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Crash Calestorm

Calestorm Log - Planet Goram

Federation Border

Planet Goram

04:25 AM

 

Under the cover of twilight, Captain Crash Calestorm observed the Vulcan training base turned smugglers den. The base sat on an elevated landscape and overlooked a craggy valley; the terrain immediately surrounding the base was flat. Lowering the binoculars she frowned. Not the most ideal target, but they’d handled worse.

 

Even with the Electronic Countermeasure equipment package installed on the Mule going at full-on capacity, the planetary storm had concealed their approach and that was to their favor. Mind, they’d been forced to put down at LZ Three, the last choice and furthest from the target base on her choice of landing and assault approach points.

 

Originally established by Vulcan Special Forces (although the Vulcan government would flat out deny an organization like this existed), the base had been employed primarily for troop training. Candidates would spend long hours in tactical and historical study and then take to the field for training on the open, craggy or forested landscapes.

 

The planet was perfect for colony establishment and farming but many governments were hesitant to invest the time, money and personnel due to the proximity of the Outer Rim territories. It also hadn’t helped that the last group of officers and trainees to man the base had an unfortunate encounter with Orion raiders.

 

The attack had been one of the many skirmishes that blossomed during the infamous Orion Cartel Wars. The Orion slavers would swoop in, grab who and what they could, and swoop back out. The Starfleet and other allied powers had done what they could to protect citizens but the border territories had remained the most vulnerable.

 

Crash remembered that attack, though she hadn’t actually set a boot on Goram. In respone to the attack on the base, Starfleet had ordered a picket patrol established around Goram and the nearest sectors. Her ship at the time had been one of the vessels taking part in the patrol duties and she’d flown CAP assignments for weeks along the sectors.

 

Great Bird, that had been a lifetime ago…

 

And that was then and this was now, and she and her Away Team had some smugglers to route out. Intel had been correct - for a nice change of pace - and the base was being used by the Lunatic Jester Horde. The hostile number count was twenty eight, not ideal but again, her crew had dealth with worse odds.

 

She placed a hand palm down on the poly-steel hide of the Mule as a long, slow and slightly evil smile worked its way across her features.

 

Quietly, she called over to Staff Sergeant Vega. “Jo Jo, grab that battered flight jacket of mine, the one with no insignia and that low slung holster and pistol; they’re both in in Cargo Pod 2. And fetch Commander Wesley and the Command Team out here right quick.”

 

Calestorm turned her gaze again to the horizon and the smile grew even wider. “They like to scavenge for parts and vehicles? Fine, we can accommodate them…” She patted the Mule for emphasis.

 

To Be Continued In Sim…

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