Two Hours To Go
Posted on Sat Aug 8th, 2015 @ 5:16am by Captain Julius Whitlam & Commander Elliot Drake & Lieutenant Commander Alexander Gunning & Lieutenant Commander Anders Odegaard & Lieutenant Kaylee Williams & Lieutenant Nicolette De La Croix & Captain Melody Windsor
Mission:
First Strike
Location: Briefing Room, Deck 1
The doors to the conference room sighed apart in front of Lieutenant Commander Alec Gunning. He sighed deeply as he dropped into a chair. Part of his responsibility as second officer, god only knew why, was to call the senior staff to briefings. As such, he thought he'd take a couple of minutes to clear his head before he signaled the rest of them.
He slowly supped the tar-like black liquid out of his mug and cursed the replicator. The coffee was awful but it reminded him of the Aries. The Captain had insisted on the coffee being like this- a throwback to misspent youth in cheap coffee shops no doubt- and something about its acrid taste soothed him.
Eventually he mustered the energy to press his communicator. "This is Commander Gunning. All senior staff, report to the briefing room on the double."
To her credit, Melody was the first to arrive. She smiled at Gunning and offered him a salute - a rare honor for fleeters - and took a seat halfway down the table, "Finally time to dust up, Commander?" She asked, hopefully.
A very tired and dirty, Kaylee, comes walking into the room and smiled at everyone. "Didn't have time to shower, hope you don't mind the temporary smell, ladies." she said as she sat down next to Melody. "Oh another marine on board." she said a bit amused by a marine on a starship, 'FINALLY! someone to talk to that speaks her language.' she thought to herself.
Doctor De La Croix was the next in the door, a bit of an irritated frown playing at the corners of her mouth. She hurried in briskly, nodding to the others as she passed them by, then took her seat. She really didn't have time to cram in a meeting, but she knew she'd figure it out somehow.
Anders arrived with a small collection of PADDs on his person. Being the Intelligence Officer he was trying to keep up to date with Starfleet Movements and also the latest happenings with the Dominion. He smiled politely at the other Senior Staff and took a vacant seat at the Table.
The door sighed open once again and Captain Whitlam strode through, with Commander Drake right on his shoulder. There was nobody to announce his arrival, but the officers all stood in unison regardless.
The captain noticed and quietly approved of the discipline of his senior staff. “As you were,” he said as he took his place at the head of the table and Drake took the seat to his right.
He placed a PADD on the tabletop in front of him, but didn’t sit. Instead, he looked around at the assembled officers, all of whom looked back at him expectantly. These were the people he would be fighting the coming war alongside. These were his comrades in arms. Their lives were in his hands and his was in theirs. It was a humbling and terrifying thought, particularly when they had really no time to get to know each other. With the thankful exception of his first officer, they were strangers thrust into this situation.
“We don’t really know each other very well yet,” he started, in an almost philosophical tone. “We haven’t had the luxury of time to become better acquainted. I wish we had that time, I really do. But we simply don’t.” His face turned grim, stern, his jaw set. “In two hours, this task force is going to war.”
The captain tapped a control on the PADD in front of him and the display screen behind him blinked to life. It showed a six planet, red giant star system. A cursor targeted the third planet and zoomed in. “Our target is the Dominion shipyards on Torros Three.”
"Not Deep Space Nine, sir?" Gunning's faux indignation was misplaced. Everybody knew the chances of them being sent to DS9 were slim in the first instance since most of their fleet had been moved out of its immediate range, but the question still bore asking. Why weren't they sending everything they had to defend it?
"Starfleet and our Klingon allies have decided that Deep Space Nine is not the priority target," Drake replied, hoping to make some sense of the logic. "As long as the minefield is operational, it doesn't really matter who controls the station."
“The cold calculus of war, I’m afraid,” Whitlam added. He turned back to the display and gestured to it. “While the bulk of the forces assigned to protect Torros are away harassing Deep Space Nine, the shipyards are vulnerable.”
The captain turned back to his officers. “But there’s another target on Torros Three and that’s the one we’re concerned with. While most of the fleet will attack the shipyards, a small detachment – including us - will launch a raid on the far side of the planet.”
The screen zoomed closer on the planet, which spun a hundred and eighty degrees until a target circle appeared over a city labelled Torrakkan. An image of a white-haired Cardassian male overlayed next to the city. “Our objective, is to capture or kill this man: Legate Olan Jerad. He’s visiting Torros to inspect ground-based defensive systems, or at least that’s his official purpose.” He looked at Odegaard, “Lieutenant, I understand you’re familiar with him.”
Anders nodded. "Yes Sir, Olan Jerad is something of a tactical genius in the Cardassian Military." The Lieutenant skimmed through the notes he had made. "Numerous conflicts against the Federation including Setlik III, led the Fourth Order in hit and run attacks on the Klingons in 71 one of the few Commanders to earn victories against them.
Odegaard then let out a soft chuckle. "Considered to be the political enemy of Gul Dukat and of the few Cardassians that the Dominion truly admire."
Whitlam nodded approvingly of the intelligence officer’s input. “Jerad will be a significant strategic asset for the Dominion if he’s permitted to play a part in this war. Starfleet Command has determined that he must not be allowed to do that.”
He paused and looked around the table before continuing. “That's where we come in. We will be joined by the USS Baltimore and two Klingon birds-of-prey – the Koraga and the Mok’tal. Like us, the Baltimore has a squadron of fighters and a company of special forces marines.” He looked at Windsor. “Your comrades in Bravo Company, Ms Windsor.”
The captain continued, “The two marine companies will be inserted on the ground in Torrakkan, near a lightly defended military compound that Intel assures us is Jerad’s temporary headquarters. Insertion will be by shuttlecraft, with cover being provided by our Ospreys and the Baltimore’s own squadron. While the marines do their work, the rest of us will maintain station in orbit and hold the space. Any questions so far?”
Anders looked at the Captain. "If there is an Insertion Team Sir, I would like to head down there myself with the Marines." The Lieutenant commented. "Allows me to gather up all Intel on Cardassian Forces in this Region and work with Starfleet Tactical."
Gunning kept looking at his PADD and tried not to chuckle. He could already see Windsor's face beginning to screw up at the idea of a fleet officer being on the ground with them.
A latent streak of malice momentarily flared within Whitlam, but it was quickly snuffed out. He could easily have antagonised the marine captain a little further with that one, but decided to err on the side of caution. "That's a decision for Captain Windsor," he said with a nod in her direction.
A lively discussion followed, with each of the senior staff expressing his or her thoughts on the attack and the role they would be playing. Whitlam enjoyed watching his officers discuss the mission; he learned a lot about how they interacted and how their minds worked in that twenty minute briefing. Each of them had a job to do and he was confident that each would do their job.
When the last question was answered, a tense silence descended over the senior staff as they processed the situation and, if they were anything like their captain, pondered their own mortality. Whitlam looked around at his officers, his eyes resting on each face for a brief moment before moving on to the next. These were the faces of the men and women he would be leading into battle. He knew their names, he knew their service records; he only wished he knew them better as individuals. There would be time for that later. If there was a later.
"Very well," he said, breaking the silence. "The task force departs in two hours. I want all departments to submit combat readiness reports to the XO in ninety minutes. Dismissed."
Captain Julius Whitlam
Commanding Officer
Commander Elliot Drake
Executive Officer
Lieutenant Commander Alexander Gunning
Chief of Security
Captain Melody Windsor
Commanding Officer, Delta Company
Lieutenant Anders Odegaard
Chief Intelligence Officer
Lieutenant Kaylee Williams
Chief Engineering Officer
Lieutenant Nicolette De La Croix
Chief Medical Officer
