Agent

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Ensign Karl Stone had retired to his shared quarters just after the completion of his latest shift. The Primos mission, while innocuous, provided a good deal of cover to allow the young man the opportunity to engage in his covert activities for the night; his roommate had been deployed for the second shift, allowing Stone the run of their stateroom.

 

He had been on board the USS Comanche Creek since the ship’s launch as just another red shirted member if the Security department. The position was the perfect cover, the perfect methodology to observe and report his findings to his handler. Stone’s mission was simple: observe the crew, observe the command staff, and approach the captain if and when a situation required the activation of the Comanche Creek for needed services as a temporary field ship.

 

It was quite possible that the ensign would complete his four year service contract with the border patrol vessel without ever needing to act on the dormant orders.

 

Stone waited patiently while the encrypted wireless signal that he had calculated was bounced between several relay nodes across several sectors; the secure channel and sub-channels would ensure that his transmission looked no more suspicious then a cargo hauler transmitting course corrections to a navigational position satellite.

 

After an indeterminable wait, the signal connected with a secure USB node at the San Francisco offices for Fleet Command, though the organization that employed Stone was not necessarily completely oriented with the Starfleet organization proper; the small desktop mounted view screen finally showed the real time image of the ensigns true commanding officer: the stereotypical middle aged white male, square jawed features, with steel gray hair cut in a classic high and tight recon haircut. He had no indication of rank, and only wore the off duty long sleeve black tunic undershirt.

 

“Where does your assessment stand at this moment in time Agent? Could this crew operate as capable field agents for our purposes? The command staff and department leads?”

 

Stone’s Earth descent Germanic features did not change, his facial muscles showing no expression as he gave his verbal reports. “Like any crew, they all have their quirks. But, my answer is yes, Sir.”

 

“Define quirks.”

 

“I was able to observe the commanding officer closely during an assignment, and I find the rumors to be true; quarter deck breeding, she'll never make it past the rank of captain or commodore. The executive officer has some familial ties to the Cartel, though as of yet they do not affect her position on this ship. The command bridge communications officer is slightly green, for the most part un-tried in frontier combat operations. The CMO I find to be capable, though she engages in subterfuge as a priestess. The two lead security officers are also green with regard to service, though the female has ninja training and the male has experience as a long lived being. We’ve since picked up a Science contingent on the roster, as well as a Chief Engineer; as of right now, I need more time to observe them. The commander of the air group is very much under the astro radar, by the book sort of officer.”

 

Steel Hair nodded, and made some notations on a digital recording slate using a stylus pen. “And what of the Intelligence officer?”

 

“Still posted Sir, primarily as Navigator; he had been deployed recently away from the ship in order to carry out a specific Intel mission. In my opinion, we have no need to engage him directly other then when and if the crew at large is activated.”

 

The older man gave a mild smirk at his junior's comment; there was no love lost between the two covert organizations. “Good; I’ll contact you again regarding a change in field status for your current observation targets if plausible. Until then, maintain your cover.”

 

“Yes sir. Stone out.”