Marching Orders
Posted on Thu May 14th, 2015 @ 12:26pm by Captain Julius Whitlam & Lieutenant Commander Alexander Gunning
Mission:
Prelude to War
Location: Starfleet Command
Timeline: After 'The Last Ordinary Day'
To describe Starfleet Command as frantic would be an understatement. Staff officers, security personnel, civilians were running hither and thither carrying orders, barking orders and following orders. It was clear to Julius Whitlam that the afternoon's news had had an immediate impact on the people here.
Soon after he left home he was summoned to an immediate meeting with Rear Admiral Sellisa. This was somebody that Julius was unfamiliar with and certainly hadn’t been giving him orders before now. He immediately took it as a sign that he was about to get new orders.
Everything had changed.
He took the lift up to the seventh floor and stepped out into a series of office suites. Even up at this level, the hectic activity hadn’t subsided in the least. Feeling thoroughly out of his comfort zone, he grabbed a passing petty officer and asked directions.
A few moments later, Julius was outside Sellisa’s office and face to face with George Lassiter.
“You got a cheery invite, too, Whit?” the other captain asked as they shook hands. “I think you’re trip back to Lomax is off.”
Whitlam nodded and drew a deep breath. “So it would seem. Any word on what they’re planning?”
Lassiter shook his head, “Not a peep. Sellisa will have a better idea. I’m not wild about the idea of serving under her flag, though. She’s been behind a desk longer than you’ve been wearin’ men’s pants.”
The door to her office opened at that moment and one of her aides gestured for them to enter. Lassiter immediately went in first and Whitlam followed, wondering what to expect.
Rear Admiral Sellisa, unusual in appearance thanks to her thatch of auburn hair, stood at a situation table in the centre of her office wearing the blank expression of a Vulcan officer. "Captain Lassiter, Captain Whitlam. Please come in."
Whitlam knew immediately what was coming. The very fact that he was here with this unknown flag officer who hovered over a situation table like a strategist plotting her next move was an undeniable sign. He tried to read the Vulcan's expression but, like most other Vulcans he'd met in his lifetime, he failed dismally.
She allowed them to enter the room before asking matter-of-factly. "Have you seen the news broadcasts?"
"Has anyone not seen the news?" Lassiter with a sarcastic sneer. "The Romulans have royally screwed us on this. By hiding like this, they stick us and the Klingons out on a very uncomfortable limb."
Whitlam crossed his arms, stroked his chin and nodded, though he wouldn't have been quite so abrasive as his colleague. "Sadly, it looks like the options for peace are getting slimmer and slimmer," he added.
"That is the situation as it stands." Sellisa's face barely changed as she pulled a new display in from the side of the situation table's screen. "The following is privileged information. Need to know only. At present, Deep Space Nine is preparing to lay a minefield in front of the Bajoran Wormhole."
This time Whitlam got in first. "That's a bit ... provocative, isn't it?" he said, his brow furrowed as he processed the information. It was certain to illicit a violent response from the Dominion, who would see it as a legitimate casus belli. He only wished he could see a better way out of this nightmare.
"To hell with provocative!" Lassiter shot back incredulously. He was always more of a hawk when it came to strategic policy. "They're the ones moving fleets to our fucking doorstep, Whit. If you ask me, we should have tried harder to collapse the damn wormhole and be done with it."
"And make a blood enemy of the Bajorans," Whitlam replied. He didn't want to get into an argument with Lassiter at this time, so he quickly turned back to Sellisa. "What does this mean for us, Admiral?"
"The orders of both USS Manoora and USS Baltimore are now changed."
Whitlam nodded; there it was. He knew it was coming, but now that it was here he felt that last little bit of hope drain out of him. With that one sentence, Admiral Sellisa had put an end to his life as an explorer. He would now have to be a warrior. He didn't like it, but he would do it.
Lassiter seemed relieved, eager to get at them. "Just point us at the Dominion, ma'am," he said with a proud smile. "The Baltimore is ready to take the fight up to these bastards."
"For the time being, there is to be no direct movement against the Dominion." Sellisa said, completely ignoring the exuberant overtures of the Baltimore's captain. "With the mining of the wormhole, we anticipate a movement to a war footing from both the Dominion and ourselves. You will rendezvous with your task group and await orders."
"At least we're moving in the right direction," Lassiter said, punctuating it with a backhanded slap to Whitlam's left arm.
Whitlam frowned and looked from Lassiter back to Sellisa. "To where are we being deployed, Admiral?"
"At the moment your orders are to rendezvous with your task group at Starbase 310." She replied cryptically with the same frustrating stoicism that she showed every day of her life. "Your orders will be updated when you arrive."
Starbase 310 was in the Alpha Trianguli system, right along the Cardassian border. It was glaringly apparent to Whitlam that they were being deployed as part of a first strike force. The admiral's information was deliberately vague, but nobody assembles a task force at Alpha Trianguli without planning some strike at a target on the other side of the border.
The captains were each given their official orders, complete with new loadout and departure instructions, and sent on their way with a curt explanation of some briefing in Paris that Sellisa had to rush off to. Their ships were being prepared already and they were to depart for Alpha Trianguli at 2100hrs that night. Lassiter was infuriatingly upbeat about the whole situation and Whitlam did his best to ignore him as he quickly read through the fine print of the orders.
His heart sank as he read the loadout instructions. Science, off the ship. Non-essential personnel including civilians, off the ship. Surplus equipment not relevant to combat operations, off the ship. His mood didn't improve when he read what was to go on to the ship; a company of special forces marines, a squadron of Peregrine-class fighters, supernumerary personnel in medical, engineering, security/tactical and operations, extra torpedoes, extra phaser components. The list went on. His starship was transforming into a warship.
Lassiter thumped a meaty palm on Whitlam's back and laughed. "Cheer up, Whit! We'll trounce these Cardie bastards and their Dominion masters in no time. You'll be back on the final frontier in no time." Satisfied with himself, the captain of the USS Baltimore left his friend standing in the corridor outside the admiral's office and strode off toward the lifts whistling some irritating noise.
Whitlam watched him go, wishing he could feel so happy at such an awful development. Wishing he shared Lassiter's bullish optimism. But he didn't. He couldn't. He sighed and looked down at the PADD resting in his hands. It was terrible, but it was his duty. He had a job to do.
"Let's get to work, then," he muttered to himself and started off toward the lift.
Captain Julius Whitlam
Commanding Officer
USS Manoora
Captain George Lassiter (NPC)
Commanding Officer
USS Baltimore
Rear Admiral Sellisa (NPC)
Starfleet Command
Played by LCDR Gunning
