Admiral Abracadabara

[RAdm S.Coyote 0]

This log takes place during the first week of our month long TBS…

 

USS Comanche Creek

Wei Orbit

Captains Quarters

20:00 Hours (8:00 PM)

 

It had been six days since the shuttle Hobbes had gone down, taken out by an EMP pulse over the tropical jungles of the planet Wei. Thankfully, Captain Calestorm and her senior officers had survived impact and the resulting harrowing trip to safety, though a few had come out of their enforced evade and escape march the worse for wear.

 

The Starfleet officers had been rescued by soldiers representing the planet’s joint governmental peacekeeping force, and been given medical aid at a remote village located along the outer edge of the tropics. After most of the away team had been stabilized, and they’d made contact with the ‘Creek watch officer on duty, the critical cases – Mrkath and Wesley - were evacuated to the ship. Both officers were expected to make a full recovery.

 

Overall, things were going well. The government representatives of Amadacia and Domani were eager to continue diplomatic relations with the United Federation of Planets, and there was a shared excitement across the general populace of the planet itself. The Sean Chan terror group had retreated back into hiding for the moment. If things continued to move forward, the planet of Wei would eventually become a full member within the galactic Federation network.

 

Calestorm currently luxuriated in a hot bubble bath, and relaxed her aching body as much as she could. Most crew quarters only had a single stall shower, but the combination tub and shower was a captain’s stateroom privilege; she really didn’t think that she’d ever use the tub, until this Wei mission. And bubble bath was not her usual thing.

 

Of all people, Ambassador Kailchev had given her the medicinal bath mixture. With Commander Wesley still down and unable to take part in any of the administrative duties, Calestorm had spent most of her time with Ambassadors Kailchev and Kitor; zipping all over the place had taxed her already tired system, her gimping becoming more pronounced.

 

If she didn’t settle down, her CMO was going to kill her.

 

The captain settled in, using the bath as medicinal as much as relaxation. Her thoughts began to drift, exhaustion catching up to her. She thought she heard the entry to her quarters whoosh open, and then dismissed it as her mind playing tricks on her.

 

It was the sudden appearance of Admiral Shauna “Skipper” Coyote in her bathroom that about gave her a heart attack though. Rear Admirals didn’t suddenly appear out of thin air; they just liked people to think they had that power though.

 

“Admiral?! What in hell are you doing here?” Calestorm started to rise in a reflex action, remembered where she was, and sank back down into the bubbles for the sake of general modesty.

 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in.” Coyote quipped.

 

Calestorm had only given a full verbal report to the admiral on the Wei situation via wireless comms about forty eight hours ago. The captain stared at Coyote, giving her commanding officer the once over; she wore the standard field duty uniform, and held a backpack over one shoulder. "You must’ve really hauled to get out here.”

 

The dark haired Native American woman nodded in the affirmative. “Caught a long range fast cargo hauler at New Topeka, hooked up a shuttle to the outer hull, had them divert slightly to drop me here. Shuttle’s parked in your hanger bay, I asked your FOPS and COMM officers not to contact you.”

 

“Uh huh. Secret mission and all that. Your Mama ever teach you to knock?”

 

“You didn’t leave a pair of boots outside the door.” Coyote replied innocently.

 

The two stared at one another for another few seconds. Crash finally broke the silence. ”Um…Okaaay. Admiral. Captain in tub. In the head. Awkward.” She waggled her hands to illustrate the point.

 

Shauna silently pulled a bottle of Romulan Ale – illegal ale, mind you – out of the backpack. The liquid was a rich blue color.

 

“Good alcohol. Awkwardness has suddenly passed. Meet ya out at my desk.”

 

A few minutes later, the captain had exited the head, clad in a half sleeve short red robe with a modern Asian design and pattern. Her regulation length silvering blond hair was combed back, still damp from her bath. The admiral had set about doling out the ale and two tumbler glasses had also appeared from the pack, and were set on the surface of the desk.

 

As she poured the potent beverage, the admiral quirked a brow towards her line captain. “Bubble bath?”

 

“Hey, I hurt in places I didn’t know I had. With respect Sir, shut up and pour.” Cale gingerly lowered herself into her office chair, favoring the back thigh of her left leg “So what are you doin’ here Admiral?”

 

Skipper settled into the guest chair facing the small desk. “Thought I’d come out and do some damage control with this Wei situation.”

 

“I’m sure you’re diplomacy skills’re welcome. I assume you’ll be attendin’ the joint government diplomacy gathering at Wei’s Castle An-Thrax?”

 

“Aye. Ambassadors Kailchev and Kitor extended an invitation to me over the subspace wireless; your communications department relayed the message back to the FTR offices.”

 

The two women drank in silence, until Calestorm retreated back to her initial line of questioning. “So, what’s going on Shauna? The party isn’t scheduled for two weeks. What caused you to scoot out here so quick?”

 

The admiral finished a sip. “As I said, came out to look over the situation. Admirals prerogative.”

 

Crash took a slow drink from her glass, and then her attention snapped back to Coyote. “Skipper, I’m not going to ask again, so quit bullsh*ttin’ me. What’s goin’ on?” Her tone remained respectful, though held a command ring to it. Not many could get away with talking that way to an admiral, but this was the give and take of friendship.

 

The silence threatened to deepen; the captain silently scrutinized her commanding officer, her facial expression open, not demanding.

 

The admiral sighed. “You and your line crew could have been killed.”

 

“We weren’t.”

 

“Fat lot of good. I read the preliminary medical report on the last transmission packet. Mrkath’s recovering from a broken leg. Wesley has enforced recovery time from that C-4 device. Multiple concussions and contusions were suffered by several of the officers. You got hurt.”

 

“We all knew the risks when we signed our recruitment papers.” From her seated position, Calestorm half leaned across the desktop and indicated the admiralty braid on Shauna’s sleeves, the silver coloring of the braid in contrast to the dark gold of her command tunic. “And you knew the risk when you accepted that promotion.” She tapped the sleeve lightly with a finger.

 

“I never should have pushed for the FTR to take on the Wei post First Contact mission.”

 

“It ever occur to you that a full diplomacy response crew might not have survived on the planet? Myself and the others were more suited to the dangers of the mission.”

 

“That’s not the point Crash—“

 

“You’re bein’ too hard on yourself. If it’s a reprimand you want Admiral, fine – I’ll take you down to the ships armory range and shoot stun pellets at your head. Otherwise, you seem to be punishing yourself fine.”

 

The two women continued drinking in silence, the cobalt blue liquid going a bit lower and lower in the bottle flask. It was a companionable silence, the kind where nothing needs to be said.

 

After some time had passed, Calestorm spoke gently into the quiet. “Here’s to making it back alive.”

 

Coyote nodded, still subdued, but her bearing a little bit lighter. “Alive.”

 

The two officers clinked their glasses together.