A Three Hour Tour, A Three Hour Tour...

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Following the baby shower for the ‘Creeks CMO, Captain Calestorm had taken her leave to meet with Colony Administrator Telenn. The Administrator had been delayed, sending her executive assistant, a young man by the name of Seldon, ahead with her apologies.

 

Calestorm appreciated the effort to work out some of the minor details on the colony status in the interim although the pre-meeting could have gone…better. Young Seldon was efficient, orderly, but snooty as hell.

 

Crash placed a steadying hand on the flat surface and launched herself across the table, dress uniform skirt and all. With anarchy on her mind, mischief in her soul and inhibitions on neutral there would be hell to pay. A formal letter of reprimand? Most likely. Board of Inquiry? Possible, depended on the political types in the Starfleet JAG decided to take it that far. Did she give a damn? Nope.

 

Seldon’s eyes bugged out of his head and he backpedaled, sending his chair flying out from under him. She grabbed the front of his business suit tunic with her right hand while her left initiated a death lock on a delicately pointed ear to ensure his full attention. “Now you listen to me you little punk--!”

 

“Are those conditions agreeable to you Captain Calestorm?...Captain?”

 

The question brought Crash out of her waking daydream and she snapped her attention back on the present. “Ah, yes, the conditions are acceptable. Pardon my delay there.” She made a note on her data slate with a thumbprint scan as she spoke.

 

Seldon sniffed. “I am quite used to dealing with the appalling attention spans of others. Well, then, I suggest we move onto the next item of business…”

 

Cale kept repeating a mental mantra to herself: Endangered species. Must not maim a member. This would be bad. Admiral Coyote will send to farthest reaches of known galaxy commanding a garbage scow.

 

“Regarding the proposed time for your senior Communications officer to inspect our main relay station? That is acceptable.”

 

“I’ll inform my second in command as to the arrangements and Sparky.”

 

The young Vulcan looked at her askance, for a Vulcan. “Sparky? I beg your pardon?”

 

Oh for the love of….”It’s a nickname for the Comanche Creek’s communications officer, Mr. Seldon. I meant that I’ll inform my Lieutenant as well.”

 

“You Starfleet Humans are quite invigorating at times, I must say Captain.”

 

Calestorm leapt across the table…

 

The EA checked off another item on his digital device with a light pen. “And as for the request from your Aero Group commander to employ the skies of New Vulcan for a three hour training tour?...yes, well, we must further discuss these details…”

 

And she outright swore he had the Vulcan version of a Mr. Howell accent, a high society stereotyped character from the old two dee reruns of “Gilligans Island”….