Need to Know Pt 2 The Infamous 'Stingers'

[STSF Jumper 0]

Captains Ready Room

02.26.2260 08:00 Hours

On route to the Gygax System

 

The entry chime sounded and Crash toggled the mounted intercom on her desk. “Yes?”

 

The MARDET guard standing post answered. “Lieutenant Honor-Scar is here to see you, Sir.”

 

“Send her in, thanks Vega.”

 

Lieutenant JG Jagrissa ‘Jumper’ Honor-Scar entered the office and adopted a respectful stance in front of the desk. “Honor-Scar reporting, Sir; I have that background info you requested.”* Her tone came out with a purr and she held a digital data slate outward in one powerful paw

 

Calestorm leaned in to accept the slate and appeared to be pleased with the news. “Damn. Only spoke to you about it a couple days ago; you work fast, Lieutenant.”

 

Thanks to years of practice, the captain quickly skimmed through the six page report. Honor-Scar remained at parade rest though her gaze wandered, taking in the personal and professional effects that decorated the office area.

 

The desktop had a sparse collection of holo-pics, showing friends and family. One bulkhead mounted shelf held various awards, ribbons and citations. The Caitian’s gaze lingered on the Purple Heart; Honor-Scar had heard through the lower decks gossip that Captain Calestorm was a bit tight lipped regarding the conditions surrounding her receipt of it, and it was best to ask her after she had had a few drinks in her.

 

Jumper would rather be shaved naked and dropped behind enemy lines with only a knife - and claws - to defend herself.

 

A small collection of what she assumed were antique Earth firearms were displayed in a clear case. Atop the case sat a sword mounted on a squat stand.

 

Jumper didn’t realize that she’d made a curious sound until Calestorm turned her attention away from the digital slate. A gentle smile quirked one corner of her mouth and she nodded to the Caitian. “Go ahead Lieutenant. You appreciate blades?”

 

She gently lifted the sword from the raised mounting with her paws. “I admire them, Sir. It really isn’t a hobby or anything. My Grandfather has a few Caitian sword pieces, from our tribal wars. Does this map have history with the sword”? Jumper inquired of the black and white and sepia production picture attached to the bulkhead above the case and sword.

 

Calestorm nodded. “It’s a Confederate saber. The map represents the troop movements and locations of the Battle of Serenity Valley. It’s a pretty sounding name for a nasty, bloody affair fought during the latter months of a Human civil war that took place in the Old America States on Earth.”

 

She pointed a stylus pen towards the weapon Jumper held as she continued speaking. “That belonged to Captain Jarrett Calestorm. Out of a cavalry company of fifty one men, he and eleven others survived the battle. He managed to rally the survivors and they escaped, fleeing from the Union Army patrols. Calestorm deserted and moved further west, spending a few years doin’ all sorts of fun stuff like robbing banks and stagecoaches. Somehow or another, the saber found its way back into the family through my great-great grandmother as she did research on our family history.”

 

A rogue officer? An outlaw? It would seem the Calestorm ancestor was a wandering soul destined for questionable adventures…much like his descendant. Not that Jumper would say that to her commanding officers face.

 

The felinoid replaced the saber on the mount and instead said, “Thank you for the history lesson, Sir. You managed to make it…not boring.”

 

A light chuckle from the captain was the only response to that statement. Honor-Scar made a motion to return to her former parade rest, but Calestorm waved her to the chair opposite the desk and the Caitian officer took a seat.

 

Cale slouched back, the black leather of the contoured office chair creaking. “Honor-Scar, you done good.” She indicated the data slate with a poke of her finger. “I’ll forward this report to Commander Wesley, Admiral Coyote, General Tigard, and Major Ishiiu. Now, in your own words I want you to summarize this bar dive on Nike Prime…”

 

“For years, the bar was seriously bad medicine. Sure, you could find jobs there, but only if you really didn’t care if you got shot in the head or a knife shoved through your belly. My family avoided it, as did most of the legit and semi-legit mercenary groups and mercenary families.” The feline paused.

 

“And this changed, obviously.”

 

The golden furred Caitian gave a nod of affirmation at the interjection. “Stingers changed ownership four years ago. The, ah, changeover was forced, okay? The original owner lost the bar in a card game. But, the mercenary family that owns the bar is what you would call ‘good people’? Like my family?”

 

The middle aged woman waved a gentle hand and smiled at the younger female. “I get it. Go on Jumper.”

 

“The bar still has that whole ‘wretched hive of scum and villainy’ thing going on. But, the site has way more of a contact network in place for working crews looking for business or looking to do business with others.

 

“So…a new crew looking to make a name for themselves within the Outer Rim sectors would use this Stingers as a starting point for any available jobs or contacts?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am. Anyone who is anyone goes to Stingers to show their colors. And, if you cause trouble, everyone polices themselves because it’s now considered neutral ground; if a faction gets the bright idea to cause an issue? Well…that’s just bad mercenary etiquette.”

 

“And….,” Crash paused to scroll the slate to a particular point on the report, “you have the independent crews that deal in personnel relocation?” She used the gentle euphemism for slave running.

 

The golden furred feline gave a quick nod. “The bar needs to do a business; they can’t totally control the clientele, just serve the drinks.”

 

“I’d like to make one more request of you, Jumper.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“We’re gonna have two volunteer teams launching out once we get the green light. Straight up honest, I’d like you pay rolled on my team ‘cause I can use your skills as a former mercenary.”

 

The feline flipped an ear back and the tip of her tail quivered. Intrigued Cat was intrigued. ”I’m in, Ma’am.”

 

“And, I know that you know this, but I’m still gonna say it: this MIA* mission is still need to know and off the record. You don’t discuss nothin’ with no one, you hear me now?”

 

“Understood, Captain.”

 

Calestorm gave the younger officer a quick and genuine smile. “Good. If there’s nothing else? Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

 

----

* Per the events in Straight-Up Scrounger

* MIA - Missing In Action