Day In, Day Out

Posted on Wed 26th Oct, 2022 @ 10:57pm by

932 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: The Hunted
Location: Arrow 5, In the Shadow of SB109
Timeline: MD 8, 350

Captain Rebecca Beck's eyes were on the instruments of her Arrow that would display anything out of the ordinary moving within half an AU*. She lifted her eyes to a distant point to relieve the pressure of staring so long into the scanner. She could just listen for the proximity alarms, but she was never one to do a paycheck job. If she were tasked with security for the base, she would do the best she possibly could. Her call sign wasn't Omega** for nothing.

Once, her life had been much more exciting than looking into space scanners and listening for proximity alarms. As captain in the new Battle Wing of Starfleet's Air Force, she had commanded a fighting wing with success until she lost someone too close to her. Now, the only person who knew about her former times as a squadron leader was her current wingman, Master Warrant Officer Helena Nordstrom.

"Getting to be almost that time," Nordstrom said now, with a yawn. "You coming out for a drink with me when we get back.

Rebecca glanced over to her friend with a half smile. "Are you ever going to give up asking me that? I know who you meet - that whole fighter jet, brain-cell deficient, crowd of irrepressible male hormones. I trust them to defend the base, because after all, excitement is what they live for, but I'm not interested in spending time with any of them."

"You've been saying that for at least two years, but you won't ever come meet anyone and see that they are good fun," Helena complained, as she always did.

"I don't see that changing in the near future ... or the distant future," the captain said, leaning back to view the scanner. "I've told you, I wouldn't mind talking with someone with a brain, and if you ever find oe, you let me know. Meantime, I won't ever be holding my breath."

Nordstrom's shoulders sank a bit. She didn't know why she could never get through to Rebecca. The woman had shut herself off from men for several years. She didn't even want to meet one, let alone spend an hour or two relaxing after their shift staring into the endless dark of space.

"Well, how about breakfast, then?" she asked finally.

Beck made a notation in the log book, just before a proximity alarm went off. She and Nordstrom both scrambled to get a closer scan and information on what caused the alarm.

"There," the squadron leader said. "I see it. Looks like a small transport, and there are no weapons readings." She watched it for a few seconds, then asked, "Your scanners showing you anything? Picking up any messages, distress calls, anything?"

"Nothing. It looks dere - no, wait! There's a faint trace of plasma exhaust. It's distorted ... but that doesn't make sense. It isn't traveling in a warp field."

"Let's call out your fighter pals, let them take a closer look. Meantime, keep an eye on that exhaust trail. If their hull plating isn't polarized, they could have trouble coming," Beck ordered.

"109 traffic control, bogey report from Arrow 5. We're seeing a small transport with exhaust trail at about one-half AU at three-six-niner five by eight-zero-two-one. Requesting fighter investigation. We can't tell if the hull plating is polarized."

A calm, smooth voice came back at her. =^=Roger that, Arrow 5. Two fighters scrambling now to intercept bogey. No communication response on hailing frequencies. Stand by until resolved.=^=

"Understood, traffic control. Standing by until relieved," Captain Beck responded.

"Any changes?" she asked her wingman.

"Not a one," was the brief response. Both were calm, but focused on the situation millions of kilometers away. In all likelihood, nothing was going to happen, but it was the unlikely situations that put then out here every day, watching over the space around the starbase.

Silence ticked away as their relief time came and went with no changes or resolution. They'd seen the fighters tear out of the base, and could follow their trajectory on their scanners, but they couldn't hear the pilots unless the pilots brought them in, and they hadn't.

At 20 minutes in, they saw the fighters slow and circle the transport, but still heard nothing. A few minutes later, the traffic controller spoke again. =^=Arrow 5, situation is resolved. Hull plating is polarized, but there is an engine failure on bogey. There is currently no danger to the base, and your relief crew is on the way. An engineering crew is also being sent to the unarmed planetary transport ship to correct the engine problem. Thanks for being on the ball this morning.=^=

"Roger that, Traffic Control. Glad we're all clear." Beck's response was automatic. The controller had been unusually informative, but she never questioned extra knowledge.

"He thanked us?" Nordstrom asked, clearly questioning what she'd just heard.

"He did," Rebecca said, grinning. "Maybe we have a kinder, gentler controller working this morning."

"Rook Four, this is Rook Seven, ready to take the baton."

"Rook Seven, this is Rook Four, ready to leave all the excitement to you. You're up on the transport situation?" the captain asked.

"Roger that, Rook Four. Local Space, this is Rook Seven assuming system defense patrol from Rook Four."

A woman's voice, displaying none of the boredom that might be expected, responded, "Roger Seven. I have you on the board. Rook Four, you are clear for Are-Tee-Bee.[1]"

=====
*AU = Astronomical Unit, the distance between Terra and her star, Sol, roughly 93,000,000 miles or 149,669,000 kilometers.

**Omega = always the last plane in from her squadron, no matter how dangerous

[1] RTB: Return To Base

 

RSS Feed