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RAdm S.Coyote

The Big Chill

The main offices of the First Threat Response program had gone into full technological geek mode. The computer monitor screens at each of the desks were devoted to a different aspect of the ongoing mission at the prison colony of Rura Penthe. The information feeds combined live telemetry, real time verbal reports, and additional images and data sent via delayed electronic packets.


The office of Rear Admiral Shauna Walking-Coyote was no exception with tech that put the Starfleet Research and Development offices to shame; a false wall had been retracted to reveal multiple large monitors mounted behind the façade. One feed carried the HUDs* of the surface Overwatch. Another focused on incoming reports and updates from the SS Frankenship or the SS Vulture. One monitor would go live when the Veridian* patches worn by the prison infiltration team went active. The telemetry was heavily encrypted and routed through security filter programs and communications satellites.


Several of her office staff had taken to calling the operation “The Big Chill”. The coffee and caffeine supplements had flowed freely, trays of sandwiches constantly appeared as the office staff kept their metabolism and strength up. Stims were distributed when the twenty minute power nap no longer sufficed.


The FTR offices were hopping with a high intensity focus, yet decorum was maintained at all times. Coyote and Brigadier General Craig Tigard, FTR Commander Ground Operations, had stood a near constant watch since Operation: Lost Souls Phase 2 had officially launched.


Tigard ventured a comment. “Word has it that Calestorm has been almost intense in dealings with personnel and the mission objectives. Certain sources claim her usual humor is not at full throttle. Just something we should probably consider.”


Coyote’s response was polite, though clipped. “Field probation and demotion will have that effect. She’ll be fine.”


The battle-vetted Marine raised an eyebrow, glanced at his commanding officer, but made no further comment as he turned his attention back to the monitors.


Lieutenant Kevin Riley appeared in the open doorway to the office. “Sirs. We have communication from the Franken. Interior team assumed to be on schedule. Ground Team on standby. Franken and Vulture orbitals remain on standby. Scatter is expected; veridian signals will be routed and incoming on Monitor 3.”


The Native American admiral acknowledged her chief aides report with a nod of her head and Riley quickly ducked back out to the outer offices.


To Tigard, she said, “The Big Chill. Fitting name for that godsforsaken place…let’s hope everyone comes home alive...”


“Always the hope, Admiral. Always the hope...”


*Heads up Display, helmet.

*A small tracking device/patch affixed to clothing, employed in Star Trek 6: The Undiscovered Country.

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