Little Birdie

[RAdm S.Coyote 0]

The following log takes place immediately after the 12.19.11 Sim…

 

Admiral Shauna Walking Coyote had escaped to the observation lounge. Ditching her usual gray and whites senior command officer uniform, she wore the command gold field tunic and black trousers. If not for the silver admiralty bars on her sleeves, she looked just like one of the crew.

 

It was only a matter of time before the master of the Comanche Creek tracked down her commanding officer. The entry way doors whooshed open, and Captain Ashton Calestorm entered the mostly deserted crew lounge.

 

She quietly moved to stand beside Shauna, glancing at her. “You left your iComanche in your quarters.”

 

“Mm hm.”

 

“…standard procedure for a senior level officer riding with a patrol mission is to maintain contact at all times. You went off the internal tracker program grid.”

 

“Mm hm.”

 

The Captain sighed. “A Little Birdie told me you haven’t returned Captain Kirks invitation to have dinner with him in the Captains Mess.”

 

“And what Little Birdie would that be?”

 

“The Riley Bird. Tweets ‘Take Me Home Again Kathleen’ off key.”*

 

“I need to have a talk with my aide.”

 

“Don’t you dare. You’re scarin’ the boy again. I’m surprised he’s not sucking down antacids every time I see him…”

 

Coyote didn’t respond, but she smiled slightly.

 

Calestorm slouched against the bulkhead, arms crossed over chest. She kept her gaze on Coyote until the Admiral turned from the window to look at her again, and did not give her an inch

 

“What’re you doin’ on the Comanche Creek?”

 

“We’ve been over this.”

 

“No, we haven’t. I let you stay here.”

 

“Last I checked, ‘Creek was my lead ship. I can stay where I damn well want to.”

 

“And last I checked, Admiral, the Enterprise was our assigned flag ship. Therefore, protocol – and respect – dictates that you stay on the lead Task Force ship for duration of the mission. You need to get down to the hanger bay, board the Galileo shuttle, zoom your Admirals butt over to the Enterprise and accept the VIP billet Captain Kirk offered you, and then sit down and have dinner with the man.”

 

The minutes passed as the two women stood in silence; both gazed out the clear plasti-steel plating to deck window, observing a section of the flight formation.

 

“You’re pissed off that Komack assigned Enterprise as flag ship for what amounts to an FTR* operation.”

 

The admiral didn’t answer, confirming the statement with the silence.

 

“Jealous that we got some Regular Fleet ships ridin’ shotgun.”

 

Shauna rubbed at the back of her neck. “Jealous is too strong a word…the Bozeman and Surya are good ships.”

 

“Okay then, you’re aggravated.” The Captain cocked her head to one side. “Look, Shauna, I don’t need to tell you that military service is military service. We go where Starfleet tells us and do what SanFran Command tells us. Been doin’ it all our careers. You’ll feel better if you just admit it - you’re aggravated that Admiral Komack pulled a fast one on you, assigning the Enterprise to this shindig.”

 

Coyote remained quiet, but her board stiff stance relaxed a bit; she uncrossed her arms and placed hands on hips, blowing out a breath.

 

Her friend kept pressing. “You always told me that you wanted the FTR program to remain fluid, to never stagnant under out of date objectives or lose our edge. We’re already moving towards a permanent partnership with Fleet SPECOPS*, and I know a proposal has already been submitted to SanFran naming Craig* as FTR second in command.”

 

The admiral winged a mildly surprised look at her, stern yet exasperated. “How in the hell did you know about that?”

 

Crash leered at her commanding officer, all teeth, looking downright demented. “I got some contacts you don’t know about.” The smile dropped, and she went serious again. “Anyway, it’s about damn time you nabbed him as your Exec, he’s a good man."

 

She pushed off the supporting bulkhead. "My point is, Admiral Walking Coyote, if you stand there and tell me that that,” Calestorm pointed towards the blackness of space, “ain’t a pretty sight, you’re flat out lying.”

 

The eight task force ships flew in a standard formation wedge. Directly outside the view port, the USS Enterprise flew lead, with the Comanche Creek providing escort for the flagship. Set just off the flight vector of the ‘Creek, the gleaming Constitution class ship did indeed look impressive.

 

After a little while, Shauna spoke in a low voice. “Thanks Crash.”

 

“You know I hate it when you and I switch roles like this.”

 

“And what roles are those?”

 

“You go all ornery and I’m the voice of reason. It freaks me out.”

 

“I thought you did pretty good. I’ll make an admiral of you yet, Captain.”

 

“…now yer just bein’ insultin’…”

 

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*Lieutenant Kevin Riley, Classic (TOS) Star Trek. I don’t own the character, I just play in his universe(s).

*First Threat Response Program, Starfleet Border Patrol Division

*Starfleet Special Operations Division

*Colonel Craig Tigard, Starfleet Marine Corp/Special Operations