by David Smith
“Oh” said Dave.
“Shame, really” continued O’Mara quietly “She’s a fantastic Helmsman but never gets the lead chair because everybody gets a bit freaked out when cums on the job. If you pardon the expression.”
“Oh” said Dave again. He really couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Ah!” said O’Mara “Got another one!”
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So it went on, Lyle steering the ship in accordance with instructions from Chief Money, O’Mara, ASBeau and Shearer finding the targets and transferring data to the Transporter Room for Chief Carstairs to lock on and beam it aboard.
Dave watched the clock while desperately trying to ignore the orgasmic moans coming from the Helmsman. He was almost missing the mournful wailing of Cassie Jones ….
Every so often, they’d stop scanning when a beacon would draw their attention, knowing they had only thirty minutes to reach and recover that device. Strangely, Dave noted, they always seemed to be right on top of the beacons when they activated.
Within six hours, they’d collected the final beacon, and returned the finishing point. As they did, Commander Chamberlain called them and Dave put her image up on the main view-screen. Her smiling face appeared “Congratulations, Tiger. I have to say that I’m impressed at how quickly you completed the mission! Our tactical computer simulated the mission twenty times and only completed it within the eight hour time-frame on three occasions. Just shy of six hours is a spectacular achievement, almost too good to be true, some might say.”
“Well ….. er …… thank you Commander. We got lucky with our positioning. Some of our attempts to second guess your positioning of the devices seem to have paid dividends” Dave suggested as vaguely as he could.
“Indeed, Commander, so much so that you seemed to find the eighth and eleventh devices before either had even activated its beacon. Amazing guess-work. Unbelievable in fact.”
Dave kept a strait-face as he had no idea how his crew had managed to cheat. “Sometimes the crew even amazes me” he said honestly, hoping the microphone in his chair wasn’t picking up Lieutenant Lyle’s latest noisy climax.
“Well, I’m not one to dwell on past glories, let’s chalk this one off and focus on the trials ahead shall we?” Dave added.
“Yes probably best if we do that” smirked Chamberlain and cut the connection.
At the debriefing session, Dave showed them all the mission report from the Range Warden’s Office which merely stated. “Mission successfully completed before deadline.”
“It looks like we got away with that one, but it was a skin of the teeth job. I don’t know where and what information Chief Money came by, but I assume it proved worthwhile.”
O’Mara spoke up quietly, as if worried the Commodore had bugged the Officer’s Mess. “Well the data was a list of fifteen grid references. I can’t be certain where Chief Money got them from, but did you know Chief Cash is his second cousin?”
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“In view of your limited man-power the Commodore has decided to accelerate the schedule and get Tiger through testing as quickly as possible. To that end Mission Three will be combined with Mission Four and also some elements of Mission Five” Chamberlain announced.
“Mission Three will focus on shuttle handling and Mission Four will deal with emergency responses. Elements of Mission Five concerning maintenance of ship’s system will be run concurrently, which will reduce your overall test schedule by approximately a week.”
There were groans from all around the table. Having failed to catch them out with difficult circumstances in previous tests, the Commodore was going to simply over-load the crew instead.
Dave interrupted her. “Commander, I must object! We don’t have enough bodies to manage all those activities at once. I’d rather take more time to ensure we have enough hands available.”
Devon Chamberlain looked embarrassed “Sorry Commander, Commodore B’Stard was very clear on this. He wants Tiger off his range as soon as possible and regardless of the outcome. Missions Three, Four and Five will be combined.”
She continued with her briefing. “The combined mission will take the form of using shuttles to evacuate fifty injured civilians from a facility on Arcturus Delta Four. The injured civilians will be simulated by Marines, and station engineers will instigate several fault conditions during the course of the mission that you will be expected to resolve.”
“Successful completion of the test requires that there are no shuttle accidents, that all injured civilians are recovered within a twenty-four hour period and that the Tiger and all shuttles are fully operational at the end of the test. Transporters may not be used at any point or for any reason during this test. A full mission profile has been sent to your accounts including details of the layout of the facility and also some back-ground information that will be used in role play” she ended.
Dave tried again “Commander, this is a really tall order. Is there no way you can at least extend the mission duration?”
“Sorry Hollins” she said apologetically, “the Commodore has deliberately shortened these missions to make life tough and to give him the option to extend the last mission too.”
She paused and thought about it “I don’t suppose you knew that his family used to shorten Anthony Thomas to “Tony-Tom” as a term of endearment when he was young? Chief Cash shortened that further to “To-To” and it kind of stuck.”
Dave though about it: “To-To B’Stard??”
“Yeah, has a sort of a ring to it, don’t you think?” she smiled. “As far as the crew here are concerned he’s To-To, and they probably hate him as much as you do. I’ll see if I can encourage them to make things a little easier for you, but that’s about all I can do for you.”
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Lieutenant Lyle got Tiger to the starting point for the mission with only a few orgasms. Once underway to Arcturus Delta Four, Dave called the Ship's Doctor and the Bo's'un to the Officer's Mess to discuss the fine detail of the Med Evac aspect of the mission.
The Bo’s’un, Lieutenant Theodoupoulopolis (universally known as “Stavros”) spoke first: "Well, the Commodore will know we only have three shuttles available. We shouldn't really count 10% as we couldn't formally register her: We've got no idea where she originates from and have no documentation or certificate of space-worthiness. I asked Chief Money about her, but he claims to have traded her for forty cases of intimate lubricant, a bottle of scotch and a copy of "The Sound of Music".
Dave was about to ask if these items were in some way related, but realised that nothing good could come of asking such a question and let the matter lie.
"Well there's nothing I can see in the mission protocols that precludes her use, but I suppose we should work on the assumption we use all three of the fleet shuttles instead. Fifty casualties may not sound a lot, but I've seen the size of the local Marines, and they'll take up a lot of space! Commander Mengele, I assume we'll have to co-opt additional staff onto your team?"
"Indeed." She breathed in and Dave caught the faint rustling of PVC underwear, "We can't be sure what injuries the Marines will be asked to simulate, so I propose that I send a team of my staff to the surface to undertake triage. We will need additional staff to act as orderlies to assist with the movement of any incapacitated personnel."
Dave thought about this: "I've got Chief Money's Heavy Gang available. Without PO Winston around they're at a bit of a loose end."
"Do they have any medical or first aid qualifications?" asked the Doctor.
"I'm not sure that any of them have any qualifications. Chief Money told me that Crewman Arness from the gang wanted to take the fleet IQ test, but when Chief gave him the application form, Arness asked him how to spell IQ" replied Dave honestly.
"Then they will make excellent orderlies" smiled Mengele.
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“Sir, ah have a pryawritee request for Med Evac from Arctoorus Deltah Fowa
h. Fifty cazueltees in need ov imeejet extraction” said Lieutenant Shearer.
Dave wasn’t sure what she meant, but was reasonably confident that this was their queue to begin the exercise:
“Yellow alert! Navigator, plot a course for Arcturus Delta Four, Helm, lay it in, maximum acceleration. Comms, acknowledge the request and tell them we’re on our way. Helm, put our ETA on screen”
Dave called the Sick-bay next: “Commander Mengele, please prepare an away team for Med Evac. Our ETA is ….. six hours and twenty-eight minutes“
His last call was to the Bo’s’un down on the Hangar Deck: “Stavros, prep all shuttles for Med Evac, departure in six hours twenty-eight. We’ll be deploying medics …….”
Stavros interrupted him “Sorry sir, we have a problem.”
Dave had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d been expecting the Commodore to spring some kind of surprise, but this was earlier than he’d expected.
“What’s up Stavros?”
“It’s the shuttles, sir: They’ve been spiked.”
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Two minutes later, Dave was on the Hangar Deck, looking at what remained of the shuttles Faraday, Hawking, and Fer-God-Sake. They appeared intact externally, but the control consoles of each had been thoroughly trashed.
Important elements of the control systems had been crudely levered out of the shuttles and were conspicuous by their absence.
“Christ, what a mess! Do we have spares for all these bits?” asked Dave.
“Almost certainly sir, but there’s no way we can fit and test it all in six and a half hours. We’re looking at a couple of days for each shuttle” said the Bo’s’un disconsolately.
“No good. We have to get the casualties on board within twenty-four hours, and all the shuttles have to be working at the end of the mission” said Dave shaking his head.
“I’ve got repair crews digging out parts now, but I’m not convinced we can get these birds working in twenty-four hours. We don’t have an ice-cube’s chance in hell of getting any of the shuttles rigged for Med Evac in six and a half hours.”
Dave sighed. They were in deep doo-doo. “Ok. No point in worrying about that yet. Do whatever you must to get the shuttles repaired: regardless of what else happens, that’s an absolute requirement. Start with the easiest and get one of them serviceable as soon as possible. How’s 10% looking?”
“Strangely sir, she’s one hundred percent. Better, actually. While we were stuck at Hole I took time out to upgrade her drive and avionics. She’ll carry a lot more load quite a bit faster now. Whoever trashed the shuttles clearly didn’t have orders to take her out too. Having said that, even though she’s as fast as the other shuttles now, it’ll be impossible to get her to make enough trips for a complete Med Evac. Fifty Marines plus our medics is a heck of a lot of meat to shift. Four trips? Maybe five if a lot of the casualties are on stretchers.”
“Ok, well it’s a start. We’ll just have to do what we can. It looks like everything will depend on how quick we can turn 10% around, so contact Lyle and plan out the most efficient orbit for getting 10% down and back up as quickly as possible.”
At that moment, ASBeau and Aisling O’Mara arrived on the deck.
“How bad is it?” asked ASBeau.
“Bad” Dave replied. “We’re down to one shuttle, and thirteen hours of flight time to get from the start point and back leaves us eleven hours to get a medical team to the surface, treat the wounded and get all fifty of them back to the ship. We’d originally planned on taking two trips in each of the three fleet shuttles, which would be tight but achievable. Even though 10% is intact and a little bigger, she’s still only a single ship and Stavros reckons we’ll need to make at least four, probably five trips.”
“Five trips?!?!” groaned ASBeau “we’ll need to refuel her at least once and even if we put Tiger in a really low orbit we’ll be looking at probably an hour to launch and land. It’ll be slower on the way back, more like an hour and a half. We’ll have at least a half an hour delay when we first land just finding and sorting casualties. Then we’ll have a turnaround time at each end of the trips to load the shuttle on the ground and then unload back at Tiger, at very least two hours total, plus a half hour for refueling at some stage? That adds up to …... say …… sixteen hours, even assuming we don’t get any other issues thrown at us.”
“Ah, well I’m no genius with these things said O’Mara in her soft Irish lilt “but thirteen hours plus sixteen hours is ….. “ her face was a mask of concentration “…. more than twenty-four hours.”
“I know,” said Dave “we can only afford to make three trips, maximum.”
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Lieutenant Janice Lyle brought Tiger in fast, at far too steep an angle, plunging her into the planets tenuous atmosphere to bleed off the excessive velocity they’d built up to shorten their journey time by fifteen precious minutes.
The shields fended off the thin gases in a huge plume of ionized plasma, marking Tiger’s arrival like a shooting star. Even before the Helmsman had established an orbit, Stavros had cranked open the Hangar Deck doors and launched their one remaining shuttle on a kamikaze-like dive into the atmosphere.
On board the shuttle, Stavros had ASBeau, the Tiger's Tactical Officer, the ship’s Deputy Medical Officer, Lieutenant Chen and his staff of two nurses, two orderlies and three bruisers from Chief Money’s Heavy Gang. He also had two engineers and PO Sorenson from Security along for the ride.
The shuttle bucked and rocked as it plunged head-long through the atmosphere, making a bee-line for the small underground facility where their fifty evacuees waited for them. There were screams of alarm from her terrified passengers and screaming alarms coming from the flight controls, but Stavros ignored both and flew the shuttle like it was a thoroughbred racer.
Arcturus Delta Four was a rock, plain and simple. It had no mineral value and was far too close to the star at the heart of the system to be considered useful for anything. The only artificial structure on the entire planet was the military installation that doubled as a solar observatory to give advanced warning of changes of activity level from the capricious variable star. This tiny facility was spread over four levels, buried deep underground to give some protection from fierce solar radiation. Only the sensor pods and a small Hangar extended above the surface of the planet.
The hangar was located in the side of a large crater, with two large armoured doors protecting it from the sun.
The Mission Protocols had said nothing about observing flight safety regulations and Stavros ignored the nominated approach path and dropped from orbit straight into the crater, leveling out with a few meters to spare. He tipped 10% on to her side to fly her between the doors of the underground landing bay rather than wait for them to open. He slammed the shuttle down hard, but the crew were up and out as soon as Sorenson confirmed there was an atmosphere in place.
ASBeau was first off the shuttle and immediately collared the most senior officer he could see, a Marine Lieutenant.
"Who's in Command here, Lieutenant?" he asked.
"That would be me, sir, Lieutenant Povey."
"Pleased to meet you Lieutenant," said ASBeau, shaking his hand vigorously and somewhat inconsiderately as he hadn't yet ascertained if the Lieutenant was one of the injured, "where are the casualties?"
"We have twenty-four walking wounded on this level, fourteen more on Level Two and twelve incapacitated in Sick-bay on Level Four."
Lieutenant Povey watched, confused, as Tiger's Heavy Gang unloaded several large and heavy crates from the shuttle as quickly as they could. They dropped a couple, one of which broke open, spilling a variety of food and drink on the deck. Strong, the Heavy Gang were. Careful, they were not.
His eyes widened even further shortly after this, as the Engineers unceremoniously started ejecting twelve of the shuttles fourteen seats.
Lieutenant Chen was busily splitting his team for triage purposes. H
e spread them across the three levels of the facility where the wounded were gathered. He took a nurse and an orderly with himself and headed immediately to the Sick-bay on Level Four where the most seriously injured were being held.
ASBeau attracted Lieutenant Povey's attention with a slap on the back "I hear you Marines never go anywhere without your battle-armour: Is that true?" he asked conversationally.
"Yes indeed, sir!" replied the Lieutenant proudly, "A marine without battle-armour is like a fly without wings: useless and probably fairly annoying. The Commodore said we wouldn't need it for this gig, but old habits die hard."
"Excellent!" smiled ASBeau "In that case, tool up Lieutenant, I want every Marine who can wear armour suited and booted, double-time!"
"That's not correct procedure for Med Evac, Sir!" squeaked the shocked Marine.
"We're from USS Tiger" said ASBeau proudly "We do things our way."
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Within twenty minutes, Lieutenant Chen and his team had assessed the situation with all fifty casualties and he was able to call Dave on the Bridge of the Tiger.
"It's going to be tight, sir." he began. "I'm down in the Sick-bay with the twelve incapacitated evacuees. There are four cases with spinal and cranial injuries that we'll need to move on their gurneys. A double amputee and two multiple leg fracture cases won't be able to wear armour. The Commodore tried to throw a spanner in the works by making four cases down here contagious viral cases, but their armour seals hermetically, so once they're suited up they're probably better isolated than they are in this Sick-bay."
Dave thought about this "That's only eleven. What happened to the twelfth body?"
Chen laughed "Yeah, typical Marine. He's forgotten what his injury was supposed to be, so it seemed appropriate to treat him as an Amnesiac. He's booted and suited too sir, been added to the walking wounded total."
"Ok, good thinking. So. We can only make three trips: how do we split them up?" asked Dave.
"Hard stuff first, so the four stretcher-cases and three wheel-chairs go on the first trip back. We'll have to send a nurse back with them just in case but the nurse can go in the co-pilots seat which leaves us forty-three casualties to go on the next two trips."