First Hard Contact

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place just before the 05.23.11 Sim…

 

Away Team: Alpha

Target Area: Hill Territory

Location: Federation Observation Outpost Perimeter

 

Calestorm tapped a finger at the communicator device embedded in her ear, activating the skin colored item. Small and compact, the device was designed to blend in with the canal of the ear as much as possible.

 

“Team Alpha is investigating the perimeter of the observation outpost. No word from Team Bravo. No news is good news. Two hours to next checkpoint. Crash out.”

 

The coded communiqué would be transmitted on a delayed frequency to the communications station on the Comanche Creek. This combined with the advanced EC* programs that the bridge crew had running ensured that most of the ground to orbit transmissions would be kept private. It was necessary that the shore parties maintain contact, but also prudent to take some cautionary measures; with the situation as is, they had no idea who might be trying to listen in on communications, and covert was best at this point.

 

Personally, she’d rather be patrolling the sectors around the planet with the CAP* Hornet and Tomcat pilots. Mind you, she had nothing against going ashore, and wouldn’t dare excuse herself from any away team duties. With that said, a tiger couldn’t change his stripes (well, the Snow Tiger of Meridian Prime could, but that was a whole other mission and story) and Crash Calestorm sure as shootin’ couldn’t change her stripes.

 

On the upside, she was enjoying the change of pace. The scent of various flowers blooming was fresh on the non-recycled air. If it wasn’t for the damn local bees who seemed to be attracted to her – what in the hell?! – this would have been paradise. Remembering Belo’s cautionary ‘don’t swat at them’ she let them buzz about and tried not to twitch when they flew too close to her ear.

 

With one last glance over her shoulder to check the relative positions of TAral at the entrance to the observation outpost and Innogen at the other end of the tree line, she entered the wooded area.

 

A black and gray bi-colored squirrel creature scampered away, and a small flock of orange, blue and yellow birds took to flight, leaving the bush they had been perching on. A creek could be heard bubbling in the distance, off to her right if she was any judge of the direction. The air was sweet with the smell of berries and some sort of pine scent.

 

The captain was struck at how similar the general terrain was to some of the backwoods territories of Georgia, sections for the most part untouched or not fully modernized by current standards.

 

The idyllic landscape was shattered by a series of distant barked orders in the local native tongue; the captain’s attention was immediately diverted, and she could make out three Hill Men emerging farther down the tree line.

 

The men maintained a loose arrow formation; the one in front spoke loudly and firmly to TAral, gesturing at the CMO and then the rock overhang that jutted out from the observation post with his spear. A few hundred yards further down, another small native group was attempting to corral Innogen, questioning the CSCI in much the same manner.

 

Calestorm quickly removed her slingshot from her belt, holding it downward at an angle while she observed the situation. True, the Earth weapon could only do so much, but she’d been the county champion for several years in a row and she’d rather employ a projectile weapon then one of the Type 1 phasers. If the men became overly hostile towards her officers, she’d be able to bean one or two of the Hill men at this distance without a problem and cause some confusion from her position, allowing her girls to act.

 

A form burst through the bushes and scrub oak to her right, roaring a battle cry.

 

The staff the Hill tribesman carried swung out to connect with her hand and the slingshot went flying. He was tall, his muscles and physical build well defined from years spent hunting and living off the land. There was no way that she’d defeat him in a straight brute fight.

 

Gunner Granger’s defensive lessons immediately kicked in, and the captain used the big man’s momentum to move behind him and out of the immediately range of the staff. She had managed to slow him and grab a wrist, and was intending to put the finishing immobilization move on him when a second cry was bellowed and something slammed into her.

 

Her breath wooshed out of her and in a tangle of arms and legs, and she rolled down the small incline with her second attacker, kicking up dirt and smashing flowers.

 

Dazed, Calestorm ended up flat on her back, her view of the clouds unobstructed as she coughed and her breathing returned to normal. Rough hands quickly removed the knife from the sheath in her belt, and she felt rather then saw the action. She managed to spit out some dirt before a hand bunched the front of her tribal vest and lifted. Her perspective shifted and she was looking at the dirt and grass while her mind caught up to the situation at hand.

 

Every nerve, every instinct screamed for her to make a grab at her hidden boot knife and slice it home in his back or take out a chunk of thigh. She restrained herself, settling for a few scathing words of questionable birth origin aimed in general at the big blond tribesman as he carried her like a damn sack of supplies over his shoulder.

 

A second tribesman, a well built young man who had not yet filled out into his full adult physique, walked a slight distance behind them. The youth nonchalantly held her knife blade to the sunlight to check its edging, his expression curious at the green mottling pattern on the hilt. Her sling shot was safely tucked into his wide leather belt, while the staff that had been used to disarm the captain was slung across his back using what looked like a leather thong carrier rig.

 

Crash’s command instincts pushed through the anger and she managed to half twist in the bigger Hill Man’s grip and call out orders for her own people to hold their positions. The tone of her voice was caught somewhere between Accent on Kill and a growling wildcat. Her behemoth transporter seemed to find it all very amusing, and though he kept her legs locked in a vice grip, he made no effort to shut her up.

 

The squad leader signaled his scouts with a hand gesture, and spoke a series of commands; the embedded translator didn’t immediately catch all the words, but his tone was firm.

 

To Cale, he said, “Don’t worry Traveler, my men will not harm your companions.”

 

Well, at least the damn translator chip in her jaw was working correctly…

 

“You know, I can walk.” Her statement was flat.

 

“I don’t think so.” Her unknown assailants response was equally as flat.

 

The youth let out a barked chuckle of amusement.

 

Sonofa &*#^%$!

 

_________

*EC – Electronic Countermeasures

*CAP – Combat Air Patrol