/||\        -----------------------------------------
       / || \            Starfleet Command, Second Fleet
      /  ||  \             U.S.S. Coronado,  NCC-63100
   .-/   ||   \-.     Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, Commanding
   ./    ||    \.   -----------------------------------------
   .-_-. || .-_-.              Simulation Teaser
   .-_  \||/  _-.

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/ Simulation Teaser                                                             |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ

 "That was a nasty trick to play on me, Captain," Todd Marshall grumbled as
 he continued to rub a towel through his wet hair.  In ones and twos, the
 officers and crew of the Coronado that had participated in the first day of
 "The Alaska Incident" made their way out of the Holodeck.

 Lehman -- also wet from her unscheduled swim in the warm waters of the
 Pacific -- had not even looked at Aldur as she'd made her way out of the
 Holodeck.  She had been clearly exhilirated at the sense of pure speed the
 21st century fighter craft gave her, and just as clearly morbidly terrified
 when the Siberian fighter had cut her out of the sky.  Aldur was even a
 little sorry for the young pilot.  A little.

 Not so Marshall, though.  Aldur had actually grinned when the first
 heat-seeking missile had found its target in the self-styled Maniac's plane,
 and it had genuinely done his heart good to see the rest of the fighter
 disintegrate around the brash Lieutenant.

 "Whoa!  Tilt!" the Marine manning the radar station had cried at the time,
 grinning from ear to ear.  "Pinball's gonna need a new set of flippers."
 Vansen had told the man to get back to work, but her laughter had been
 barely restrained.  Marshall hated to be referred to by that name, but it
 had definately stuck with the other fliers.

 Not that Aldur wanted Pinball killed, of course, but the holodeck safeties
 would see to it that he was ejected safely and wouldn't drown when he hit
 the water.  But it would do Marshall good to feel what getting shot down
 was like, to maybe put a little fear of death into *him*, for a change.

 Aldur grinned at Marshall tiredly.  "You're the pilot -- you should have
 remembered that the Russians invented the impulse engine.  If it's any
 comfort, the plane you went up against is the prototype: only one of its
 kind."

 Marshall glared, but it lacked menace.  "Well, believe you me, I'm going to
 find a way to shoot it down."  And he'd walked off, still drying his hair.

 ---------------

 Day two of the simulation had passed without incident, the ships of the
 Independence/Freedom battle group sailing north at 30 knots.  The mystery
 fighter had made several appearances, but the AWACS planes were getting
 better at tracking it, and several more pilots had taken shots at it with
 faster and faster missiles (no good -- the Siberian fighter outran every
 one).  Coronado had sunk a second submarine, Yukon this time, and the
 capital ships had fought a running gunfight with a small group of Yukon
 destroyers and frigates, sustaining no losses, but having only limited
 success in sinking enemy ships.

 The third day of the simulation was unique: Coronado and the other ships
 drove full bore into the teeth of a roaring gale.  The ship climbed each
 wave, the spray splashing violently over the forecastle and forward gun,
 only to crash down the other side of the wave.  Fully half the
 participants of the simulation were seasick, and a good portion of them
 decided to depart early.

 Aldur, however, enjoyed every minute of it.  *This* was the challenge of
 both sea and space -- to struggle against the elements, to rise above
 them, and to prevail!  The sea and space shared a common element: each
 was more than capable of killing the unwary, and demanded the traveller's
 utmost respect.

 While the storm wreaked havoc on the ship, crew, and equipment, the
 advantage was that as long as it persisted, they were safe from both
 aerial attacks and submarine attacks.  The latter couldn't attack due
 to the near impossibility of finding the sonar signatures of the passing
 ships against the backdrop of the crashing waves.

 The fleet made good time despite the quartering winds, and was nearing
 the Yukon coast when the storm broke and day four dawned clear and
 bright under pale silver sunlight...

\_______________________________________________________________________________
\ End Simulation Teaser                                                         |
 ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ

----------
Ross Glenn aka Jester
Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-63100
http://www.ussrenegade.com/coro2400/