Shanghied! That's How We Roll (Part 2)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place several hours after the events of the 11.12.12 Sim…

 

SS Frankenship

Klingon Empire Territory

On Route to Rura Penthe prison planet

 

The main mess on the SS Frankenship was quiet. Members of the crew and the ‘captured’ crew of the Vulture mingled about in small groups. The SS Vulture flew in tandem, the aging rust bucket just visible out the portal window of the mess. In true pirate fashion, the B’rel class vessel had been claimed as bounty by Captain Wesley. The plan was coming together.

 

Her gaze swept the area, lingering a moment on a table claimed by Mareena, Lieutenant Honor-Scar, and Serval; the two cats seemed to be getting along well, despite the standing cultural tension between the Caitians and Kzinti. Calestorm found this encouraging.

 

Mareena caught her eye and nodded in greeting. The older Orion female then turned her bemused attention back to the animated conversation between the two felinoids, regarding which scope was better (the GX-14 or the SZ-5) for the Andorian Royal Guard issued sniper rifle.

 

The rifles had been given to the FTR* by Starfleet’s long standing allies for use on the mission. Considering Andor was a floating ball of ice, as was Penthe, the weather-modded craftsmanship of the rifles would be perfect for the ice-cold operation. Personnel would be using the Royal Guard rifles should a full ground assault be a necessity of circumstance.

 

Crash respected sniper rifles, she really did. But, a Colonial 686 semi-auto pistol could get you out of any jam…okay, so she was a bit biased as a small arms MOS*. Sue her.

 

She heard Reed Mitros approach, coming up behind her. He set a fresh mug of caffeinated goodness down on the table top in front of her and an identical mug on the opposite side. His free hand gently massaged the back of her neck.

 

“Thanks. Mmmhhmm. To both.” The Commander reacted favorably to the touch, rolling her sore neck into the caress. “Scooter clamped down on me pretty good. The woman has a grip.”

 

“She had to make it look good as she bum rushed you out of the bar.”

 

Crash snorted good naturedly. “She’s too much of a method actress.”

 

“Either that, or you’re just getting old.”

 

The snort was louder and even more good natured. “Could be! Thanks for the encouragement there, Bud.”

 

He sat down on the other side of the table from her. “Spoke with the bridge shift leader. Overwatch pinged, on site. We’re on schedule, heading straight for Penthe per Captain Wesley’s orders.”

 

“No turning back. We pick up any shadows yet?”

 

Mitros glanced around. “As far as the EC and EW* whiz kids can tell, no. The esteemed Commandant K’Link of Penthe is well aware of our arrival though.” His attention then winged to her. “You look pretty good for a shanghaied prisoner. How’re you doing?”

 

“…more tired than anything.”

 

The silver haired man nodded. Like Cale, he’d gone silver-white early. “This mission has already taken a toll on everyone. I just hope we get our people back without inciting a war.”

 

Crash shook her head in the negative. “Not a war, an ‘incident’.” She pointed a finger. “The only thing the Klingon High Council will be able to prove is that one, possibly two pirate factions working in cahoots, staged a break out for Penthe prisoners. They won’t admit they were holding Starfleet officers, even if they were aware of the incarceration. Not if they want to avoid an open incident.”

 

“This is our biggest mission to date.” He added a packet of sugar to his beverage.

 

She took a sip of the warm liquid – Caitian tea, quite good - and lowered her voice as she spoke. “Brass is already talkin’ ‘bout pulling us back, taking on some of the more traditional duties of Border Patrol.”

 

He nodded. “That’ll be good. ‘Creeks the line ship. But, it’s time to let the rest of the FTR Fleet take some of that heavy lifting.” Mitros used his mug to indicate the mess, the Frankenship, the crew, and space beyond. “All this? This is what the First Threat Response program was fast tracked for. Our job is to protect the borders. Occasionally, we go beyond the borders, like now. We get the job done, all there is to it.”

 

She half raised her own mug in agreement, indicating the far table to Mitros. “An Orion Cartel leader, breaking away from the old bloodlines and establishing her own Corporation…semi-legit, but I won’t quibble over the details; a bad-ass Kzinti warrior serving as her second in command; a young Caitian Starfleet officer who reminds me way too much of me at that age. That’s what you call a joint effort. That embodies what we do.”

 

He smiled and raised his own mug in salute. “Rag tag crew.”

 

“Ya think?” She cocked a happy eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Only sort of crew that gets anything done...”

 

They clinked mugs on that note.

 

*FTR: First Threat Response Program/Division (Starfleet Border Patrol)

*MOS: Military Operating Specialty

*EC/EW: Electronic Countermeasures/Electronic Warfare