"The Encroaching Twilight 2"

[STSF Jumper 0]

“The Encroaching Twilight” (Part 2)

Camelot Station Log

Acting Ensign Jagrissa “Jumper” Honor-Scar

 

= = = = =

Civil war is never predictable, and eventually all governments and powers will experience unrest and damage as the war explodes within the borders of the empire in question. Specifically, the internal problems that the Scorpiads were dealing with continued to cause unrest, and the resulting wake of the ripples would continue to spread across the Gamma quadrant. And perhaps beyond? War is never particular about who it draws into its wake.

 

The revolt of the Hunter Al-Ucard and the Servant Eratians against their former masters continued to spread outward. And, it was foolish for the tacticians at Starfleet Intelligence to think otherwise that the fall out would no continue to spread across the sectors. All empires eventually fell, and more often then not the threat came from within and would upset the balance of power previously enjoyed by the masters in command of the empire.

 

At best, Starfleet Command could only keep the real truth from the galactic net news for so long. Cargo and transport lanes within the sector had already been compromised as the Scorpiad fought various skirmishes with their former subservient allies. And the Scorpiad themselves, despite the vaunted and prestigious diplomatic posting to the Camelot space station, could only keep the truth for so long before the true word on the blossoming situation would be released. Or the information would be leaked, whichever you preferred. These nasty political situations always seemed to make the circuit in bar rooms and taverns and between transport captains and crew long before the main news network feeds ever released the official word on a situation. Displacement was also another quirk of war. There were already displaced civilians taking refuge on the Camelot station, as colony worlds and frontier bases found themselves suddenly caught in the crossfire and people were forced to flee..

 

Such was the situation at the Camelot space station. The official word from the command staff was that there was some mild unrest within the Gamma quadrant, but no further information was forthcoming of course. Yet, the unofficial word was spreading like wildfire among the lower decks regarding the problem that faced the Scorpiad. Flight patrols had been mobilized and stepped up, any incoming cargo ships and general sector traffic were being carefully monitored, and the general air permeating the station was charged with a good dose of the unknown. And, those officers that served the Starfleet were the ones tapped to take part in these little under the radar defensive patrols. Officers such as the pilots of the Wildcard Squadron, one of the many fighter squads currently stationed at Camelot and tasked with the perimeter protection of the surrounding sectors.

 

Ever since Gaia squad had practically gotten their chronometers cleaned after a surprise encounter with an Al-Ucard fighter raiding party and a rather large Al-Ucard Hunter class assault ship, the fighter patrols had been even more intense and frequent. The skirmishes that kept popping up across the sectors between the Scorpiad Empire and the Al-Ucard and the Eratian rebels just kept getting more and more frequent. The Al-Ucard people were a ruthless enemy and the rebel leadership mantle suited the blood suckers well.

 

And each Starfleet fighter squad that was sent out to patrol the black of space did so not really knowing if they’d make it back to the station. And then, the cycle would continue for the next duty shift. The future was definitely a dangerous unknown.

 

Jagrissa “Jumper” Honor-Scar checked the sensor display screen inset into her main console one more time, located at the front of the small one man cockpit and just off to the right side of the main pilot controls. As the screen had shown her ten minutes ago when she glanced at it, the surrounding sector save for the Wildcard fighter patrol was empty.

 

The strong voice of squad leader “Psych Out” Kendrick came over the helmet to helmet wireless communication that was shared among the pilots, and she expertly directed her pilots to take on the final arc of their patrol route. “Okay, let’s move onto the next section. Arrow formation, keep your visuals peeled.”

 

The squad leader of the Wildcards took the main forward position, with her wingman taking the spot just off the senior pilot’s right side with Jumper and the remaining three pilots taking up flanking positions on either side of Kendrick. The Caitian feline pilot glanced at yet another screen contained in the cramped cockpit, confirming her position as well the positions of her squad mates. The computerized grid overlay was of a white grid on a black background display screen, and showed a simple representation of the Lancelot class fighters, the transponder number assigned to each of the fighter craft, and the code name employed by each of the pilots. These representations were done in red. The grid pattern was a simple yet effective piece of tracking technology and had not changed much over the years, which was quite important tactically when flying the Lancelot fighter craft.

 

The Wildcards had been tasked with routine patrol duty and the game plan was to engage in a regular sweep pattern for about five hours, going from sector to sector and making sure that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. The pilots were three hours into the patrol assignment and aside from a wayward cargo hauler that had been ordered by Kendrick back to the regular travel and shipping lanes, and no unusual activity - - either of the Scorpiad or Al-Ucard variety - - had been spotted. Jumper was bored, and half hoping for some action. A stray asteroid threatening an entire colony of inhabitants? That could work.

 

“So, Jumper, how does it feel not being the wingman anymore?”

 

The query came from Ferret, who was maintaining this position directly across from where the feline pilot controlled her jet in the formation. He was a relatively new addition to the unit, replacing a former squad member who had been badly burned on the flight deck when a fuel pump had malfunctioned. Ferret was a good pilot, but not very bright when it came to knowing when to shut his mouth. Plus, he was still in his mid twenties and his maturity level had not yet evened out. Jagrissa (even though she herself would never admit this, or had the inkling that she still had some growing up to do) was like this as well, and so the two of them tended to clash and the results were not very pretty.

 

The Caitian responded to the question by speaking into her helmet feed. “I feel fine Ferret,” and how appropriate that his name is of some sort of Earth type rat looking species, “Your point is?”

 

“Well, I’m just saying that you got busted down from that position, and made an acting ensign to boot. I outrank you now at my Ensign. You seem to be having a pretty bad few weeks, and then this morning I heard something about an enlisted deck hand punching you out … “

 

Kendrick came over the wireless. “Stow it Ferret and mind your flight posting.”

 

Before the junior pilot could even attempt to acknowledge the mild reprimand from the senior squad leader, Jumper cut into the communications line. The tone of her voice was still deceptively calm, but she allowed her feral nature to break out. “And I’m sure you love the fact that you outrank me Ferret. Don’t be too hard on him Psych. He can’t help it if he’s a sanctimonious little toDSaH.“

 

And with no warning, Honor-Scar jabbed her paw at a manual control panel which enabled her outtake vents to vent some plasma and jigged her control stick; the resulting movement streaked her own Lancelot fighter sideways across the gap of the formation and then sent it on a direct collision with the boy’s fighter shuttle. The resulting screech of metal on metal as Jumper knocked Ferret out of the flight formation seared over the communications links, along with the human male pilot swearing. Then, just as quickly as the incident occurred, the female Caitian had zipped back across the gap and regained her original formation posting.

 

“Whoops. Sorry about that Ferret. My paw slipped.” Now, the feline’s voice was rife with the tone of sarcasm. “And if we weren’t stuck in these metal birds I’d’ve just up and clawed you a good one you little prissy … “

 

“Jumper!” Kendrick’s own annoyed voice lanced out over the wireless comm feed, but her tone held a distinctive command edge, “you just don’t quit do you …”

 

The feline unceremoniously over talked the squad lead, almost spitting on her helmet face plate in her anger. “Screw you and what do you care Psych Out? You’ve already gotten me busted down to ensign and requested that I transfer out of your squad. Screw you. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

 

The only sound over the communication lines was some low level static crackle that the filters couldn’t quite phase out. Then, Psych Out’s voice came over the communications lines again with a cool tone. “Bear, break formation and escort Jumper back to Camelot. Jumper, you’re relieved of patrol duty. The rest of you will finish the patrol run with me. Form up in secondary arrow formation and we’ll move onto the next vector point.”

 

The uncomfortable exchange between the rogue Caitian pilot and her squad leader had quieted down the rest of the squad, and no one said a word over the communications line as Bear and Jumper broke formation to start the long haul back to the Starfleet base.

 

= = = = = =

About ten minutes into the return flight, Bear finally came over the wireless on a private channel to Jumper. “You know, if you held onto that temper of yours, you wouldn’t get into half as much trouble Kitteh.”

 

Honor-Scar liked Bear. He was one of the few on the station that she hadn’t alienated yet at least. “Ferret is a little toDSaH who needs to learn his place. And Psych Out needs to tone down the commander marionette routine.”

 

Bear almost, almost retorted with ‘you need to learn your place too’, but decided that shutting up was the better part of valor. Instead, the easy going male Trill ended the conversation with a warning to the cat. “Just watch yourself, that’s all I’m saying.”

 

The feline made no further comment, and she and her escort instead listened to the patrol banter being shared by the squad mates that they were leaving behind. Suddenly however, the tone of the wireless conversation shifted. Psych Out began barking orders and the rest of the squad acknowledged the orders. It was obvious something had upset the status quo.

 

“I think they ran into some trouble.” Stating the obvious, Bear booted up a scanner program and attempted to track where the rest of the Wildcard squad had gotten to on the previous patrol vector map grid.

 

The Caitians scratchy purred voice came over their shared channel. “Are you going to shoot a missile up my tailpipe if I turn around and try and help them Bear?”

 

“No Jumper I’m not going to stop you because I’m going to be in front of you!” Bear decelerated and then boosted his Lancelot fighter into a wide turning arc to head back the way the two of them had came. Jumper as well decelerated and zoomed her own Lancelot around to take up a flanking position next to Bear. He sent the position of the squad to her data tracker as well, and then the two pilots were off to intercept their squad mates.

 

The two fleet pilots pushed their fighter jets from cruising speed to the maximum speed that the engines could take and in just under six minutes made it to the skirmish position of the Wildcard squad. Visually, the ‘Cards were neck deep in a situation, dog fighting and trying to fend off about eight enemy fighters of Al-Ucard design to their four. Jumper glanced at her console tracking screen and confirmed from the images recorded by her on board computers that the fighters were indeed of an Al-Ucard design. The burning husks of quite a few fighter crafts could be seem in the distance, as well as a Hunter class Al-Ucard starship squaring off with a comparable Scorpiad ship. If she were to take a guess, the feline pilot assumed that the two enemy ships had squared off, released their respective fighter craft, and then all hell broke loose.

 

“I have confirmation Bear – we got some Blood Suckers. And I see they have large friends in the distance.”

 

“Yeah, well, let’s just get our squad away from the ‘Ucard fighters and worry about the larger transport ships later. As long as they keep taking pot shots at each other, we should be fine.”

 

Jumper needed no further prodding and dove full on into the skirmish, forward guns blazing.

 

= = = = = = =

Psych Out scored a shot on one of the eight enemy fighter jets, and as the sleek black vehicle exploded into a ball of flame, the squadron leader was already away and searching for another target. It was then that her tracking computer pinged with the two new arrivals, and she noted that Jumper and Bear had joined the fight. “I don’t know what the hell the two of you are doing back here, but I really don’t care right now! We are in deep sh*t, move your rear ends and get in here and give us some cover fire!”

 

Jumper went right for a fighter that had alighted too close to Psych Out and with a shouted order over the wireless comm for Psych to slam on the breaking thrusters, took a missile shot at the Al-Ucard fighter as it overshot the squad leader’s previous position. The projectile hit home and the menacing black jet dissipated in a cloud of superheated plastic and metal. Both female pilots flipped their Lancelot fighters in a textbook maneuver and engaged two more incoming bogeys.

 

Bear zoomed by Jumper and Psych Out to assist their other squad mates, but the effort was too little and too late; while Jangles and Wipeout effectively deterred the enemy ‘Ucards that had gone after them, Ferret’s one rear engine was billowing black and gray smoke. The junior pilot went into a tail spin seconds later and exploded in a fiery conflagration. Bear could only stare in horror and report on the situation on the pilot wireless channel. “We have a pilot down, repeat, a pilot down. Ferret is gone, repeat, Lancelot zero zero five is gone and done.”

 

The Al-Ucard fighters had been reduced from a squad of eight down to a count of five by this point. Both squads were even in numbers at this moment, but apparently the Suckers were uncomfortable with losing their original advantage of superior numbers. The blood suckers all formed up and started to zoom back toward the distant section where the Scorpiad and Al-Ucard transport starships were still exchanging fire, leaving what was left of the Starfleet fighter patrol in the cosmic space dust.

 

With a snarl over the wireless, Jumper jigged her Lancelot and gave chase after the retreating ‘Ucard fighters.

 

“Jumper! Cease and desist! That’s an order! We can’t get into the weapons range of the larger transports, they’ll get a lock on us for sure and rip us to shreds! Jumper, copy!”

 

The tawny furred feline had an internal war for a moment, her aggressive tendencies almost winning out over her more rational Starfleet training. She wanted to take out one more of the Sucker fighters … just one more. Payback was due. She ignored the insistent comming from Kendrick and continued on her suicide run.

 

 

Just as the Caitian pilot cleared what was obviously the outer perimeter of the larger battle - - judging by the floating husks of Scorpiad and Al-Ucard fighter jets - - her early warning system started to ping an alert. Her attention was drawn to the side screen on the control console, and she saw that some sort of wide band signal was trying to get a lock on her. Her logical tactical mind kicked in at that point, and she knew that if one of those big ships were to lock onto any one of the fighter patrol pilots. They couldn’t afford that, not now.

 

With another snarl, she broke off her pursuit of the Al-Ucard fighters as they streaked toward their home ship and turned her Lancelot around to link up again with the team. “Psych Out, Jumper copies. Pursuit is no longer, repeat, the pursuit is no longer.”

 

“Good. About time you showed some damned sense. Everyone fall into formation; we have orders to scrub the patrol run and report back to Camelot to give a debrief on what just happened. Hell, we found out what we came out here for anyway. The civil war is starting to come to the Camelot doorstep.”

 

The remaining squad team easily fell into return formation and Bear’s voice came over the squad communications line once they were all settled and well on their way back to the station. “What happened Psych? Did they jump you?”

 

“Aye that they did. They were probably some sort of advance patrol scouts who were recalled once the two larger Al-Ucard and Scorpiad transports got into it. We had gotten some strange pings on our radar sensors and boom, we ran right into the scout teams return flight path. I’m guessing they thought we were an easy kill.” Kendrick’s tone came out hard and flat. “Enough chit chat. We maintain comm silence until we get back into Camelot perimeter space.”

 

Honor-Scar waited a moment, and then pinged Psych Out on a private channel. “Psych … I’m sorry about what happened earlier. And Ferret was a good pilot. He’ll be missed.”

 

There was a long pause and then Kendrick came back over the communication line. Her tone was filled with a carefully controlled - - but just barely controlled - - vitriol. “I’m not going to file charges, again, against you, but you had better get your furry head out of your ass and start playing the game smarter if you want to make it past the age of thirty Honor-Scar. Someday, somewhere, you’re either going to get a knife between the ribs during a bar brawl or blown to kingdom come in a firefight. The Reaper is coming to visit this sector and we don’t need screw ups like you getting good people killed as result of your attitude and actions. You’re a prime candidate to screw up and get someone killed, and I’d just as soon not have you around me and my squad when that happens. After what you pulled today, you’ll be out of my squad by the end of next week. Now maintain radio silence and don’t bother me unless you have catastrophic engine failure and are about to careen into an asteroid. Kendrick out.”

 

Psych Out was never that blunt and abruptly cut the communications line, leaving a rather surprised and subdued Caitian pilot to ponder her squad leaders parting words and implications.