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Commander Mitchell - Memories


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(Corridors - USS Atlantis)

::Mitchell yawned as he made the trip up to the bridge from the Runabout dock on Deck 9. He’d been sitting in that runabout for such a long period he’d decided to walk from the dock at the aft end of the deck forward all the way to the forward pair of turbo lifts. It wasn’t the extreme hike it would have been back on the Lady since the Atlantis was a smaller Intrepid, but it was a good walk to loosen up all his stiff muscles. It had been a long time since he had put himself through the gut wrenching effects of combat flying.::

oO And this was only a runabout, not Valkyrie or even a Peregine. It had a better SIF then both fighters. Oo

::As he walked, he let his mind wander back to some of the fights he’d been in. The first that came to mind was the fighting with the Romulans over the base.::

(Flashback in Mitchell’s Mind)

::Every fighter the base had was now streaking toward the decloaked Warbirds. Nine Rogue class interceptors lead the way, with the six Valkryies lead by Mitchell right behind. Eight Peregines were on one side, with twelve who had not gone out with the Discovery, on the other side. The four surviving Maul gunships brought up the rear, tucked in tight behind, between,and slightly under the others.::

::But this time there was no chance for a surprise like at Daris II. All of the Romulan ships were on impulse, and this time, there had the oppurtunity to use the best form of anti-starfighter defense in

the galaxy. Another fighter. And the new Romulan Warbirds carried the newest "fighter" in the Romulan's aresnal, the Scorpion class, as Starfleet Intel had taged it. And as Mitchell and his fellows had expected, they were out in force today.::

::Now since only Jean Luc Picard of the Enterprise E was the only Starfleet officer who had flown a Scorpion, there was exactly much

known about how the new craft would handle. But according to Intel data, the Scorpion was a ground attack craft, essentially a modified shuttlepod design, with limited capabilities as a fighter. They were

the exact opposite of the craft under Mitchell's command, which according to Starfleet guideline were all special designed and built fighter craft. So it was going to be a contest between a small number of true fighter/interceptors versus a large number of "wannabe" fighters. And those wannabes were forming up for a break through strike of their own.::

::The range scrolled down fast and his targeting cursor went red with the familiar growl. It was time.::

MITCHELL: =/\= All craft. Break Now! =/\=

::Immeadiately the Rogue interceptors went to max power and opened fire with pulse phaser cannons, then pulled up hard, clearing the others line of fire, just as Mitchell and the others each clamped down on their own triggers. Each of the Valkyries spat out a pair of mini-quantum torpedoes and the Peregines mini-photons, but the Mauls each fired two external full sized photons. As soon as the torps were inflight, both squadrons of Peregines broke wide, while Mitchell slammed his stick over hard, putting his bird into a crash dive, the others Valkryies following. The old fashioned spitting flower trick.::

::Each squadrons finished its manuevers to keep clear of return fire and rolled back in. But despite the barrage, not enough Scorpions were taken out for Mitchell's taste. But the Rogue's again lead the way back in, spitting pulse phaser fire, nailing several more of the Romulans. Then as the Scorpions used their limited ammount of manueverability to break after the Rogues, it was Mitchell and the Ghostriders turn. The Valkyries came in using their own pulse phaser cannons, catching the Romulans from the oblique. Two exploded under the volley as the others tried to break free. But the Valkyries superior manueverability let them stay right with the Scorpions, pumping phaser fire into'em. The remaining four quickly disappeared in blazes.::

::Mitchell finished off his bogey and racked his bird around to pick up another target. Around him, the other fighters weaved, turned, climbed and dived, juked and jived, doing what ever they could to keep their more manueverable birds behind the Romulans and out of the weapon arcs of the Warbirds. He rolled out of his turn and dropped in behind another Scorpion from above. He glanced at the sensors to see that several Warbirds were making a run on the doors to Spacedock. That meant they were trying to break in and invade.::

MITCHELL: ::switching to the wing com channel:: =/\= Ghost One to Marauders. Get those troop carriers. We gotta stop'em. Aces, help'em out. =/\=

::The gunships had been the only fighters not involved in serious dogfighting, which made sense since they were their to kill the Warbirds. They were making runs, but their were only four of them so they could only do so much. The eight Peregines of the Black Aces would help, but all of the fighters would really be needed. But first they had to finish off these Scorpions, especially this one that Mitchell was chasing now.

MITCHELL: Can't get his guy. Go for a torp lock!

NOVA: Locking on.

MITCHELL: Come baby, lock it up. Lock up...... ::then suddenly the cursor went red with a lock.:: Fire it!

::He squeezed the trigger and mashed the launch key at the same time. One of the two launchers built into the underside of the fighter, spat a single mini-quantum. The torpedo raced out, tracking the fighter it was following through its manuevers. It caught up with the fighter as it tried to slid out of the torpedo's path, and detonated with a flash.::

(Corridor - USS Atlantis)

::He shook his head to clear it before he walked into a wall. He reached one of the turbo lifts, tapped the key, and waited for a car to arrive. That mission had gotten rather painful for him. He reached down to rub his knee.::


::Lt Mitchell was grogily drifting in and out of consciousness as the escape pod containing he and his WSO drifted through space. At least the periods of unconsciousness kept down the oxygen use. And it was starting to really get cold in the pod, or at least he thought. It hadn't been that long since they had ejected or so he thought. Someone should have come to get them by now, but he couldn't be sure how long it had been.::

::He wasn't sure of Nova's condition behind him, but she didn't answer when he yelled. And yelling through the mask was all he could for now. The pod had lost all power at some point so he couldnt be sure how much air they had left other than what was around them and in their pressure suit emergency bottles. Thus he couldnt afford to risk removing his own mask, in case the pod had a leak in it somewhere. He would have unstrapped and tried to turn around, but his leg had smashed into the console and some point and his left knee wouldn't change positions now. He would probably loose his leg if they hit a planet and had to eject out of the pod. But at least at some point, either he or the pod's automatic systems had stopped the tumbling caused by the rocket motor that had gotten it clear of the dying Valkyrie. That was a plus at least. All he needed now was to be space sick as well.::

::Suddenly he felt light playing across the darkness his eyes were used to. He opened his eyes to see another Valkyrie floating there, right outside the pod. Someone had come after all.::

oO Yes. They found us! About time. Took'em long enough. Uh no. With no power there's not a way to let them know we're alive.... Wait I got a way. Let's see what they think of this. Hope no one gets offended.Oo

::He lifted his arm and put his gloved hand right against the canopy. Making a fist, knuckles against the canopy, he rotated it so his palm was down, then he extended a selected finger.::

(Corridors - USS Atlantis)

::The hiss of the lift doors opening drug him from his thoughts and he stepped into the empty car.::


::As the car rose, he thought about the aftermath of that mission.::


::Lt Mitchell hurt all over. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, trying to see what he could see without moving his head. From what he could see and smell, he was in a starship's sickbay,

and a nearly brand new one at that. That meant he was on the USS Fearless, since she had been on a test cruise right out of the yards when she had been diverted to join the rescue fleet heading for the base. He tried to lean forward and ease himself up into a sitting position, but when he tried to use his left arm, it felt like fire was burning through his side.::

LEE: ::hopping up from the chair he was sitting in and coming over to help.:: Whoa. Easy there Mitchell. Your busted up pretty good.

::With Lee's assistance, Mitchell got into a position sitting up right.::

MITCHELL: Ugh! What did I do to myself this time?

LEE: Well, you want the short version or the whole list?

MITCHELL: ::grunting:: The short version, please.

LEE: Well, the main three are that you dislocated your left shoulder, bruised several ribs, as well as your right knee.

MITCHELL: Ouch. No wonder I hurt all over. Ever heard of pain killers around here?

LEE: They shot you full when the shuttle picked you up. You just came off them.

MITCHELL: How long since you picked me up? Last thing I remember was giving a Valkyrie the finger. And where's my WSO, Nova?

LEE: Yeah...nice signal. Been a long time since you last shot that at me. Its been about two hours since we picked you up. But Nova, well...Nova's still in surgery.

MITCHELL: Surgery? For what?

LEE: A lot. Multiple internal injuries. Well, here's what I can determine from the little I got from the medics in the shuttle, and knowing the Valkyrie's [...]pit. Nova managed to trigger the command ejection sequence to punch you two out. But as the pod seperated from your fighter, that took you out of the effects of the internal compensator. So as the pod started tumbling and tried to stablize itself, the only thing holding you both in place, were you harness straps.

MITCHELL: Skip the excess details. So we got thrown around. That would account for how I feel and my injuries. But what about Nova?

LEE: Apparently her harness either didn't lock properly or failed altogether. She was thrown around her portion of the [...]pit like a rag doll. So in addition to the physical external injuries like yours, she recieved significant internal damage, including damage to her spinal column. That's why the doc's are in there still, working on her now.

MITCHELL: How's it look? Will she pull through?

LEE: I think so. But her returning to flight status is nil. Maybe in a while, but for sure it won't be any time soon.

MITCHELL: I know. She's a good WSO, be tough to replace her.

::Mitchell sat there slightly for several minutes, and Lee let him, before continuing the conversation.::

MITCHELL: Did you report finding me to Cmdr Waltas?

LEE: Yes I did. He told me that if you pranged up another fighter, he'd bust you back to petty officer.

MITCHELL: Funny. There any other messages for me?

LEE: One. There's to be a staff meeting of the base's senior officers coming up. I guess that means you since your their flight ops chief.

MITCHELL: Yeah it does technically. But how much of a department/flight wing do I have left? We took every fighter that would fly out with the Discovery before we fled. And of those, how many came through the fight in combat ready shape?

LEE: Well, when the Fearless is done here, we're headed back to the fleet yards to finish fitting out. So I don't see the need for fighters for that. So...if need be, I'll transfer all of my working fighters over to your wing to replace your losses.

MITCHELL: What about pilots? More fighters can be built a lot quicker than good pilots trained. I'l probably need some more pilots too.

LEE: That would require me to discuss things with my Captain. But I'll say that if you would have it, I'll take leave, and come fly on your wing.

MITCHELL: Thanks. I appreciate the offer. Now get me some crutches or something, cause I have a meeting to get to.

(Turbolift - USS Atlantis)

::That had nearly been one of the various ends to his flying days but been the end of Nova’s. He got off with relatively minor injuries beside the knee, but Nova, the docs thought they could save her. But the spine damage had been too great. She’d been one of the hundreds of casualties lost in that battle. ::

oO And I haven’t flown combat with a WSO since either. Oo

::He felt water on his face, and reached up to touch it and found his eyes were emitting tears. Some would call it crying. But he’d stick to calling it a by product of being awake and at the helm for so long. He wiped his eyes as the car stopped and the doors opened. He set himself and stepped out onto the bridge.::


Commander Rode Mitchell

Chief Tactical Officer

USS Atlantis

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