Boom Sticks

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place just prior to the 06.20.11 Sim…

 

It was late afternoon within the Hill territories, and Jiornoth waited within a hidden copse of trees, rocks and scrub bushes. His son, Paxx, patrolled along a perimeter to ensure there would be no uninvited visitors. Evening was settling over the Hill territory, and there was a quietness of the time, a welcome moment of respite from the troubles that had befallen his people.

 

He kept his attention averted as he heard a faint sound from behind him and smiled without turning around. “You are very good at approaching undetected. Almost as good as myself.” Jiornoth’s tone was light.

 

Captain Calestorm slid out of the surrounding bushes and trees, making no noise as she did so. Keeping her trip to the planet’s surface as low key as possible, she had bypassed her uniform in favor of the leather and cloth tribal attire “Damn. Thought I was doing pretty good.”

 

“You were until you brushed up against the third bush inside the tree line.” Now the second in command of the Hill tribes turned and fixed his attention on her, his grin evident on his brawny features. “I might like to see this ‘backwoods country’ where your Blood Elders taught you the ways of the hunter.”

 

The captain made a non committal noise in the back of her throat and went onto the reason for the clandestine meeting. “Let me show you what I’ve brought.”

 

She waved a friendly hand at the big hunter, and walked a short distance towards a section of scrub oak and rocks. Hidden under the bushes were two leather fabricated satchels, made of what appeared to be the hide of one of the local animals; the captain quietly began to remove the branches, leaves and rocks that covered the packs.

 

Each contained ten flintlock rifles, matching the approximate make and model currently used by the Villagers. Jiornoth spent the next few moments inspecting one of the flintlocks as well as the powder and projectile items included with the weapons. Crash stood nearby and observed him, her gut clenched as her conscience continued to war with her oath. Her attention was drawn to the distant sun as it began to dip below the horizon, more to give her something to look at besides the weapons.

 

After a short while had passed and Jiornoth had been allowed to inspect the items, she ventured to speak to the Hill tribesman. “You have twenty boom sticks. The number of weapons is of a less count then those of the Villagers, though it serves the purpose of your defense. Eventually, the rifles will wear down and break, the ammunition will run out before then. The same can be said of Apella’s supply. In the meantime, these boom sticks will give you and your people a chance to survive should the Villagers begin to use more brutal tactics or the Green Skins return – though I’m fairly certain they will not. Just show your men to use the flintlocks as I taught you, and use the non-aggressive defensive tactics that my people have been showing you as well.”

 

What she didn’t mention were her personal thoughts on the subject, that the majority of the ballistic fighting would remain confined to the central peninsula, among Tyree and Apella’s people. The tribes and villagers to the north, south, east and west territories were mostly unaffected by the interference of the Orion hunting parties and the rogue Starfleet officers. And though the rumor of the ‘boom sticks’ had spread, most of the other leaders were content to leave the two central tribes to their own skirmishes.

 

Calestorm took some comfort from her decision overall, but it was bittersweet, more from the fact that she had made some sort of decision and not necessarily the right one. Was it right? Had she been overly influenced by these events? By Jiornoth? Was it right to play God in a private little war? Who the Hell knew.

 

She ran a frustrated hand through her silver blond hair. “I want to do more Jiornoth. I wish to do more. I can’t.”

 

“This is not permitted by your leaders?” Jiornoth spoke the question, but it was clear he knew the answer based on the tone of her voice. He pointed towards the weapons cache, and then indicated the weapon that he held in one massive hand.

 

“You are in violation of a …” he trailed off, searching for words, “warrior code?”

 

“My people are of two tongues regarding this warrior code. It is called the Prime Directive, and it can cause more trouble then it is worth. Some will say I did right by giving you these weapons. Others will disagree. Whatever action that is taken or not taken results in the same outcome – you and your people are screwed, in the terminology of my people. The training of the last month, with the field hunting tactics and armor will help, but you and the tribe are in need of equal defense. These boom sticks will provide that.”

 

Checks and balances can be a b*tch she thought bitterly to herself.

 

And, Jiornoth was no fool; she’d discovered a keen mind at work in her interactions with the tribesman. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust Tyree either, though Jiornoth was the more level headed of the two right now.

 

He gazed at her steadily, his concern evident. “We appreciate the training of defense provided by your people. But, what will be done to you and your tribe Cale? Will your Elders seek retribution for this act?”

 

“Nothing will be done, to my tribe.” Her words were pointed. “This--,“ she nudged a rifle butt sticking out of the leather sack with the toe of her moccasin boot. “--is my doing. My tribal officers are aware that I authorized these weapons to be crafted, though I felt no need to speak to them regarding this trade with you.”

 

The less her team knew, the better. The only quote ‘loose ends’ in Crash’s plan were the third shift fabrication team, though she had the assurance of the shift lead that the construction and transport of the flintlocks would not be spoken of. The captain, in turn, would protect the armory officers should the need arise.

 

He raised a single eyebrow. “Will you speak? Tell them of this?”

 

She pulled her gaze away, fixating her attention on nothing in particular. Her tone held some defiance. “I…don’t know yet.”

 

Calestorm now questioned Jiornoth, deflecting the attention away from her; it was beginning to bother her, make her uncomfortable. Made her face certain questions that she’d been asking herself with no easy answer forthcoming.

 

Her attention again focused on him. “What will you do?” Her tone held other, unasked questions regarding the future of the Hill Tribe.

 

“Tyree is a good chief. His judgment is blinded with hate, and though I understand his anger – we all do – I hope over the next few moon cycles he will come back to his senses. For now, I keep the fire sticks in a cave and present them to him at a later time.” He glanced at a sand and brown colored lizard that scampered over nearby rocks and out of sight. “You know the cave I speak of.”

 

She nodded in silent affirmation, as they had stayed there overnight after her initial meeting with Dr. Lester. The cave was located in the outlands, far enough away from both the Hill People and the Villagers, so she understood Jiornoth’s reasoning for the location.

 

The big scout blew a series of notes on a horn carved from the bone of an animal. Jiornoth’s son, a lad just beginning to fill out his muscled frame, appeared in the clearing after a few moments. He and Cale exchanged wordless nods. She watched as father and son gathered the packs, disappearing into the surrounding landscape.

 

She waited for a time, as the sun disappeared completely and the darkness descended. It was then that she departed the hidden copse and began the walk back to her initial transport area.

 

Calestorm’s heart and conscience felt heavy, and she now dealt with a different kind of darkness.

 

TBC In Sim…