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Crash Calestorm

Is That An Eyeball?

This log takes place just prior to our 11.17.14 Sim…

 

July 7 2261 (Stardate 2261.279)

USS Comanche Creek NCC-214

Border Patrol Assignment

 

Things were quiet on the Comanche Creek. The SEC and MARDET troops were down in Marine Country and engaged in live fire exercises. As no one had blown a hole in the hull yet, this was a good thing. Fighter patrols had encountered no resistance. Crew shift rotations and bridge cycles were going smoothly. Repairs and diagnostics were caught up and other than some practical joke shenanigans on the lower decks, all was going well.

 

Crash was watching a live news broadcast, though it wasn’t on full broadcast to the public. The information feed was encrypted, Starfleet command-level only and would be edited for public release.

 

The reporter wearing the gray utility jumpsuit of the Starfleet News Corps was droning on about Starfleet apprehending the wayward officer and how justice would be served. It was the typical word script that the newsie types used to fill time, yadda yadda and blah blah and all that boring stuff that for whatever reason always needed to be said.

 

Commodore Matthew Decker, CO of the USS Constellation, exited the transport shuttle to lead off the proceedings. Constellation security and marine guards followed, surrounding a handcuffed Tavington. New Topeka Home Guard, the red shirts identified by the arm bands that they wore, formed single ranks on either side of the path from the shuttle.

 

Tavington sported a full beard and had grown his hair longer. She also noted that he had what appeared to be a fresh shiner around one eye and a healing cheek wound. The official rumor was that a few of the Constellation security guys had gotten rough with him during the initial takedown. And said security had been busted in rank by Decker.

 

She would say one thing for the Commodore, he didn’t mess around.

 

Crash spotted Commander K. Vacer JoNs on the periphery of the visual feed. The felinoid and her commando crew were providing extra security and had been pulled back from handling minor border skirmishes with the Klingon Empire to assist with the heightened alert stat--

 

A New Topeka guard surged forward, bellowing “Blue Sun!” and discharged a weapon against the left side of Tavington’s head; his right temple blew outward in a spray of blood, bone and brain.

 

And an eyeball. Was that an eyeball? Really? That’s just plain disgusting. She bolted upright from her desk chair in surprise and the MOS small arms corner of her brain made a mental note that the weapon was projectile, a Springfire-12 pocket revolver black market…

 

…the scene descended into orderly chaos as the Intel officer turned pirate fell boneless to the ground…

 

Orders to contain the scene were shouted and officers and crew scrambled to obey. Cale spotted a blur of gold fur and black fatigues as JoNs whooshed by in the distance. From off the visual feed she heard a lightning crack of a voice - Admiral Shauna Coyote - order “Cut off the damn camera!” and the live feed blinked off to be replaced by the digital seal Starfleet Border Patrol.

 

The captain stood there for a moment. Hands on hips and eyes fixated at point on her desk without really seeing anything as she gave herself a moment to process the murder she’d just witnessed.

 

“Well, dang. That’s gonna be one Helluva edit job…”

 

Her focus returned and she toggled the intercom on her desktop with a jab, accessing Communications. “Sparks, pipe me through to Commander Wesley.”

 

(To Be Continued In Sim)

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