Chikasaw County Sanctuary (Shore Leave)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

“I try never to get involved with my own life; too much trouble.” - Chief of Security Michael Garbaldi “Matters of Honor” (Babylon 5, S3E1)

 

= = = =

Earth, Old United States Territory

State of Georgia, Chikasaw County

Coyote Run Property

 

Calestorm stood on the back porch of her modest home, leaning against a support post and sipping coffee from a stainless mug. Clad in jeans and a red flannel shirt over a gray Henley top against the chill, she looked just like any other hunter or hiker on vacation. Difference was, she was a local girl clear to her bones.

 

She heard the faint musical notes of a transporter beam and soon after an older, dark skinned man emerged from behind the left side of the cabin and into her line of sight. His greeting was light and full of welcome.

 

“You’ve gathered many names and titles over the course of your life: Daughter of the Storm. Border Patrol Officer. Captain. Crash…” He stopped in front of the porch. “But to me you’ll always be the little kid who grew up to be a green Midshipman and got the bright idea to pull a fly by on the Mars Control Tower during a ceremony, with both parents watching.”

 

Cale set her mug down on the rail and took one quick leap, clearing the steps and landing quietly; she grabbed the taller man in a bear hug. She barked out a laugh. “It’s good to see you Lee!”

 

He pulled back, holding her at arms length and looking her over with a practiced eye. “…you’re tired.”

 

The middle aged woman didn’t so much sag as deflate. “Yeah, I am.” Even with the benefit of reclaiming seven years of age in their wild trip to and from 2387, she was plain wore out.

 

= = = =

Dr. Liam ‘Lee’ Crow, Starfleet CDR, retired, indicated that they sit. He settled in one of the two rockers on the porch and enjoyed the view while Calestorm busied herself inside grabbing two fresh coffees.

 

Situated on eight acres, the modern hunting cabin sat among indigenous trees, plants and winter flowers. The immediate perimeter surrounding the house was cleared, allowing a three-sixty line of sight to the tree line. A storage shed built with the same synthetic logs as the house stood in the distance, along with an outhouse that was anything but; he knew that the privy concealed a modern communications relay and generator power source. Crash liked to joke the outhouse made the property ‘look authentic’.

 

Liam knew Calestorm had purchased the Coyote Run property back when she’d been a lieutenant commander. A deciding factor had been a mission she’d taken on for Starfleet Intelligence. The assignment had been successful, the undercover operative recovered, but she’d taken collateral damage. Coyote Run was her place to come and heal, rejuvenate and mentally re-group. It was her sanctuary.

 

Emerging from the house with the coffee, she handed one mug to him and then settled in the other rocking chair. Sipping at the warm drink the two sat in silence and watched as song birds flew in the distance, playing tag among the trees and bushes. A piebald Carolina dog, on loan from Calestorm’s brother, made his way to the porch to greet the new guest before trotting off towards the tree line for his usual territorial patrol.

 

After a while, Dr. Crow broke the silence. “How’s the CO treating you?”

 

“She’s a complete tyrant.” Cale quipped.

 

He laughed. “You speak to your parents?”

 

“Yep, I had a long talk with the folks during the transport in system. Daddy’s already got me lined up to play his aide in a re-enactment,” the Calestorm family patriarch was an avid - Cale preferred the term lunatic obsessed, and she meant that in a loving way, mind - Civil War re-enactor, “and I get to ride around with ‘The General’ until I take a bullet and ‘fall’ off my horse.”

 

He chuckled. “Good. Got anyone special?”

 

“What is this, twenty questions?” The bite was taken from the words by Cale’s amused tone.

 

“Yes.”

 

She snorted. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I’ve got a friend comin’ on Tuesday.”

 

“Reed Mitros is a good man, I’m glad you two are back together. Again. When are you going to marry him?”

 

Calestorm looked at him askance; Crow just winked at her.

 

= = = =

The two old comrades spent the next couple of hours catching up. His children and grandchildren were doing well; the eldest granddaughter had recently enrolled at the Academy. Lee did consulting work for San Francisco Medical Command. Calestorm caught him up on some of the non-classified missions of the Comanche Creek, though she was sure he knew about ‘em all – classified and un-classified.

 

A diversion flew in when a black matte metallic falcon swooped in to land on the porch railing. Lee didn’t bat an eye. “Why is there a fake bird on your porch?” He indicated it with his coffee cup.

 

She smiled. “Neat huh? It’s a project that Starfleet R&D asked the FTR to field. This one is code named ‘Bird of Prey’. Figured this area would be good for a test run. I wanted to call him ‘Lazerbeak’, but the R&D folks wouldn’t go for it.”

 

“Suits it. Kind of pretty in a way.” He indicated the bird again. “What’s the word?”

 

“It flies out with preprogrammed commands, patrols, takes pictures. I get real time alerts and updates from him sent to my digital data slate or iComanche. Working theory is these birds can be used for recon and observation, colony security. I’m testing out the security option. I already told Shauna if the contract goes through, I’d like to nab about four or five of these babies for ‘Creek ground operations…”

 

= = = =

The late morning turned into late afternoon, and the coffee gave way to some straight up Wild Turkey. Crow agreed to stay on for supper. Their conversation was light, free from Starfleet concerns, and it irked the retired medical officer to bring up business…but he did so anyway.

 

“Ashton, I know you’re on leave…but I’ve got some concerns I’d like to discuss with you, off the record.”

 

She raised her glass of bourbon in salute. “Off the record is where I live.”

 

He nodded. “Southstar Colony.”

 

“Charlie Sector if my recall is on the money.”

 

“A former student of mine, Doctor Jabillo M’Benga*, is stationed as the on site CMO. Within the past year, tensions have escalated with the Were-Wires* – you’ve tangled with them, from what I’ve heard?”

 

“Aye, first year that ‘Creek launched. Kind of a low rent pirate group, but they can be nasty dependin’ on what faction it is. Federation Colonial Operations doing anything about the situation?”

 

“My contacts tell me that FedCOP’s is stretched thin with the establishment of New Vulcan and other projects. You think First Threat Response could take a discreet look? The situation is a credible threat.”

 

She nodded. “We’re due for a New Vulcan patrol run; I’ll speak with Shauna. ‘Far as I know, Border Patrol hasn’t been informed of the problem…we’ll see what we can do. What’s yer second concern?”

 

“The Were-wires again.”

 

“…little so ‘n so’s are gettin’ bold…”

 

Crow paused to take a sip of his bourbon. “I did some consulting work for New Vulcan, civilian pharmaceutical company. The company shipped off a bunch of supplies to the colony. Pirates swooped in, hijacked the cargo.”

 

“Been hearin’ ‘bout that. Federation News did a couple articles?”

 

“And there’s the problem.”

 

“What’dya mean Lee?”

 

“One of the articles stated exactly what was stolen. The company never gave that information out publicly, only to Starfleet Command. To the FTR, specifically.”

 

As understanding showed on her face, Lee gave her a sympathetic look. “You might have a mole in the First Threat Response.”

 

Calestorm did a palm to face gesture, closing her eyes. She was a captain in the Starfleet, and attached to a high profile, frontline program. The FTR was a 24/7 job and it was hard to pull back at times. She really didn’t need this… “Shauna know ‘bout this?”

 

Lee shook his head in the negative.” I know, my direct superior knows, and now you. And I know you’re not the mole.”

 

She winged a wry look at him. “Thanks. But I know Coyote isn’t the weak link either. Tigard’s* out as well. I’ll let ‘em know what may be going on...”

 

He snorted gently. “Someone leaked the information. Sure, it’s just supplies, but what next? FTR Ship deployments, troop movements?”

 

“Okay Lee, thanks. I’ll get my guard dogs on it, see what they sniff out.”

 

He smiled. “Use your guard bird.” He pointed at the metallic falcon prototype. Crash did laugh at the joke, the dark mood lifting a little.

 

“My last concern…how’re you doing Ashton?” Lee had turned on his medical officer personal; it was subtle, but the change was there. Calestorm felt an irrational wave of annoyance. Her smile dropped, and she turned her gaze away from him.

 

“Now, Ashton, don’t get agitated.”

 

“Last I checked Lee, I got my own CMO.”

 

“I know you do.”

 

She flashed him a look. “Tired don’t necessarily mean you gotta go all medico psych on me and I ain’t holdin’ anything back here; it’s just normal day to day command stress, Lee. I got myself a mostly young, semi-rambunctious command crew that keep me on my toes. Shauna has us out there,” she waved a hand generally toward the sky, indicating the great black beyond, “flittin’ from crisis to crisis every week. It’s been a heck of a ride with the FTR program getting up and running and this is my first real extended leave in about five years, so yeah, I’m tired.”

 

Crash continued to glare at the older man. Liam stared right back, a knowing twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

 

She averted her gaze. “Fine…I’ve been a little…adventurous lately. I didn’t mean to get all uppity on you.” She stood with a groan, stretching out her lower back. “This time off’ll do me good.”

 

“I definitely prescribe rest and relaxation.” He winked at her. “C’mon, let’s get some chow.”

 

Chuckling gently, Calestorm half turned towards the prototype reconnaissance bird and spoke the command phrase; the metallic falcon’s eyes flashed blue to indicate it was out of sleep mode.

 

“Patrol pattern Beta. Four mile radius. Return in three hours…”

 

----

Authors Notes:

*The ‘Were-Wires’ are a pirate faction that depend heavily on the use of technology.

*I don’t own Jabillo M’Benga (Star Trek: Classic series), I just play in his universe.

*Brigadier General Craig Tigard, First Threat Response Ground Operations Commander