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Crash Calestorm

Bad Moon on the Rise (Rawr!)

The following log takes place 24 Hours prior to our 10.19.15 Sim…


Planet Goram

Outer Sector Grid 16

Former Flight Operations Warehouse


The Jesters had operated out of the ruins of the Starfleet ground base for years until Starfleet swooped in and took back Goram. He’d lost a lucrative smuggling contract once the client got wind of Starfleet, equipment had been confiscated and several of his goons had been arrested.


He was a little ticked off you might say.


Yondu Aldanta, pirate leader of the Lunatic Jesters, hid in the shadows on the upper catwalk. The Fleeters had been nosing around the outer sector warehouse for the last couple of days and he intended some payback.


He stroked a sniper rifle as if it were a lover, his calloused hands caressing the weapon in a very obscene manner; it was a heavily modified Klingon Tepes1-class, almost unrecognizable from the original configuration. The rifle was loaded with a round of pure Black Pearl, encased in a quick lapse tranquilizer dart. In addition to the Pearl, the tranquilizer concoction was further laced with Necro and Nox, two highly potent narcotics also popular with the black market and the combination would prove to be one Hell of a time on a high.


Yondu allowed a big smile to split his blue skinned and weather beaten features. He had waited and sure enough, several targets presented themselves.


= = = =

“This is it?” Calestorm’s tone was not impressed. In fact it was disgusted. “Commander, have you taken leave of your senses?” The tall and lean woman turned with her field jacket rustling slightly as she shifted position to look directly at JoNs. Unimpressed captain was unimpressed.


Commander Kansas JoNs of the USS Washingtons Crossing favored the older Human women with a rare grin; unlike her blood cousin, the upright - or was that uptight? - by the book Caitian was not one for humor.


“No, I have not, Sir. This warehouse structure was the original location of the landing port. With the proper conversion, I feel as if it would make an excellent secondary base for Goram with the possible expansion including Special Operations training and command base.”


Said cousin, Lieutenant Jumper Honor-Scar of Calestorm’s own command, the USS Comanche Creek, picked up the conversation from there. “My flight squad recorded the structure on one of the initial aero recon sweeps and earmarked it for Commander JoNs’ long term project investigation teams, Captain.”


Cale turned to Staff Sergeant Vega of the ‘Creek MARDET as he too considered the options. The senior NCO gave the structure a critical eye. The junior Jarhead he’d brought with him to qualify for field time management had recently been promoted to the rank of Corporal and the man had so far done what he was supposed to do – shut the hell up and observe.


Vega shrugged eloquently in reply. “It’s as good a place as any for a forward training facility and contact waypoint, Ma’am.”


Crash waved the team forward in response. JoNs gave the Security guard on point guard duty a nod and the shore party entered the warehouse through the open double slider doors.


= = = =

Aldanta took a breath, released it and squeezed the trigger.


= = = =

The dart didn’t strike the intended target, which had been the felinoid wearing the modified Starfleet uniform of the SEAL team attached to the Border Patrols First Threat Response Program. The toxic ballistic had nailed the senior FTR officer on site square in the neck as she crossed in front of the firing; it had only taken a second. Calestrom jerked from the impact and went down with a gurgle of vomit spray from the force of the toxins entering her bloodstream.


Yondu muttered “Dammit!” under his breath and quickly prepped for another shot


= = = =

He didn’t need to take a second shot to cause any more trouble for the Fleeters.


The pirate had heard rumors and fact regarding the side effects of the drugs crammed into the dart, mainly that they could bring the violent, animalistic side out in certain cases. He’d wanted to hit one of the Caits just ‘cause they were felinoid and much closer to their forebears then the Humans – in his opinion.


But, this? He’d not expected this. This was the jackpot!


With a scream she bolted up from her crumpled position, throwing off Honor-Scar and Vega who had gone to help the fallen officer.


Skin bubbled as if hundreds of worms were just under the surface. Arms and legs grew elongated, ankles and lower legs snapping into an inverted position like those of an animal. Fingers grew as nails turned razor sharp. She gained at least four inches to her height. Fur the color of gray-silver sprung out, blending into and matching Calestorm’s hair color. Facial muscles contorted and grew, ears grew.


With a leering and toothy smile, Aldanta used the satisfying confusion and terror to make himself scarce.


= = = =

JoNs dove behind the storage crates, scrambling for purchase as she hit the flooring next to her cousin and across from the Humans who had taken cover across the aisle. A burst of weapons fire followed by a scream and thud indicated that the Security guard had been subdued.


As the senior officer present after Calestorm, uh, did whatever she had just done, the Cait was already running mentally running through their options. “Sergeant Vega, we require a sound tactical plan.”


“Commander, with due respect I’m a Marine not Van Helsing dammit!”


Corporal Carl ‘Leroy’ Jenkins chose that moment to comment. “Van Helsing? Wasn’t he supposed to be a vampire hunter? The Cap’n looks way more like a wolf or something. Aren’t they extinct on Ear--”


“Shut the frag up Carl!” Vega risked a quick look over the crates and then turned his attention back to the Commander, “--we can’t hurt her. There’s got to be some way to take her down with a minimum of bloodshed.”


Vega was cut off from whatever he was about to say as an empty cargo barrel went sailing over their hiding area followed by a mighty howl. Everyone ducked down further.


Honor-Scar shifted position slightly to look around her cousin at the Human Male. With ears flattened, her lowered tone came out sarcastic. “Hurt her, Staff?”


The older of the two female Caits hissed and gave a quick chop of her right paw through the air. The vocalization and gesture wasn’t meant to be derisive, it was just the Commanders way. As the senior command officer present, JoNs took over the shore party immediately with no hesitation.


“Honor-Scar, comm the Comanche Creek and get a Medical team on site as soon as possible, we’ll likely need them…,” her purred voice trailed off and she winced as another roar reverberated through the abandoned warehouse. She exchanged a quick look with her cousin who gave a wordless nod of either confirmation or approval.


JoNs continued speaking. “There’s no way we can take her in the open, not if she’s hunting.”


The NCO spoke quickly and concisely, years of training and skirmish experience bolstering his instincts; he sensed an unspoken plan of action and inquired of the two Caitian officers. “Okay, what are you two Sirs thinking? We’re certainly not going to rush her.”


JoNs shook her head in the negative. “At least not technically, but we do need to bait her. She’s hunting and half out of her mind with rage. All of us rushing her will do no good and if we leave the warehouse and go out in the open she’ll just pick us off. And I’m not beaming out without her. Here’s what we’re going to do…”


= = = =

“Leeeeeeroy Jenkins!” The Corporal rushed at the transformed Calestorm, a makeshift riot shield from discarded warehouse materials held in front of him. Vega followed, tense and ready for combat.


Crash caught the riot shield and flung it and Jenkins through the air; twisting, the newly promoted enlisted man got the shield under him as a deflection sled for the rough landing. The “bait” had worked and she now focused her animal rage on Vega and howled.


A hail of heavy stun phaser fire lambasted the Captain in several dozen pinpricks of blue as JoNs and Honor-Scar fired as quickly as they could.


She stumbled to one knee and Vega chose that moment to attack; he rushed forward and with a well-place roundhouse born of plain old fear connected squarely with the wolf-things snout. Calestorm yelped like a dog and staggered backward, going down with a thud under the hail of stun and the belt from Vega. She laid still, her chest rising and falling rapidly in indication that she was still alive.


An uneasy silence descended on the warehouse that had almost been the scene of unimaginable carnage.


JoNs emerged from cover, phasers still drawn as she closed in on where Crash had fallen. Vega held position as backup…just in case. The Commander knelt to tentatively take a manual neck pulse with a paw. Honor-Scar went in the direction where soft moans were now coming from, likely the fallen Security guard.


Both of the felinoid officer’s tails were completely puffed out, just like freaked out housecats. The Sarge really couldn’t blame them, however.


As Vega and the JoNs watched in disbelief, the older woman reverted to her Human form among the rags that had once been a Starfleet uniform.


Honor-Scar broke from the group to place a second communication to ‘Creek, claiming no fatalities but urging the medical team to hurry.


The quiet was only broken only by a lone voice that called out from behind a jumble of crates where he had landed. “Are all deployments this…Furry?”


Corporal Jenkins was just fine, thank you very much.


“Shut the frag up Carl!” Vega barked out.


Happy Halloween, Folks! =)

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