Situation Report: RAdm Coyote

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Note: This log takes place during the 2nd day of the forty eight hour Time Between Sims

 

Situation Report: Rear Admiral Coyote

Captain Ashton Calestorm

USS Comanche Creek

 

Captain Ashton Marie ‘Crash’ Calestorm currently sat in her Fleet issue red-hued desk chair at the desk in her private quarters. Her combat booted feet were planted on a corner of the desk as she reclined in the chair. A sport ice pack was fastened on top of her bad knee that was currently playing all kinds of hell with her and protesting her recent vigorous activity (she’d definitely have to stop by the medical bay and get a hypo injection), and she had a cold wash cloth draped over her forehead and closed eyelids. A mug, emblazoned with the steel gauntleted mission symbol of the USS Comanche Creek and containing cool water, sat within easy reach on the dark charcoal colored slate desktop.

 

The captain of the 'Creek had spent the better part of the last forty eight hours off and on touring various sections and areas of the colony proper as well as the colony world itself, and her entire body hurt. While her typical command gold tunic and trousers were comfortable enough, Cale had chosen to wear the Starfleet border patrols field uniform: brown field fatigues, black lightweight tactical cargo/combat vest, and a black cap in order to be comfortable on the arid and dry landscape of the world. The colony planet was as close to the original Vulcan planet as one would expect in order for the relocated and surviving inhabitants to be comfortable, and the location was important: New Vulcan (or as some of the crew had taken to calling it, ‘En Vee One’) was far enough out along the perimeter of the quadrant to offer the colonists a bit of privacy as they rebuilt their culture, yet the planet was still within the marginal jurisdiction of the Federation for access to the sector space.

 

And, it had been a long day dirt side for Calestorm. Honestly, if she had wanted to spend her career walking or running about, she would have joined the Starfleet Marine ground pounders instead of the Starfleet Pilot fighter jock program those years ago.

 

The line officers and department heads for the Comanche’s Medical, Engineering, Security and Sciences departments had all been dispatched to the surface of the Vulcan Colony world in order to carry out the assigned duties and postings that had been distributed based on specialties and training, and the Aero Group, had been dispatched to fly lower atmosphere patrols as well as sector patrols.

 

Ashton had retired to her ship board quarters to handle her administrative duties in some privacy. The public communications kiosks that had been constructed and implemented on the planet were all well and good, but as this was official ‘Fleet business, discretion was very much called for. She had a report to make to her commanding admiral, and was waiting for an answering signal back from the FTR offices in San Francisco, Earth. After a ten minute delay as the sector wireless bounced from the relay stations set up at various intervals across the Alpha Quadrant, Admiral Shauna ‘Skipper’ Coyote had access to the message and answered the wireless query, and her fine boned and olive skinned features appeared in the stationary holo graphic viewer mounted on the desktop surface.

 

“Crash. What’s the word and welcome to your first wireless debriefing and check in.”

 

“Joy and rapture.” Then Cale smiled, opened her eyes, and lifted her head, favoring her long time friend and superior officer with a good natured smirk. “Good to see you Skipper.” The damp cloth that had been resting on her forehead dropped off and down into a waiting hand.

 

“We have some business to discuss; how is the colony mission proceeding so far within the last forty eight hours after making your orbit vector?”

 

Coyote was a pleasant enough person -- for an Admiral -- to talk too, but she by her very nature was direct and to the point when it came to administrative matters. Cale had at one time, before the two women and become friends, always given the slightly older officer a hard time about her direct (read: stuffy and proper) managerial methods. Thankfully, friendship and maturity had stamped out this somewhat annoying (to the recipient) predilection.

 

Ashton shifted position slightly in her desk chair from the semi reclining position in order to make her formal report from a semi upright and dignified position; the ice pack was kept in place through her movement by the sport fasteners that kept it about the knee area.

 

“As we suspected Admiral, the colony is very rough and tumble and has that frontier look and feel to it. The bulk of the relocation colonists haven’t arrived yet, there is a constant influx of supplies being brought in by various civilian contractor ships so the sector space lanes can get a bit crowded what with the traffic. The site that is to be the main colony is currently set up with a series of tents. Until the permanent and pre-fabricated structures can be either built or snapped together, there’s one large tent functioning as the community gathering and governmental tent as well, with another tent about the same size that has been designated as the main medical area. The smaller tents that have sprung up represent both private homes as well as the beginnings of a business, trading, and purchase area. The planet itself is dry, sandy, and arid, very close to Vulcan of course, yet there are also climate areas that boast bodies of water, streams, tributaries, and forested or woodland areas connected to the aqua influence.”

 

Ashton flicked a series of commands into the desktops flush inset keyboard, queuing up and sending the file that she had wanted to access as a text outline to the situation report.

 

“Now, onto departmental deployments -- I’m sending you my tactical outline, so the zipped data packet should be showing as received in your account on your screen now. Security is dealing with on site patrol and keeping the peace. Engineering is responsible for reviewing the proposed structure of the colony, the general planetary layout with regard to the planned outposts, and recording information in general on the state of the functioning technology and future upgrades that will be implemented. Medical is providing inoculation aid and whatever else the colony needs by way of Medical care, and re-supplying medical stores where necessary. I have the Sciences geeks doing a general survey of the few climate zones that the planet boasts, and the Jumper Jocks are patrolling both the planetary atmo as well as the sector space, and also helping with the supply and personnel runs with the shuttles where needed. The transporters are all well and good, but the orbital ships have had a few close calls with regard to the bio signals getting crossed what with the number of signals going back and forth, so we’ll be using the shuttles where applicable.”

 

Calestorm paused for a minute and let Coyote absorb all that and finish up with the few notes that she had been scribbling on a data slate with a light pen. Then, she ventured a question of her own to her commanding officer. “How are the FTR offices doing? The craziness over the program implementation and ship launch die down yet?”

 

Coyote spread her hands within view of the visual data feed. “Actually Cale, of you can believe it, the hoopla has rocketed up a few more notches. I’ve been fielding reports and requests for interviews and statements. The requests are coming in from the Earth media groups as well as Galactic media organizations -- the Andorians in particular seem mighty interested in the First Threat Response Program. But what it all comes down to is both the private and public sectors are both after more news regarding the FTR Border program, the Comanche Creek, her crew, and my new line captain…," and Shauna proceeded to smoothly transition onto her next little tidbit of information, "...oh by the way, I’ve scheduled you for a wireless video interview chat with Paul Breck of the Channel Six News Group. Ten AM on Wednesday, Tuesday the 20th.”

 

“…if I wasn’t so danged tired, I’d protest. Violently.”

 

Coyote smirked and gave Calestorm a two fingered salute to her forehead in response. “Just behave yourself Captain and the interview will go well. And you’ve met with Administrator Sarel? What’s your first impression of his new administrative role as the colony governor?”

 

“Other then the fact that he is a royal pain in the butt?”

 

Sarel, a former Starfleet admiral turned colony leader was well into his retirement age (at least for a Vulcan) at 145 years and counting. He had originally started his service with the Fleet in the late 2150’s during the full integration of Vulcans into the fledgling organization that would eventually become a mainstay of the galactic Federation. The administrator had been in his late 40’s when he enlisted and his Vulcan military commission and experience had transferred with him.

 

Over the intervening time frame that included one hundred plus years of service, Sarel had served in a wide range of positions and assignments: line officer, Intelligence agent, Fleet academy instructor, administrative ‘desk flyer’, field commander, and had retired once already and had also taken several sabbaticals through the years. Shauna Coyote had the good fortune to meet the man during his consulting time with Starfleet Intel, at about the same two year time period when Skipper had been in charge of the Extraction Program for operatives in deep cover on various assignments.

 

Now, the year was 2258, and the territories and sectors as a whole were still reeling with the aftershocks of the destruction of the planet Vulcan due to the Nero attacks. Sarel had risen to both the call and the challenge, leaving his second retirement in order to come to the New Vulcan colony world and help rebuild the Vulcan culture and its people on the newly established colony world.

 

The man had quite the task ahead of him as the lead administrator…but that didn’t mean that Ashton had to like him, however.

 

“Cale…” A warning tone from superior officer Admiral. Noted.

 

Ash put her hand up palm forward into the visual feed of the two way view screen video conversation to show that she was repentant and to stave off any further rebukes. “Fine, fine, my apologies Admiral. My report on the state of the administrator and his colony is as follows -- both the colony and its relocated peoples are in his very capable hands.”

 

The ships master paused before continuing her assessment. “He has various launch and set up programs in varying stages of completion or implementation regarding establishment of structures, a communications net, irrigation, and the outlying outposts and settlements that will be established in addition to the main settlement. It will take them years, obviously, for all of the plans to come to fruition, but I’d say New Vulcan is well on its way to becoming a colony world. My departments and officers are of course planet side as we speak, pitching in with the effort. Off the record, if that stick gets any further up there, I may need to ask my chief medical officer to surgically remove it from his person.”

 

Coyote sighed on her end of the visual conversation, choosing to leave that final comment go; at times, with Calestorm, retreating was the better part of valor unless you wanted to start on a slow ulcer. “Speaking of the CMO, how are things working out regarding your department chiefs and line officers? I know it’s only been a few weeks into the launch mission, but what is that famous Cale gut telling you? Medical as the kick off?”

 

“As of right now, I have no complaints in general with my officers. The LPN is working out fine in her role as the chief medico. Her people as a whole claim that non-emotion failsafe, but like all the Vulcan survivors, I’m assuming she’s going through phases of adjustments but her duties remain unaffected. I currently have no issues of concern with the medical department as a whole.”

 

“Engineer?”

 

“If he gets any more excited about the technology and toys on this ship, I may have to sedate him.” Cale lifted her Comanche mug in salute, “Admiral Coyote, I must say you done good with the requisitions to outfit this bad boy ship with the latest weapons, equipment, and technology.”

 

Shauna acknowledged the compliment with a slight smile and tip of her head, and then went right back into the conversation at hand. “What about the commander of the Aero Group?”

 

“Good pilot, good officer and he doesn’t get all possessive and has agreed to let the command staff play with his star fighters whenever we have a notion to get some cockpit time in, which is always a good thing. Thank God I like cats and don’t have allergies.”

 

“Speaking of the Comanche Creek command team -- how goes it with Wesley?”

 

“Good Ex Oh. I know per her biographical information that she had a rough start in life before Bob Wesley got hold of her, but I really like what I see in her day to day duties and handling of the crew. She has my back and that’s all I can ask. Hell of a pilot too, and she’ll probably give me a run for my money when we take the fighters out for a spin.”

 

“Comm officer?”

 

“She’s still trying to figure out what in the heck she’s doing out here, has that classic ‘deer in the headlights’ look. On the positive side, she’s very professional and thorough at what she does and she knows her way around the communications console. She’ll earn her keep with the sheer amount of internal and external comm traffic that we’ll be routing from New Vulcan and incoming deliveries and personnel, I know that.”

 

“Security?”

 

“Currently, our two lead Midshipmen are active with the departmental readiness and planetary assignments. We’re still waiting on word about an experienced chief of security, but the Middie line officers seem to be settling in nicely. For now, they report to Commander Wesley. The El-Aurian doesn’t look a day over 25, and I hope I look that good at that age…”

 

Coyote interjected a sarcastic, “Oh yes, because we all know that Humans are long lived enough to reach the four hundred year old mark…”

 

And Calestorm ignored her with years of practice that only achieved perfection between good friends or blood family, “… and he’s a natural born explorer officer. The female, Sakura, has some solid hand to hand combat techniques and I wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley. Both of ‘em are enthusiastic and happy to have an assignment and the ‘Fleet needs that gung ho attitude with our surviving cadet and midshipmen officers right about now.”

 

“Amen to that. What about your Navigator Intel Analyst?”

 

“I owe you a drink on him. He knows his stuff and the preliminary Intel gathering reports that he’s submitted to the command team regarding projected proposals for any problems we might face here are thorough and unbiased. No complaints about his Nav abilities either, I mean in so far as he hasn’t plotted us a course straight through an asteroid or somethin’.”

 

“Damn straight you do. I told you he’d work out.”

 

Ashton shifted position slightly, and winced as her knee protested.

 

Shauna caught the expression. “…you look like you’re in some pain? Your knee again?”

 

“Skipper, I’m fifty four years old and you have me riding herd on a brand spanking new ship and crew and running about a surviving cultural relocation colony world dealing with a pain in the rear Vulcan male administrator. Of course I’m in physical pain.”

 

“Bull. You’re in better shape now then you were at twenty three.”

 

“Tell that to my knee.”

 

“That’s different. Your knee had a close encounter with flying shrapnel and lost the skirmish. And we do have medical procedures you could employ for that old injury if you weren’t so stubborn Captain Calestorm.”

 

Ashton chuckled softly, her laughter pleasant and genuine. “Suggestion noted Admiral. You’ve been after me for what, ten years now about this injury?”

 

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

 

“I will drink to that. If you were any more persistent you’d be a leech Shauna Coyote. And, that concludes my current report Admiral.” Cale smiled then,”So far, your program seems to be doing well Skipper. You did a good job with the implementation.”

 

Coyote jauntily saluted her line captain and the compliment. “You might say that the legacy of the Comanche Creek Colony is a good motivational tool with regard to not repeating history. Safe journey Captain and Baa Baa Blacksheep.”

 

“Aye Admiral, and I will be in touch, Calestorm out.”