Captain's Mast

[Cassie Granger 0]

Captain’s Mast

A Joint Log by Captain Calestorm, Gage Silver, and Cassie Granger

 

Covert requisition of a flintlock on Neural had earned her a reprimand. Learning curve involved here - how far to go on her own during a covert op under Calestorm. Face the consequences, game over.

 

Operation Whiteout rated top shelf, miles above Neural. No learning curve involved. Consequences?

 

According to Colonel Tigard, she was up for an Article 15 for popping stims on the sly. Stims, used under supervision on covert operations and on the battle field, were commonplace - under supervision being the operative words. At nav on the bridge, without supervision? Slam the ship into an asteroid, clip another ship in orbit causing a cascade into the gravity well, make one slight miscalculation for an FTL jump and end up outside the green zone....

 

Possible results of her quote impropriety unquote ranged from damaging the ship to total destruction. Charges were conduct unbecoming and hazarding a vessel. She’d had it all under control, counting pills, watching their spacing... until everything went south with Commander Wesley. Last thing she remembered was an empty packet.

 

“Damn.” Tight-lipped under her breath, eyes front, as Colonel Tigard, Alpha Quadrant SOCCENT Commandant, took a seat across the room, glancing at her with that totally unreadable neutral expression she hated. Great. Just great.

 

“Could’ave been worse,” Moa’s baritone breathed into her ear. “Could’ave been a court martial.”

 

Reflexive jaw clenching and Tigard’s presence kept her from decking him, her edginess not only a reaction to the situation but a result of the stim withdrawal her body was still dealing with.

 

“Could’a got away with it,” Gage facetiously mumbled as he casually took the next seat and asked: “Start yet?”

 

Cass couldn’t decide if his presence added to her aggravation or calmed her down; ups and downs came with the territory. And with Tigard’s eyes averted, she whispered in Gage’s general direction.

 

“Come for the circus?”

 

“Naw, came for the food. Heard there’s shrimp cocktail.”

 

“There is,” she replied. “Fresh Chief sauce. Make sure you get your share.”

 

“That’ll be a problem: I don’t like to share,” he remarked off-hand.

 

She gave a snort. “Don’t worry. Plenty to go around. More in the wings, I imagine.” Her leg started to bounce, the way it used to outside the principal’s office.

 

Captain Calestorm had already taken her seat, coming in just ahead of Tigard. Admiral Coyote arrived seconds later, taking a seat on Cale’s opposite side from the Colonel.

 

Cale spared a glance at the Colonel and the Admiral in turn, then fixed her gaze on Warrant Officer Granger; her expression was unreadable, detached. The gaze didn’t linger, and Cale began speaking quietly to the administrative yeoman assigned to the informal proceedings; the young man jotted down notations on a digi-slate with a stylus pen.

 

After the short conversation, the yeoman picked up the mallet to ring the bell set on the main table.

 

Captain Calestorm stood. “The proceedings will now come to order. This is a Captains Mast concerning Chief Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger.” No inflection in the tone, no accent, nothing. “The charges are as follows: Improper Hazarding of Vessel, Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and a Gentlewoman, and General Article concerns...”

 

The captain cleared her throat and continued. “Is there anyone present who can provide additional information, witnesses or evidence regarding Warrant Officer Granger’s case. Mister Granger, would you like to present further defense in your case?”

 

Before Cass could answer, Gage immediately stood. “Captain. Permission to,” he flashed the hint of an incredulous smile, “provide information on Granger’s behalf?”

 

It took all Cassie’s concentration to not jerk around and glare him down.

 

Crash eyed the man. Her expression remained poker-faced, not offering any read on her feelings. “Granted.”

 

Gage nodded. “Sir, with all due respect, there’s been a mistake. As the superior officer, I’m responsible for any hazard to the ship. Granger met the regs for minimum sleep. Was using stims an error in judgement? Maybe, but it was my responsibility to act when it was obvious that she wasn’t getting enough sleep. I knew -- as a former Medic, I recognized -- Granger’s condition and failed to take steps to remedy it.”

 

Colonel Tigard’s eyebrows rose slightly. Shifting in his chair, he ticked his head towards the captain, then turned to Gage, his western accent heavy in every word. “Do you realize... Ensign... how this will affect your recent application?”

 

His recent application? Cassie’s brows shot up as her attention shifted abruptly to Silver.

 

Gage, aware of Cassie’s attention, steadily returned Tigard’s gaze. “Acutely, sir.”

 

“And yet you stand firm on your last statement?”

 

In seconds, Cass was on her feet. “Colonel. Captain. No,” she spit out, glancing from Gage to the two senior officers. She set her jaw to get a grip and continued in a more even tone. “The decision to remain at my post was mine and mine alone, Sir,” she addressed Tigard. “Circumstances on the bridge demanded it.”

 

“But it was my responsibility as a Watch Officer to maintain our section’s readiness. I should have relieved you,” Gage concluded firmly, but with significantly less force as he looked at Cassie. He returned to Tigard. “To answer your question, Colonel, let’s put it this way: Would I belong there if I didn’t? I stand firm on the truth and my responsibility.”

 

The colonel turned, deferring to Captain Calestorm, his head ticked, eyes narrowed, as though giving the situation a bit more consideration. If possible, her set jaw twanged tighter as she and the SPECOPS officer shared the look.

 

Taking the cue from Tigard, Cale posed a question to Cassie. “Mister Granger, you ever been with someone who OD’s on stims?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

She posed another question, winging a quick look at Silver before her gaze again went back to Granger. “Mister Silver, you ever been with someone who OD’s on stims?”

 

“Yes, sir, I have,” he answered simply.

 

“Enlighten us, Mister.”

 

Gage looked momentarily surprised; he hadn’t expected to provide medical testimony. “Someone OD’d on stimulants can be restless, irritable, anxious, suffer from insomnia and psychmotor agitation; in extreme cases: disorientation, mania or depression, lapses in judgement, hallucinations, psychosis, and even death.”

 

The captain paused, letting the symptoms linger over the room. “I had a stim junkie EC* officer go psychosis on me. Slammed his head into the console and broke his nose and cheekbone. I thought he was okay for the hop, and next thing I know I’m tryin’ to land our bird with him bleedin’ all over the damn place...”

 

She let her gaze travel over the room. “So, now that we’re all aware that we’re all aware of the detrimental effects of overexposure to stims...it would seem that this little situation should and could have been avoided.”

 

As she had been for most of the proceedings, Admiral Coyote remained silent; she was letting Cale as the direct superior officer and Tigard as the ‘devils advocate’ run the ball. The Native American officer observed and took notations down on a personal data slate.

 

Calestorm half turned to swipe her data slate from the tabletop, quickly jabbing a thumb to queue up several internal medical documents. “Mister Granger, you were so far into withdrawal symptoms, there was a possibility that your system could’ve sent you into a reflexive deep sleep, with trouble waking...”

 

“...as it stands, you were incoherent. Could barely stand upright.” She carefully set the data device back down on the tabletop, her movements sure.

 

“Mister Silver, while your offer is noble, it don’t mean squat in the long run. Yes, you are Granger’s superior. Yes, you are responsible. However, last I checked, Ms. ‘Let Me Shoot Up’ over here is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Therefore, unless you want to start constantly leading those under your command by the hand, your concerns are noted but the focus will remain on Mister Granger.”

 

“Mister Granger. First, you take it upon yourself to nick a flintlock on an undercover contact mission. Now, I find that you’re poppin’ stims to the point of nervous system collapse. Unacceptable.”

 

As she spoke, Calestorm had moved in on the Marine, getting directly into her personal space.

 

“Effective immediately, you are to re-familiarize yourself with mission-based usage of stimulants under controlled conditions. You will participate in a Starfleet webinar course and then submit the final written test results for grading...”

 

“In addition to your regular Navigation duties - and you are damn lucky I don’t feel like fillin’ out the paperwork for another Alpha shift grunt - you will also be occupied in your off hours with swing shift duty...”

 

“You are to report to Lieutenant Hicks* for additional training. Maybe some squad time’ll get you back on track.”

 

The captain wasn’t done. She didn’t enjoy coming down hard, and the regrets were there. But, she wanted to hit hard and fast so as to avoid a repeat performance; the pretty little silver stripes of hers weren’t there for flash.

 

“And finally, for the alternating 2nd shifts you will be working in the kitchens for KP duty. This gettin’ through that thick skull Warrant Officer Granger?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Cass was eyes front, her voice was even and straight-forward, as no-nonsense as the captain’s.

 

Calestorm backed away to lean against the briefing table and cross her arms. She let silence descend over the room, broken by the occasional muted cough or faint sound of a stylus pen scraping across a data slate.

 

“We are Border Patrol. We are First Threat Response. We are the Federation’s first line of defense out here. I need sharks and squids* who are willing to go that extra parsec in order to get things done. I need a crew I can depend on. I need officers who are able to pull their weight.”

 

“Sundance. Look at me.”

 

The Marine’s eyes locked with hers.

 

“You’re good. Qualifications are off the charts. Got the smarts. Which makes this little issue even more of a Big Stupid. On a covert mission, no less.” Cale allowed a little smile to show, but it was tight. “If you wanna stay Border Patrol, you better lose the stupidity and re-learn yourself to handle stimulants according to controlled conditions, you hear me?”

 

“Mister Silver?” Calestorm’s best DI tone rang out in the room, the edge still there.

 

“Captain.”

 

“Next time? You make damn sure if you are in any sort of Section Lead position that your people stay coherent. We’re lucky that you two yahoos didn’t steer the damn ship into a cascade wave. We clear on this?”

 

“Crystal, Captain.”

 

“Fine. Proceedings are ended. All parties are dismissed...”

----

* Electronic Countermeasures

* NPC, Comanche Creek’s Marine Platoon Leader

* Slang reference to Marines (Sharks) and Navy (Squids).