Personnel Transport

Posted on 17 Dec 2024 @ 2:13pm by Story Teller & Ensign (Provisional) Bertrim Wysocki

1,782 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Bait and Switch
Location: Gavara
Timeline: June 21, 2390 || 1100 hours

If one had described the level of activity during both of the search and rescue details from the last few days as "busy" then one could not have anticipated what the Black Hawk would be experiencing today. The ship contained three hundred more people than it was supposed to have on a day-to-day basis. Transporters would have been the normal method of sending all of these extra souls to the surface or other starships, but the personnel screening from the day before caused the operations team to perform additional maintenance on the pads.

This left a large amount of crew to be transported to other areas by means of shuttlecraft. Even now, fourteen people had gathered outside Shuttlecraft Henson, one of two Type-11 shuttles carried by the Black Hawk. In addition to the fourteen was a red-collared yeoman, a young Caitian with two crewman stripes, armed only with a padd and a roster to ensure that everyone on this trip was accounted for. She already determined that everyone was present with the exception of the shuttle's pilot.

Ensign Bertrim Wysocki had quickly jumped at the opportunity to pilot anything at this point. With the Blackhawk mostly in a stationary orbit in the past forty-eight hours there was not much for the young, eager provisional Ensign to prove himself as a capable pilot. He made his way to the yeoman, "Everyone accounted for?"

"Yes, sir," purred the Crewman, showing him the padd for his review and signature. "We have ourselves a load of engineers and botanists that are being temporarily reassigned to the colony."

"Let's begin the pre-flight checklist then Crewman," Socks walked up the ramp and into the shuttle while moving himself at the front of the shuttlecraft. He slipped down behind the conn and started to boot up systems checking the readiness readouts.

Before the Caitian could join the ensign in the front of the shuttle, she had to first guide the passengers aboard the craft and point them to the passenger areas. The Type 11 wasn't that big of a craft, but it would require the passengers to stick to certain areas and not interfere with the command crew. It took a couple of minutes, but once that was done and the ramp was closed, she joined the ensign. "Passengers are secure in the back. What would you like to me to check on the preflight?"

The ensign didn't turn his attention to the Crewman as she sat down beside him. He had recalibrated the conn to his preferences, "I'll get started on the impulse engines but if you could check the shielding and hull status to ensure that we are good for planetary entry."

"Aye, sir," said the crewman. She cautiously moved about the controls. The Caitian had only been in Starfleet for a few months, and while she'd quickly made crewman, she knew far more about administration than shielding and hulls. Her fingers poked about the console, locating the shield generator and running a diagnostic on it. "Level 5 is the quick diagnostic, right? Is that what you'd like me to run, or just report its status?"

"Status check," Socks kept simple and to the point. They were carrying passengers and needed to follow protocol. This was also his first time flying the Henson so he wanted to be thorough.

"Status... status..." the Caitian mumbled as her hands hovered over the controls. "Status!" she practically shouted, spotting the particular set of controls. "Er, sorry, sir. Shield generator is online and on standby. And the hull... structural integrity is showing at a hundred percent."

"Terrific news, please begin running Level 5 diagnostics," Socks followed up while he completed his tasks, "and then give me an ETA."

The crewman tapped away at the console, still tapping buttons one by one. She was able to locate the diagnostic controls and perform the task. She was glad the ensign had said level 5, especially since she couldn't remember if it was level 1 or 5 that was the fast one. Seconds later, the diagnostic results appeared, and she parroted the result back to Socks, "Diagnostics are green."

"Great," the ensign's fingers flipped his fingers up to bring up more essential controls now that the diagnostics gave them clear results, "request permission from Shuttlebay Ops for departure."

I know how to do that! the crewman thought, having located the communications controls when she was looking for the diagnostic tools. She tapped the 'request departure' button, and moments later, a text response came back. "We've been granted permission to depart along Lane 2."

"Can you get me the weather update at our landing coordinates?"

"Of course, sir." Thankfully, she didn't have to hail anyone to get that information as she was quite apt at using the LCARS controls to get to the weather reports and the real-time data from Gavara's satellites. "Partly cloudy," she said, "with only a twelve percent chance of rain."

Socks turned on the shuttlecraft's internal comms, "This is your Captain speaking. We will be arriving at approximately 1322 local time on Gavara. The weather is partly cloudy with only twelve percent chance of rain. Hope you enjoy time on Air Blackhawk's Henson."

He closed the commlink and a Cheshire Cat-style grin came across his face while the shuttlecraft exited the shuttlebay towards the planet.

The Caitian glanced over at the ensign and gave a befuddled expression. "Sir?" she asked, wondering about the pilot's jovial mood and odd message to the passengers. Clearly, she was confused by what had just happened.

The Ensign looked over at the Caitian and then mouthed 'Oh, you didn't get that.' He offered her a smile, "Are you familiar with twenty-first century Earth transportation?"

She shook her head. "I'm not familiar with anything that isn't Starfleet. I went through enlistment on my own homeworld. In fact, I haven't been near the core worlds at all at any point in my life."

"I was born and raised here in the Gamma Quadrant except for the short stint on Bajor," Socks continued, "Anyway, back on topic, in the twenty-first century we had commercial airliners that used fossil fuels and what I said was typical for the pilot to say. I got it from a couple of movies anyway."

The Caitian nodded, trying to follow what the Ensign had been saying. "Fossil fuels, I know. Movies... what exactly is a movie?"

"They're a form of entertainment," Socks answered, "you really don't know what a movie is? They don't have motion pictures on your homeworld?"

"Motion pictures?" she asked. "The only picture I know of is two-dimensional. Why watch something in two dimensions when you have a holodeck?"

"I guess I'll have to organize a movie night or two, consider yourself invited."

"Fraternizing with an officer?" smirked and purred the Caitian. The crewman liked the sound of that. She looked ahead to the view of the planet below, and then down to her console. "There's a little drag on the port nacelle. Looks like inertial dampeners got bumped as we left the ship. Sensors say efficiency's down to 98 percent."

"What's your name, Crewman?" He looked over while he returned his focus on the inertial dampeners, "I'm not a fan of that. First time out and already banged up my ride." Socks hands moved across the panel, "we should be able to ride it out. I'm making a velocity adjustment."

She watched as the provisional ensign made the adjustments. "P'Masha," she introduced herself. "Just a few weeks out of basic training myself. Mainly, I'm trained for administrative work... well, that's what I'm being trained for anyway. Master Chief Rasputin's pretty thorough and I'm struggling to keep up."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, P'Masha." He offered her another smile, "A yeoman? It must be a lot of work to put verbal dictation from the department heads for written reports. I am sure the Master Chief is understanding. Hope my reports aren't too messy and you'll provide me leniency." He shot her a wink before they made it closer towards Gavara.

"Actually, the computer makes dictation rather easy," P'Masha admitted. "I'm usually organizing reports, making arrangements and such. Since I'm brand new, I'm either assisting other yeomen, or helping the deck officer. It's amazing all of the little things that happen in the background that not even the senior staff know about."

"Interesting, I had no idea."

"Well, I had no idea what all was involved in flying a shuttle," P'Masha remarked. "This is my first time in a cockpit. I thought one just turned the engines on and started flying. Clearly there's a lot more to be aware of." She looked at the Ensign and flashed a toothy smile. "I suppose that's why Starfleet has so many different positions to offer. There's too much for just one type of person."

"There is auto-pilot so you're not exactly wrong," the Ensign continued, "you're doing a fantastic job as a co-pilot."

She purred with a smile. "Thanks, Ensign. I feel like all I'm doing is pressing buttons and checking readouts."

"That's pretty much all to it," the Ensign chuckled. "We're now entering Gavara's orbit, request clearance for landing. There's a lot of small craft traffic today so we want to ensure we have a guaranteed landing area before we make our final descension."

P'Masha turned back to her controls and quickly relocated the comms. There was a button that automated the landing request, so she tapped it and selected the control tower for the landing platforms. A progress bar appeared, followed by a couple of lines of text. "We've been cleared for landing," she said. "Pad five, next to the tower."

"Thank you kindly," Socks repositioned his hands to initiate the landing sequence. He brought the shuttle around into a landing pattern, "Switching to landing thrusters." His hand moved. The shuttle came to a stop on the pad. He moved his hand to open the bay door, "Thank you for choosing the Henson for your travel to Gavara today, folks."

As instructed, the passengers disembarked the shuttle to find a Starfleet Petty Officer at the ready to deliver muster instructions. P'Masha herself took a moment near the exit to view the mountainous horizon. It reminded her of her homeworld, and she basked in those memories until it was time for the empty shuttle to load a couple of containers marked 'Wilkins' meant for Black Hawk's quartermaster and galley chef. The smell seemed to be quite foul, an unfortunate scent to bask in all the way back to the ship. Maybe it was time to find out how well these Federation forcefields actually were...

RSS Feed