Fan Fiction /Labor Day 2010/Countdown
Three minute before the "GO" command
Enarrain Galan ir-Sath'har tr'Cretak sat in the command chair of the Maquis Romulan Vessel Rhai'hlanelh. She was a Federation Defiant class vessel, fast and maneuverable, the Flagship of the Maquis Romulan Legions. Galen looked over the status reports for the thousandth time. All was in order. In three minutes the “initiate” command would come across the comm. and, over a dozen starships and nearly three hundred Starfighters of the Maquis would once again strike at Cardassian and Breen enemies. Galen looked through the view screen at the beautiful green marble below him. Right now he thought, SEALS Teams where fighting for control of the machines that generated the energy for the planetary shields that protected the monsters that had come to pillage this peaceful place. He checked the status reports for the thousandth and first time.
Commodore Alan Tetsuhara stood a few feet behind the technician in the Comm center at Headquarters, Special Operations Command. His expression difficult to read, inside he fought at the terror in his gut. Had he and his people found everything to find on Havaris? Did they miss anything? His only fear in life was that he or his Operators might miss some minute detail that would cost lives. “Spooks” had a long and terrible reputation for being uncaring of the “regulars”. This could not be farther from the truth. His people spent many a sleepless night crawling through mud and worse to ensure the safety of the Maquis.
Brigadier General Rigel McBain stood on the main holodeck of the MFS Impetuous. He had spent many hours here reviewing intelligence reports and looking over holo maps of Havaris. He had awakened from a nightmare a few hours before, a nightmare where he had missed some detail of his planning and men and women died needlessly. He had decided to take yet another look at the information at hand. He had started out a few years ago as a Platoon sergeant, given the high honor of commanding Marines in Combat. As fate would have it, that didn’t last as long as he would have wanted. Through a twist of events he had found himself in the middle of one of the biggest Cardassian pushes of the Dominion war. Miraculously he and his men survived and actually drove the Cardies back far enough for the Maquis to maintain a hold on the world. He had a certain knack for strategy, an innate ability to get inside the head of the enemy and know what he was thinking before the enemy knew he was thinking it. Ironically McBain had nearly failed his Strategy and Tactics course in the Maquis Officer Candidate School. The Instructor, a pompous Major with a slight build who had never fired a shot in anger, would berate McBain in front of the class for his unorthodox and un-traditional tactics.
It just happened that his unorthodox and un-traditional tactics landed him more than one accelerated promotion and, no small number of commendations since his graduation from the Academy. Suddenly he jumped as if shot. That's it! that faint energy reading from the reports almost unnoticed. Dear God, why didn’t I see this sooner? This is what I would do. He tapped his commbadge, “Comm. Officer, Patch me through to the fleet.”
As the final minutes ticked away Enarrain Galan Cretak checked the status reports for about the ten thousandth time. The Comm Officer turned to him and said, “Sir, a message over the fleet channel”. “Put it on” Galen ordered. An audio chime chirped from the speakers and a commanding voice came over the channel. “All commands, this is McBain. Pull your men and equipment from the transporters. Do not, repeat do not transport troops and equipment until further notice. Use shuttles and runabouts to ferry them down. McBain out.” Galen turned and made a final check with his Tactical Officer. “Mr. Wilson, status?”. The tall human replied, “All torpedo tubes loaded, all phaser banks charged and ready, shields at one hundred percent sir”. Five seconds, the light signifying the “Engage” command lit on his display. He turned to the Comm officer, “Comm, open the fleet channel”. The Ensign replied “Channel open sir”. He paused to take a breath. “All commands, this is Gold One. Execute!”. He pointed a finger at the Helm and the young Lieutenant pressed a few keys initiating the preprogrammed maneuvers the ship would use to “dance” it’s way through the enemy fleet.
Chief Petty Officer Kim Whalley wiggled her fingers and toes to fight off the cold and stiffness brought on by over eleven hours in the cockpit. Her Squadron, VSA-67 had floated as if dead in space under cloak, over Havaris’s equator for the last 30 minutes. The chronometer on her display panel showed ninety seconds to “go” time. She looked out of the port side of her canopy to the “empty” spot in space where she knew her wingman’s bomb laden Gryphon Starfighter was. VSA-67 had left the Badlands under cloak almost twelve hours earlier on a course adjacent to the fleet. Now a member of the 3rd Special Operations Aerospace Regiment, she had resigned her position with Starfleet shortly after the Dominion war. Her Squadron had been relegated to “make work” patrols and reconnaissance missions far from any action. She’d become “addicted” to the thrill of combat flying against the Cardies and Jem Hadar during the war. Now she was getting the action she so craved, even if it was “just a bomb run” and not a furrball with Jem Hadar starfighters. This beat the hell out of the deathly boring “patrols” her Feddie unit ran. Another look at her displays, everything green. The chrono slipped through the final ten seconds then her CO’s voice came over the channel. “Go time kids, hit ‘em hard, hit ‘em fast”. She twisted the control yoke and slammed the throttles to the one half impulse setting and made the four second burn to her target.
Maybe this helps paint a better picture in your minds as we prepare to launch the third MFI Labor Day Offensive. We’ve tried to go bigger and better each year and I think we’ve gone above our goals this time. I am truly honored and very proud to have all of you play this scenario out with me.
As we begin Operation: Masakari, members of several SEALS Teams, Marine Recon Detchmants and, no small number of other Special Operators have paved the way to lower the planetary shields of Havaris so the starfighter pilots can bomb the ground targets before the land forces go in.
Some more details I should have gotten out earlier;
Havaris is a world a little smaller than Earth with a tropical climate. Much of the planet is covered with trees (think Endor from Star Wars: the Return of the Jedi). It’s warm and this is the rainy season, so there will be a lot of mud to slog through.
I hope this covers everything.
Good hunting,
Marc
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