like him to label anything touchy. Dangerous, hazardous, life threatening maybe - but hell, pretty much everything they did was all that and more. Touchy? "Not... in the terms of the operation. In terms of the CO you'll be working with." He rocked to a stand, his hand pressing an area of the desk on the way up. On a portion of the wall behind him the formal ID portrait of a Starfleet captain materialized. He turned to face it. "Ashton Marie Calestorm, Captain of USS Comanche Creek, Border Patrol. Code name 'Crash.' Eyes like a hawk. Temper like a wildcat. Know her?" He pursed his lips to glance over his shoulder for Cassie's reaction. "Only by reputation, Colonel. 'Creek's Black Sheep. Heard they're inbound from a nasty mission that should've been diplomatic. Lost a shuttle. Took some hits." Tigard nodded and returned to his desk as the image faded. "Exec and CAG took it hard. Captain not so bad. Still, helluva situation." The hefty biceps clearly visible beneath his uniform flexed in tandem with his clenching jaw as he leaned over a PADD on the desk. He paused for a second to run a hand through his close-cropped hair, silver with age. Cassie wondered if he'd take first again in the Sector Games coming up next month. "Captain Calestorm." He drew her name out like she was some kind of legend, but anyone who'd stick it out on the edge for any length of time tended to generate legends. His arms crossed, a wistful look spoke of some kind of... connection? Not her place to ask. "They call her a renegade, but I'll tell ya, Sunny... she's a powerhouse," he said, sliding the PADD across the desk towards her before rounding the desk to perch on its corner. "She's a straight shooter. Knows her stuff. Won't stand for any bull and can dish it out when she needs to. If she's a renegade, hell! We need more renegades like her out here. She's good stock. Good breed. Remember that." Definitely some kind of connection there. After a quick read she handed the sketchy bio back. "And now you're asking yourself why I'm telling you all this," he said, bouncing the PADD in his hands a few times before tossing it on the desk where it fell with a muffled thump. "Just a heads-up is all. You're their new navigational officer." The hell? "And SPECOPS liaison. Operation Shadowbox. More on that later. "Cale's tough, Sunny - but justifiably so. My concern? Your profiles are too similar. You're too much alike. But in the end, if you can put up with each other you'll find out that you two have more in common than either one of you is willing to admit. "Her exec?" He moved back to his chair, taking a moment to settle in and check out the ceiling. "Commander Audraya Wesley. Orion. Academy grad attached to a Marine wing for a while, so she knows the ropes, including ground operations; commanded a platoon on Sherman's Planet during a skirmish with the Klingons there. That's not saying she has any love for the Corps, only experience with it. Hell, it may have even put her off, made her hostile to it - I don't know. Hot temper, but not as quick as it used to be. Damn good exec." That look again. So, not a connection to them, personally, but to their mission. Missing the action. An office at SOCCENT instead of combat? Hard trade for a career Marine. "You'll meet the ship at New Topeka. Mission is need-to-know, so you'll get your briefing when they do. Shipboard doesn't mean you leave your toys behind - take 'em all. Wheels up at 1800. Docking ring A, USS Hesperus. They're due on the rim, going to drop you off. Dismissed." At precisely 1430 hours, Marine Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger snapped from her chair, came to attention in front of the commandant's desk, gave a sharp salute, spun on one heel and strode through the office door, bound for New Topeka and the USS Comanche Creek. *SOCCENT - Special Operations Command Central *SPECOPS - Special Operations

"Living on the edge."