Strategic Pilfering

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following Cale-Granger log takes place immediately after the 06.13.11 senior staff briefing...

 

Calestorm had moved to the main observation window of the briefing room. She stood calmly, hands clasped behind her back in parade rest. The dark gold of her uniform tunic stood out in contrast to the black star scape beyond the window. The senior staff gathered their data slates and exited the room, talking quietly among themselves.

 

Since there was no further need for secrecy after the engagement with the Audacious, the ‘Creek had established orbit over Neural. The seemingly peaceful blue oceans and white cloud cover of the planet gave no indication of the power struggle currently ongoing on the surface of the world.

 

Once the area had been cleared, the captain spoke to the room’s only other occupant, her tone measured and relatively free of accent. “When I was sixteen, I shoplifted something from a local store. Had always been taught that stealing was wrong; got caught, my father damn near skinned me alive.”

 

She turned away from the window and walked the couple of steps towards the ovular shaped table, long legs covering the distance in two strides. She placed her hands on the surface, and kept her gaze on the flintlock, still not looking at Granger.

 

“Then, we have Neural. We deploy out here, and find a situation that don’t really cover the whole it’s wrong to steal thing; two warring primitive factions on a back water planet, one of which has been armed with weapons tech years beyond their purview. Now, a flintlock weapon stolen as evidence becomes a needed priority.”

 

Her gaze finally zinged to pin Granger. “With that said Warrant Officer Granger - ah don’t recall giving you orders or permission to nick this weapon.” Accent deployed.

 

The captain settled a hip against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “The orders I gave to the initial away teams were to observe and assess. Alpha’s operating orders were changed when we had hard contact with the local population. However, you, Tauriaiki and Haruno were free and clear to continue observation only. Yet, you took it upon yourself to change that.”

 

Her tone was stern, but her expression was open and she cocked an eyebrow at Sundance; she expected an explanation from the enlisted officer.

 

Standing at full attention before her superior, the warrant stated flatly, “No excuse, ma’am. I took the initiative. Overstepped my bounds.” “It’ll never happen again” went without saying and was clear in her tone, as was the fact that she fully expected to pay the price. She’d scrubbed a few unmentionable parts of the ship in her day; becoming one with the toothbrush, in a manner of speaking. That the captain had not mentioned the Prime Directive fully registered, as did her intimation that the action came more under stealing than violating the almighty D. Cass made a mental note that, in Calestorm’s vocabulary, assess did not imply pilfer.

 

The captain took a few seconds to level a stare at the warrant officer. Partly to intimidate, partly to get her thoughts in order.

 

Mentally, the captain was seeing a lot of personal and professional parallels with the current situation. The incident with the store brought back welcome memories - not fond at the time of the incident, but a welcome recall now.

 

A few years back, she’d served as the second officer on the USS San Pablo; she and a recon team were sent out on recon for a botched post-First Contact mission, similar to Neural. Calestorm had taken it upon herself to twink some evidence, like Granger. Her CO at the time as well had not been thrilled. Crash hadn’t appreciated the captain’s stance at the time, but as a commanding officer herself, you might say that she ‘got it’ now.

 

Difference was, Sundance wasn’t mouthy; she knew when to back off. And, like the San Pablo mission, the evidence from Neural was a needed factor in order to pin the mischief in part on the Orion Cartel.

 

“Your only saving grace right now is that you’re straight up admitting what you did and aren’t pussyfootin’ around with some fancy,” Calestorm waved a hand, “explanation. Then again, you’re enlisted and that explains a lot.”

 

She moved away from her perch on the table, and moved closer to Granger’s personal space, though stopped before the contact would become uncomfortable. Her gaze never left the enlisted officer.

 

”Just because we’re Border Patrol, and have somewhat of a rough and ready, shoot first and ask questions later”, Calestorm made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, “reputation among the Fleet doesn’t give us license to embolden that description. Tell me, Granger, would you send up a flare signal on a recon mission behind enemy lines, or wait until you had arrived at the designated EXFIL point?”

 

“EXFIL would be the most appropriate position for that, ma’am,” Cass replied, minus the “recon hasn’t used flares for decades, ma’am.” Was the captain was seriously back in the flare days or did she use the phrase... metaphorically. Cass opted for the metaphor. You’re too much alike, Sunny. Tigard was dead right.

 

Crash now stood directly in front of Granger, standard parade rest, sizing up the enlisted woman with a practiced eye. “You came highly recommended by Colonel Tigard. I’d say it’s a fair guess that you were actin’ on instinct when you grabbed the flintlock. Instincts are good, not denyin’ that.”

 

The captain’s tone hardened slightly. “What I’m not thrilled with is the potential for compromise. You got damn lucky that the local Village yokels didn’t check you out more closely when you were in the process of grabbing it. You risked the cover of the Village team. If you’d been discovered, the Villagers could’ve shot ya on site or taken hostages.”

 

No argument with that. She’d observed the crowd, weighed the options. She’d learned more than a fair share of their spoken language, their body language, the interaction of superior with subordinate, when to yield and when to stand her ground. When the tribesman challenged her, she instinctively reacted as a warrior tribeswoman would have and stood her ground.

 

Still, she’d taken a chance - a big one - not taking into account the experience or lack of experience of her own team. They weren’t recon and she shouldn’t expect them to know what she was doing or why. Still at ramrod, she absorbed the captain’s every word, and sure as hell would adjust accordingly.

 

“I’m a fair piece more towards ‘jump in where the angels fear to tread’ myself, always have been, don’t intend to change now. But I don’t do real well with stupidity and my mother didn’t raise a fool, and I’d prefer that my officers exercise the same smarts. I gettin’ through here Gunner?”

 

“Ma’am! Yes, ma’am,” came her crisp reply.

 

Crash eyed the Marine, amber specks in her hazel eyes almost sparking. “Alright, get yourself out of here. Dismissed.”