Salve and Ammo
Posted on Sun Dec 2, 2018 @ 11:31pm by Major Victor Crowe & Gunnery Sergeant Hanley Woodard
Edited on on Mon Dec 3, 2018 @ 1:06am
1,566 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission: Plaga Navis
USS WASHITA
SIXTEEN HOURS AWAY FROM RENDEZVOUS
The combat runabout, or gunabout, was one of the latest innovations from the brilliant minds staffing the Theoretical Research and Development Wing of Starfleet Fighter Base Mirimar. In addition to the standard flight controls, each vessel was equipped with manual flight controls customizable to the species of the pilot. Jim Holbridge actually preferred the manual controls for flights lasting less than three hours. The gunabout’s normal crew complement was a pilot, co-pilot, and an enlisted systems technician, but aboard this particular craft, it was just Jim Holbridge as the sole crewman
In addition, the runabout itself could be equipped for phaser or torpedo assault, probe launch and recovery, and troop transport. The gunabout allowed for rapid deployment of assault forces and had been used extensivly in several skirmishes. Starfleet had sent ten wings of the versatile craft through the Solaria Gateway several months prior to the destruction of Starbase 900.
Holbridge deactivated the manual controls and rotated to face Vic Crowe, who was starring into space. “Hey, dipshit, your asshole is farting rainbows!” he said quietly.
Crowe raised his left middle finger, keeping his eyes forward. “You’re mama sucks Klingon crack!” Crowe retorted.
“That’s a lie, she hasn’t licked a Klingon since last month. Your mama taught her wrong!” Jim grinned.
Crowe shook his head and faced his long-time friend. “Since you’re not gonna let me brood in peace, what are you doing in this quadrant of the galaxy?”
“Believe it or not, I’m with Starfleet Intelligence. SI has noted that several cargo ships have disappeared in this area of the galaxy, and the dickwad you guys busted out of the prison is one of the key playersin this dramady. So, I, being the good little sojer-boy in the never-ending fight against tyranny, sobriety, and liberated females, got the call to poke around and see what I could find.” Jim reached back and grabbed a thermos and two cups from a secure shelf. He quickly poured two cups of hot coffee and handed one cup to Vic. “After three months in place, all I know is that this place is where they hold the scumbags Starfleet catches. They kept that Torrance guy under lock and key round the clock. Secure surveillance stream, encrypted communications, 24-7 solitary. I’m no rocket scientists but I’d be willing to be your mom’s virginity that guy is involved in the whole mess somehow.”
Vic took a sip of the coffee, smiling when he tasted the whiskey in the coffee. “Good coffee, Bouncer! Whoever that shithead is supposed to be is the captain’s problem, not mine! That entire fucking crew treats us like animals because we can and are willing to fight. I’m about to tell that fucking doctor where to shove her attitude!”
Jim’s smile grew wider as he took a slurp of coffee. “What’s this? Cursing a doctor of the female persuasion you just met? Could it be love or the need to get laid?”
“It’s neither. That woman could rip the balls off a brass monkey!” Vic answered.
Gunny Woodard stuck is head into the cockpit. “Major, you’ll go to hell for lying to your friends and subordinates!” Woodard looked at Jim. “He has the hots for the doctor, although I doubt he won’t get past her laser-sharp tongue.”
“What’re the odds?” Jim grinned, getting a nasty look from Vic.
“Twenty-to-five against coitus!” Woodard grinned.
“I’ll take some of that! Put me down for half a bar of latinum.”
Woodard’s smile expanded. “Like the man said, ‘there’s one born every minute’” Woodard looked at Vic who was staring daggers at him. “All the casualties are treated, major. Couple of nasty cuts, but mainly just bumps and bruises.” Woodard said in an official voice.
“Carry on, gunny, and put me down for two bars for!”
Woodard could be heard grumbling as he left the cockpit. Vic looked at Jim and raised his mug. “How much longer till we rendezvous with the Victory?”
“Fifteen hours, give or take. We’re taking the same route a lot of the cargo ships got jumped on. When we hit that area, I think it might be a good idea to spend some time checking for anomalies.”
Vic leaned forward in his chair. “What kind of anomalies?”
“Unusual readings, oddities, and things that look weird to the trained observer.” Jim answered, his voice business-like.
Vic leaned back in his chair. He knew Jim Holbridge well enough to know that this side-trip had been planned, and the addition of a heavily armed squad of scruffy-looking Marines commanded by a friend was just a bonus. “What are we looking for?”
“According to the reports and crews we debriefed, the hijacked freighters got hit by two formations of Paladin-class fighters. Paladin’s are normally lightly-armed impulse fighters, but with a few modifications to the superstructure and a couple tweaks to the structural integrity field they can do Warp 2 for a dew hours before their engines give out. The fighters stop the freighter with tractor beams, then a warp sled would come in and beam the cargo into the sled’s cargo modules and warp out while the fighters crippled the engines of the freighter.
“Paladin-class ships use deuterium fuel like crazy, so logic would suggest that there’s some manner of fueling station or ship in this area. I’d theorize that the station is hidden somewhere in the cosmic debris or have a working cloaking field.” Jim slid into the Ops side of his control panel and began inputting commands. “I’ve been working on a program that will allow Washita to scan for unusually large amounts of deuterium along our path, or a warp trail leading towards a deuterium cache.”
“Pretty smart for an ex-fighter puke, Bouncer. I’ll see if my guys can boost the range of your sensors.”
“No need. I’m sure your captain won’t mind if we link our sensors into the Victory’s when she is in range, given the circumstances. But I would appreciate the sensor boost! I haven’t had the sensors updated in weeks. Been kinda busy and all.”
“You have any probes on this rust bucket?” Vic asked, rising to his feet.
“Dumped my combat load to make room for you pukes. All I have is micro-torpedo launcher targeting system and the standard sensor pallets, Mark XII’s, I believe. Don’t get to tweak happy because the gelpaks have a specific tolerance range that can’t be exceeded.” Jim said as he kept inputting his program data.
“Pretty smart for a flyboy-slash-intel puke. I’ll get my cro-mags to work on it! Five or ten-pound sledgehammers?” Vic grinned as he left the cockpit.
“Before you go, let’s talk about why you want to transfer off the Victory”, Jim said, his voice hard.
Vic retraced his steps and sat back down. “None of the crew appreciate us, and regard us as stupid. There’s been some hazing of the Fleet pukes and I put a stop to it quickly. Even still, I can sense an undercurrent of hostility in most of them. We aren’t the goddamned enemy!” he said in a voice that shook with controlled fury.
“Does the Victory crew know that?” Jim asked. “How many days have you actually been on the ship, interacting with the Starfleet crew instead of harboring your hostility and lusting after the doctor?”
Vic nodded his head and finished his coffee. “Point taken,” he said curtly.
“Sit down, Vic.” Jim stopped his work and turned to face his friend. “With the exception of Dave Lorenz you are the only Marine I would trust with my life, and you earned that trust under fire. The Fleeters don’t know you successfully broke out of a Dominion prison camp with thirty other prisoners and helped me steal a prototype Cardassian warship on the way back. They don’t know you are brave, loyal, daring, and one of the best tactical minds in the Corps. All they have to go on is the stereotypes associated with Marines. Show the crew what you and your guys can do. You have troopers in your unit who have served on starships before, have a talk with the XO of the ship and get them assigned to the duty rosters. You can volunteer to take command of a watch or two since you are a qualified bridge officer, and I’m sure that would endear you to some of the senior staff.”
Vic looked at Jim and slowly nodded his head. “You make sense sometimes, Jimbo. I can make that effort. But if their attitude stays…”
“If their attitude remains, it’s on them, Marine!” Jim said sharply. “You’re a major in the Corps, act like it. You don’t have to prove a fucking thing to anyone, but if you want to be accepted by your crewmates make the effort!”
Vic just nodded, knowing his friend was right. “Message received, commander.”
“I haven’t been a lieutenant-commander in nearly three years!” Jim smiled. “Send your gunnery sergeant up here to take your place and get some sack time.”
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