RADM Coyote/CPT Calestorm Deploy the Bourbon

[Crash Calestorm 0]

USS Comanche Creek

Starbase North Star Docks

2260.38 16:00 Hours

 

The following log takes place 30 minutes prior to 02.27.12 Sim…

 

Rear Admiral Shauna ‘Wile E’ Coyote showed her identification badge at the main airlock entry to the ship. The marine guards cleared her, and she was on her merry way down the corridor and hopped the lift that would access the main bridge.

 

She’d assigned her aide de camp, Lieutenant Kevin Riley, to handle the official press inquiries on the station; when a Starfleet capital vessel docked with the damage that the Comanche Creek sported, it was news. ‘Press inquiry’ could also be code for rumors circulating among the station populace: Shauna had heard everything raging from another rogue Romulan from the future to a skirmish with the Klingons to faulty wiring.

 

The official statement from San Francisco Command was ‘the USS Comanche Creek had encountered difficulties with unknown lightning storm phenomena’.

 

***

 

The captains’ ready room was at half lighting, Calestorm’s face partially hidden in the shadows; she was seated behind her desk. Two glass tumblers and a bottle of Wild Turkey were already set and waiting on the surface.

 

“Well, you look like death warmed over, Admiral Coyote.”

 

“Nice to see you too, Captain Calestorm.” Coyote took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. “You have any ice?”

 

“Screw the ice. We are well past using ice at this point in the adventure.”

 

“My thoughts exactly. Deploy the bourbon.”

 

Calestorm poured the drinks. There was business to tend to however, and Shauna began the unofficial debrief.

 

“You scared the hell out of me when I found out the Comanche Creek got trapped in that storm and disappeared off the sensors, Crash.”

 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I scared the hell out of me too.”

 

“Highlights?”

 

“The year was 2387. Nice place to visit, I wouldn’t want to live there. There was some sort of an emergency with the Romulan home world, yet their Nero is not bent on revenge. I managed to spot some pretty damn cool looking ships. We held an honor guard for a command counterpart and her staff. I'll submit a full report as soon as I can get some decent sleep.”

 

Crash reached into her trouser pocket, pulling out the SI-5 challenge coin that Chirakis had given her; she leaned across the desk and set the coin down in front of Coyote.

 

Her curiosity on high alert, Shauna picked it up with her free hand. “What’s this?” She studied the platinum and etching detail of the coin

 

“My future counterpart gave that to me. She has my Starfleet Starfighter Corps coin.”

 

“…Starfleet Intelligence Division Five…do we really want to know?”

 

“I don’t think so, no. Sometimes it’s safer not to dwell on things.”

 

Shauna handed it back over with a smirk. “I don’t see a coin. What coin?”

 

The coin went back into Cale’s pocket and she leaned back in her chair.”Now, what’s goin’ on? It’s a wonder North Star hasn’t exploded from the sheer force of administrative bullsh*t. Starfleet Intel? Internal Affairs? And what is up with that Temporal Investigations group? And how long are we gonna have to stay confined here on ‘Creek?”

 

The dark haired Native American sighed tiredly. “Commodore Lance assures me that the confinement will be lifted shortly, it was merely a precaution at the request of Senior Agent Harmon. The start of full repairs to ships systems will begin within the next twenty four hours.”

 

She paused to take a sip of her drink before continuing. “As for the amount of agents we have on site, it comes down to a knee jerk reaction to past events – namely Nero. You getting stuck in time set off all kinds of alarms. And what transpired on Neural is the second factor; the shadow of whatever that group was trying to do during your Neural mission is lingering.”

 

Calestorm cocked her head to one side. “How so?”

 

“You know the Intel agents you tangled with were subversives, unsanctioned. But the thing is, there’s new evidence to indicate that Ensign Stone and the other rogue officers were only one part of a much larger equation.”

 

“I ever tell you I hate math?”

 

Shauna chuckled, but the mirth disappeared quickly. “…the key phrases that the IA investigators keep coming up with are ‘section’ and ‘31’.”

 

“The assumption being this 31 group is still active?”

 

“Activity is a given, yes, but the players are in tactical retreat for now…”

 

Crash finished the statement as her proverbial mental light bulb went live. ”….so in other words, this ‘Section 31’ could disappear back into the woodwork like the cockroaches they are, and not show up again for, like, a hundred years?”

 

“That’s my understanding of the situation. And should explain why I was questioned so closely by Internal Affairs…sounds like I scared the hell out of SanFran Command…”

 

“Reed told me you got a little, ah, rogue-ish with them, yes.” Her line of sight wandered to the sleeve rank braid on Coyote’s gold tunic, her look pointed. “You getting’ stripped?” They’d known each other long enough to be straight blunt with one another.

 

“No. Due in no small part to Captain Kirk and Captain Bozeman speaking up on my behalf. And I can live with a couple reprimand notations in my service jacket. Don’t ever tell me to leave my people.”

 

“No Ma’am.” Calestorm raised her tumbler glass in salute to the Admiral. “Not to jump topics, but you care to accompany me to the Medical bay?” She knocked back the rest of the bourbon in her tumbler in one gulp.

 

“Not a problem. What’s up?”

 

“Doc is tracking down some…medical weirdness. Thought you might like to be there for an update?’

 

“Medical…weirdness?”

 

“She’d asked me to stop by for a checkup…I’m still smoking. Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, scans show that my lung capacity is better. And, if that’s not crazy enough, my knee has cleared up a bit. I asked her to check out a few others as a follow up…”

 

The admiral finished off her own drink and nodded to Calestorm. “Let’s go.”

 

(TBC in Sim)