Lt. Haukea-Willow: Radar
Aly Drolet
((Hangar, Landing City, Capricalia))
In response, Sub-Commander Edan Femorr, walking heel-toe, with a swing to his hips, exited the shuttle, ramp closing behind him, yet not without a short pause and a wave, encasing the Starfleet trio within. Corey himself only continued to smile, Haukea staring in puzzlement, wondering how it was possible for him. Surely, once, when she was far more innocent, she maintained a positively professional air. However, now, after gnawing guilt, coupled with experience, she only envisioned the worst outcome, how it was her own responsibility to prevent travesty.
Wethern: We will try and bring her back in one piece.
sh’Sonora: I’ll treat her like my own personal shuttlecraft, Sir. She’s in good hands.
With Edan Femmor gone, sh’Sonora’s face morphed into a frown, indicating her exact emotional stance on the situation.
Yet now, due to the nature of their mission, the time constraints, her guilty thoughts had no room for existence, she simply had no spare moment with which to consider them. Instead she focused, until a time it became impossible, on the task at hand.
Willow: While I understand we are operating in a tight space, we must adapt, become familiar with telegraphing our movements, working around and over each other. With that, we must first examine our surroundings, learning the layout blindfolded, including the location of our personal weapons and medical supplies.
sh’Sonora: ::wriggles her antennae:: No problem, Sir. It’s almost impossible to sneak up on an Andorian. But sirs, did they just leave us to hang? I’ve never seen such a lack of professionalism, and I’ve been around my clan’s transport shuttles since I was 14 cycles old!
Coupled with his infectious smile, Wethern, likely as a show of bedside manner, spoke eagerly, often like Haukea, despite her professionalism, as he flipped open a tricorder.
Wethern: I can't believe how helpful they were. I must put this planet down for some shore leave.
Squeezing herself into a far corner, falling into an uncomfortable chair, Haukea placed herself out of the way of Wethern’s pacing.
Willow: I wouldn’t be so sure Corey, ::She spoke, using his first name as a show of respect, indicating her reaction to emotion and experience:: I have a distinct feeling, though I could be wrong, that Edan Femorr wants us to survey the system without Capricalian support. They may be setting us up for failure.
sh’Sonora: Just don’t go to their bars. They’ll ask us to mix our own cocktails… after they send us down to the liquor store for ‘supplies’. ::She settles herself into the pilot seat, adjusting the chair to accommodate her lack of height.:: I mean, yeah, it certainly feels like a setup. I know the locals have issues with us, but that’s no excuse.
Willow: Past experience, though not often, is my guide. Now what is your tricorder showing? What are the readings indicating?
Having wriggled, an attempt at gaining a comfortable position, the occupied chair dense and sagging, Haukea voided her inner conscious mind of previously guilty, racing thoughts. She was simply waiting, muscles tense, for a response from Wethern or even sh’Sonora, who, currently, was in the process of a pre-flight start sequence, having adjusted the too large seat to her specifications. However, the engine turned, sloppy in response before completely flickering to life.
sh’Sonora: She's good to go, Sir. And look at that… They already have the flight plan submitted. It’s… ummm… take off at an exact time and try not to smack into any atmospheric and orbital traffic. Pretty bare-bones, but I’ve got this.
Wethern: Response
Willow: So far so good. But don’t hold your breath.
Haukea may have been a pacifist when it came to violence, yet when it came to reading others intentions she was cautious, leaning on the side of experience, as she grew in it, though not often correct in her assumptions. It was an emotion she was currently learning to navigate, while attempting to remain professional in appearance. By tone alone, she may have voiced words with casual connotation, yet, internally, she was tense, muscles contracted, body aching to actively hold her rifle in a conveyance of defence, safety and control.
sh’Sonora: Let it be on record that I think this all sucks, the Capricalians were jerks, and for that I’m gonna fly this thing like I stole it at the nearest opportunity. Other than that? I’m excited to be here! Let’s do this.
If Haukea, pulling a smile across her face, despite tension, had not personally agreed to find sh’Sonora pleasing before, then, in her blunt opinion she certainly found likeability in the Andorian. The security chief, often herself, presented her opinions openly, directly, appreciating it in equal measure from other crew.
Willow: sh’Sonora, I commend your directness, though let’s not actually steal this shuttle. I imagine the Capricalians would not take lightly to such a theft. On the other hand, I believe you are expressing what we all are feeling.
Wethern: Response
sh’Sonora: We’re cleared to go at any time. Prepared for lift off. I suggest you all buckle up. I’m not sure how well the inertial dampers work on this thing. ::She flicked a switch on the console.:: This is Ensign sh’Sonora, Callsign Sparrow, on Theirr, requesting clearance for takeoff.
At sh’Sonora’s suggestion Haukea unlaced her rifle from around her torso, allowing it to rest, safeties on, in her lap. Additionally, the Risian buckled the seat’s harness, securing her upper limbs within the restraint, prepared for launch.
Ground Control: Theirr, this is LC Ground Control, you are cleared to launch.
sh’Sonora: Roger that. Lifting off. Thanks for having us.
Ground Control: And we have a message from MI Central. They say good luck and happy hunting.
sh'Sonora: ::Antennae raised in alarm.:: Waitamicrot, happy hunting on a survey mission?
Considering, for a moment, the potential cultural connotation of the phrase “happy hunting”, the security chief had the distinct impression the survey mission was to reveal data that was potentially shocking.
Willow: Perhaps it's a cultural saying. Or they expect us to find something of intrigue.
Wethern: Response
sh’Sonora: ::Her eyes rolled and antennae flickered:: Thank you, we return the sentiment. Preparing to depart. Sparrow out.
Providing a smooth transition sh’Sonora grasped the flight controls with delicate fingers, first positioning the craft to hover then to soar through the atmosphere, clouds drifting by, until they burst out into the blackness, the only light from distant stars and nearby planets, not even another vehicle within hailing range.
Once settled, Haukea turned in her seat, rifle placed before her, to face a neighboring panel, accessing various screens, data flashing unregistered before her eyes. Eventually she paused, settling on a radar map, indicating various radio wave echos of likely non-stellar objects within the region.
Currently the radar disk rotated, indicating the Theirr as a singular non-stellar unit.
Willow: I’ve got radar set up on my end. So far, it's indicating nothing. Not even a blip.
Wethern/sh’Sonora: Response
Willow: Likely once we venture further out we will encounter something worth being indicated on the radar system.
Wethern/sh’Sonora: Response
Willow: Though it begs the question, do Romulan’s or even Capricalian’s for that matter have cloaking technology? Radar can’t easily detect cloaked vessels.
Wethern/sh’Sonora: Response
Lt. Haukea-Willow
Chief of Security - Crisis Response
Starbase 118 Ops
M239512BG0
Ad Astra Per Aspera/To The Stars With Difficulty - Una Chin-Riley
