Only The Lonely

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Crash Calestorm stared at the information on her desktop flat screen and felt an acute case of ::headsplode!:: coming on. It was definitely time for her to take off on for shenanigans of the patented Calestorm flight run kind…

 

She tore her attention away from the triple encrypted file - hell, she was surprised she didn’t have to give blood for a confirmation DNA scan - and opened the bottom drawer of her standard issue Starfleet desk, rummaging about; a bottle three quarters full of Wild Turkey bourbon appeared in hand along with a tumbler glass. Setting both down on the desk, she again dove into the drawer to withdraw a second glass.

 

To the young officer that had delivered the message personally and debriefed her on the situation, she asked, “Bourbon, Riley?”

 

“Sir, at this point? Don’t mind if I do.”

 

Pouring a hefty amount of the liquid into both of the glasses she offered one to Riley and took the second for herself. Raising the tumbler in toast she said, “May the Great Bird of the Galaxy protect us all.”

 

The El Tee chuckled and then returned the salute, taking a sip of his drink. “…it is a bit of a mess, right Sir?”

 

The older woman looked askance at him, quirking a brow in amusement despite the circumstances. “Riley, I’d rather be dropped naked behind Klingon lines with nothing but a tribble for a weapon than deal with this.” She indicated the screen with a gesture of her tumbler.

 

A smile appeared on the Lieutenant’s features, showing the rogue of an Irishman beneath that administrative genius surface. “To tribbles.”

 

“Hot damn, to tribbles.”

 

After an acceptable silence had passed and Crash gathered her thoughts, she spoke again. “The Admiral is reporting directly to San Fran Command?”

 

“Yes Ma’am. Admiral Coyote left ASAP inbound for Earth.”

 

“And Commander JoNs is the only other FTR officer made aware of this? For now?”

 

“Yes Ma’am; the secondary courier should be reaching the Washingon Crossing*within the next few hours.”

 

“How in the hell did Tavington live two lives for so long?”

 

Obviously a rhetorical question, but Riley sensed that it was okay for him to answer. “It’s going to be the question on everyone’s mind Sir. Only Tavington knows the answer.”

 

Calestorms features and demeanor changed then. It was a subtle change, a wolf-like predator lurking about the edges.

 

Her voice came out low and she commented, “And he will answer…”

 

(To Be Continued In Sim…)

 

* First Threat Response Special Operations vessel, Commander JoNs commanding.