Let's Ride!

[Crash Calestorm 0]

This log takes place just after the events in the Comanche Creek section of the 28 Shift Cycles Later log. The 03.19.10 Sim will start with the crew preparing to leave the ship and board the station.

 

“Well this is damn peculiar…”

 

Captain Calestorm hadn’t moved from her spot standing behind the Helm and Navigation stations, black booted feet planted firmly on the decking. Her expression hadn’t changed either – she was glaring a blue streak at the main forward view screen, her hazel eyes practically shooting sparks. She preferred her mysteries on a digital reading slate, by a favorite author. But, duty called, and this assignment was a bona fide mystery of the real life variety.

 

Commander Wesley and Lieutenant Riap merely nodded in mute acknowledgment to her rhetorical command officer musings and continued going about their helm and navigation duties, respectively.

 

A real time tactical image of Cold Station 13 was displayed on the left side of the viewer screen, with the graphical and charted data that had been recorded by the ship forward sensors showing on the split screen image window displayed on the right hand side.

 

Damn peculiar. And there was no evidence as of yet that really hinted at or gave some sort of idea of what had happened here at the outpost.

 

The station was completely dark, even the navigation and beacon lights had gone offline. No sign of large scale activity in any of the offices, living quarters, medical research and treatment areas, recreation areas or docking hub. Tentative communications had not been answered, and Cale figured the the station’s internal wireless had gone offline as well. Life support was operational, though at the minimal comfort standards. Any viral cargo that was in cold storage at the station showed on the scans as still under lockdown, and hadn’t been compromised. The medical and sciences scan had shown nothing quote funny unquote in the air quality. The defensive turrets, unlike the remote security drones, hadn’t been activated; otherwise the Comanche Creek might’ve been blown out of the stars when the ship entered the immediate airspace of CS 13.

 

Thank the Lord for small favors,Cale silently thought to herself.

 

The life sign readings weren’t exactly being helpful either. In fact, their scans had raised more questions then answers. The Harbinger Class B station housed about one hundred medical doctors, Starfleet personnel, and private civilian contractors. The ‘Creek’s sensors had only managed to pick up about forty odd life signs, and most of them were scattered at varying intervals across the lower levels and regular cargo areas, but it was difficult to tell what sort of condition the people were in. The only thing that could currently be ascertained was that there were at least some folks still alive over there.

 

There were also two civilian cargo hauler freighters still docked with the station, on the docking ports furthest away from the Comanche Creeks current holding position. It was like all life and the daily operations of CS 13 had come to a sudden and grinding halt.

 

The middle aged female human rubbed at a crick in her neck and then turned to face her bridge officers; most of the senior line crew had gathered on the bridge while the scans had been formulating, and those that hadn’t managed to wander up -- such as the ‘Creeks chief medical officer who was still dealing with some of the minor woundings from the previous skirmish with the stations automated drone defenses -- would be informed of their assignments soon enough through the Ex Oh.

 

Time to get this party started.

 

Crash Calestorm’s mind went into tactical overdrive as she mentally projected the upcoming assignments and those officers that would carry them out; her tone came out rapid fire with a confidence formed from years of service, and she turned to face each one of the officers squarely as she verbally distributed the assignment roster.

 

“Okay people, let’s get down to business. We have a nice sized station outpost hangin’ out there in space that we need to investigate and find out what in hell happened. It’s field trip time.”

 

She turned towards the black furred ships CAG and addressed the feline first, moving in a half circle as she spoke to each officer in turn.

 

“Mrkath, deploy a combat air patrol detail and blanket the sector. I don’t want any uninvited guests flying up our tailpipe. You have bridge command.”

 

“Mister Kvar, away team. Control tower communication systems. See what you can do to get the system up and running again.

 

“Mister Riap, away team. Control tower computer systems. Same instructions. ”

 

The captain turned her sharp hazel eyed attention on the representatives from the red shirt department. “Ensigns Macen, Haruno. You two’ll be responsible for setting up our mobile command station on the docking hubs main promenade section. Once the command area is squared away, do a once over of the entire deck. Your second objective is to coordinate with any other squads as you start to move off onto the other decks and sections.”

 

Her attention then went to her green skinned second in command. “Commander Wesley, you and the CMO will be checking the main medical treatment and lab deck. Please inform the medico Lieutenant that she’ll be accompanying you.”

 

Then, her attention was back on the line crew as a whole. “Everyone is to wear the full field EVA suit and helmet. We have no idea what might be floating in the air processors over there, despite what our sensors are telling us. I also imagine it’s getting a might chilly over their now with the station support systems operating at low capacity.”

 

The captain pointed a finger towards the bridge main viewer, specifically referring to the tactical graphs as she spoke and the schematics of the station. “We’re docking with the station, and we’ll deploy out our airlock onto the main docking and promenade deck,” she glanced at her Ex Oh, “Commander, without station ops on line and able to assist, you’ll have to bring her in manually. Once you have good tone, park the ‘Creek at one of those free docking ports.”

 

Calestorm then touched her hand to her forehead in a good natured salute to her gathered crew before giving the final go ahead.

 

“Okay folks, move out and let’s ride.”

[will_marx 0]

You do know, Crash, that you've doomed your crew.