War Time Vets

Posted on Tue Feb 27th, 2024 @ 3:02am by Captain David Hawkins & Captain Callisi Verra

Mission: The Gamma Expanse
1887 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Captain David Hawkins strolled purposefully down the corridor, his mind wandering through the corridors of memory. The ship's hum beneath his boots, the familiar scent of metallic surfaces, and the occasional distant echo of crew activity set the stage for a journey back in time.

As he approached the entrance to the shuttle bay, a rush of nostalgia hit him. The sleek shuttles neatly aligned triggered a cascade of memories from his teenage years, back when piloting was not just a duty but a passionate pursuit. Hawkins stepped onto the bay floor, his gaze moving over the various shuttles. The hum of the machinery, the scent of fuel, it all brought him back to those nights spent in the holodeck, mastering the controls of these vessels.

He stopped beside a Razor fighter, his fingertips gently tracing the hull. The memories flooded back — the exhilarating missions, the camaraderie of the squadron, and the mentorship of Lieutenant Lacie McQueen. His mind drifted to that fateful day during a mission on the USS Firewing, where he piloted a ship dead in space, and Romulan Warbirds emerged from the shadows.

He remembered Lieutenant McQueen, her trust in him, and the responsibility he shouldered at such a young age. The events that unfolded that day shaped his destiny, leading him from the cockpit to the corridors of command.

A wistful smile played on his lips as he recalled the days of flying the Razor fighter during the Dominion War. The rush of combat, the thrill of daring maneuvers, and the somber moments when friends were lost in the vastness of space.

Lost in his reflections, Hawkins didn't notice the figure approaching from behind. As he turned to face the exit, he found himself caught off guard by an unexpected presence. "Callisi, I apologize, I did not hear you coming," he admitted as he looked at his lead fighter pilot on his ship.

Callisi cast her singular glance down for a moment, ears starting to slightly relax rather then maintain their perked perkiness. "No no, I apologize. I'm a light stepper." she took the blame when needed. "It's something we learned back home, and once you learn something it's very hard to unlearn." she supported.

"Heavy stepping isn't something I'm comfortable with. Maybe I'll wear a bell." she offered in humor.

Captain Hawkins chuckled, his voice showing amusement as he responded to Callisi's comment. "A bell, huh? That could be a new fashion statement for the crew. We'll have a ship full of jingling officers. But it might make stealth missions a tad challenging, though." He paused for a moment, his tone turning more playful. "But who needs stealth when you've got style, right?"

He leaned against the fighter, a smile playing on his lips. "Besides, I appreciate a light stepper. Keeps the ship's floors from getting scuffed up. Besides, between you and me, I've always thought heavy-stepping was overrated. It's the subtle elegance that gets the job done."

She rolled her eye. "Oh I'd look terrible with a bell. Plus, three or four dings and I'd probably rip it off." she confided, "But yeah, sometimes you need a heavy stepper. If nothing else, as the distraction." she leaned against the fighter alongside him, "All the grey ops drops I did, yeah, elegance is the name of the game. Get in, hit the DZ, drop the kids off, home by ten." she reminisced. The good parts at least. "I guess we just can't turn that off."

"Oh, I know that feeling all too well. Even if someone handed me a switch to turn it off, I wouldn't even consider it for a moment. There's nothing quite like the exhilaration of being in direct control, steering the course of events and defying the odds," he mused, a wry grin playing on his lips.

"Let's face it, the notion of these nimble fighters taking on those colossal starships makes most folks think we're playing with a suicidal mindset. But there's something about challenging those overwhelming odds, diving into the fray time and again..." He trailed off, the twinkle in his eye revealing the thrill that lingered in his memories.

"Nape of the globe, twenty feet above the deck, under the sensors. Ultra-precise sensor maps from orbital scans" she followed along. She couldn't match the twinkle in his eyes, but metaphorically it was there. At least, for the one. "Gliding in on repulsors to limit the sound. Stepping softly, in a troop transport."

"Back home, the enemy used fighters too. Little regard for their well being, so everytime there was a deployment it was a target rich saturation. The Blink squads handled the storm, it was my job to take the Blink scouts in under the rain." she had a soft smile on, remembering. Remembering the good times. Tragic, war torn times, but good. Okay, BETTER was the better word.

He leaned back against the fighter, a mixture of respect and understanding in his gaze. "Better times, indeed. War-torn, yes, but there's a strange camaraderie in facing the storm together, isn't there?" His eyes held a subtle warmth, recognizing that even in the most challenging moments, bonds were forged that transcended the chaos of conflict.

She turned and returned the glance, that soft smile still warm on her features, "Conflict brings people together. 'They are the Enemy' is a hell of a rally cry." she offered, only now realizing and turning her glance downward and forward again. "Better times, yes. Not great, but better."

"But that's why we fight. So the next generation can enjoy the peace it brings. That's why my people fight, anyway. Everyone serves their Three, hoping that they are the last to need to do so."

He acknowledged her sentiment with a solemn nod. "That's the paradox of it all, isn't it? The fight for peace. A struggle that seems to echo through generations. Sacrifices made with the hope that those who follow won't have to endure the same hardships."

He stepped away from the fighter, his eyes focused on a distant point, lost in contemplation. "Everyone serves their cause, their purpose, hoping they're the last to need to do so. It's a heavy burden, but it's that hope for a better future that keeps us moving forward, isn't it?"

"Everyone knows their duty, what's at stake, and what's being asked of them. You do your Three, and then you can return to the life you left on hold satisfied in a duty served... or stay on to fight the enemy." there it was again. A singular emphasis. A definite article. The enemy.

"I did it because it's my duty. Because my parents did it. Because their parents did it." How far back did the legacy of war go for her people? "Because everyone's parents did it. Because everyone's grandparents did. We all earn our place, we all fight for our future. Call it as flowery as you want, the whole notion of fighting to make sure that no one else has to, but it's simpler for us. It's more direct. We fight to defeat an enemy that would see us destroyed. We fight to preserve Ts'usu."

A pause, "I like the flowery sounding explanation better. Reconnecting with people, accepting who I am...." a hand slid up to touch her eyepatch, "... helps."

Captain Hawkins took in Callisi's words, a quiet understanding in his eyes as he continued to reflect on the weight of duty and the complexities of their shared experiences. "Everyone knows their duty, what's at stake, and what's being asked of them. You do your Three, and then you can return to the life you left on hold, satisfied in a duty served... or stay on to fight the enemy," he echoed, acknowledging the stark reality embedded in her words.

He noted the emphasis, the undeniable weight carried by the term 'The enemy.' A singular, definite article that encapsulated the gravity of the opposition they faced. The enemy, an ever-present force that demanded unwavering commitment and sacrifice.

A hint of wonder touched Hawkins' gaze as he considered the depth of her people's commitment. "How far back does the legacy of war go for your people?" he wondered aloud, recognizing the profound history that shaped their identity.

"Forever." was the initial answer. "Five hundred years. Maybe more. It predates the Three Dawn Accord."

"There is no option of peace. They outnumber and outbreed us. We outdiscipline and outperform them. For every twenty of their soldier we kill, one of ours dies, and all we do is hold off their expansion in our direction. We have no idea how far spinward their flag flies, we just know it will never fly in our space or the space of our allies."

"With the Dalacari, we stand a chance in the numbers war." she paused, "Together, one day, we may achieve victory." a pause, "But the Emperor will not drag the Federation into this war. Just as your president would never ask the Emperor for her intervention in one of your conflicts." she regarded Hawkins. "Person to person, there's a difference. I'm here, and you're certainly not the President." she softly smiled, a rare sight on the stoic rabbitess.

"Your enemies are my enemies. Your goals are my goals. Simple as that." she offered, plainly, from one soldier to the other.

"Indeed, Callisi," Hawkins responded, his voice measured and reserved. "We may come from different worlds, but the essence of our struggles is remarkably similar. The fight for freedom, the defense of our homes and loved ones—it transcends the boundaries of our individual nations."

He offered a restrained nod, acknowledging the common ground without revealing too much. "Your presence here, your dedication to the fight, it reinforces the shared values that bind us together. In the face of a common enemy, we find strength in unity. Together, we face the challenges that lie ahead, as soldiers on a common front."

"Ikuzo Banzai sir, though I think you use Oorah." she offered. "Oorah."

David's focus was broken by her offer, to which, he raised an eye brow in the same fashion as their vulcan allies. "Sure, what is Oorah."

"Isn't Oorah what Marines in your unit say?" she inquired, quickly looking away. "I thought, I mean, I read up and... isn't that what Terran Marines say?"

"Oh... 'Oorah'," He sighed and shook his head. He had completely spaced. "I'll take an 'oorah'," he paused and smirked slightly before nodding. "I was thinking of something strong and stiff."

"I'm certain there's a dozen ways to interpret that, some more humorous than others. Rather, let's just say I'll take you up on your offer of a drink. Reminds me of some of the night raids. Sitting around in the dark, suits up boots up waiting. Something warm to drink because we had to stay IR quiet. A good drink with your squad is a good bonding moment. So yeah, let's find that drink." Callisi recalled from her earlier days. Her 'Glory Days' they'd call them. No glory there.

"Sounds like a plan," David nodded as he smirked finally. With a shared understanding and a mutual respect, they turned toward the exit, their steps echoing down the corridor as they ventured forth, united in purpose and bound by the trials of war.