Changing of the Guard

Posted on Tue May 10th, 2011 @ 9:08pm by Major Jake Harper

Mission: Shore Leave 2; Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Deep Space Ten; Various

The deck shuttered, followed with a loud hiss as the seals began to pressurize on the opposite side. The corridor leading to the airlock was dimly lit, overhead lights flickering lick clockwork every twenty three seconds. Bulkheads were periodically missing, with half empty repair kits left open as though left in a hurry. The sound of boots could be heard, echoing throughout the hallway as two figures approached the active airlock.

A tall, bald man dressed in a Starfleet Uniform, trimmed in dark green stopped and turned on his heel before tapping the door controls. The cool silver doors pealed back, exposing the reddish gray Cardassian interior of the Deep Space Ten Airlock of Upper Pylon Three.

"Get the hell off my ship."

The Ferengi man started to protest, first my throwing his hands in the air before actually speaking aloud. "Listen we can make a deal, you have my assurances it'll never happen -"

"Ok, maybe I didn't make myself clear the first time. Get the fuck off my ship. If I catch you out there again, I'll leave your ass for the damn Cardassians." The Starfleet officer this time pointed towards to the opposite end of the airlock.

"Point made." The Ferengi scurried off in the other direction, only carrying the satchel slung over his shoulder.

The man waited until the trader was out of sight before sealing the airlock again, and walking away with an odd smile on his face for a brief moment. 'I never knew Ferengi could scurry. , he thought to himself.

Truth be told it wasn't his ship. The refitted London-Class Troop Transport had been recommissioned a courier, carrying supplies and cargo to frontier commands. On the exterior, it was a transport, armed only with two phaser banks and a forward torpedo launcher equipped with photon torpedoes to warn off pirates and other aggressors. On the exterior, it was an easy target. On the exterior, it acceptable risk. On the inside, it was a beehive waiting to swarm it poked and prodded the wrong way. Buried in the heart of the retrofitted freighter lay in wait a squadron of Valkyrie-class fighters and a company of Starfleet Marines all poised with a single purpose - anti-piracy operations.

Still, Major Jacob Benjamin Harper felt as though this ship was his responsibility. While the Marine Contingent, Fighter Squadron, and the overall operation were under his command and discretion, Jake left the running of the starship to the ship's Captain. The Commanding Officer, a Lieutenant Commander, played the part well when attempting to avoid confrontations. The freighter had often avoided many engagements with both Remans and Cardassians pirate organizations in the Corridor, gaining all the intelligence they could on their aggressors before being 'backed' into a corner where they would surprisingly show their teeth.

It was the perfect assignment for Jake and his talents. He felt much like a Strategic Operations Officer again. He enjoyed having his hands in tactical situations, intelligence gathering, and of course finding an excuse to be at the helm of a fighter again, The one aspect of his assignment he did not care for though, however, were the reports. The paperwork was fine, sometimes entertaining. However, as he settled in behind his desk and opened a channel to his superiors, the Major felt himself become slightly antsy as though the end of this meeting couldn't come any sooner.

"Good Afternoon General." Jake said with a nod as the image of a graying Trill man appeared on the screen.

"Major. What do you have for me this week?" Major General Bentral replied, getting straight to the point as always. Harper began to wonder a month ago if the General was as fond of these meetings as he was. Still, the older Marine never showed the slightest bit of interest in anything but what the Major had to report.

"We've just put into Deep Space Ten to take on provisions and transferring cargo. I'll forwarding the intelligence we pieced together and confirmed on our last run along the Cardassian Border. The Order along the border was quiet this time around, and we weren't attacked once. I'm starting to wonder if our operation has been compromised. I'm recommending we make a run down past the Romulans borders. Intelligence reports from those areas suggest a rise in hit and runs on Federation vessels."

"I just had a report come across my desk from a Commodore that would suggest just that. However, Major you're needed elsewhere. You and several men from you strike team are to report the USS Arizona for reassignment."

"With respect General, my team and I have been working this operation for nine months now. We are on the verge of a breakthroughs -"

"I appreciate your hard work son, but the Arizona has just been diverted to the Delta Quadrant. With you experiences in the Gamma Quadrant, and your background I want you on that ship. Lastly, they need a First Officer - you're it. Pack your gear, and rendezvous with the Arizona as the following coordinates. They were involved in a skirmish days ago and are limping out of the region on impulse. You and your men are to be on board before they enter high warp towards gateway. "