A Gathering Storm
Posted on Fri Jun 7th, 2019 @ 9:55pm by Captain Winfield Hood & Brigadier General Francis 'Judge' Sobel
Edited on on Fri Jun 7th, 2019 @ 10:00pm
831 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
The Drumhead (Empok Nor Premier)
Location: The Cluster - Empok Nor
Timeline: MD010 0530 hrs
Frank glared at the war table, really not liking what he saw.
And it just wasn’t the vegetable plate and fish, though that was a part of it. His wife had, somehow, suborned his staff and that was what ended up in front of him.
He’d rather eat field rations.
Sighing, he moved his eyes away from what might be carrots and snap peas to the flat war table displaying the force deployments he’d had to make over the past two weeks, since the inordinately strange Fleet Lieutenant had stepped from the Cardassian pod.
In those weeks, he’d had to deploy fully half of his ready marines and pull an additional 200 marines from various star ships which were now deployed to Cardassia Prime in supposed ‘disaster relief’ deployment.
Which meant he’d had to hang 200 of his troops out there without the benefit of heavy artillery, armored vehicle, or battle suited troops. That really had him broiled, but he’d been left without an avenue to complain when the Commandant had called him.
MAG (marine air group) 421 was flying constant reconnaissance missions and he’d orders a ghost flight to patrol very near to Cardassia prime incase the marines there needed cover.
He didn’t give much of a damn what the Commandant thought about that.
His pilots were going to be worn thin. They were now putting three times the recommended on the airframes and pilots and they could only do that a couple of more days before he’d be forced to set them down. Both airframes and pilots would need it.
Half of the 733 Regimental Landing group had been deployed as emergency response forces WITH proper heavy weapon and cavalry support to various planets of the Cardassian government, just in case.
That left his Brigade, over all stretched thin. Some of the deployments were based on intel. All on Cardassian request and it all made him…edgy. He didn’t like what he saw as his force being drawn out hither and yon, depleting it’s ability to do any one thing well.
Granted, the force that could be brought against most places wouldn’t be that large, but there was always that possibility that they could bring enough to bear to wipe out any one of the forces thusly detached and it worried him.
Picking up a carrot, he chewed absently and rotated the display, looking at things. It really didn’t change anything and he wasn’t getting much done staring at it like this. But.
Well.
He thought he needed to do it. Surely there might be something for him to see in the tactical situation that might help him make a better decision when the balloon went up.
Ir’dama was working at a console nearby and the rest of his staff were equally busy. He knew S2 was doing their best, but the lack of intel was not helping.
And then there was the fish he’s been served. It wasn’t that he didn’t like fish. He just didn’t like replicated fish. It always tasted like mud to him.
Looking up from the plate of offending seafood, he admitted that he didn’t like the feeling that he was being played. They just didn’t have enough information and that was the most worrisome of all. Looking around the Cluster as his c&c section was affectionately called and he just knew there was a storm coming.
And he felt fresh out of rain gear.
Captain Hood could see the writing on the wall, he knew that this station was not long for this world not with what was on the horizon. While en route to his destination he stopped by The White Stag and purchased the finest bottle of scotch. He made his way to the Cluster and found General Sobel up early probably for the same reason Hood was. "Judge I know it is early, but this bottle needs to be drank. Court is now in session it's time to make them all rise." Hood held out the bottle they had work to do.
Frank took a long look at Winfield, then gestured for the Captain to follow him and they went into the General's office. Digging around in a drawer, he pulled out a brace of replica Kraft Cheese glasses and took the proffered bottle from Hood. Pulling the cork, he tossed it over his shoulder and poured a few fingers worth into each glass. Taking one, he offered the other to the Captain and said, "Well, if the feces is about to hit the flywheel, I suppose there's no reason we shouldn't."
A Joint Post By
Brigadier General Francis Sobel
Commanding Officer, 258th Starfleet Marine Expeditionary Brigade
Empok Nor
Captain Winfield Hood
Commanding Officer, Empok Nor
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