Blinky (Calestorm Flight Log)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place following the 06.01.15 Sim…

 

The Rust Belt mission was going well if somewhat sedate, minus buzzing the bridge and having Commander Wesley lock CIWS targeting systems on her in a gentle reminder to quit the flybys on the bridge. Her ship and crew were performing excellently.

 

Calestorm was getting as many flying hours in that she could and loved every minute of the routine. This was a nice change from being shot at constantly or sent on a godforsaken spookity-spook counter-Intel undercover mission, thank you very much.

 

Her current assignment from CAG Honor-Scar was detachment flight from the CAP, spotting and recording locations of space debris and junk left to float, likely jettisoned from freighters. It was a cheesecake assignment and once she tagged a spot either the ‘Creek would take care of the junk or the fighter wing would get in some targeting training.

 

An added element to the patrol included the offspring of an Earth groundhog crossbred with one of the last remaining Vulcan-bred ground squirrels. The resulting hybrid - known affectionately as Blinky - was a rodent capable of zero G and lack of oxygen exposure. Mind you, leaving him unattended for an hour wasn’t advisable, but he could survive for a limited amount of time when exposed to these elements.

 

She had no idea why in the hell Admiral Coyote had volun-told them to take part in the experiment, but here they were. Shauna had been impressed by the Caitian’s record and mentioned wanting Lieutenant Jumper Honor-Scar taking part in the tests but Crash had nixed that idea.

 

Now, she wasn’t one to be prejudiced but a felinoid and rodentia together in a space-bound fighter? Can we say incident report? No thank you. Besides, during the pre-flight briefing Blinky and Jumper had been squinting unfavorably at one another.

 

So being the glutton for punishment that she was Cale had volunteered to take the little rodent furball out and about in Lightning 20. The Science geeks and the Deck Crew knuckedraggers had rigged up a little sling harness for him in the cockpit.

 

The groundhog hybrid had done quite well on the flight and chittered quietly to himself. She’d behaved and didn’t try to give the little guy a heart attack with some hot dog maneuvering. The spot check debris patrol had been going well until she entered a little situation developed in a small cluster of asteroids she’d been investigating.

 

Five pirate starfighers had faced off against the captain. Well….this was problematic…

 

They were likely Junkers and she’d warned them off by broadcasting over known civilian wireless channels. Nothing, no feedback. As if the Starfleet markings on her fighter and the fact they were on her side of the border weren’t a deterrent in itself. Then again, pirates weren’t known for their diplomacy skills.

 

Crash did a quick mental rundown of the pirate vessels; two were Mark III Grumman Wildcats, civilian fast escort conversions from the early days of the Starfleet-Orion border skirmishes and the others were Mark II Brewster Buffaloes, former Starfleet multi-roles typically used for starbase defense. The fifth fighter was a “mutt-class” as she didn’t know what the hell it had once been. There were so many mismatching panels and beams welded to it, and likely bubblegum holding it together for good measure that it was hard to distinguish the original pedigree.

 

All five were painted maroon with the clan symbol prominently displayed: a demented looking clown with crossbones. These guys flew with the Lunatic Jester Horde, a crew that usually dealt in various misdeeds and shenanigans.

 

Exit, stage left! Mama didn’t raise no fool and Crash’s abrupt departure probably gave her those extra seconds of surprise and distance that she needed.

 

“Shepherd One to The Barn. I could use some Black Sheep on my coordinates ASAP. I’m turned and burned but I’ve got me some piratical shenanigans. Recon cam footage is uploaded and sent.”

 

Her voice came out calm and clear, as if this sort of thing happened every day and she didn’t have five maniac pirates bearing down on her.

 

“Shepherd One, information received and The Sheep are dispatched.”

 

“Five hostiles, four known aftermarket and one mutt config—Oh Hell Naw! You did not just shoot that green sh*t at me! Lightning 20 engaging!”

 

Two bright green tracer rounds had lit up the space around the Lightning. Cutting the fuel feed and slamming on the maneuvering thrusters, Calestorm backslid the Lightning so suddenly that Blinky slipped from his harness hammock and slammed into the upper canopy with a thud and a squeek.

 

The sudden stop caused the Lunatics to zoom past her; as they passed she jabbed the commands to launch out an EC drone to discharge and cause some havoc with their instruments. Then she reignited the engines at full burn and was off and running again.

 

The inertial forces floated Blinky upside down across Crash’s direct field of vision. Well, upside down relative to their inverted position as location was relative at this point. She screamed and he screamed back at her as he went past. The rodent reached the opposite side of the cockpit and scrabbled to grasp onto the side of the console for dear life.

 

“Shepherd One to Sheep. Can y’all hurry it up as I’ve got a floating badger in my cockpit – and don’t anyone dare make any jokes y’all hear me now?! – and I’m engaged to five, I repeat, five. I’m in some deep sh*t!”

 

“Sir, I thought it was a groundhog?”

 

“Blue Boy!” Jumper’s purring voice held a growled warning over the wireless feed, informing her pilot to shut up in no uncertain terms.

The Lightning completed its crazy eight arc under the deft manipulations and Crash was vaguely aware of the shredder drone that shot past her and exploded, missing its intended target – her! Jigging sideways and causing Blinky to bounce right in her lap, Crash put distance between her and the explosion.

 

She glanced forward and her Mark One Eyeball confirmed the status of inbound.

 

“Hang on Blinky! Don’t fly angry! Don’t fly angry!”

 

“Meep!”

 

Lightning 20 jerked out of its forward momentum and launched into an upward arc, the silver paint tone of the fighter catching the starlight as it twisted through the black of space. At the apex of the arc Crash set her bird on its back and faced the pirate cluster upside down.

 

She flipped her middle finger at the pilot closest to her, the gesture clear through the transparent aluminum of the cockpit. “Greetings from Border Patrol!” she called out onto both the civilian and Starfleet wireless channels.

 

Calestorm quickly peeled away from the furball - pun not intended - the CAP patrol whooshed in under the leadership of felinoid Lieutenant Honor-Scar to engage the pirates.

 

= = = =

CIWS – Close In Weapons System

CAG – Commander of the Aero Group

CAP – Combat Air Patrol

Mark One Eyeball – relying on your own vision instead of scanners/tracking programs, etc

*With apologies to the writers of Top Gun (1986), Independence Day (1994) and Groundhog Day (1993).