"Uber-Probie"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

02.11.09

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Uber-Probie”

 

The Caitian First Officer of the Excalibur glanced yet again to the split screen tactical overlay grids that were showcased on the main viewer in order get an orientation on the current situation and change up her orders on the fly.

 

This sloppy skirmish had gone on for six minutes, which in tactical terms was an eternity.

 

It wasn’t as if the Helm officer wasn’t doing his job, or the Sciences team wasn’t backing up the Tactical officer with their boosted sensor programs that the targeting scanners were benefiting from greatly. Working together, the Science geeks and the Tactical jarhead were scoring some serious battle hits on the hostile raiders. And, gods knew that the Tactical officer was mixing it up over at his console, breaking out the right tools for the right boom-age job.

 

The fighter contingent that had launched were also kicking some serious rear end on the front line perimeter of the battle, taking on the fighter craft of the pirate raiders in one on one dog fighting. The cargo freighter, though damaged, had managed to limp away a short distance and was no longer being set upon by the full wrath of the pirates.

 

And, let’s not forget the Akira class Excalibur herself; the ship, intended to perform multiple mission functions from explorations to military ops to evacuations, was a warship by it’s very design and was a prime example for military engagements, with a larger, more improved design originally derived from the prototype Defiant class.

 

The skirmish should have been over and done with in three minutes, tops, according to the Academy tactical textbooks.

 

But, this was not the Academy, this was field work. The pirate raiders who had been attacking the cargo freighter were not military adversaries, and they were not employing cut and dry tactics; they were employing civilian based raider para-military tactics.

 

And, the ships First Officer needed to get a friggin’ clue; she felt like a damn probie.

 

It was one thing to be a security officer manning the tactical board and letting loose with the phaser, torp, and mine launcher programs. You searched with the grid spotter programs, grabbed a target, locked on the sight down programs or tuned it all up manually if you wanted to go full on old school, and boom – no more active target because said target vessel had been disabled, clipped, or destroyed.

 

Left Ear JoNs wasn’t a tactical security officer anymore, and she didn’t have the luxury of being just one element manning a bridge console in the grand scheme of battle. She was the senior commanding officer currently in charge of the whole ding dang ship, and as such the main tactical lead.

 

And, she was thinking in military tactical terms, going by the book when she needed to go outside the box and implement some civilian raider based tactics of her own.

 

That last jolt that rippled through the bridge did it, and the brown furred panther leaped up from the center command seat. “Okay, enough of this damn friggin’ veken sssstan paddy cake business. The gloves are off and I want these pirate fighters and their raider base ship incapacitated or driven off, veken sssstan ssssfor pronto!”

 

The ships XO continued speaking, barking out orders to the bridge officers on duty, pointing back and forth with a big brown paw to the officers in question and the grid overlay on the main viewer.

 

“Mister Khal, bring us down and around again in an inverted under-maneuver. Tactical, as soon as you have a clear shot at the base ships underbelly, open up with the mine grapplers, low yield should do it so we don’t ding the freighter. Ms. Ramson, give your birds the final clearance to get down and dirty with the opposing birds; if they still respond aggressively after we drive off and clip or incapacitate the base ship, blow ‘em from the black. Ms. Teykier, Ms. Tia, keep grabbing as much Intel as you can with your sensor scans, and good job with the tactical backup.”

 

“Damn veken raiders ….”

 

. . . Left Ear sighed at her final choice of bad language (and really, her language had seriously degraded in time with the battle as it unfolded and she was rapidly spiraling toward the stereotypical ‘mouth like a sailor’ naval designation) and a wide brown paw came up and she gave herself a disciplinary cuff across the back of the head . . . *

 

“Re-engage and let’s take out the trash …”

 

= = = =

*Random Trivia: what TV show did I kleptomaniac the famous head slap and the “Probie” from?