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Inventory of Equipment

Posted on Wed Sep 24th, 2014 @ 5:24am by

Personal Log
Stardate 64206.08

I have arrived at my new duty post and secured docking bay space from a Marine Colonel by the name of Bannister for my salvaged spacecraft. I also have reported to Captain Harrison.
The Captain is very much a Star Fleet Captain. Warm, friendly, in command. I requested to live in the docking bay in my ship, but the Captain turned ordered me to take up living in crew quarters. While I wasn't pleased with his decision, I understand it.

I shouldn't be surprised. This is one of the things about Starfleet one must understand if you are going to serve Starfleet. One must conform. There are good reasons, sure I will certainly get to know the rest of the crew better, I will be doing what everyone else is doing, and it will build teamwork and harmony. However, when does someone become just another Starfleet drone?

Regardless, I have chosen not to get into a battle with the Captain simply on where to lay my head. I plan to be working most of the time anyway. However, I now start the task of dragging a great deal of gear from the docking bay to my quarters. I shall request setting up a site to site transport at Ops to speed this task.

End Personal Log

Frank set up the site to site transport from docking bay Alpha 03 to his crew quarters. But while setting up the transport he didn't just stop at setting up a simple site to site transport for equipment. Maybe it was all his days in the Badlands, growing up, running from Cardassian hunting parties, but Frank always wanted a second and third way to quickly get himself out of a jam. So, the middle ages Warrant Officer set up an encrypted site to site transport that beam him to Docking Bay Alpha 03 upon trigger a code on his com badge. He would keep this a secret, from everyone. Things like this is how you survived in the Badlands, it had served him well in the past, and was of a great deal of comfort to him to have this in place now.

There was a low hum, then a glowing light as stacks of packing cases from the cargo hold of the small craft in docking bay A 03 disappeared. Then Chief Marion went with the final load. Frank was pleased. The transport worked, he had his gear and he could now inventory it.

First order of business always, be prepared to Shoot, Move and Communicate at all times.

Frank went to the packing case marked Tac 1, punched in his pass code and pressed his thumb against the biometric lock. The small locks clicked open. Frank opened the case, and pulled out his Marine Assault Rifle; checked the power pack and replaced the weapon. Then his Isomagnetic Disintegrator. That baby could pack a wallup. Next, his Type IIF hand phaser and his Photon Grenades, all standard Federation Issue for typical Marine Forces.

Then to the non-conventional weapons he picked up along the way. A Breen Neural Truncheon, capable of rendering any normal humanoid unconscious. Generally considered to brutal and painful by Federation standards, it was a useful tool if one was not too squeamish. Next came a rare oddity. A Tzenkethi Warriors Knife. Frank didn't even fully understand how to use it to it's full potentional. But this knife could store up an electrical charge and transmit that charge, perhaps even direct the charge like an energy weapon. Frank had really only used it as a blade and played around with low voltage and low amperage tests on fruit. Even if it didn't work well as an energy weapon, it was a fine blade. Frank checked the many extra power cells in the pack and found two needing their charges refreshed. Those two were quickly set to charging. The last item in the packing case was Franks 'Go Bag'. This was a small Combat pack that contained everything Frank needed to sustain himself for 4-7 days, longer if fresh water and food were available. Frank did a quick check of the pack. Emergency Rations, Water, Water purifier, field cooking kit, med pack, personal care and hygeine items, bivouac bag, thermal ignition kit, snare lines, fishing gear, small perimeter alarm sensors, a tactical padd and extra clothes.

Frank mentally checked off preparations on is list. Now Frank could Shoot, and Move with site to site transport, and Communicate through normal channels. It wasn't fully comforting to him, but it was a good start. When he had more time he would study the station schematics and find back routes to key places in the station, alternate forms of communication(probably with some unsavory folks) and places to cache a weapon and some food. Where if he couldn't get back to his sleeping quarters he could go to one of several caches, pick up some gear, buy some time and make a plan. Frank seldom wondered if he was paranoid. He definitely was, but for good reason. Living the life as an orphan in the Badlands would make anyone paranoid. Anyone that survived that hell hole had a built contingency plan and had some very odd mantras to outsiders. Having one of something was like having none, having three of something was just having an extra one just in case. Because when running from bandits, Maquis and Cards something always went wrong.

Next packing case to be opened was the one marked Tac 2.
This case was opened in the same manner as the previous. In this case was Franks secondary weapons, an assortment of things he had picked up over the years. A Jem'Hadar Poloran Rifle, a Romulan Disruptor, a Klingon Disruptor, a small Federation Type I Phaser, a Klingon Mevak(dagger), two Cardassian Phasers, even a small Pherengi Phaser, a Dominon Battle Axe, and a Klingon 'aqleH. Frank dropped the small Type I Phaser in his pocket, it would be part of his daily carry. Then a small pocket blade, and a standard Padd. Frank went back to packing case Tac 2 and checked through various size pre-packed vacuum sealed bags of food and water. Some were not bigger than the palm of your hand, others satchel sized. These would have to be carefully placed when a suitable place could be found.

Next he found a spot on the wall and hung the Dominon Battle Axe and the Klingon 'aqleH. It would appear to be an artistic endeavor, but double as a visible weapons cache. Next Frank picked up the small Pherengi Phaser and went to work station, opened the drawer and clipped the small phaser, already equipped with a small magnet to bottom of the desktop inside the drawer. Frank tested retrieving it, and adjusted the position a little. Then Frank took the Romulan Phaser, went to the quarters latrine and hid the weapon. This process continued with hiding a little food and water in his quarters. Next would take a while. Hiding weapons, food, water, commo equipment and perhaps some other tools around the station in key areas along his future emergency exfiltrate routes.

Frank closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled before opening his eyes. Now he could relax, a little. Frank took a short break. He reached into a close satchel and removed a metal flask. Took a deep draw of whiskey and let his face go to a half smile. He then removed from the satchel a small foil bag. He pulled out a small ball of Pemmican. An ancient stable food made of dried meat, reconstituted with rendered fat, with added spices and dried berries. Frank took a bite and chewed the stiff mixture.

After the break, Frank went to the packing case

Frank thought, Oh, yes, I will be ready if I need to get out of my quarters quickly.

After a short break Frank started arranging cases of Starfleet Emergency rations in stacks that made low pairs. Then he initiated his last site to site transport for the day. The once fairly spacious room was now crowded and a little hard to walk around. Three deuterium injectors now dominated the room. The injectors controlled the flow of the deuterium pellets into the Impulse Engine Reactor Chamber. These injectors were all in various stages of being burned out. The primary reason the Impulse Engines did not work on his little craft.

Frank thought to himself, 'The Captain refused to allow me to live in the docking bay where I could work on my ship, but he didn't say I couldn't bring my work to my assigned quarters.' Then he smirked to himself, poured a half glass of whiskey, satisfied he would get to work in his spare time, toasted the injectors and threw the shot back.


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