SD242006.20 - Joint Duty Log - CO, CIO - "Hi Honey, I'm Home"
The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Location: Starbase Versailles landing bay/CO's Office
I don't measure a man's success by how high he climbs but by how high he bounces when he hits the bottom.
-General George S. Patton-
Orin Thrix made a picture perfect landing in the hanger bay. He followed the instructions of the tower. And put his fighter exactly where it needed to be. As he was climbing out of his one man fighter, a small craft mechanic approached him.
"Sir, did we get a new fighter wing? I don't think that this one belongs to this base." Said the crewman.
"Officially it does not. It will be assigned to Starbase Intelligence. Do you understand?" Asked Orin.
The man looked confused for a second. But said, "Yes Sir, whatever you say."
Orin smiled. "Okay, where is the Base CO's office?" He asked.
The man smiled, and told him. After thanking the crewman Orin was on his way to report in. He had made arrangements to see the CO and security all at once. Orin was lucky that it the CO could see him right after he landed. Orin just wished he would have time to change out of his flight suit. But he still needed to do the essentials of any new assignment. Like report in, have quarters assigned, find his office and staff. and then, he had some private needs. Like quarters assigned to his "Alter Ego". Essentially, he needed time to create a whole new person. Usually, this would be not really an effective strategy to gather effective intelligence. But considering where they were, this would be a good way to gather information. whether it was accurate or not would be another story. BUT, it just might be worth sifting through a pile of manure to find a pearl of intel.
Orin got into the turbo lift. "Ops" he said. Then the lift started to hum and move. Within seconds, he was there. In the nerve center of the station. Orin looked at an Ensign.
"CO's office?" He asked. She pointed across the room to a door. Orin smiled and walked to it. He rang the bell.
The door fell down.
The General jerked his head up as the plate of metal clattered to the ground, sparks showering from the dysfunctional servos in the doorframe.
"Please, come in!" he called out, suppressing a sigh at the state his station was in.
"Do ignore the mess." the General added, gesturing to the batch of thick wires hanging down from a round portal in the wall behind him; a wall which sloped forwards towards them, and curved up at the churned, mangled edges.
The overall effect was that of a flying saucer having crashed behind the General's desk.
"My former office. It landed." he quipped bitterly, standing to greet the new officer. He couldn't remember the man's name, but his Yeoman was fairly on-the ball, quietly stepping forwards to extract the relevant padd from among the many stacks.
The Marine saluted. "Thrix Sir. Major Orin Thrix reporting in as ordered." Thrix looked around at the carnage from what possibly could be debated to be an office. This is the worst he had seen it yet. It wasn't so bad coming here. But looking now??? Oy Vey. "I'm here to take over as your new Chief of Intelligence."
Stepping past his desk, the General saw nothing on his new CIO's face that he hadn't seen countless times over the past few days. Granted, most of those faces had been through rough times recently, and their expressions tended to look more stressed than anything else.
"Welcome to Versailles, Major." the General clipped, folding his hands behind his back. "You've joined us during a rough time, as I'm sure you've noticed. That said, the death count is low, and the power supply is stable, so I'm calling it a win. Some disguised agents from a Romulan black-ops program tried to knock the power offline before the singularity was hurled at us, so it's a testament to the crew' fortitude that we're still standing."
Here, the General paused for thought.
"Though I suppose, with you being a spook, you already know all of this." he stated, the question riding on his tone.
"Yes sir." Said the Major. "I've reviewed the current situation. And the current condition of the station. To be honest, it looks a lot worse then it is." He said. "I have worked out a rough plan and strategy to help combat the situation and to help reduce the risk of future attempts of sabotage on the station. I will need some help from station security. Here is my preliminary report and list of needs for what my plan entails. I trust it won't leave this room?" He asked with high hopes. After all, given the state if the General's office, the Major wouldn't rule out anything.
This earned a wry smile from the CO, as a pair of engineering crewmen huffed and puffed in the background, attempting to lift the door back into place.
Even with the station the way it was, all of the staff with access to main Ops had been vetted up and down before being granted access. Everyone nearby had had "confidentiality" drilled into them repeatedly, so Grey had little worry about that, but it was still amusing to speak of secrecy while clusters of people could be seen chatting just outside the doorway.
Careful to angle the padd so only he could see it, the General's eyes flitted over the insightful comments and bulleted lists, idly wondering how these supplies and manpower would defend against an enemy you couldn't detect.
Then again, the medical staff *had* come up with a way just before the black hole had arrived. Could this Major have already learned about the most confidential materials produced by another department, only moments before the station got knocked off of the grid? The outgoing comms were minimal even now, so he'd have had to access that data in the moments after arriving. Surely he couldn't have...
Except he could, couldn't he? Intel. Right.
"This seems in order." declared the General, interrupting his own train of thought. "I can't say that we have all of these materials available right now, but we can put you on the list. Some of it I'll have ferried to your offices, and some we'll have to find as we go along."
"Thank you Sir." Said the Major. "But time is crucial. I would like to get this going before to many people know I'm here." Orin then looked at the other officer. "I take it, your the acting Security Chief?" He asked.
"Aye laddie, much to me chagrin. Lt Macleod." said the Scottish Lieutenant, extending a deep brown hand to the newcomer. "They asked for volunteers, and I dinnae duck fast enough." he joked, an amiable smile floating over his deeply-wrinkled complexion.
"I'm sure" Said the Major. "I will need your department to create someone for me. it will be my alter ego. I will provide you the names. What documentation you will need to produce. and an appropriate back story. Basically make it as authentic as you can get it. It needs to stand up to scrutiny. which is to say, you will find exactly what we plant if ANYONE should go looking. And trust me, they will."
Looking to the General for a nod, and receiving one, the Lieutenant faced the Major with a more measured expression. "Don't you worry boyo. We'll get you set up good 'n' proper. I've been laminatin' me own ID cards since I were a wee bairn. Still," he added, a flash of doubt in his eyes, "t' best documents in t' wurld won't change yer face, lest ye cut eyeholes in it. My boys're good, but they're nae surgeons."
"Well, lets hope it doesn't come to that, shall we?" He asked. "Now, I will need one more thing General. But first, may I consider myself checked in?" He asked.
Raising the CIO's padd once again, the General pushed a button to confirm receipt.
"There you are. Checked in. What else do you need?"
"I'm glad you asked Sir. 2 sets of quarters. One for me. One for my alter ego. And room to park not only my fighter. But also a small freighter I have coming. It's for my alter ego. I need paperwork for a company called Galactic Overhaul to appear to pay the bill Sir." He said without missing a beat.
"Your real quarters won't be a problem. A second set though, hmm...heh. As luck would have it," replied the General, his dry tone implying the wrong kind of luck, "an entire section of the outer ring had their artificial gravity fail two days ago. The issue was resolved, but a lot of folks won't go back, especially in quarters where the on-off gravity made their ceilings fall in. Here, I have pictures."
At this, a padd was chosen from among the many, and (after a flurry of taps and beeps) a set of images were drawn up.
"We've had a lot of interest in these exciting new multi-storey quarters, especially from underprivileged families and thrifty companies, which is good because nobody will bat an eye if you look suitably pathetic when you move in. The downside is that you'll have to shift that mess yourself." he added, gesturing to the tangled mess of beams and plating in the center of the pictured room.
A beat later, the general remembered the other things his CIO had asked for.
"Your fighter will be fine. The paperwork, fine." the General rattled off, Lt Macleod nodding along with this. "Your freighter can dock at the station, but we don't exactly have enough space to store a ship inside any of the bays. The few bays we've been able to maintain are being used for key supplies."
Thrix smiled. "No problem. Thank you. The freighter will not be here a lot of the time anyways. I intend to have a small crew. All my people. As for the quarters, again no problem." Orin had a twinkle in his eye that usually meant mischief. he smiled. "That's all I have sir. Permission to start work?" He said with a salute.
"Granted. Dismissed." announced the General, aware that his aide was busy collecting yet more padds from a crewman at the door. As if he didn't have enough paperwork already.
=^= End of Log =^=
Brigadier General Jonathan Grey
Major Orin Thrix
Chief Intelligence Officer