Boss

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place just after our 08.08.11 Sim...

 

Having a couple hours relief was a nice change of pace from the back to back meetings. With the strap of a mahogany leather briefcase slung over one shoulder, Crash made her way away from the main Starfleet Command buildings towards the cluster of academy campus buildings. Her destination was Forrest Hall, and her intent was to take in a class lecture that was of interest to her.

 

Her cover secured under one arm, she slipped into the back of the classroom and located a vacant seat towards the back of the auditorium on the upper tier. Clad in the standard charcoal black trousers and uniform jacket among a sea of cadet red, she looked like any other officer coming to observe a class session. Her attention went to the elderly female at the head of the class.

 

Retired from active service, the 88 year old was sharp as a hawk and maintained a Flight Instructor Emeritus position at the Starfleet Academy. The content covered in her two semester course could best be described as starfighter pilot etiquette, both on and off the combat field, with a secondary focus on ‘smart’ tactics.

 

“…a standard patrol formation of a two starfighter consists of a lead pilot and wingman, though this configuration can be changed according to the requirements of a mission…”

 

Crash resisted the urge to break out her digital data slate and take notes. Old habits were hard to break, and she’d taken enough debriefing notations during these last couple days to last her a lifetime. She listened quietly, enjoying the moment of peace and the relative calm of the academy class. The content was brisk and to the point – just like the teacher.

 

“…and then there are pilots such as my daughter who still insist on buzzing control and flight ops stations with those juvenile fly bys.” Mary Katherine Calestorm’s eyes finally lit on the newcomer to the class, who responded with a brilliant smile, all teeth, from the back tier.

 

The elder Calestorm as well flashed a knowing smile. “Captain Calestorm, would you care to comment on that?”

 

To be fair, Crash had cut down on the fly bys over the years, but she definitely still indulged at times. The fly bys had always been a point of contention between her, the wild ass pilot, and the now retired Mary Katherine Calestorm. Her mother, a former vacuum rider of some repute aptly christened ‘Boss’, for her no nonsense flight methods and sense of command towards her squads. Boss Calestorm had always done things lawful and proper and expected the same from the other vacuum riders that she flew with.

 

Because fly bys were a circus stunt more aptly suited to the Academy Blue Stars Flight Demo team, cadet flight squads were discouraged from doing anything cute. Rising from her seated position, the tall blond smoothly interjected into her mother’s lesson, speaking as she descended the steps in between the rows of interconnected stadium chairs.

 

Necks craned as the students farthest from her position turned to look at her as she spoke.

 

“Captain Calestorm is correct – I’ve always had a habit of performing fly bys.” Her strong voice rang out, picked up by the acoustics of the lecture hall. By ear, she had the same tone and vocal timbre of her mother. “Fly bys traditionally started as method of acknowledgment, to signal a ground teams or a fellow flyer. Over the centuries as radio to radio and then wireless fell into use, the maneuver has been exclusively associated with hot dogging.”

 

She placed her satchel on the nearby desktop, and turned to sweep the pilot cadets with her gaze. “With that said, a stunt is a stunt.” One finger tapped at the surface of the desk to illustrate her point.

 

Her mother spoke up again, from her position at the other side of the desk. “The actions that you perform as a pilot or EC* co-pilot, both personally and professionally, can have a consequence. These consequences can take the form of opinions, affecting the perception that other squads have of the squad that you’re assigned too. A squadron or unit tagged with a bad reputation can be just as damaging as enemy plasma fire.”

 

Crash continued the rhetoric from there. “You always respect your CAG or your Commanding Officer or Executive or whoever you answer to in the chain of command. Even if you’re no longer an active combat pilot, yet maintain your flight wings and certifications such as myself, you answer to the active line CAG. And if you do somethin’ really ignorant or stupid? Don’t say we didn’t warn you--”

 

The Calestorm women continued instructing for the final thirty minutes of the session, tag teaming the course content. Despite it being a few years since she herself had taught Academy curriculum, Cale Jr. was able to supplement her mother’s lessons with a minimum of fuss or proverbially falling flat on her face.

 

Mary Katherine called an end to the class. “Okay folks, class is dismissed. Those of you on the roster, we meet tomorrow at the secondary sector flight range for maneuvers. Standard flight suite and equipment, don’t be late.”

 

“And Captain Calestorm. You’re more then welcome to join us. I assume you have your own bird?” Boss’s eyes twinkled.

 

“I’m sure I can scrounge a ride. That is if you don’t mind an F/A-18 Hornet?” Cale’s eyes twinkled with amusement as well.

 

An excited buzz rolled through the class; the ‘Creek was the first Fleet ship to deploy the newest Hornet and F-14 Tomcat fighters. The flight classes currently flew Goshawks or the F-16 Falcon for field training, and various birds for simulator training, so most of them had only read about the F/A-18 at this point in their curriculum.

 

Boss responded in kind to her daughter. “If you insist on showing off with your fancy toys, then I might as well assign you as the Fox for our flight run tomorrow.”

 

“See, she’s using her daughter as bait.” Cale’s tone was good humored as she directed the comment at the cadets.

 

Boss’s class damn near exploded with excitement. Calestorm caught one comment of ‘my credits are on Captain Crash’ as well as another conversation on Hornet versus the Goshawk in tactics

 

Captain Boss let he cadets go on amongst themselves, slipping a wink at Captain Crash.

 

****

Moving away from Forrest Hall, Boss and Crash walked in silence, the elder with her arm looped through the arm of the younger. Like Cale, her mother was tall. She wasn’t frail, though she was no longer able to physically pilot a star fighter in combat or simulated combat. Her observer status was cleared, and Boss could still turn and burn in a fighter in order to grade her students from a bird’s eye view. Cut very short, her white silver hair added to the imposing aura that could emanate from her. The spitting image of her mother, Crash also owed much of her understanding of analytical dog fighting skills and in flight tactical prowess to her. From her father, a former combat pilot to be reckoned with in his own right, she inherited the fiery personality and the love of flight.

 

The women used the pedestrian paths to take them to the main outdoor gardens. The gardens were a crowning achievement of the campus, tended to meticulously by the groundskeeper and his crack landscaping staff.

 

They went deeper into the gardens, choosing one of the two mini-lakes built into the twenty acre display. They chose a bench set under a leafy overhang and sat down; Cale sighed at the break, crossing her legs at the knee and spread her arms across the back of the bench while her mother sat down next to her.

 

The area could best be described as idyllic. Most of the students were still in class, and only a few stragglers were walking among the miles of foot paths. The scent of blooming flowers was light on the breeze, and trees planted at carefully mapped intervals offered ample shade from the rising sun. Birds chirped and twittered among the tree branches and ground level bushes, occasionally landing on the grass.

 

“So what’s up girl?”

 

Her daughter’s attention stayed on a little brown sparrow as she spoke. “I’d like you and Daddy to go stay with Uncle Forrest for a while.”

 

Mary Katherine glanced at her youngest, her look curious but not shocked at the request.

 

Calestorm sighed. “I already spoke to Jon and Kathy*, made them aware of what’s going on…I know I don’t need to tell you this is off the record Mama?”

 

Mary Katherine shot her daughter a ‘well, duh’ look.

 

Crash held her hands up, palms out. “I know, I know. Captain Obvious is Obvious. Myself and my command crew are being sent into the Outlands. Covert mission, we’re going for the Black Kris.”

 

Her mother glanced at a distant transport shuttle as it climbed further into the atmosphere. “The Black Kris have been all over the news. The press is having a field day with conspiracy theories and the connection that the faction may have with the problems within Intel. Litasha? This is the faction leader you tangled with at New Topeka*?”

 

“Yes Ma’am. She’s the one. The ideal outcome is we remand the Kris leader back for trial.”

 

“The Orion pirate factions and clans are getting bold, moving further and further into Federation territory.”

 

“Litasha is even bolder then the other clans combined. Fleet Command had the psych profilers question me to get a read on her…,” Cale trailed off, as two students walked past, deep in conversation on what sounded like tactics. Once they had passed, she continued speaking, “She’s a power tripper, but has the resources and backing and she’ll use them.”

 

“You know your Aunt Ashton was near dead to charter a private mercenary ship and go after her for hurting you? Your father and I thought we were going to have to track her to the space port.”

 

A genuine smile split Cale’s features. “Wish I could’ve been there. She never told me that.”

 

A wry smile twitched at Boss’s lips; Ashton Marie Killian was her younger sister, and she and her namesake were very similar in personality. “Retirement definitely hasn’t mellowed her.”

 

Her daughter snorted. “I’d be worried if it did. Is she still working with Command Ops?

 

“She is. Last I heard she sent off a final draft to Marine Command for the revised Infantry training manual.”

 

Crash adjusted her seated position so she could half turn and face her mother. “And yer deflecting the conversation Mama. I’d like you two to head for Uncle Forrest’s.”

 

“This mission worries you that much?”

 

“I’m being cautious is all. Litasha does not care for the Border Patrol in general, and she really does not like me. Or rather, what I stand for with the BeePee’s response program. Litasha got to me on New Topeka, past the orbital defenses and the Shore Patrol. If she was in fact involved with the rogue Intel faction -- and I’d say that’s a sure bet -- it stands to reason that she can reach anybody in my family, anywhere at any time.”

 

“…If you and Dad are with Forrest, I just won’t have to worry. I’m not saying you two can’t take care of yourselves, you know that.”

 

“Okay. We’ll go for a visit. And you watch yourself on the mission. Be careful.” She gripped her daughters hand firmly.

 

Calestorm held her mother’s hand just as tight in response.

 

-----

* EC – Electronic Countermeasures

* Older brother and sister of Calestorm

* Calestorm log “Mafia Don-ette”