PLOT - JDL | Com Ivanova, Crmn Thomas - "Badlands"

Posted on Wed Jun 3rd, 2015 @ 10:00pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Crewman Christian Thomas

1,326 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Agua Mala

Vindicator had traveled through to the mouth of Crewman Thomas's chosen delta to the badlands with nary a hitch in her proverbial giddy-up. The behemoth of a ship handled it like a stroll across a parking lot, a complete and total cake walk compared to the epic journeys she had been designed to take to task -- but Rochelle knew that the true test lay just ahead. With the older, and smaller, Enterprise looming just behind them, the time had come to truly try the seasoned flight control officer's hand at handling the massive warhorse while ponying the other ship behind them through the treacherous celestial tempest that yawned in threat before them.

The young Commodore shifted her weight in her seat. The call that they'd reached the rough patch of space between them and Apsha had come mere moments before and there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that she was going to miss the show to come. It wasn't that she didn't trust the Crewman, in fact it was quite the opposite. Watching talent pour itself into what it loved was a treat worthy of note and one the redhead took great pride in watching. "At your leisure, Mister Thomas." She gently ordered for the man to proceed, gesturing to the undulating storm that consumed the viewscreen. It was hard to conceal the small smile that tugged at her lips. While she knew she should have felt some small niggling of fear, Rochelle only held confidence that he would pass this new test with flying colors.

Thomas' nasal voice rang true in hasty response, "Thank you, ma'am, of course. Captain it would be my pleasure to exercise the navigation across this region." The smallish crewman spoke with ripe certainty. His follow-through was halted momentarily though, as he turned back away from the Commodore and toward the controls. His eyes flicked from the viewscreen to his readings, then to his controls, then back up. He was a masterful helmsman, or at least his astute measurements and precision astrogation skills led him and others to believe so... still. A minor flicker of doubt crept into the fortress of his mind. The countless records of chaotic nebulous anomalies whispered at the background of his concentration.

"Setting course at bearing zero one four point eight one six mark twenty-seven point four one three eight nine two one six six. Setting thrusters to an easy acceleration of zero point one five percent gradient over 30 seconds. Due to the exceptional undertow of the gravitational eddies in the Badlands I wholeheartedly recommend the Enterprise match our course and speed to no less than zero point zero zero zero four seconds lag-time, Captain. The spatial plasma discharge can-"

"Make it so, Crewman." The Commodore's voice broke across, killing the long winded explanation with her good humored order. Her fingers flew across the command chair's arm console, relaying the pertinent pieces of information over to Enterprise and their helm team for dissection and implementation. Throughout the fleet, the fact that Vindicator's size had dictated that she be awarded among the best as her flight crew hadn't been kept a secret, and as such she certainly hoped that the other ship would trust the man's judgment in much the same manner as she. "ETA to Apsha based on coordinates?" She asked, an eyebrow lifting as she awaited answer. If left to his own devices, she was certain that the Crewman would wind up psyching himself out and second guessing his masterful abilities to pilot the bulwark of a ship.

Thomas tapped his controls with concerted focus, careful to check his own mortal and fallible nature twice... sometimes three times. "I took the liberty of preparing several courses for your choosing, Captain. If you'll select from course Alpha-one, Alpha-two, Alpha-alpha-one, or sub-course Alpha beta-four. I chose to skip two and three because I felt the nature of these selections offered a systematic-"

"Alpha one, Mr. Thomas." Rochelle replied quickly.

"Excellent choice, ma'am." The helmsman responded, still blissfully ignorant to any problem.

"Still waiting on that ETA to send to Enterprise." She quickly added, drumming her fingers along the leather part of the arm, the screen's cursor blinking at her as if saying 'hello? still there?'.

"One hundred forty seven minutes and approximately forty five seconds."

Rochelle nodded, "Perfect. Let's make this a nice, quiet. safe ride... Shall we?" She added as she sent the final message over. The computer chirped happily in response.

The Vindicator lumbered forward, her uproarious engines coming to power as she faced down the thin layer of space void of churning, burning plasma. The massive shields and heavy armor the flagship had would protect them from any stray eddies or plasma storms, which traded for any hope of swiftly evading such hazards. Perhaps the Enterprise could manage a deftly improvised course through the Badlands, but the Vindicator would need precision and foresight. Thomas quickly heeded the Commodore's orders and the massive starship took her pace, with the Enterprise trailing closely behind.

Shifting her weight in her seat, yet again, Rochelle's eyes flicked back and forth between the information being relayed across her console and watching the storm firing around them on the viewscreen. Enterprise was relayed by a blip carefully picking and choosing ground behind them, trailing only close enough to mimic their every move but far enough away that an all stop and reverse wouldn't result in a catastrophic collision. There was no room for error, no room for second guesses or panic -- and the further in they went, the more serious the young redhead became, unwilling and able to find humor in any of the subsequent seconds and minutes that ticked past.

Those 147 minutes could not have passed any slower. Every other minute was filled with a course correction update by the helmsman. The finer intricacies of helm operation, and navigation while operating a trilinear based computer operating system, was somehow seamlessly inserted into Thomas' dialogue. At one point, the doors to the bridge opened up and before anyone could look, Landon was already turned around walking back into the corridor.

At minute 148, six seconds, the Vindicator punched through a golden cloud of nebular plasma. Open space greeted her, illuminating her silver hill once again with the kiss of the stars. Just inside their view, a small green and blue orb hung in the starry black, welcoming them past the turmoil of the Badlands.

"Well done, Mr. Thomas," Rochelle exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding the past minute and change and her fingers loosened their grip on the arm of her chair where they'd clung to as if her grip was the only thing to keep the ship together. She knew all too well how dangerous plasma storms could be. One direct hit and it would have been lights out for all twelve-hundred plus souls aboard the valiant Vindicator -- and likely the Enterprise as well. "You're a credit to the art of the helm." She managed a small smile, undoubtedly proud of her crew -- and thankful for their abilities. Only the best, she reminded herself, served the crown jewel of Starfleet.

"Set course for Apsha and lock in an orbit around her equator. I'll contact Enterprise and make sure they've come through the badlands in good shape and inform them of our rendezvous point. You have the con, Mr. Thomas, I'll be in my ready room." Lifting herself from the comforts of her seat, Rochelle's fingers deftly pushed a loosened lock away from her eyes and back behind an ear. She knew she could only hope that the rest of their mission went as smoothly as the ship's seamless passage through the rough territory they'd just navigated and that it would serve as an omen of what was to come.

---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

&

Crewman Christian Thomas
apb Landon
Flight Control Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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