Obsidian Command

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Pips and Stars

Posted on 16 Aug 2022 @ 11:42am by Admiral Zavareh Sepandiyar & Commander Thaddeus Zayne

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Obsidian Command - CIC
Timeline: MD05 - 0756HRS
1510 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure

”I don’t want any surprises,” Commander Thaddeus Zayne declared to the gathered group of officers at Obsidian Command’s central command and control table. The holo-table, top of the line technology for the station, was the central hub for all the goings on for the station and where Thaddeus had convened the remaining senior officers that hadn’t left with Captain DeHavilland aboard the Pathfinder. The Captain had declared Yellow Alert before her departure and he’d now read in all the remaining senior officers on why. But he wasn’t to be the one in command of the station in Captain DeHavilland’s absence; that was to be the Admiral, he just wanted everything in order and his people doing their jobs before the man got here. The last thing the Admiral needed to see was disarray.

“I’ll let you all get to it then,” he finished off with a steely nod. “Anything looks remotely off, you bring it straight to me. Understand?” He asked, to collective nods of agreement. “Ok. Dismissed,” he said, sending them all off to their stations to continue on.

Thad heaved a sigh and leaned onto the table, watching the holographic form of Obsidian Command rotating slowly around Obsidian III while the multitude of smaller craft moved to and fro. He was lost to his own thoughts and hardly considering what was on the screen. That was until he saw the rather hulking form of the USS Alexander moving away from the station. He reached out and touched the holo and a small information box appeared followed by a green path showing a long, elliptical orbit of the system indicating their logged patrol path. Zayne stood up a little straighter, if the Alexander was going on patrol, then that meant that.

“ADMIRAL ON DECK!” An officer boomed from somewhere near the access lift.

Zayne snapped to, as did the rest of the remaining personnel nearby that he could see, so he was at least glad for that. The last thing they needed on top of everything else was to present to the Admiral with anything less than their best. He might not have been the XO for years, but he had been on top of all the staff from day one. Fleet Command stations didn’t have room for slackers.

It was a few moments before finally there were footsteps behind him and a figure appeared in his peripheral vision, but not the one he expected. It was a man in a Marine utility uniform who walked with a pronounced limp as he proceeded past, looking about at the men and women at attention before turning back to Thad with a slight smirk on his lips as Thad eyes betrayed recognition.

A quintet of more heavily armed Marine’s fanned out from the area and formed a sort of perimeter guard as the familiar face he’d been waiting for emerged from his right and approached the table.

“As you were,” Admiral Sepandiyar declared loudly enough that those nearby could hear and be free. “I have the conn” he nodded to the man.

“Aye, Admiral. You have the conn,” Thad repeated loudly, taking a more relaxed pose.

“What is our status?” Sepandiyar asked.

“We stand at yellow alert, sir. Fighter screens have been deployed as well as our compliment of support vessels. All nearby ships have been alerted to our need and several are inbound as we speak. On station, I’ve posted security details in all sensitive areas, supplemented by the Marine staff on board,” he continued, gesturing to the Marine. “Major Finn left Master Sergeant Vey in charge. He’s with Command Chief HaiRoa and Lieutenant Commander Rochambeau seeing to the security details.”

“Colonel Rutland?” The Marine asked, his thick Lancashire accent evident even those two simply words.

Thad redirected to him, “He’s on the surface, General,” he answered. Immediately he recalled the last time he’d met the Lieutenant General during his time on Camp Falkirk. He had thought MacTaryn right a tight ship and kowtowed to no one, but Kinghorn had run roughshod over them all, MacTaryn included, to get his way. He made it clear why he was the Lieutenant General but not by swinging his rank around blindly, by leading the way himself. Like MacTaryn, he wasn’t the sort to sit in an office somewhere and push buttons on a holo panel, he was on the ground sighting the weapons himself.

Lieutenant General Ambrose Kinghorn was the most senior Marine officer for this entire sector of space, meaning the Marines he commanded through MacTaryn on Falkirk were only a small fraction of those under his command. That told Thad two things. First, that he didn’t know nearly as much as he thought he did about what was going on here and two, that it was way worse than he had thought.

“Are they at yellow alert as well?” Kinghorn asked.

Thad stared back quietly. He wasn’t used to uttering the words: I don’t know. But in this instance, that was all he had. The marines weren’t his purview and other than the ones on board, he hadn’t bothered.

“I don’t know, sir,” Zayne replied tightly.

Kinghorn harrumphed and turned about and pointed, “You. You’re a comms officer? Bloody yes or no!? Yes. Alright. Get on your terminal and get me Colonel Rutland on the surface…” he trailed off, his voice booming across the deck.

“Commander. Any word from Captain DeHavilland?” Sepandiyar asked in a much calmer and quieter voice than Kinghorn’s.

“Not specifically from the Captain, sir. Just the regulation status reports from their automated beacon,” he answered. “Should I request a situation report?”

“No,” he answered, “I trust Captain DeHavilland to report when she has something to report.”

“We have heard from Captain Callum. A steady string of shipyard requests for when they return but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Let us hope that no news is good news,” Zavareh sighed, tapping the edge of the table.

“I have secured quarters for you,” Thad continued, now offering a data PaDD that he’d set off to the side of everything, reserved for the Admiral only. “I was unaware of the Lieutenant General being here, but I believe the VIP quarters across the corridor from you are available. I’ll get a Yeoman on it now.”

“I’ll bunk with my Marines,” Kinghorn cut in loudly. “Besides. Better we’re not in the same place, if something does happen,” he added as he returned to the table.

It was a bit of a morbid take on it, but Thad let it roll off, “Alright. Let me know if there’s anything you or your Marines need. I’ll make sure you get it asap.”

“Cerastes stands at Yellow Alert,” Kinghorn clarified after looking back over his shoulder to hear the commentary from the Comm officer. He gestured at the table flippantly, “Any hope you have some tactical scenarios to show us, Thaddeus?” Kinghorn asked scornfully, almost as if he hoped he didn’t so he could chew his ass about it. Or more likely comment to Sepandiyar how unprepared these ‘Fleeties’ were.

Zayne didn’t reply, just tapped the controls on the table and brought up the five most likeliest scenarios that they’d come up with, along with a myriad of other less likely (and far more wild) scenarios.

“My team’s have come up with these five likely scenarios based on our prior experience with the Pyrryx, on the information provided by the wreckage we have in the shuttle bay and cross-referenced with the information provided by the Jad’Lor currently seeking asylum on Earth,” he explained, smirking internally at the last bit.

“How the hell did you get access to the Jad’Lor?” Kinghorn asked, leaning forward onto the table to glare at him.

Thad stared coldly back, enjoying this moment over the Lieutenant General. They’d both been at Camp Falkirk when they’d discovered the Jad’Lor refugees who were fleeing the oppression of the Pyrryx. MacTaryn had managed to convince them to come to Sol seeking asylum and they were still there trying to convince the Federation to get involved. Whether or not that was working, it was at least providing a steady stream of intelligence. That was, if you knew how to access it.

“That’s classified, sir,” Zayne answered finally, glancing briefly at the Admiral who didn’t register a response at all. “But it’s been a treasure trove of details,” he explained, activating the first scenario to start. “This is the scenario we’ve deemed most likely,” he declared, “If you agree, we’ll make the finite preparations to defend the station based on this,” he said, glancing to the both of them; the pensive Admiral and the brooding Lieutenant General. Satisfied he had their attention, he activated the simulation and watched it play once more.


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