A mirror shattered #223 - "Tucking In"

OOC: a minor note , I believed that Vargur were not in any way a 'trek' race, but I might have be mistaken. While reading an 'official' novel I read of a race called: The dogs of War (star-trek: New Frontiers "The Quiet Place by Peter David). I am trying to track down an illustration but by description they certainly sound right.


G'ulf-fey finally having freedom of the ship decided to make the most of it and began exploring a bit. Eventually he ended up outside the Cargo bay and decided to see if the engineer needed any help in there with what was left of his last fighting craft before heading down to pilots country and seeing what these "Stygian Birds" were made of. were he barefoot his nails might have caused some noise, but with the rubber sandals this wasn’t an issue and as he entered and let the door close behind him he was glad of his natural tendency to walk as quietly as he could. There covered by parts and wires lay the Evans, asleep with some prize clutches in his hand like a sailor on furlough might clutch a bottle. Some might think the man hurt but G'ulf-fey knew better his ears hearing soft breathing and more to the point his nose not smelling the 'odor' of humans who have died. He was about to see about moving the man when he heard the doorway cycle again and he on instinct dove for what cover there was.

He watched from cover as a young human female in night clothes came in and wisely scanned the area for any threats. G'ulf-fey wondered if he would be in trouble here when he saw her spot Evens and rush over to him. Not close enough to catch her scent fully but her movements and her look at the male showing concern and a connection of some sort.

He watched as she obtained bedding form a cabinet with what seemed familiarity. 'Stupid human, sleeping in a place like this, when someone like that would obviously welcome him someplace better.' he thought then made his way as silently as he could to an access hatch and out of the bay. She might need him near her and they deserved what comfort they could find in each other, as the Gods only knew when they would be separated from each other by the enemy.

After exiting the bay he accessed the computer and asked it to activate a soft chime should anyone else sought to enter the Bay until one or both of those inside left. Then he headed for the Pilots Ready room and his meeting with those he would command.

=/\= Deck 3: Fighter ready room =/\=

G'ulf-fey entered the ready room, and was immediately disgusted by the state he found. Not just because he walked in without being challenged, he more or less expected that. But because of the 3 remaining pilots not one was suited up and ready should the call come to scramble. In fact it app[eared to him as if should the Horn sound perhaps only one would even have a hope to launch inside 7 minutes. Far too long on a war zone and far, far to long should the ship need defending. This would change beginning Now!

/CLANG/ the bulkhead rang as he struck it with his ‘Long Claw’ and this was immediately followed by his barking shout at the men he saw there. “ALLARM!! ALL PILOTS READY!”

the result was one man falling out of the bunk and he was asleep in and one other leading out a slight screech as they came awake. As for the one who seemed partly aware as he entered it snapped to and grabbed for the parts of it’s Flight suit. H e realized that this one was female and nodded at her acceptance of the command not asking for details until ready.

G'ulf-fey nodded there was work to do here but he had seen worse. “DRILL ENDED, Stand Down.” Then he ignored the foul looks form the 2 males as he ignored the disappointment of the gender female. “Okay, I doubt any of you got the word yet but I have been given the honor of commanding the ‘Birds’ until, Great Mother willing, this ship is able to return to where you belong. I am G'ulf-fey, I am Vargur, The Capt. has granted me the title of Lt. I also suspect that some of you would have preferred to command this wing. But I see only one who might have had the chance. Now My old unit was recently savaged by the enemy and I would like nothing better than to avenge them. But that is not to be for now. Now I have a group of pilots to get combat ready it seems. I have sworn on my life to protect this ship and if ANY of you are not willing to make the same commitment, I suggest you apply for a transfer to an other department.”

“Over the next few hours I will be reviewing your data files and seeing how I will be working with. But for now you need to know how I will run things. This room is where we sleep and be ready for deployment, as such when we are here we need to be ready. If the bridge calls to deploy us we need to be ready to fly in less than 5 min. As such gear should be within reach and if needed some of us may need to learn to sleep in flight suits. Scramble can be called at any time , but as well you are marines the fact I walked in her without any challenge is something troubling. Uniforms can be copied and the enemy is without honor or souls. If you drink, save it for after combat, if at all. A hungover pilot is a dead man if combat happens. Each of us is only as good as the others, and your wingman is your lifeline. I am not sure if there are other pilots, who serve other duty shifts but I will find out, but if we are all there is then we will see to it our names are never forgotten. Let the enemy make peace with the demons they worship, for we are here, and the Styx boatman will meet them soon enough.”


Lt. (jg) G'ulf-fey Marine Fighter Leader USS Pegasus

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