Chapter 2: but I'm Not a Marine, Sir

Chapter 2: "But I'm not a Marine, sir!" The Jaguar bounced about Federation, as VADM Wallace engaged in a full-scale recruiting drive, attempting to solicit former Starfleet brass into serving on board the newly commissioned diplomatic cruiser. Such a roving think-tank was the first of its kind, and Wallace was determined it both be a successful one, and a model for other regional fleets within Starfleet. His drive to get Starfleet's best on board was only a few degrees short of an obsession, but one that seemed likely to pay off. How, Caleb wasn't sure, because he had no time for high-concept shifts in Starfleet policy. He was more concerned with pleasing the XO, who insisted on calling him Butterbar, and had even encouraged others to do so. Caleb even started thinking of himself by that nickname, signing one of his official reports as Ensign Butterbar instead of Ensign Caleb Stein. It was all the more frustrating, because nobody would explain what exactly a Butterbar was! Akers was not satisfied with Butterbar's qualifications passed while at the Academy. Instead the General was requiring he re-earn his certifications under Akers high and utterly demanding expectations. Then there were the ship-board qualifications, with Akers insisting that all new officers and enlisted personnel set what felt like fleet records for qualifying on ship's systems. At least that was an exercise he could share with S'lek, who proceeded to pass through the grueling process with her usual stately calm. In this, Butterbar found some measure of relief as he himself struggled to memorize the location and specifications of various Jeffries tubes, plasma conduits and EPS Relay junctions. Akers was never overly critical, but he did let it be known he'd rather be working on his histories than nursing some junior officer through rudimentary shipboard training. Finally, relief! Butterbar blinked, and weeks passed by, but he was now certified to serve on the bridge and to utilize the full facilities of both the Astrometrics and Stellar Cartography labs. He'd even been allowed on board both runabouts for several short detached missions. His assignment to night watch, alternating between the bridge and stellar cartography, though, gave the most relief as Lieutenant General Akers most assuredly enjoyed his beauty sleep. Which put him safely out of Butterbar's hair. Or so he thought. Near the end of Butterbar's second month on the Jaguar, while serving on another graveyard shift at Ops, he spotted something unusual on his sensors. As events transpired, he and the Officer of the Deck (who carried the rank of Fleet Captain and was still stuck with the mid-watch) viewed them with increasing concern. Before Butterbar knew it, he found himself facing the entire senior staff, clustered about the immense view screen in the bridge as Butterbar made his presentation. "At 0014 long range sensors detected the warp signature of twin LF-25 warp engines, which was shortly thereafter confirmed to belong to the USS Claymore." ," Butterbar started, but was interrupted. "Helen's ship,." Akers said and Chris nodded. Butterbar remembered something about the Claymore being at or near Nexus during the Jaguar commissioning ceremony. With the OOD's nod giving him silent encouragement, Butterbar continued. "At 0258, the Claymore issued two brief com squirts. Here's the first." Butterbar keyed the computer to replay the first message they'd received. "Mayday, Mayday, USS Claymore is being hijacked. Mayday, Mayday…" There was a screeching burst of static and the transmission ended. "Com systems squeal like that when hit by phaser fire." Akers commented softly, looking up from his PADD, where Butterbar secretly suspected he was still working on one of his infamous 'histories' of Starfleet combat. Butterbar continued, "We acknowledged their reply, but no response except for this, which was identified by prefix code as coming from the auxiliary bridge." Butterbar paused, . "it was simultaneous with this second squirt that the Claymore altered course for Breen space via way of the Clandath’u nebulae." Butterbar tried not to count the number of flag rank pips from the assembled uniforms of those watching him as he played the message. "Mayday… [static] Breen Hijackers… [pulsing static] They’ve taken the ship… [screams] Help… [Extremely loud burst of pulsing static]" Chris turned to face the OOD who picked up where Butterbar now had left off and continued the report. "We immediately reversed course for the Claymore, however, shortest time intercept,. if If they are heading for Breen space, it means we'll have to pass on the opposite side of the nebulae. We'll loose lose contact with them for at least four hours, assuming they don't double back." Chris nodded, studying the plot now displayed on the main viewer, . "and And if we follow them the long way around, they'll have at least six hours to change course undetected."

Chris walked over to the security officer's station and called up a tactical display. The Jaguar could hardly be positioned worse for pursuit of the rogue starship in regards to the nebulae. The hijackers were extremely fortunate in the fact that the nebula was almost directly in both starships' path for the best course to Breen, and would cause the Jaguar to divert significantly from an otherwise best possible intercept course. Butterbar sighed and sagged in relief as he was now ignored while the senior staff clustered around the station, lost in tactical details. He kept playing the second message back, noting it was somehow different in character than the first. A different voice, certainly, certainly but the bursts of static bothered him. The computer confirmed that the first message did indeed have phaser fire, but the second message remained an enigma. He started running some standard filter algorithms on the data, and the computer's conclusion was startling. "Excuse me, Gentlemen?" Butterbar asked the collected backs clustered around the Security console. "What is it Ensign?" Akers asked. "The second message. I think its manufactured in some manner. The computer estimates a 68% chance that at least one of those bursts of static is some kind of encrypted signal." "Two messages at once?" Akers asked. "A piggyback? The primary one meant to disguise the second?" Chris hypothesized. "Possible, sir," Lieutenant Commander Senya Kinyin, the Chief of Operations, commented. "If so, then they probably assumed someone--us--would intercept it." "Fast work." Akers muttered softly, and Butterbar thought at first he was commenting on the behavior of the Claymore, but then saw something like approval in the wizened old eyes. "What do you think is on it?" Akers asked Commander Kinyin, who started running decryption routines on the static bursts. Senya shrugged, . "a A message that they had succeeded? A call for reinforcements? A rendezvous point?" Chris stepped away from the crowd at the security console, sat in his chair and studied the tactical display again. "We’ll still proceed on an best-time intercept course. If that proves to be a red herring, we’ll double back. Ensign, I want you in the Avon, follow the Claymore’s original course and report in if you spot anything else unusual." "You’re sending Butterbar after the Claymore?" Akers shook his head in disbelief. "He passed his quals, didn’t he?" Chris asked, a teasing timber in his voice. "Yes, but…" "Since you’re so concerned about the Ensign’s safety, Number One," Chris said with a sly smile, "you can accompany him on his journey. Of course, by the time we find out we've followed the garden path, you two will likely have found the Claymore, rescued the crew and I'll return to find you both standing proud on the bridge, right Ensign?" Chris said, teasing his XO. "Yes sir!" Butterbar said with more conviction than he felt. "On second thought, you better take the Coventry instead," the CO offered, referring to the ship’s modified Danube class runabout. "That way you can take some more Marines along with you, just in case you turn up something." Akers mumbled something that made Chris smile, looked at Butterbar and gestured for him to follow. "Come on Butterbar, let’s go see if we can find you some power armor." "Power. Armor." Butterbar breathed softly. "But I’m not a Marine, sir!" Akers smiled. It was almost as frightening as his next words. "No, your you're not… Not yet." * * * S’lek stirred, rolled over and opened her deep brown eyes. Butterbar froze, sensing her stare, and sat down next to her. Their fingers sought each other out. He always liked holding her hand more than the traditional Vulcan 'two-fingers touching' grasp, but either way it was warm and giving of her strength even as he returned it. "Where are you going?" She she asked, glancing at his duffel bag. "Detached mission with the General and a squad of his grunting Marines." She raised one eyebrow, . "your Your favorite senior officer," she said of General Akers. "You can’t seem to escape him, can you," she added coolly. "He’s like a fungus. No matter how hard you scratch, he just keeps itching." "Stop scratching then," she said, leaning up to kiss him briefly and then rolled over to go back to sleep. Butterbar watched her fall back asleep for a few moments, wondering how should be so Vulcan and yet so much more than that at the same time. He finished collecting his field gear. There wasn’t much room in his duffel bag, with the armor that Akers had provided, but he managed to squeeze it all in. As he lugged the 75 pounds of gear out of his quarters, he gave S’lek one last longing gaze and then departed for the hanger bay. Contemplating spending the next few days with Akers and his Marines, Butterbar shook his head. Insanity!

Name Handle Rank Description Weapons Fire Element Tea m Major M. The Major Major Armin Phaser Pistol, 0 Myers Shimmerman Power Fist, A with glasses Sonic Also Chief of compact Grenades, "The L Security/ Look" P Tactical H Dyrn G’rdun Flash Sgt. Gunny Toomer, Phaser Pistol, Major but Andorian, Power Fist, A 1 (Missah Akers) Sonic Grenades Charles Brom Cookie Staff Hefty with a Sonic Grenades Sgt. graying beard Joe Don Baker Rufus Maksud Red Sergeant Red haired olive Sonic Grenades skinned lethal B 2 babe E Thomas Irwin Dogbreat Sergeant Very non Grenade h descript Launcher, Sonic T Name Handle Rank Description Weapons Fire Element Tea m everyman look Grenades A except for his eyes William Praus Drag Corporal Tall thin goofy Sonic Grenades looking 3 Wilson Praus Frag Corporal Like his twin Sonic Grenades brother Neil Seusz Brow Sergeant Looks like a TOS Heavy Phaser Klingon Rifle, Sonic G 4 Grenades A Roberta Needles Corporal Tall thin, Sonic Grenades Donovan graceful, black M hair M Ebon McManus Blacky Corporal Looks like Sonic Grenades A Christopher 5 Lambert Jamie Hovis Camper Trooper Older, Sonic Grenades Grandfather-ish, White Hair, Wilfred Brimley from Hard Target

As Butterbar arrived in the hanger bay, Akers had his Marines lined up in formation besides the Coventry. Akers turned to give him a dispassionate gaze, with all the consideration one would give an astro-bus driver when commuting to work, and Butterbar could feel the cold yellow eyes taking his measure. He had a brief vision of a herd of white tigers feasting on the remains of what had once been a green Ensign. Then the moment, thankfully, passed. Akers gave him a cursory introduction to the Squad. "This is Fifth Brigade, Fourth Battalion, Second Company, Fifth Squad." Akers intoned. The 11 eleven highly dangerous looking Marines immediately gave a loud grunt that resounded off the hanger bay. Together, with Butterbar, they mustered aboard the Coventry, which was quickly filled to capacity as the Marines loaded their equipment on board. Butterbar found them to be surprisingly courteous, in fact, they seemed to be going out of their way to make him feel comfortable. Except for the fact that they, like the General, insisted on calling him Butterbar. The Sergeant known as "Cookie" helped adjust the armor that General had hurriedly thrown at him. "Blooming Officers, don't think twice about anything." Cookie muttered as he tried to adjust the plating to fit Butterbar's frame, apologizing for a poor fit that felt very comfortable to Butterbar. When Butterbar asked why that nick-name, the grizzled veteran smiled. "Military tradition, son. Every Marine unit going back at least five centuries has a grunt named Cookie." Butterbar had a brief vision of a ceremony conveying such an honor down thru the ages, but quickly squelched it as Cookie pulled some straps tight around his chest. Once finished, Butterbar felt energized, and nearly punched his fist through the hull just leaning against it. "Careful, Butterbar, your protected from explosive decompression only if you have your helmet ONon.," The the veteran solider offered by way of advice. For the duration of the flight, Butterbar left his gloves and helmet off, and his armor unpowered. He even got the nerve up to ask Cookie why he was called Butterbar, but Cookie only answered (again) cryptically. "Historical Precedent, son. Ask the General." Butterbar wasn't about to do that. "Look at it this way, kid, at least their not calling you ButterBALLButterball!" They both laughed and he found himself instantly liking Cookie. Between his demeanor and physical appearance, which loosely resembled an old friend (the Professor who had introduced him to his wife), the Marine charmed Butterbar immediately. The differences were distinct though, Hiram Thornberry had been a devout pacifist, and wouldn’t have been caught dead in power armor. Even so, the resemblance made Butterbar feel much more at ease than he would have otherwise. * * * They lost sight of the Claymore approximately two hours before they reached the outer reaches of the nebulae. For most of that time, Butterbar was left alone in the cockpit, while Akers and his Marines conferred in the aft of the vessel. Just as they arrived, Akers slid soundlessly into the co-pilots seat, startling Butterbar. One moment the chair was empty, the next... "Sensors are not on full power, I see," Akers said approvingly, looking at Butterbar's displays. "Not yet, sir," Butterbar said, bringing up the sensor analysis of the Claymore's course. Akers sat next to him, bringing up various data sets from the sensor packages and applying it to the data. "We all agree, Butterbar, you can do wonders with the sensor package, pick signals out of static that few others could catch. But getting the extra juice with full power just tells your quarry you’re looking for them. You need to think about ways to accomplish the same thing without going active." Butterbar looked at him quizzically. "So you don't advertise our location at the same time your finding the bad guys.," Akers explained with a tone of exasperation. "No, it wasn't that sir, just how would you go about doing that? Turning off your equipment always seemed like such a waste of time to me." Akers paused for a moment. "We've had four years of peace recently, but I don't expect that to last. Neither should you." He handed Butterbar a PADD with a list of texts detailing covert operations. "Here, you should have at least one of these read the day after we return to the Jaguar. To compensate for on obvious discrepancy in your Academy curriculum." Butterbar sighed. Each of the tomes that the General had downloaded was between 400- 5000 pages in length. "We never had any of these at the Academy, General." "I know!" Akers shook his head. "What are they teaching kids these days?" He he muttered as he got up and Cookie gave them both a knowing smile. "Actually sir, one of the newest additions to the curriculum was 'Problem Solving Through Applied use of Sub-Atomic and Sub-Space Particulate Radiation Fields.'" "Say what?" Cookie asked as Akers slapped his forehead in disbelief. Butterbar smiled sheepishly. "We called it 'Better Living Through Physics.' It was an entire semester course devoted to the use of various particles and fields in practical, real-world applications." "Such as…?" Akers asked skeptically. "Probably one of the more entertaining examples is when a transwarp experiment conducted by the Voyager while in the delta quadrant caused the ship's helmsman to mutate into a hyper-advanced humanoid form which resembled a six-foot long salamander." "A salamander." ?" Akers asked rhetorically. "The EMH used anti-protons to reverse the mutation and restore both the helmsman, and the CO back into baseline human form. Although we got a report that several years later both started to develop vestigial tails which had to be surgically removed." "Mere surgery?" Cookie asked, getting enthused, . "it It didn't use chronoton particles to create a time inverse field to remove them?" "Right…" Akers muttered and leaned towards Cookie. "Are you SURE sure you didn't make that armor too tight? I think its cutting of the circulation to Butterbar's head." "It's fine, I checked." ," Cookie offered helpfully. "Twice," he added when Akers continued to glared at him. Akers grinning, showing his teeth this time, and started making dramatic squeezing gestures with his hands. "What's that?" Cookie asked. "Just trying to figure out how small of a space I can stow the Ensign." ," Akers replied cheerfully. Cookie put one hand on the General's shoulder. "Easy, General, times change, we have to change with them." "Sh-ure we do," Akers intoned, unimpressed. * * * "That's it," Butterbar announced, "we're at the last confirmed location of the Claymore." He squinted at his displays, . "lookLook, sir!" "I see it," Akers replied. The Claymore had almost immediately dropped out of warp, and proceeded at impulse power into the depths of the nebulae. "What's wrong with this picture, Butterbar?" "Too obvious for anyone who cares to look?" Butterbar replied. Akers called up the log of sensor activity, and nodded approvingly. "It isn't because you lit us up like a hyper-active pulsar," ." he He smiled at Butterbar, . "and And that is a good thing."

"There, the Claymore's Impulse Ion trail." ," Butterbar announced triumphantly. "They dropped out of warp, looks like their going to hide in the nebulae for a while." Akers put one hand on his shoulder. It was somehow comforting. "Good work Ensign, . take Take us in." Butterbar sat in awe at the sheer size and majesty of the Clandath'u nebulae. Stretching for nearly five light years and created a millennia before by three nearly (astronomically speaking) simultaneous supernovas, he resisted the urge to power up the sensor pack's and try to probe its secrets. The faint brackish green phosphorescent glow cast an eerie illumination in the cockpit of the Coventry, giving everything in the cockpit of the runabout a sickly tinge. At irregular intervals, static discharges would erupt, like some kind of nightmarish lightening, and illuminate parts of the nebulae. The Claymore's course slipped in and out of the nebulae's fringes, ; at times with only their impulse ion trail to follow. Other times the chaos eddies left by the Claymore's wake were still swirling in stiff slow- motion currents. A faint whisper crept along the hull as they traversed through heavier concentrations of gas and dust. Butterbar deftly plotted their course negotiating through the outer edges of the nebulae, following the trail of the Claymore. The Ion trail fluctuated sharply. "They slipped up to 2/3 impulse here, sir." ," Butterbar reported. Akers rubbed his chin. "A little faster than I'd take, perhaps, but within limits. Steady as she goes, Ensign." Butterbar watched his passive sensors, measuring the disturbance the Claymore had made as she passed through, and comparing it to the Coventry’s own passage. Butterbar shook his head. "I think we're being led down the Garden Path, General." "Explain, Butterbar." "Why go into the nebulae at all? Why the jockeying to unsafe velocities? It's like they're trying to hide their real course. While we waste time trying to cover our bets…" "…They're pulling a fast one." ," Major Myers concluded. He raised his eyebrows and nodded to Akers. "The kid could be onto something." Akers gestured for him to continue. Butterbar stammered for a moment then sat up straight in his chair. "If they passed through the same region twice at ½ impulse, it would look like they'd gone through at 2/3 impulse. They could instead slip to the side, and with the larger wake, we might not notice their exit point. They'd be inside the nebulae while we pass by, wasting time looking for them on the other side. They're inside the nebulae, sir. Sirs." ," Butterbar added sheepishly looking glancing rapidly between the Major and the General. "Prove it…" "I could time bursts of our active sensors with the static discharges, and only along our aft trajectory. That way if they broke off we'd find it, and with reduced risk that they'd detect our sweeps." . Butterbar said, "We could also follow a spiral course around their trajectory, say a kilometer beyond the wake turbulence. That way if they did slip off course a second time, we'd be more likely to pick it up." ," He he sighed as if in exhaustion. "With your permission, General." He nodded. "Make it so, Ensign." They found numerous suspicious eddy currents that appeared to be the Claymore breaking course, but they turned out to be false leads. Akers sat silently next to him, occasionally pointing things out, but more often nodding--ever so slightly--in approval. Finally, they found it. A very clear, if small disturbance that did not peter out like the previous ones. "That's them General.," Butterbar breathed, excited by his discovery and terrified because it meant combat would not be far away now. "Nice work Ensign. Dispatch a Message Buoy to inform the Jaguar of our current course and position, then take us in. ETA to Jaguar picking up the buoy?" He he asked. "If they realized the Claymore never emerged from the nebulae, two hours minimum, sir." Butterbar nodded, . "Let's just hope we get to the Claymore before any of their reinforcements arrive," Cookie mumbled. "If they have reinforcements," Butterbar added hopefully. "Trust me, son, there are always reinforcements," Akers replied. The journey was hellish, Butterbar inching his way through the brackish colored nebulae, this time using careful bursts from his active sensors directed aft ensure the path they were following was correct. They passed through deeper concentrations of gas, and static discharges buffeted the ship ruthlessly. These same charges were also steadily degrading the Claymore's path making it more difficult to follow. Akers was grinning now with that feral smile, and rubbing his beard. "There!" Butterbar shouted, bringing the Coventry to an abrupt halt as another static burst washed over the craft. Grumbling Marines announced their displeasure at the sudden shift in momentum, which hadn't been compensated for adequately. "I don't see it." ," Cookie said, leaning over Butterbar's shoulder. Butterbar just smiled confidently as they drifted out of a particularly deep pocket of gas into a relatively thin bubble. On the far side, the Claymore gleamed sickly green, apparently drifting. "Thrusters only, Ensign, and very delicately, slip us back, and then around." Akers got up and went to confer with his staff. It While it was difficult work and during it, to keep the ship on course, Butterbar still managed to pick up the snatches of conversation going on behind him. "…Worried about those other traces… reinforcements? Kid did good, real virtuoso with… act now before they get any help… Maze on deck 6… disable the ship if we can't… Find the crew first and foremost… Three turbo shaft choke points on Decks 6… Secure the stair wells… Bring the grenade launcher and the heavy weapons…" Half an hour later, the Coventry was again sliding into the gas bubble and directly underneath the Claymore. The intense static discharges surrounding the bubble disguised their approach perfectly, even if giving the increasingly testy Marines a very bumpy ride. Butterbar halted their approach exactly 10 meters below the lower navigational dome. "LGENGeneral, we have arrived. Their shields are down, and I doubt if they've seen us." ," Butterbar reported, shutting down the engines and powering up his own armor. "Good work, Ensign," Akers said. He turned, turning crcrisply to his second-in-command, . "Major Myers! I want that ship back. Deploy your troops." "Yes sir!" Myers answered and his Marines snapped briefly to attention. Butterbar felt the Danube rock slightly from the force of their motions. Akers nodded and peered past Butterbar out the main view port. "We have us a starship to rescue." Suddenly Akers didn't seem nearly so frightening to Butterbar if only because that savage glare wasn't directed at him (for a change). He almost felt sorry for the hijackers