/||\ -----------------------------------------
/ || \ Starfleet Command, Second Fleet
/ || \ U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-63100
.-/ || \-. Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, Commanding
./ || \. -----------------------------------------
.-_-. || .-_-. Simulation Teaser
.-_ \||/ _-.
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/ Simulation Teaser |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
In the dream, he was older.
Fleet Captain Brian Aldur rolled over, then finally sat up. Another dream.
Ever since T'koras, he seemed to be plagued with them. He grumbled to
himself. It was all Tollory's fault. Swinging his feet from under the
blankets, he kicked a pile of PADDs lying on the floor by the side of the
bed. Crew fitness reports, he would have called them... except these were
crew *mental* fitness reports, which was a very different matter. DuLac
should have been dealing with it.
But DuLac had other problems just now.
Standing, Aldur paced the part of the floor that wasn't covered in PADDs,
trying to piece together the swiftly dispersing fragments of the dream. The
good news was that though he'd been having more dreams since T'koras, their
frequency and their vividness were decreasing rapidly. That was also the
bad news, since the dreams seemed to be trying to tell him something.
In the dream, he was older. At least 20 or 25 years. He was seated at a
desk -- the uniform he'd been wearing was heavier, more formal. As if
viewing the dream from outside "himself," he could see Vice Admiral's pips on
that uniform. Somehow, he'd even felt himself older in the dream, though.
Damned odd, whatever it was.
He'd been sitting in front of a desk, while a stately older woman had been
seated behind it. She'd been a Trill -- Aldur could remember that -- and of
a higher rank. Full Admiral, perhaps? It didn't matter. Superior to Aldur,
anyway.
In the dream, the older woman had been telling him something about Coronado.
Something about Coronado, and luck, and... Aldur rubbed his temples, trying
to remember. He could swear that she'd been talking about someone possibly
trying to prevent the ship's launch. But how was that possible if he was
20 or 25 years older. Aldur shook his head to clear it. It didn't make any
sense.
Squatting, Aldur picked up one of the PADDs and tapped it against the floor,
lost in thought for a moment. He then turned the PADD up and on and looked
at the display. He grimaced. Entries 41 to 57. At the top was a name he
didn't recognize: Specialist Alex Jamison. Engineering section. Below
that, in crisp descriptive phrases, Jamison's lack of respect for authority
figures, his juvenile tendencies, his love of baiting other crew members.
Aldur snorted and turned the PADD off, tossed it on the floor with the
others, and walked back toward the bed. How in Mithras' name had he ever
let Tollory talk him into this?
Clearing one of the PADDs (records 74 through 89), Aldur reloaded it with the
attack plan for the next morning. He fell asleep reading it for
approximately the 15th time. There was so much that could go wrong with this
attack... so many variables... The presence of the two massive Marine
transport ships was worrisome. They were going to be prime targets, and the
only thing standing between them and a wave of ramming attacks, Breen
torpedoes, and insanely protective Cardassians was U.S.S. Coronado and her
sister ship, U.S.S. Renegade.
Tomorrow promised to be a long, long day.
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\ End Simulation Teaser |
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
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Ross Glenn aka Jester
Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-63100
http://www.ussrenegade.com/coro2400/