Five

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The number five wasn’t anything special. It was a number, and it kept recurring in numerical equations. When a situation was ‘five by five’, it meant that things were going well. Not this time.

 

Landing one hundred and sixty four kilometers smack dab in the middle of Romulan territory was not a good thing; it was downright dangerous. There were five serious cases in medical, all injured during the return trip through The Rift. Engineering was working their collective tails off to get the warp drive back on line. The latest repair estimate was up five percent from the initial damage reports. The ship was sub-light and bee-lining for the Federation Border.

 

They’d gone to a limited communications blackout; Captain Calestorm had ordered the use of iComanche communicators only, no intercoms. Personal comms were prohibited. Lieutenant Kvar was monitoring the external broadband for any chatter about ‘a Lloann’na vessel in Rihan space’ etc, etc; communications hadn’t as of yet picked up anything wonky on the broadband.

 

Either they crossed the Federation border undetected, or the ‘Creek would be discovered; there was no middle ground. It was pretty hard to miss a large, Kelvin-class Destroyer zooming through your aero space, but that was what she damn well intended to do – zoom right on through, whoosh! Catch us if you can!

 

In Calestorm’s mind, taking on any Romulan patrol ships lurking in the area was not an option. Running was totally an option. She’d leave the crazy heroic stuff to Captain Kirk on the Enterprise…speaking of which…

 

“Mister Kvar!”

 

The barked tone was loud across the bridge and the young El Tee jumped as if slapped. Dial it back. Dial it back Crash-girl….in a gentler tone, she started again and commanded, “Tifa, send out controlled communications bursts, aimed at Enterprise and the Task Force ships. Let’s see if any of ‘em are still around our last known position…”

 

Calestorm reached into a trouser pocket, removing a shiny object. She flipped the Challenge Coin between thumb and forefinger, as if rubbing the surface would bring them better luck. And there was a five right there on the coin…Starfleet Intelligence Division 5, to be exact. The motto read ‘Fidens et Constans’ - Courageous and Faithful.

 

The two commanding officers had exchanged Challenge Coins; Chirakis her SI-5, Calestorm her Starfleet Fighter Corps. The exchange was innocent, a shared camaraderie that was difficult to explain to outsiders but understood between two commanding officers across the years. It also affirmed that Calestorm wasn’t crazy and the jaunt to 2387 really had happened. No doubt they’d committed some sort of breach in regulations, but Crash sure as shootin’ wasn’t going to tell anybody about it.

 

Speaking softly, she intoned an old blessing. “Captain Chirakis, may the winds be always at your back.”