Blurred Lines

[Cassie Granger 0]

"There will be situations when loyalty to the side of the fight or even some higher value is in direct conflict with loyalty to one's own moral code. The warrior must live with these tensions and consciously choose among them.

~Karl Marlantes, What It Is Like To Go to War

 

Blurred Lines

 

Arctic camo isn't just camo. It's shelter. It's protection against the elements. It's a vital asset to survival in an unforgiving climate where more often than not the difference between life and death is measured in degrees and a drastic drop in body temperature is measured in seconds or fractions of seconds. In the case of Starfleet Ltjg John Corette his chances of survival for more than a few minutes on the surface of Rura Penthe were slim to none, the final countdown accelerated by the harsh existence he had known below the surface: brutal masters, malnutrition bordering on starvation, and rampant disease.

 

Tossed by Klingon guards onto the surface for what may have been anything from the guards' petty enjoyment to a minor infraction, the young Starfleet officer stumbled as he braced himself against a driving wind and struggled for a foothold. Sharp ice shards sliced his feet and legs when he fell, then his bare hands as he struggled to a stand, the hardwired fight or flight both forcing him on and sucking his life away until, with his last ounce of strength, he slumped into a drift.

 

From the warmth and safety of Polar Bear, the overwatch shuttle all but buried in the snow 500 meters distant, Warrant Officer Cassidy Granger watched.

 

And said nothing.

 

After a short discussion with his teammate, SSgt Jack O'Neill keyed his comm to the shuttle. "Bear actual, this is Bear one. ID human prisoner, evidence of Starfleet association. Permission to extract when clear."

 

Cass drew her lips into a thin line as she shifted her eyes to the visual feed from O'Neill's visor. He and Marine recon scout John Daniels had settled into a snow hide, each within 50 meters of the hatch. Yes, the prisoner was human, and what clothing remained looked like a shredded Starfleet uniform. So what was it going to be? I will never leave a fallen comrade or I will always place the mission first?

 

"Bear one, this is Bear actual," she replied, an edge to her voice. "Negative. Repeat: negative. No contact."

 

The deployed team vital signs monitor next to Cass spiked. Daniels' blood pressure shot through the roof. He was young, she reasoned. Inexperienced. Cass couldn't expect him to understand.

 

"It's coming up Fed, Warrant," Moa's quiet, even voice broke her thoughts. "John Corette, Lieutenant j.g."

 

After a glance in his direction, Cass turned back to brace her hands against the rim of the main monitor. "Can't Gunny. Too risky."

 

"Bear actual, this is Bear two. I have extra camo." Daniels' insistent voice exploded over the comm, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. "It'll mask his life signs, make him look frozen. I'm three meters from him. Max. I can cover, protect, and extract." There came a short break, then a frustrated, "How copy?"

 

"Copy, Bear two. Stand by."

 

"Takin' a big chance," said Moa. "One for how many beneath the surface?"

 

"Last count, over twenty." The edge to Cassie's tone got edgier as Tasha's reflection, flanked by Souter's, appeared in the monitor.

 

"Guards are gone," Moa continued in his usual informational tone, "but we can't be sure they don't have him bugged, can't be sure he's not a plant working in exchange for something down below."

 

"Can't be sure of anything, Gunny," Cass snapped as she zeroed the screen in on the collapsed prisoner, now barely visible above the drift. With Silver gone, Team Leader had passed to Cass, making Moa her ATL.* Among other things, Moa was obligated to provide any and all information that might assist her in making a decision. And he was good at that.

 

"Signs are fading," he said calmly.

 

After considerable thought, Cass nodded. "Bear two, say again distance to package."

 

"Three meters, max."

 

She hung her head to get a grip on the situation, the implications, the full scope of what she was considering. Moa's calming presence and his emotionless expression helped but the weight of the decision still came full force.

 

Blowing out a breath, she keyed the comm.

 

"Bear two, give him a thorough scan for devices, explosives, anything you don't recognize. Make damn sure of that if it takes all day. Approach with caution and verify data before contact. Bear one!"

 

"Bear one here,"O'Neill replied.

 

"Stay frosty. If anything - repeat... _anything_ - looks like a trap or that hatch even cracks open again, you know what to do."

 

"Got it."

 

"Danny, Hect," Cass said, turning sharply to face the onlookers, "If he's alive when they get here, defrost him and keep him strapped down. Moa, notify Main* we have a package that might have intel and request instructions. T, you're gonna have your hands full. Go."

 

Cass wiped a hand down her face as she locked eyes with Moa, looking for a sign of affirmation. "Damn, this better be right," she whispered.

 

"We'll see."

 

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*ATL - Assistant Team Leader

*Main = Frankenship