SD241903.14 - Joint Duty Log - CO & XO - "Chain of Command"

Posted on Thu Mar 14th, 2019 @ 3:35pm by Brigadier General Jonathan Grey & Commodore Amanda Bleetman MD & Lieutenant Commander Sarah Jordan

1,736 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Location: Versailles
Timeline: Current

=^= Promenade =^=

"Sir, I can't recommend this at all."

"I know."

"It's exposed, there's concealment all over the place, and the thick crowds could include any number of enemies."

"I know, Sergeant."

"Still going for a stroll, sir?"

"Yes. We have to show the flag. If I hide in my office, they've won."

"But still..."

"You have your orders."

"Yes sir." replied Sergeant Banes, his lips thinning to a fine line. His eyes had never stopped probing the crowd around them for suspicious behaviour, though it didn't help that everyone was acting abnormally. A combination of Klingon interrogators roaming the station, and this group of rifle-toting marines, were conspiring to make everyone skittish.

Still, at least the visible weapons were serving to make the crowd seperate ahead of them. Like an eye on the crowd, the ring of four marines moved forward against the current of people without touching any of them. The pupil was the General, who tried to exude a sense of calm, while still checking the sight-lines.

For over a week, the assassination attempts on his life had been near-continuous. None of the attackers had been Romulan Mimic agents, but it was probably only a matter of time.

After all, he mused, everyone else had tried to kill him. It was only fair the Romulans had their shot; pun intended.

A familiar face in the crowd ahead broke the General's train of thought. He blinked, realizing who it was, and he raised a hand in friendly greeting as they moved closer.

Amanda had been out doing a check of the Promenade. She liked to be able to get out and about on the station, rather than always being cooped up in her office. As was her usual, she carried a phaser on her hip. With the recent attempts on the Generals life, one could never be to careful. She looked up at the parting of the crowds and smiled. The General had decided to take a stroll. While not the best idea given the current circumstances, she understood why it had to be done. She waved back at the General and started to walk over.

Noting the incoming officer, Sergeant Banes signalled to his men, and the diamond-layout of four marines opened up to permit the Captain access to the General.

Only a handful of people onboard the station would evoke such a response from the protection detail that guarded the CO day and night; an automatic exposure of their client. A coveted privilage, especially by the lesser officers who tried to get overly friendly as a means of securing promotion, only to find themselves face down on the ground, their arms twisted behind their backs.

"Captain," greeted the General, "I'm glad to see you're well."

This, of course, carried an unspoken rider. Between the near-constant assassination attempts on the General's life, the existance of Romulan Mimic Agents aboard the station, and the Klingon teams roaming about, there were more than enough ways to die here today.

As if drawn to his thoughts, a small package spun out of the crowd like a fat frisbee. It zoomed past the nearest marine, cruised over the General's head, and made it halfway to the ceiling before detonating, sending a wave of white-hot shrapnel over the general and the two men nearby.

The explosion slammed the General to the ground, shredding the arm raised to protect his head. Flecks of blood and skin were sent flying in every direction, though most were concerned more about the bits of metal. Several members of the packed-out crowd fell to the ground shrieking, gripping an arm, a leg, or a part of their torso. One poor soul even seemed to be holding a hand to her eye, blood gushing out through her fingers.

Amanda had been fortunate. She'd been far enough away from the blast to not suffer any major damage. She still had a whole array of injuries, which she didn't even want to start to think about. She struggled to her feet and looked around, surveying the chaos that had just begun. She reached to tap her commbadge, but was unable to find it. It had knocked off in her fall. She moved as quickly as she could to one of the many comm panels near her. "Commander Bleetman to Operations..." She paused to let a coughing fit rack her body. "Major explosion on the promenade, suspected IED with suspect still at large." She started to cough again. She was also having a hard time with her breathing, but she pushed on. "Medical and Security teams needed on the double. Details to follow." She shut off the panel, hoping that someone had heard her message.

She looked around to see the full scene. There was bodies and debris everywhere. Civilians and Starfleet. She had to check on the General to. She started to move towards the bodies of the Marine team that had been protecting the General. She checked them over as she went. One dead, two unconscious with severe injuries, one minor injuries also unconscious...where was the fifth man of the team...and where was the General. She continued looking for them.

In all the chaos, a cluster of enrobed civilians had gone unnoticed among the crowd. However, the explosion had set people fleeing for their lives, screaming and trampling their fellow sapiants to gain a measure of distance and safety. Their cover gone, the robed men and women threw off their shrouds and raised home-brewed weaponry to bear on the incapacitated team.

With a roar of high-pitched noise, pulses of green energy sprayed out from the cluster of enemies; striking target and crowd alike. Shots bounced off of the marine armour worn by the fallen men, but the civilians dropping like flies made it clear what happened to unarmoured targets.

Amanda had fortunately been wearing her armour when the attack began. It had become standard issue for most Starfleet personnel on the station and most wore it at all times when they weren't in a secured location. She moved over to one of the fallen marines and picked up their weapon, setting it to it's highest setting, and taking careful aim at the attackers. She fired carefully, taking care not to hit any of the scared civillians. She took down one of the targets before they even got a chance to notice.

Not that they would. By this point the rapid-response unit had arrived; four very large marines, wearing far thicker armour, and wielding larger rifles. They clumped onto the scene with all the subtlety of a herd of angry elephants, and stole much of Amanda's hard-earned thunder. Four heavy rifles, each the thickness of a man's arm, unleashed a withering volley of red pulse-fire as their owners charged into the fray; green energy pinging off of their armor plating.

A swamp of blue swarmed the area as the Medical staff had arrived amongst the chaos, without warning they crowded the area and attended to the most critical of patients amongst the gunfire. There were shouting and orders made amongst them as they tried to recover them to a more suitable, less bullet filled environment. Many had suffered the same injuries, shrapnel wounds, explosive amputations and due to the heat of the explosion there was pieces of bulkhead and armour melted into the skin of bodies.

One of the Medical Tech's contacted the Medical Centre, "Anissa to Sick Bay, we have a mass casualty incident. Explosive device, shrapnel injuries, burns and amputations. Aprox 20 patients inbound" said the nurse, met with a monotone and unbothered tone at the end of the coms. "Received, prepping now.".

The nurse began ordering around the other nurses and doctors to triage and get them to Medical Centre if they had a pulse. She shouted at the Marines near by for assistance and cover, but she was unsure if she was heard due to the fiasco underway.

Whether they had or not, the battle was soon resolved in either case. Once the marine heavies had reached the group of enemy combatants, the sole surviving attacker surrendered, surrounded as she was by the cooling corpses of her friends.

As the survivor's gun clattered to the floor, the sounds of the aftermath could be heard more clearly. Keening wails of the suffering were the loudest noises, with the sobbing of the grieving, and the chatter of the medics, competing for second place. More than one civilian had to be forcefully pushed away from the surviving attacker, aware that more than a few people wanted the woman dead right now.

Binding her arms with restraints, the marines attempted to have her beamed to the brig, only to find some manner of isotope was blocking transporter beams in the area (likely the attackers' doing). While normally capable of overpowering such a primitive technique with more power, the station was currently overtaxed, and resisted the request for a beam-out.

Frustrated, the heavy marines passed the survivor to a Security team that had just arrived at a run, and turned their attention to their fallen comrades.

In the cluster of fallen marine bodyguards, a combination of powerful stimulants and painkillers had roused the fallen to their feet. Shaking with adrenaline, they clustered around the medical staff working on the General, as well as their fallen comrade. One of the medics, a nurse with black hair, performed CPR on the marine whose heart had stopped, pausing only to add another chemical to the cocktail flooding the man's system.

One, two, three, four, five, si-

A loud gasp interrupted the nurse's count as the marine's heart began to beat, and the man's eyes slammed open. Coughing his heart into his hands (metaphorically), the Sergeant rolled over and struggled to his feet, ignoring the stammered objections of the nurse.

Swaying, the Sergeant opened his mouth to bark orders at the men, only for a hand to fall on his shoulder.

"Medical." said the General, brooking no argument (even from *his* nurse, who was also protesting).

Tired, the Sergeant only nodded in response. Leaving the medical staff to tend to the crowd, the General, his battered four-marine escort, and the four additional marine heavies, marched off towards the turbolift.

The hospital was about to get crowded.

=^= End of Log =^=

Brigadier General Jonathan Grey
Commanding Officer
Starbase Versailles

&&

Captain Amanda Bleetman
Executive Officer
Starbase Versailles

&&

Anissa (NPC Sarah)
Senior Nurse
Starbase Versailles

 

RSS Feed