Another fine Mess
Posted on Tue Aug 4th, 2015 @ 11:38am by Major David Lorenz & Marine Captain Quentin Harrison
Edited on on Tue Aug 4th, 2015 @ 11:40am
Mission: Further Challenges
UNKNOWN PLANET
T PLUS TWENTY-SEVEN HOURS
The Recon Platoon was banged up from the impact. Most of the Marines had bumps and bruises, a couple of the unluckier ones sported fractured arms and legs from the savage impact of the gunabout. The crash had not claimed any lives, much to Harrison's great relief.
The past day had been spent salvaging what could be saved from the wrecked spacecraft, which was a considerable amount of gear. Most of the ship's systems had been removed from the stricken ship and stockpiled. Quentin had the rest of the platoon dug in near the crash site, in case John Franklin had any goons on the surface of the planet with which to cause more mayhem.
Quentin himself was busy trying to bring the subspace radio back online. The equipment had suffered greatly from the savage landing, having not been designed for high-impact activities. A snap and a spark brough a loud curse from the burly Scot, who flung a tool at a tree in frustration!
"Cussing that piece of shit won't help you one bit, El-Tee!" Sgt Randall "Sparky" Crouch smiled as he knelt by his fuming officer. "If it was me, I'd uses Granpa Bob's time-proven, centuries-old, field diagnostic tool, a good ol' fashioned hammer smack to the main housing!"
Harrison had to smile at his techno-noncom. The man knew how to charm a pissed of Klingon targh while somehow managing to keep the platoon's gear running smoothly. "Tis good that ye came by, Sparky. I am about to fling this stubborn piece o' shite into the slag heap!"
"Crouch looked at Harrison's handiwork with a critical eye, then leaned forward and toggled a control, bringing the radio array to life with a hum. "Helps out the gizmo if you give it a lil' power, sir," Crouch grinned shamelessly.
Harrison rose to his feet and nodded to his tech whiz. "Carry on, Sarge. I wanna be in contact with 900 as soon as possible."
Crouch nodded and knelt by the machine, taking out his tool kit and making more modifications to the device. Harrison went over to a stand of trees that was serving as the platoon's command post. "Gimmie and update, lads,"
"We don't know where the hell we are, sir," was the terse reply. "The nav equipment was all removed from the ship and we were remotely brought here."
"Did anybody think to use the positioning software to triangulate our position?" Quentin demanded
"No, sir." was the sheepish reply.
"Our last heading was in protected memory, use that as yer baseline. We cannae be more than a few light years from the station, well within range of rescue ships. What about the patrols?" Quentin said, looking at the tactical display.
"So far no contact with anyone. There are intermittent bursts of subspace static, but nothing that is used by us or the NGSC people. Team Four is working a possible contact to the southwest"
Quentin tapped his combadge, which thankfully still worked. "Harrison to McClure, gimmie an update,"
=/\= We are closing on a possible signal source and three human life signs, sir. We're taking our time so's not to spook them.=/\=
"Continue, laddie, holler when you have something. Harrison out."
Quentin knew that he and his troops were up a creek, but they had a busted paddle. All they had to do was get the radio to work and call for rescue, and hope that that the XO's insane brother didn't find them before it all came together.
STARBASE 900
MARINE COMMAND CENTER
Dave Lorenz was a generally nice guy, but when he entered his command center his face was anything but genial. "It has been nearly thirty hours since he left and hasn't checked in! Where the hell is he?" he demanded as he walked to the main display area. "Valhalla Control just told me that their ship never made it, and nobody is the least bit concerned that a platoon of Marines went missing? WHAT THE HELL KIND OF GOAT-ROPE OPERATION IS THIS?!"
"It's your goat-rope operation, major!" Tom Franklin said in a loud, hoarse whisper. "You and I both know we can't officially launch CSAR Ops until the platoos has been missing for thirty-six hours."
Dave was about to reply, stopping short upon realizing his XO was correct. "Sorry. Get CSAR prepped and ready to go."
"They're on the pads now, major. Apology accepted." Franklin answered.
The doors to the command center hissed open and two very angry-looking MP's entered, hauling a sullen-looking corporal between them. The two MP's brought the corporal to stand in front of Lorenz and saluted. "Major, we caught this man on the flight deck, deleting information concerning the whereabouts of the Recon Platoon." One MP hand Lorenz a padd.
Dave studied the padd, then regarded the corporal with a look of pure anger. "Brig, now!"
Franklin came over to Lorenz's side. "Where are they?"
"The little sonfoabitch erased the destination, but the course he fed into the navigational system bypass he installed is still viable."
Franklin nodded as he looked at the padd. "That's nowhere near Valhalla Colony."
"Agreed. Tom, notify Command and the Admiral that we have a 'Broken Wing". CSAR is to deploy immediately. Also, send that little bastard in the brig to Commander Zeferino. I am sure she can find out what the hell he was up to."
Lorenz turned and walked out of the Command Center. He was going with his CSAR troops to find his friend. The little saboteur bastard would keep until he got back.
_________________
A post by
The Starbase 900 Marines!
Hoo-yah!
