Provocateur

Posted on Mon Dec 3, 2018 @ 3:42pm by Gunnery Sergeant Hanley Woodard

1,032 words; about a 5 minute read

USS WASHITA
FIVE HOURS FROM RENDEZVOUS WITH USS VICTORY

The Arrow-class gunabout Jim Holbridge commanded was a modified attack/countermeasure variant of the versatile ship class. Gone was the aft lounge area for the erstwhile crew, replaced with cargo storage and additional bunks for sleeping. Too, the torpedo storage areas had been replaced by a dedicated torpedo replicator , capable of producing up to 50 photon or 20 quantum torpedoes. The micro-torpedo rotary-barrel launcher normally in place as a backup was still in place, as were four beefed up quantum phaser arrays.

Gunny Hanley Woodard was muttering curses to himself as he adjusted the harmonic frequency modulator on the aft port phaser array. It had been weeks since the phasers had been tuned properly, and the delicate task of adjusting the harmonics was made more difficult by the bioneural gelpak circuitry used in this particular class of ship. There ain’t no weapons system alive a Marine can’t fix! was a mantra Woodard used on his troops many times in the past, but this convoluted piece of targshit was driving him nuts. He flung a tool aside with a loud curse and sat down on the deck.

“What’s the trouble, gunny?” Jim Holbridge asked, making his way into the cramped area.

“Damned guns needed reset and the pathways are twitchy as a new Orion hooker on Risa!” Woodard grumped as he took a flask from his pocket and chugged a healthy swig. He instantly passed the flask to Holbridge, who took a sip.

“Betazoid nokma berry juice?”

Woodard simply nodded.

“You know that stuff will rot your brain,” Jim grinned.

“So will beer and cigars, but I’m on duty and the replicators on this tub suck! When we get to the Victory, I can talk to Commander Torres about giving this crate an overhaul for you, if you want.”

“I think she needs it, Gunny.” Jim sat down in a chair next to Woodard. “How’s Vic doing?”

“He’s happy to have a mission again, but I don’t think he likes the crew much. Neither do I, truth be told. I know there is some rivalry with Starfleet wusses and the Corps, but these people think their shit don’t stink! It’s a disgrace. My men are life-takers and heartbreakers, but you can’t maintain discipline in a hostile environment.”

Jim nodded in agreement. “I talked with Vic before I came back here. I’m gonna tell you what I told him to do. Volunteer for shipboard duties. Hell, Gunny, you’re an embassy Marine, Fleet Recon Marine, you’ve done a lot in your time. Along the way, you’ve picked up useful skills that any ship’s officer would be glad to utilize. Pass on what you know to your men and volunteer them for some work on the ship.”

“You have a point there, Bouncer,” Woodard replied, using Holbridge’s call-sign. Holbridge and Woodard had met when Woodard was the NCOIC of Major David Lorenz’s battalion, and when Lorenz died in a training mishap, Woodard had maintained his friendship with the Starfleet pilot/Intelligence covert operator. “Thanks for bringing that up.”

“Anytime, Woody,” Jim sighed, hauling himself to his feet. “Oh yeah, switch the phaser arrays to their primary backup settings. I did a little cross-wiring on this tub when I received her from the Trill Shipyards, for CYA insurance purposes. Something a grouchy old bastard in the Marines taught me to do!” Jim smiled as he left the room.

Jim made his way to his closet-sized quarters and entered. He was bone-tired, and didn’t care that his bed wasn’t made. He pulled the covers back and sank onto the mattress with a sigh. It was time to plan out his next move. Scanning for a fuel depot would keep the Marines occupied, but there was no guarantee of finding it. Jim was going to have to have a serious talk with the XO, Ops, and Engineer of the Victory when they met up in a few hours. The Washita was a powerful gunabout capable of short-range work, but lacked the scanning power a real starship had at its disposal. Holbridge was looking forward to meeting up with Captain Kennit and figuring out what the hell the hijackers were doing in this section of the galaxy.

“Computer, compose subspace message,”

=/\=Identify recipients, please,=/\=

“Captain Rhea Kennit, commanding officer, USS Victory.”

=/\=Ready to record message=/\=

“Begin recording: Captain Kennit, LCDR Jim Holbridge here, Starfleet Intelligence operative-at-large. I am currently 4.96 hours from our rendezvous, and I am bringing your Marine squad and CO home to you. I believe there is a short-range fighter base in or near our rendezvous coordinates. Initial reports and crew debriefs indicate modified Paladin-class interceptors were used to disable the freighters. Paladin-class fighters are notorious deuterium fuel hogs, and the course we have followed would use up the internal fuel supply. However, it should be noted that a warp sled equipped with external cargo modules was reported by several of the freighter bridge officers and ops managers. It is possible that the fighters were docked inside the cargo modules until time for the attack. If this is the case, the timing for each attack would have to be precise and carried out at a specific point in space or run the risk of crew loss, and would give us a greater area to search, but would narrow the specific warp signatures to scan for. I am looking forward to assisting you in any way I can. Holbridge out. End recording and send.”

=/\= Message recorded. Do you wish to encrypt the message? =/\=

Jim smiled conspiratorially. “Negative. Send the message as is.” He hoped that Crowe’s commanding officer would realize what he was attempting and go along with it. Anyone who could pull off a prison break at a black site couldn’t be ignorant, but Jim had been wrong before.

=/\= Message sent =/\=

Jim yawned and turned onto his side, and within seconds he was snoring.

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