"Please state your name for the court."
Princess dipped her head coyly and let her eyes sweep to every member of the Jury. "Sarah Ann Anderson, but everyone calls me Princess."
"May I call you Princess?"
She smiled warmly. "Of course."
"So, Princess. What is your role on the G-Force team?"
She blew out a thoughtful breath through tight lips. "Oh. Well, there are explosives and demolitions. I am one of the team field medics. Covert Ops and reconnaissance. I monitor the radar and communications on the Phoenix." She crossed her legs at the knee and stretched her arms forward to set her fists on her knee and tilted her head up in thought. "It's kind of hard to be specific."
"If you had to?"
"Explosives, re-con and radar."
Rosenstein shared a look with the Jury and then turned back to the demure young brunette in the stand. "You were part of the mission that has led us here today?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes, of course."
"Would you please walk us through your version of events?"
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The search for the suspected Spectran craft didn't take too long. 7-Zark-7 had suggested that the craft might have several anti-radar technologies on board, but within only a few seconds the console in front of her had begun to identify all regular air-controlled traffic and isolated only one that seemed suspicious. She had the ship's transponder send out a signal to receive the craft's identifier. When no known identifier was received, the Phoenix immediately assigned it suspicious and flashed a warning at the Swan. She reported the find to Mark.
"We look to intercept with the craft about 300 miles off the cost, Commander."
She shyly watched for his reaction and smiled when he offered her a thankful nod.
"Is it just the one craft? Or are we looking at an entire Spectran platoon?"
Princess brought a concentrating finger to her lips and looked harder at her screen. As yet the Phoenix was reporting only known crafts in the same vicinity. To be sure, however, she set the sweep along a wider trajectory. "So far it's just the one, Mark. But I'll do a sweep to make sure there isn't anything coming at us from another angle."
"Thanks, Princess. Jason, what have you got?"
She smiled widely as she focused back on the console in front of her. As she tapped in new criteria for the search she sensed Keyop's face closing in on hers. She tilted her head at him in wait for what smart-alecky thing was about to roll out of his mouth.
He didn't disappoint. ""Commanders' pet," he managed through brips and broops. "Lovey-Dovey."
She gasped and covered her mouth in her hands as she reddened. "Keyop!"
He gave her a laugh and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs in the lotus position and toyed with his bolas in obvious boredom. "Just waiting … for action."
She slapped at his knees in a motherly order for him to sit properly. "Keyop, put your legs down and sit properly. If Tiny has to make any sudden moves you'll fall off and hurt yourself."
"Big boy," he snapped back. "Can look after myself."
Even tough she was seated, she set her hands on her hips. "Oh can you just?" she snapped; only ceasing her chiding when her alarm chimed in an emergency message. She looked down at the screen and found a civilian aircraft flagged in red on her display. "Oh my," she breathed as she double tapped her finger on the monitor to call up the warning information. Her heart rose into her throat when the information flashed on her screen with a warning from the FAA for all craft to divert from specific airspace. An A-380 heavy had declared a Mayday.
Her eyes widened and she gasped loudly, immediately eliciting the attention of her Commander. He was at her side in a second.
"What's wrong, Princess? Did you find more enemy craft?"
She shook her head, completely ignoring the fact he was practically leaning on her; one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the console beside her hand. "No, Mark. It looks like we have a wounded bird out there. They've called a mayday."
"How large a bird?"
"Looks like a 380."
"Airbus?" He leaned over her and tapped a few keys on her keyboard to expand the image.
"My God, Mark. That plane can carry hundreds of people."
"I know," he replied softly. "And I hope you're wrong."
His hopes for that were dashed as the Phoenix coordinated with the satellite above them to zoom in on the craft in question. It was certainly an Airbus, and it was most definitely in trouble.
"Dammit!" He cursed as he pushed himself to a stand and stalked to the front of the Command deck. He pushed himself between Jason and Tiny and punched a large blue button on the console. The entire front window immediately flashed into a replica of Princess' screen.
Princess slid out of her chair and wandered slowly up behind Mark and Jason in an attempt to find her way into the conversation, She heard Mark ask if the White House had been evacuated and Jason's reply.
"Tiny, I need you to make contact with the co-pilot on that plane, find out how in the Hell the Captain ended up hanging outside his window and what circuit damage they've sustained. See if we can be of any help to them." He maintained focus on the image ahead of them and let out a growl. "Keyop, calculate the airspeed and direction of that plane. If they are headed toward anywhere there's civilians on the ground, I need to know ASAP!"
Princess watched Jason rise up next to Mark to growl something in his ear, but was unable to make out what the threat, argument or complaint was. Tiny's voice thankfully took her mind off trying to work it out.
"There's 538 souls on board that thing, Mark. There was a bird strike on the front window, the decompression sucked the Captain out of his seat. The Co-pilot is asking for our help in bringing her down, navigation is shot."
She had communicated this intelligence with 7-Zark-7 only a few minutes beforehand. "I've already contacted Centre Neptune. They confirm the complete evacuation of the White House." She was close to tears.
"Decision is yours, Mark." Jason muttered – Princess just knew he ready to get testy if Mark decided on the wrong thing. "Save a national landmark and cost the Federation some money, or do what we're paid to do and save the innocent."
Tiny spoke up first. "I've done some simulation on the A-380. I think I can manually bring her in for a landing. You just need to get me on board."
Princess let out a short yelp of surprise as Keyop nudged past her to duck in between Jason and Mark. He began to nervously beep and tick, stuttering to try and get out his report. "Headed…to theme park. Thousands on … broot … ground." His hands shook holding a computer print-out. "twenty minutes to impact."
Mark coolly slid his eyes to his second. "Jason, can we get Tiny and I on board and send you, Princess and Keyop to intercept the mecha at the White House?"
Her attention fell to her commander as she waited for him to make any orders. Mark finally nodded and pulled his wings closed at his chest. "Tiny, Keyop, what do you have for me?"
Princess opened her mouth to respond, but swallowed her words with a gasp as Jason cursed his own response.
"Fuck the White House, Mark. It's clear."
She touched Mark's arm as he lowered his head and sucked in a breath of air through his teeth. He snapped out of his thoughts quickly. "Tiny, slow this girl down to intercept with the jet. You go with Keyop in the G-4, I'll sit on your wing in the G-1." He turned to Jason. "I need you and Princess to remain back at a safe distance for pick up of the G-1 and 4 when we have Tiny on board. Monitor the Whitehouse craft. If you have to leave us to intercept, do it. We can catch up."
Jason nodded and tipped his visor at Princess. She knew at any moment he would say something unprofessional and … inappropriate. "Looks like it's just you and me, babe. Do you think we can keep our hormones in check and stay focused?"
She coughed and rolled her eyes at the comment, but Mark responded on her behalf.
"Now isn't the time, Jason."
Mark, Keyop and Tiny all jogged to the dome and were quickly gone.
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Rosenstein nodded gently in thanks. "Thank you, Princess."
Her lips pursed and she seemed a little excited. "Oh there's more."
"I know, and we will get back to that shortly."
He wandered, paced, a little in front of the stand. "You were the one who communicated this information with Centre Neptune?"
She slouched only a little and tipped her head to the side. "Yes. I wanted to save time so rather than waiting for Mark to ask me I figured that I'd take the proactive step."
"Is this normal?"
She bit on her bottom lip before answering. "The job is fairly autonomous when we're on the Phoenix. Mark has assigned us specific roles and he trusts us to be able to read the order before he gives it."
"Yet he does double-check."
She nodded eagerly. "Oh, of course. Sometimes our time is limited to just seconds. It is better to get the information ahead of time than ask when we have only seconds to react." She smiled toward Mark seated at the table. "He's thorough."
Rosenstein saw her enamoured look at her Commander and stepped in between them to refocus her attention and lessen the possibility that the prosecution might see it. "Your intelligence information comes from where?"
"Centre Neptune," she answered quickly. "7-Zark-7 is our main source for information. He gathers, analyzes, then forwards anything pertinent to the mission at hand."
Rosenstein swept his hand in the air to indicate the jury. "Can you tell the jury who 7-Zark-7 is?"
She smiled and cast her eyes down in amusement before raising her gaze to the members in the Jury box. "7-Zark-7 is … sorry was … a robot that manned the main communications facility at Centre Neptune. He was the main hub between all surveillance stations throughout the galaxy, as well as the liaison between the Federation defense teams." Her eyes shifted to one side and a smile passed across her mouth. "He was the self-appointed father of all the G-Force team and had a human side to him that could at times be irritating." Her expression changed quickly into one to assure proper explanation. "Oh but he was very good. We always trusted his information."
"As you did in this case?"
She nodded and folded her hands on her knees. "Yes. He assured me that the White House was clear."
"And this is why your commander felt it appropriate to deviate from the original mission specs and save the jet?"
She nodded and looked toward the jury with wide eyes. "Mark's priority became rescuing potentially thousands of people over a building." Her eyes flicked back to Rosenstein. "I'm pretty sure that the women, children, and families of everyone who could have perished agree with Mark's decision. I know I do."
Rosenstein pursed his lips in thought. "Now your Condor stated that there was a communications malfunction during your Commander's absence. Is this accurate?"
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Princess stared at the console in front of her. She wasn't really focusing on anything specific, just looking and thinking about the break in orders and new mission plan. She knew the American Public. She also knew 7-Zark-7 was having problematic intelligence errors. She wondered if them waiting on standby for orders from Mark to leave for the White House was really a good idea.
She knew the Phoenix wouldn't be of much use without all of the team on board. Their best option was to wait for Mark and Keyop to return. She expressed her concern to the Condor. "Jason, do you think they'll make it?"
His answer was smooth, somewhat teasing. "Doubting your boyfriend, Princess?"
She hated that snark. Why did he continually have to call Mark her boyfriend. She fairly growled "He is NOT my boyfriend" to him in response.
"Have patience, babe. He'll get around to introducing you to his lower brain soon enough."
"Ugh," she humphed in true disgust. And she was disgusted. Why did men always have to resort to crass comments? "Can we please get back to work?"
Jason shocked her as he slapped both hands on the forward console. "They've safely intercepted. Tiny should be onboard anytime now."
She leaned over his shoulder to look at the radar image of the White House. "Forty-five minutes to impact. Should we engage?"
"It'll only take us twenty to get there if we make this girl motor. Let's get the guys back on board, first. If we need to go fiery, we're going to need them."
She sucked in her lower lip to bite down on it. Why did Jason always have to tease her about her relationship – or lack if it – with Mark? Did he know something about him that she maybe didn't?
She was so suddenly curious that she had to ask. "Jase, do you really think Mark is … you know? Interested?"
She swore his tone smiled though his response. "I thought you wanted to concentrate on work?"
How embarrassing. "Sorry."
Jason flicked on the main communication line. "Skipper, what's the word? We're pushing for time, here."
Mark's response was contaminated by static. "For…out…ss …mo…t…ouse. Ti..an…… nav…… no…eed….wait… copy?"
She looked at Jason with wide eyes. "What did he just say?" Her mouth gaped open and closed a couple of times as she shook her head.
Jason flicked the comline off then on again. "Mark, you'll have to repeat, we are receiving mostly static. Did you say you wanted us to stand by?"
His response was marred by heavier static.
"Princess, can you fix it?"
She frowned. "Not in five seconds I can't. Keyop is the electronics kid, not me."
"Mark … Mark. We can't hear your orders. All we can hear is that you want us to wait. We'll stand by for your return."
Princess pursed her lips and titled her head, "are you sure we should wait?"
"The only complete word I could get out of that mess was wait. What do you think?"
She shrugged. "It's your call."