The Big Girl

[Crash Calestorm 0]

SS Hard Six

Neural Sector

In-System Patrol Assignment

 

Paperwork was one of the few constants of the universe. Other then that, the work shift was going well.

 

The four ships’ commanders had agreed on a staggered patrol pattern, in rotation. One ship always orbiting Neural, a second ship further out in system, the third and fourth scouting the outmost perimeter of the sector.

 

The SS Hard Six, Reed Mitros commanding, had drawn the secondary ship position within system for the next few cycle rotations. After the excitement of the Comanche Creek nabbing the fleeing slaver shuttle, things had again settled down.

 

Reed was signing off on supply reports in his quarters when his second shift lead paged him to the command bridge, informing him that quote “something weird” unquote was going on with the Comanche Creek.

 

Mitros had seen quite a few things during his service on military and civilian ships, but this situation was one he’d definitely classify as out of the blue, or ‘weird’ if you preferred.

 

The Kelvin-class frigate was set at an angle, slightly askew and listing off course. The running lights and power flow to the warp nacelle were visible, so clearly the ship had power, but a white mist trailed the big ship. The expansive hanger bay, attached to the upper section of the main saucer, appeared to be venting atmosphere. Debris ejected from the deck floated freely, though the SCI sensors hadn’t detected any bodies.

 

The bridge officer or navigational team on duty had obviously gotten the ‘Creek out of its immediate orbiting pattern above Neural, so in case of a full systems failure, there was no immediate danger of planetary atmospheric entry. In theory.

 

Reed intended to not let that happen. Without taking his attention from the main bridge viewer screen, he spoke to his line officer. “What about communications?”

 

“We got through to the comm officer on duty, but the signal got corrupted – on their end. She did manage to tell me that Engineering and the command bridge are locked down. They’re dealing with some sort of…infestation over there?”

 

“What kind of infestation? Did she elaborate?”

 

“Didn’t have time to explain Cap’n before the signal cut off.”

 

With the Comanche Creeks command team out of communication, command of the combined FTR and SPECOPS mini-fleet automatically went to Mitros; he knew his ‘Six was a plucky little Oberth-class, but the fact remained that the ship didn’t have the necessary torque to haul a Kelvin frigate upright.

 

The silver haired man glanced at his communications officer, a blue skinned Andorian girl straight out of the Starfleet academy. “Inform Commander JoNs to keep the Washington Crossing out on the far perimeter run – we’ll need those heavy weapons of hers to watch our backs. Tell Captain Tracey to come further in system and match up with us. Between the ‘Six and the James Walking Bear, we’ll get the Big Girl upright again with our tractor beams.”

 

“Aye aye Sir.”