Part of Montana Station: Task Force 21 Shore Leave and Bravo Fleet: Shore Leave 2402

The Cockpit

Type-8 Shuttlecraft over Janoor III
July 13, 2402
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The Jasnea River shimmered like molten glass in the morning’s early light. Its winding form slipped between forested banks and winded towards hills in the distance. The watery, crystalline surface caught every angle of the rising sun, turning pockets of foggy mist into rising waves of golden fog. Morgan Township emerged where the wall of trees met the horizon.

Tight rows of squat buildings clustered near either side of the river’s shore. Taller structures were capped with soft domes and glowing neon struts that traced across rooftops. Matching lights ran down certain streets and alleyways. The settlement was small, but developing rapidly. Taller segmented towers reached higher upward. Each of the bigger buildings was ringed with wide stone platforms that formed wrapped observation terraces. Figures were already gathered inside one of the tallest posts to watch the shuttle’s descent. Their huddled forms were barely visible to the pilots as the Type-8 glided past the massive transparent viewports.

Ensign Veetha guided the shuttlecraft with steady hand inputs. Orange-tan fingers moved swiftly across the touchpad controls, trimming yaw and dialing back the little vessel’s forward impulse. They banked slightly to align with a narrow corridor of open sky above the township’s southern shuttleport.

“Thrusters at fifteen percent. We’re clear for Bay Two,” Ensign Veetha said enthusiastically.

Next to her sat a cream and brown-furred Caitian operations officer. His face was marked with dark chocolate points around his muzzle and forehead. Hairy hands tapped through his station’s controls to acknowledge incoming landing instructions. “A local routing buoy is up. It looks like they’ve got partial automation on landings here. Manual override is still an option.” The cat’s voice rose an octave with interest. This port isn’t bad. The facility opened only six months ago.”

“Not bad,” Veetha repeated with a toothy grin. “This entire place is ripe. Can you see that market just east of the towers? There, near the neon signs and striped canopy stalls?” Her delicate arm lifted to point. “Ferengi-run. I counted four profit banners from the approach.”

“You actually counted them?” The Caitian snarled.

Veetha gave a casual shrug. “A Ferengi sees what she needs to see.”

He chuckled softly. “Are planning to buy something?”

“Buy? Please. I’m scouting the local economy. Real estate has climbed thirty-six percent in one year. The tourism pull from Jasnea rafting is only going to grow. I might secure a little slice of land while the Federation still considers this place rural.”

The Caitian’s pointed ears flicked slightly as he adjusted their signal. “I’m just here for a day or two. A bunch of us are hopping a ferry to Cait soon. I’ll take leave to see my kittens.”

“Is it a long trip?”

“Long enough. It’s been months. Invasions tend to press pause on life.”

Veetha’s tone softened. “Tough times don’t mean we have to stop living.”

Their eyes met briefly, then returned to the growing landscape below. The shuttle dipped smoothly above a well-manicured courtyard flanked by flowered hedgerows. Early risers in adjacent homes opened their shutters to let in the morning’s light. The pair was close enough to the ground to see a husband stepping into the cool dawn after kissing his wife goodbye for the day.

“Final approach is locked in,” the Caitian announced with a hiss of an accent. His attentive amber eyes watched as the homes and shops faded into a grassy field that surrounded the shuttleport.

“Repulsors easing. Touchdown at Bay Two in five seconds.” Veetha adjusted their trim to coax the shuttle into a gentle hover over the dark landing pad etched with directional guides. Powerful engines roared as they fought to keep the heavy shape suspended mid-air.

The Type-8 settled gracefully onto the pad with a satisfying thunk. Sounds of the atmospheric engines whirring down to a slow stop filled the tight space.

Veetha leaned forward and opened a comm to the aft compartment. Her dry lips tightened into a playful smirk.

“Good morning, honored travelers! The local time is 0620 hours. We have arrived in scenic Morgan Township… Population three thousand, neon not optional. Please keep your limbs, antennae, and other appendages inside the cabin until instructed otherwise. Local attractions include Jasnea River whitewater expeditions and a skydeck breakfast at Eon Tower. For those looking for a splash of culture, check out the Ferengi-run neon markets where you’ll find zero shame… And no refunds. Enjoy your stay.”

A chime preceded a transmission from the rear cabin. =/\= “Thanks for flying us around yet again, Ensign Veetha.” =/\= Lt. Cmdr. Binedra Dowa’s melodic voice was unmistakable over the crystal-clear intercom. The others could be heard cheering and clapping.

The gold-shouldered cat tapped a control to lower the rear ramp for the passengers’ disembarkation. “Welcome to the party, Ensign”, he said to the Ferengi woman.

“Ditto”, the universal translator translated from the Ferengi phrase ‘qwam hom’.