"The Encroaching Twilight"

[STSF Jumper 0]

* Banshee Farrell character used with permission of Kansas Jones.

 

“The Encroaching Twilight”

Camelot Station Log

Lieutenant Jagrissa “Jumper” Honor-Scar

Chief Petty Officer Margaret “Banshee” Farrell

 

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The Gamma Quadrant was in a time period of unrest. A once great and powerful empire now found itself in an uncertain position as the empire entered its twilight years of rule and conquest. Former servants and soldiers, once loyal and subject to serve the arachnid empire of the Scorpiads, were now in open rebellion. Subject worlds that had been long conquered and supposedly destined to remain under empire rule, were now being freed by the rebellious actions or slipping out from the noose of captivity because the weakened empire could no longer control the worlds.

 

The quadrant had become a flashpoint waiting to be fully ignited, which would then spread the destructive flame of unrest across the vectors. Even now, refugees had started to flee the unrest that was broiling between the vampire like soldier Al-Ucards, the insect like Eratians, and their former masters, the Scorpiads. Many more would be caught in the crossfire, because in a conflict such as this, innocents were caught in the resulting fallout when those who had formerly served rose up against their masters.

 

A call requesting assistance had come into the Camelot station; a civilian cargo freighter had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when a minor skirmish had broken out between a Scorpiad warship and an Al-Ucard hunter ship. It was inevitable that conflicts would start to encroach on the main travel vectors within the quadrant. A stray shot had lanced out from one or the other ship, and struck the cargo ship. The freighter captain had fled the scene, able to limp to a semi-safe distance from the skirmish, and then contacted the station to report what had happened and make a request for assistance.

 

Intelligence on the state of the Gamma Quadrant with regard the Eratian/Al-Ucard/Scorpiad conflict was very hush-hush, and any data or Intel that came over the communications streams to the Camelot station never made it past the command teams. But one thing was for certain: the whisperings of rebellion and conflict inevitably made the rounds on the lower decks of the station. And, all Camelot fighter wings attached to the station had been placed on alert, with instructions to increase their quadrant patrol runs. The official story was that the extra patrols would keep the squads sharp, but everyone knew better.

 

The Camelot 28th Wing Wildcard Squadron had been scrambled to assist with the freighter repair situation, and the instructions to the pilots and their squadron leader had been explicit: escort the repair team to the vector site, patrol the general area while the repairs were done, and then head back to the station once assistance had been rendered. Nothing was to be discussed with the cargo crew, only the repair job at hand.

 

Lieutenant Jagrissa “Jumper” Honor-Scar checked the approach vector of the Runabout that she piloted, and then confirmed her position with both her squad lead and the freighter captain. She was ferrying Chief Petty Officer Farrell and the lead mechanics repair team while her fellow squad mates flew escort patrol around the Runabout. Even though she had recently received a promotion to full lieutenant, the feline pilot had still been removed permanently from her squad position of wingman for her actions a few days ago while on patrol. The squad leader of the ‘Cards, Kendrick, had cited the fact that she needed a pilot who was “more stable” as her chief backup. Honor-Scar had also been assigned to punishment repair duty with Farrell and her mechanics due to the new rules and resulting consequences that had been enacted with regard to any non skirmish hot dogging while on patrol. For the duration of the two week repair assignment, the feline pilot was also banned from flying any of the Lancelot fighters. In the meantime, she was stuck with the Runabouts or the cargo shuttles and remanded to escort duty or supply drop duty to the Avalon base.

 

To be honest, Jumper really didn’t care. So what if she was flying a Runabout full of grease monkeys. As long as the feline was piloting, she was content. Being a pilot meant going out in the black, and the black meant freedom. Anyway that Jumper could get out to the black of space was fine with her.

 

She glanced over to her enlisted nemesis, and decided to make some small talk. “Chief, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re doing pretty well over there on the tactical console … you’ve had the training?” The normally aggressive tempered Cait was trying a new tact – being nice. Now this was a concept. “I’m a little …. shocked.” Her purred voice sounded soothing within the confines of the cockpit, and it hid her aggressive personality well.

 

CPO Banshee Farrell leveled a smirk at the prickly feline pilot, but it was good natured. “Aye, I’ve got the training, and I’m even qualified to take over as the pilot in a pinch for this bird. I also have me certification on the Gwen heavy bombers too.”

 

“ … then why not transfer, and be a pilot?” The question was blunt.

 

“Well, Lieutenant sir, you gotta hold the rank of Ensign in order to be a pilot. I’ve got no desire to transfer into the commissioned ranks and prance about a line officer just to flu a bird. Not a’ my age; I enjoy tinkering, and mechanics is me calling. I learned that a long time ago.”

 

The Irish woman paused and then continued with the conversation. “Besides, these Runabouts and the Gwens are the real meat and potatoes of the flight craft. I’d sooner be shoved head first up a Leprechauns arse then get behind the stick o’ one of those Lancelot hot rods.” She waved a derisive hand toward the canopy of the Runabout and pointed in the direction of the Lancelot escorts that surrounded their Runabout transport. “Your buddies might as well be flying metal coffins.”

 

Jagrissa had no idea what exactly a Leprechaun was, but figured that being shoved headfirst into one was not a desirable thing.

 

A blip sounded on the main console board, indicating that the escort fighters and the Runabout were within range of the disabled cargo transport.

 

Honor-Scar promptly contacted the squad lead; she was being such a good cat. Today that is.

 

“Runabout Four One One has sensor contact with the cargo freighter, and I have visual contact through the canopy. Adjusting flight vector to point three, lower seven, on my mark. Mark.”

 

The feline pilot deftly maneuvered the Runabout so the Starfleet vessels airlock link chute grappled onto the chute that had been extended from the freighter. Within a few seconds, the link up console flashed green and confirmed that the airlock corridor was pressurized, indicating that the transfer of repair personnel was a go.

 

Without a parting word, Farrell gathered up her took kit and barked out some mobilization orders to her repair team. Within a few minutes, the Camelot mechanics were safely on board the cargo freighter.

 

Honor-Scar swiped a paw across the console that would boot up the squad wireless signal that would link her up with the ‘Cards. “Psych-Out, this is Jumper. The repair team is away, repeat away.”

 

Squadron lead Kendrick came back over the communications wireless signal a second later, acknowledging the junior pilots report. “Jumper, Psych-Out. We are falling into our patrol run now, and will maintain a protective vector around the Four One One and the freighter. Please advise when the repair team is back on board.”

 

“Psych Out, Jumper. Will do boss lady. Four One One out.” The Caitian pilot then settled in to monitor the Runabout’s systems and wait until Farrell’s repair team had completed their assigned duty.

 

Jumper Honor-Scar, like many of the officers and crew who served on the lower decks of the Camelot space station, had no idea that the twilight of darkness was roiling in to envelop the Gamma Quadrant like so many dark clouds.

 

Many lives would be lost, uprooted and forever changed within the resulting conflicts.