Chosen
Posted on Sun Jul 28th, 2019 @ 2:57am by
Edited on on Mon Aug 5th, 2019 @ 10:26pm
Mission:
For Whom The Bell Tolls
Location: Starfleet Academy Flight School
Timeline: One Week Prior to MD01
1571 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure
Starfleet Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape [SERE] Training
Holodeck Simulation
Andoria, Issan Continent
"Remind me to never, ever complain again about it being too warm. Anywhere. You can literally set me on fire and I won't ever complain again."
"Cold nights are alright as long as you've got some booze and warm women to keep you company."
"I heard that."
Two cloaked figures in a group of four were passing the time as they trudged along the frozen landscape. They were hours away from anywhere that would even register as a speck on the map, but the leader of the group marched onwards with purpose, towing the others behind. From a small speaker attached to the leader's standard issue rucksack, a song from mid-20th century Earth leapt forth to do battle with the howling wind.
"I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire - the ring of fire..."
"Oh great," the second hooded figure in line groaned, "our instructor doesn't talk, and now he's gonna sit here and make us listen to that ancient s---, c'mon man. This is some grade A bull, man, we shouldn't have to deal with this."
The speaker served more purposes than just to break the wind noise. The music served as a sort of homing beacon in the low visbility conditions that the final lesson in SERE training required. If it happened to attract any simulated Andorian predators, all the better, but the lesson plan did not specifically require that particular wrinkle.
The foursome continued to trudge over the crest of what must have been the fifteenth snow covered ridge of the day. As if to signal their arrival at their destination, the lead figure in the group stopped and turned to face the three cadets.
"Oh, I just got it," one of them muttered, every word dripping with sarcasm. "See, we're out here freezing our you-know-whats off, and instructor 'Talks-A-Lot' is playing songs that have to do with fire. It's a joke, get it? He's a jokester!"
"Oh poor baby," the lead figure pulled her helmet off, revealing a head of medium length brown hair. A focused, piercing gaze brought the cadets to a stop. "Are you cold?"
Lilith Sullivan smiled as the usual good-natured hazing among the recruits began. A similar scene had played out during many of the SERE training events she had led. The "silent instructor" bit began during a previous stint at the Academy, when one of the trainees had made the mistake of assuming that Sullivan was a man underneath the bulky cold weather gear.
"Okay ladies, here's the deal, this is the final day of SERE training, and I am standing between you and your winging ceremony. You have three hours until this ball of hot gas the Andorians call a sun pisses off and hides for the night, and wouldn't you know it, it just happens to be winter solstice tonight. If you think it's cold now, well," she laughed while the others stood frozen in place.
"I know you aren't deaf! I said three hours! Use them wisely!"
The three men she had with her were so close to their winging ceremony that they could taste it. All that stood between them and their wings was survival training, and there was no better place to do it than in a simulation one of Andoria's deserted, ice-covered deserts. Ten kilometers into their journey, the pilot trainees had leaned heavily upon their leader. She was a thirty-three year old lieutenant who had cycled off of fleet assignment onto her second tour as an instructor. Usually, the junior instructors were forced to take the survival assignments, but Sullivan had volunteered - after all, it was a hot day outside at the Academy.
Adaptability, resourcefulness - all traits of a successful Starfleet officer. What the trainees were unaware of is that they were about to be tested to their limits for all of these traits. Over reliance on any resource was frowned upon by the training administrator, and to prove the point, Sullivan was about to be transported out of the scenario, leaving them stranded for the next two days.
Calling upon their training, the students huddled around in an attempt to shield their attempts to start a fire. Lilith took advantage of the commotion and quietly snuck away from the group. Taking the shovel out of the survival kit, she dug a small area out of the gathered ice and snow in an attempt to leave a hint. She left the shovel wedged into the ice, lit and dropped a flare, and signaled for the transporter chief to extradite her from the scenario.
"Sullivan to Ops, one to beam back."
The familiar sensation of the transporter signaled a change of scenery for Sullivan. When she reopened her eyes, she was back in the control room, watching a live feed of the trainees continuing their struggle. A large display nearby showed all of their vitals, and at any time the training staff would be able to access a live feed from the cameras built into their helmets. They were, of course, never in any danger, yet another fact they had not been made privy to.
"Well, what do you think?" The voice emanated from a gruff looking warrant officer known only as the Sherriff.
"Well Sherriff, we've done like thirty of these together now, so you already know what I'm thinking."
"Heh, yeah, but it's polite to ask," the Sherriff replied. "Anyways, nice work as always Lil, after you warm up a bit, we've got a list of holographic predators to send into the camp during the two nights they'll be there. There's some new ones. You can be as mean or as nice as you want to be. Emphasis on the 'ice' in 'nice'."
"Lord," Lilith rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.
Sullivan shed most of the heavy layers, stepped out of her boots, and collapsed onto the recliner in the room beside her. Sprawling out her lithe frame, she managed to take up more space than someone her size should have been physically capable of doing, and it wasn't long before the relative warmth of the room began to lull her to sleep.
Beep. Beep.
A dull beeping sounded at the edge of her perception. The sort of sound that signaled a high priority communication. Sullivan opened a single eye, daring the sound to continue.
Beep. Beep.
"So," the warrant officer growled, "you gonna get that or should I take a message?"
"Yeah, but only because you asked so nicely. Audio only," Lilith sprang to her feet, grabbed a uniform jacket just in case it turned out to be someone really important.
"This is Lieutenant Sullivan."
"Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Commander Bastian from the Bureau of Personnel. I have an assignment to offer you, very much take it or leave it, it's your call. They've already got another instructor lined up to take your cadets through to the finish if you decide to accept, it's all covered. Despite the protests from several members of senior staff, it looks like your request to be assigned a flight control position have been approved. The USS Majestic under the command of Captain Jane Saulitis will be your new posting should you accept.
"Hello Commander, nice to see you," Lilith activated the video portion of the call, having straightened out her uniform jacket. "I, uh, don't know what to say sir. I wasn't expecting to hear back so suddenly, and least of all, have a request be approved."
"Lieutenant, the answer, frankly, is quite simple. Yes or no. We'll expect a reply within a few days or so."
"I'll save you some time, I accept," Sullivan replied firmly.
"Well," Bastian paused a moment to collect himself, "that is good to hear. The official orders will be on your PADD by the time you get back to your office. You have forty eight hours to get your affairs in order, then you will be shipping out to rendezvous with a transport escorting the family of the CO."
"Sir if I may, I would like to see this last group of cadets through to the end."
"Approved. We will have you rescheduled for another transport."
"Understood," Lilith replied. "If there's nothing further, Sullivan out. Oh, and uh, thanks Jim, I know you had something to do with this."
"Good to see you're well Lieutenant. Good luck."
The transmission ended and the Starfleet Command logo replaced the visage of Commander Bastian on the screen. For a moment, Lilith stood stationary, processing the information that she had just been given. Only the Sherriff's voice broke her out of the trance.
"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. Goodbye old friend, come by and say hello if you're back in the sector." It was a rare moment of humanity from the old veteran.
Sullivan rushed forward and gave the old man a hug.
"I'll be seeing you. Mind watching the kiddies while I'm out?" she motioned to the screen.
"Get outta here, Lil'."
That was more like it.
Introducing...
Lieutenant Lilith Sullivan
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Majestic
