Estranged

[Crash Calestorm 0]

This Mirror Universe log takes place during our TBS, just prior to our upcoming 11.01.10 Sim…

 

Calestorm waited patiently in her personal quarters, sitting in a chair at her desk as the coded communications channel connected to a wireless communications node. After a small delay, the image of her elder brother popped onto the two way desktop viewer.

 

A smile worked its way across her face as she laid eyes on her sibling.

 

Jonathan Calestorm's own smile matched hers. “Hey Ashton, it’s good to see you. What’s up?”

 

She gave him a friendly nod. “Jon. We’ll be making orbit at Xanar in less than an hour. As soon as we’re clear, my crew goes in. Once all teams are set, we boot the EMP charges and the colony goes dark; we start moving the colonists out and escort them to the drop off point that we all agreed on. It’ll be tight, but as long as the ‘Six is out of system before any Imperial Fleet ships show up, I’ll be happy.”

 

“Thanks Ashton. I knew you’d be perfect for this job.”

 

She waved him off, modestly. “As long as your handler or whatever the hell you call her, coughs up the credits, I’m happy. Doesn’t much matter to me who’s payin’ as long as me and the crew gets paid.”

 

Jonathan Calestorm gazed at his sister over the video wireless. “You know, you have way more talent than the common mercenary that you’ve made yourself to be. The Resistance could use you.”

 

They had been going back and forth like this for almost ten years now, ever since Crash had taken to contract freighting full time. The two had always been a bit distant with one another, not necessarily as close as siblings should be, though the relationship had been cordial and they certainly held some love towards each other. The last few years they’d been really estranged however; Jon kept harping on her to join the rebel cause and fight against the Imperial Fleet and the Sato Empire.

 

In Cale’s opinion, joining the cause was a real good way to end up real dead.

 

She gently snorted in response to his recruiting tactic. “And what? I come along, join up to fight the good fight, bring Chris and Cody with me, and then we end up as one big happy Imperial Resistance family? The Fighting Calestorms?”

 

“You’re not leading any kind of life as a tramp freighter Ashton, if the bruises on your face are any guage of what you’ve been getting yourself into—“ He indicated her with a finger, “—and some of the crew you ride with can be pretty scuzzy.” He trailed off then, the distaste evident on his weather beaten features.

 

“And what? Your life is better? How many times have you had to move in the past six months? How’s that gunshot wound to yer shoulder…it’s still stiff isn’t it? I can tell by the way yer holding yourself.”

 

His temper flared, fueled by frustration and the old argument. “And you lost your backbone; never thought you’d run from a challenge or a fight Ashton.” His words stung, but he wanted to lash out and cause her hurt.

 

Calestorm jabbed her finger at the air, pointing it towards her brother. “And you put Katherine in an early grave!”

 

“That’s not fair Ashton--”

 

She cut him off. “—No! It’s not fair! If this life was fair, you and I’d both be at the family property, sipping coffee and discussing the latest scores for the astro ball matches.”

 

What was left unsaid between them hung in the air for a moment, an unspoken issue long left to fester: their mother and father. Unlike their children, the senior Calestorm’s -- who were now well into their late 80’s -- both still served the Imperial Starfleet. The family property located within the former state of Georgia, Earth, belonged to them, and neither Ashton nor Jonathan were welcome on it.

 

Jonathan chopped and angry hand through the air, the motion plain on the two way visual. “You know what, let’s not do this again. Let’s just stick to the situation and the current job, agreed?”

 

Cale ran a hand back through her silver blond hair, the gesture tired and weary. “Look, Jon, I’m not doing this for you--,” but you are helping the Halkan miners stationed at the Xanar colony, aren’t you? an annoying little mental voice interjected. She ignored it, “--the money is good and I don’t care where it’s coming from. Credits are credits, and I need the money to keep this rust bucket of a ship together and flyin’. Just have my dang money at the rendezvous point. Either leave it with the barkeep or come yourself, or send one of your people, I don’t care.”

 

His expression was equal parts anger and hurt, and it matched Ashton’s own features. “Fine. I’ll see you in twenty four hours Ashton. Watch your back and I love you.”

 

The communications signal was cut on his end, leaving Cale staring at a blank screen. She slouched her tall and lanky frame against the backrest of the duct taped, faded black leather office chair and spent a minute or two getting her emotions under control, swallowing hard and blinking back the moisture in her eyes.

 

Gentle rustling could be heard in the shadows behind her, and her husband melted out of the shadows thrown by the semi-darkened living quarters. Twelve years spent as a sniper in Imperial SPECOPS had left their mark on Chris Pike, and he could still move like a ghost. If Cale didn’t find the whole thing so damn fascinating whenever he slipped into his ‘ghost walking’, as she jokingly referred to the concept, it would have endlessly creeped her out.

 

He moved towards her, placing a gentle hand on a tension filled shoulder. “Jon means well Ashton.”

 

Calestorm threw a glance over her shoulder, and then picked up the cooling coffee mug resting on the desktop. She took a sip of the lukewarm contents and swallowed before speaking.

 

“Yeah. He means well and I know that Chris. But if he keeps riding with that rebellion lot, he’ll end up just as dead as our sister…”