Hitting the Morning Briefs

Posted on Mon Apr 4th, 2011 @ 11:37am by Commander Dietrich Reinhart

Mission: Shore Leave - Archa IV
Location: Wing Briefing Auditorium
Timeline: MD03 - 0600 Hrs

::ON::

The life of the Starbase CAG was not all aviator sunglasses and motor cycles. The fact of the matter was that Dietrich Reinhart ran 192 fighters, 605 shuttles and 120 runabouts. 16 squadrons of attack aircraft, and 20 shuttle squadrons, and 4 runabout squadrons. The fun and games were limited to the few hours he had to himself in his quarters. And quite honestly, though he didn't like to brag, he might have had one of the largest departments on the Starbase - what with a good few thousand crew members directly reporting to him as Wing Commander.

So that's what he saw when he looked out into the Briefing Auditorium. Not the 40 squadron CO's and 10 Wing staff officers. He saw the 3,250 crew members dedicated to the auxiliary aircraft in Starbase Air Wing 17. Not a bad gig, really, for an O-5 rank. And he remembered that in front of the audience of 50.

"Good morning," the CAG started. A collective acknowledgement, morning<?I> from the gaggle of Squadron CO's. "We're looking at a standard CAP flight today. Threat level is minimal." He had already loaded the interactive system view onto the main screen. Center of it as the station as it orbited around the third planet in the Archa System. CAP flight stood for Combat Air Patrol flight. It was a sortie for pilots to be alert on deck with a wartime weapons load. The idea behind it was that should anything happen, these pilots, operating at the relative edge of the station's sensor range, would be able to locate, identify and potentially neutralize any threats before they get within range of the Station. For a system, it required a complex operation involving scouts and space superiority fighters.

But it was a normal day. No ramped up security or flight requirements. There was not a Ritorran battle fleet on the border, thus there was no need for all 192 fighters to be on alert all the time.

"Your operations orders and deployment schedules for the week are on your PaDD's. Weather is looking great. Check with AWOS (Automated Weather Observation System) for up to the minute reports. Great chance of a larger-than-normal solar flare occurring today or tomorrow. So watch your communications on the far side of the system. Also make sure your deflectors are tuned right for electromagnetic pulses." It was gibberish to most, but it was a daily occurrence to talk about the state of the weather in the system.

"As I said before, threat level is minimum. We are going to experience an increase in civilian freight lines. Challenge anything sketchy that comes through by the Navports. If you're picking up any of the wanted ion trail signatures, call up Flight Ops and let them know you're closing. We'll send additional support craft." The Archans were having some sort of indigenous holiday coming soon and the traffic was due to increase shipping in packages and goods of something or another. The truth was that CAG Reinhart did not care, but that it gave him a bit of trouble while dealing with the Area Approach and Departure control. Being the largest star base in the system, 332 had area control over the entire system and thus had to deal with the approaches and departures around the Archannis. It usually made only his job hell, but the pilots on CAP would need to deal a little more with challenging the cargo freighters that do not check out with their flight data.

Reinhart looked about the room to do a quick head count. All the CO's were there, they were missing one maintenance chief, and that Funkhouser guy was drooling in the back. Dietrich sighed. The man was a great pilot with a knack for atmospheric and close-quarters maneuvering. The fact of the matter was that he did not much care for Star Fleet or regulations. He probably did not even shave this morning. Reinhart shuddered in anger behind the Auditorium's podium. He hated when young officers were out of uniform, or wore it incorrectly. He'd speak with him soon.

Dietrich carried on with the brief. He did not have much more to do other than update everyone on the new procedures ever since the magnetic shift of Archa II's poles and what affect it had on sensors. Nothing out of the ordinary.
____________________
Shortly after the Meeting
____________________

"On your feet!" Reinhart spoke with his diaphragm, louder than usual and more guttural. "Dismissed."

The Wing's Commanders and senior leadership began shuffling out of the rows and down the stairs. Conversation picked up between the air crews and the background noise increased. But between the "Hey, so-and-so, how was last night?" was a weary eyed blonde man slowly getting up from his seat. The eyes were bloodshot and dry, his skin paler than the usual healthy tan. It was his "Exocet" Attack Squadron Commander, Peter Funkhouser.

Funkhouser flew the bomber-style Federation fighters. His unit was nothing special. No Battle Citations under his command, no serious tour-of-duty awards. For the most part, they practiced by blowing up asteroids. One of their pilots was grounded three weeks ago for knocking out a flagged asteroid in the Archaniss Asteroid Belt. It was a science probe monitoring the solar radiation penetration through the field. So Funkhousers unorganized black sheep squadron wasn't the best, but as the old saying went: never go to war with an inspection ready unit.

The crop-dusting CO came to shortly before the CAG was standing in the row before him. "Good morning, sir," he opened, groggily.

"Late night, Mr. Funkhouser?" The Commander, Air Group said with a decent amount of detectible sarcasm.

"Not quite, sir. Just a rough night," the honest man replied, honestly. Funkhouser was not one to lie, but he was always one to accidentally volunteer more information than usual. "There's that new club on the promenade called Warp 12. And they sell this junk called Rittoran Jelly." He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Reinhart didn't give one. The Commander, Air Group stood stoically in front of Lt. Funkhouser. "And?"

"The bar manager told me after two or three bite fuls that it was a legal hallucinogen. I'm feeling the effects," Funkhouser admitted. At least he was honest, or so he thought.

"You're grounded pending medical evaluation," Reinhart declared. "But you're going to be of some use to me." Putting on the Big Station XO cap, Dietrich began to think about what this bar owner was doing and what sort of potential problem it would cause the operations of SB332. Rittoran Jelly? What the hell is that? If it is a hallucinogen, there would be trouble for the crews. If it's legal, it'd be tough to enforce. But that also meant that there was foodstuffs entering the station that might not be controlled as well as he thought.

Dietrich looked Peter in the eye. "After you get yourself to the Doctor, meet me in the Ops Center. Let's discuss the bar and what went on."

"Yes, sir," Funkhouser replied.

The CAG put his hands on the man's shoulder, knowing exactly how he felt and how bad it was to carry it through the night and morning. Dietrich's been smashed like a shuttle in an asteroid field before. The man deserved some sympathy, at least he showed up for his early morning duties. "Warp 12?" The CAG asked.

A nod, yes.

"I'll check it out."

---------------------------------------
::OFF::
---------------------------------------
This post is brought to you by:

Commander Dietrich Reinhart
Station Executive Officer, Starbase 332

Lt. Peter Funkhouser (Reinhart NPC)
CO, VA-193 "The Exocets"