USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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Marching, Two by Two [Task Force]

Posted on Mon Jun 19th, 2023 @ 10:00am by Lieutenant General Marcus Klans & Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara

Mission: Shakedown Shake-Up
Location: Esquimalt Station
1288 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure

The worst part about any situation, and especially one where there is little direct support you can offer, is waiting. Yoshi was not fond of the waiting game, and infinitely less so fond of the game when he was basically being - politely - told to stay out of the way. He'd been pacing for the better half of an hour when his door chime. He paused, his eyes falling to the door as a took a second to consider things. It was unlikely to be Captain Penner, and even less likely to be anyone acting as a runner for them. Izzy was no doubt busy dealing with the mess that was the diplomatic situation from the Klingons, so that left a host of other people who just wanted to bother him about something bureaucratic. This was, unfortunately, his job. In the split second with which he considered all these things, he heaved a sigh, straightened his tunic, and with the forceful self-import he'd been advised to practice, he called "Come."

The doors hissed open, and not bureaucrat or Starfleet Officer strolled in, but instead the deep blue of a Marine Fighter pilot. Crossing his arms, the Marine offered a half-cocked smile, and a grunt, as Lieutenant General Klans made his way into the office. "You've been Flag for less than a week and they have you in this pretty of an office? Go figure for a dirty Fleety." It was a jest, and one only a long term friend of another Brass member could pull, but it was also one that took a lot of weight off Yoshi's shoulders, if only for a second.

"And yet, here you are looking like you need one less burger from the mess hall. Have you been eating with the ground pounders again, old man?" Yoshi crossed towards the old familial friend, reaching for a handshake, but in the privacy of the office was pulled into a bearhug.

"Don't old man me," Marcus said, releasing the smaller man, and pushing him back to look him over. "Not all of us get to just casually skip three years of aging, you lucky bastard," he added, a mock punch finding purchase on the shoulder. "Look at you, the Brass life suits you. And it helps that we don't have some other Sciences or Operations officer thinking they can make all these departments more efficient! An Engineer, you know things need fixing on the fly, and that you can rely on your gut." The pair made their way to the seating space, and settled into the couches to continue the talk. "But, with that," Marcus continued, "I feel like I should be honest, as much as I'd love to spend time catching up, I have a pile of work first."

Yishi nodded, of course the General wouldn't have moved a Joint Task Force across space just for some hand shakes and catching up. "You bring my station her Marines?" It was a light joke, but one that was a serious question. Such a direct attack was bound to ask questions later, and one that he'd be interested to have answered ahead of time. "Fighters and bombers would be nice too, if you have them to spare."

Now Marcus laughed. "It's like you read my mind, or did Ian call ahead?"

"If you think MacTaryn is calling me up anytime soon, you're daft. We'll play nice once he is forced to - and I don't particularly want to be the one that has to deal with that can of worms. No, we are due for a compliment now that the Marine sections and hangars are ready. I assumed they borrowed you for that task." Klans nodded, and nudged his head towards the window.

"Look at what they did to her," he said, his voice carrying a sense of sadness. Outside the window was a whale of a ship - not quite the length of the Ascension-class that replaced it, but still a shining symbol of what had once been. Clearly written on the side, where a phase bank had once been, was the bold font USS Kittyhawk. Yoshi stood, and crossed the room to look at the ship, and let out a long, slow whistle. She'd been stretched sideways, her Sovereign-inspired upgrades looking sickly compared to the grafted on section of hull. Her nacelles were longer, borrowed from probably an Excalibur-class to keep her running. The Normandy-class carier had seen better days, but it was kind of heart warming to see the old girl still in service. "This is one of her last missions as a transport-carrier. Rumour is after this they are finally selling her off, and some tour provider has plans to make her into a luxury cruiserliner."

"The 'Hawk? The only luxury feature on her was that deck eighteen had those real showers, remember? They were supposed to be used for crew who couldn't handle the sonic showers, but we all would sneak in there for the good bone warming water you could get after a day in the fight. They were the only ones that worked after that torpedo hit us." Yoshi laughed, looking at his first post. The Normandies had been a mess of a ship class, slow, fat, and missing enough weapons to actually take care of anything. But they were reliable, and they kept on going.

"Aye, spending a good pile of credits to get it outfitted with new panoramic windows. I'll book us a tour when she takes to the skies again. But," Marcus said, bringing it back, "Second Lightyear Division is deploying a whole Aerospace Combat Wing here. Eighth Aerospace Combat Wing, and Twelth Battalion from Second Lightyear to match. Four squadrons of fighters, two bomber squadrons, a whole host of transport support and ground crew to match. Ninety-six fighters, twenty-four bombers, and thrity-six albatrosses of various configurations. Four hundred airmen total, and another five hundred marines to match. Quite the little show of force, and with your ships, able to deploy anywhere." He paused, his normally warm face cooled slightly, and the barest signs of a frown showed up. "If I didn't know better, I'd think Starfleet thinks there is a war coming."

Yoshi in this had crossed to his coffee bar, and poured two fresh cups of coffee, and approached to hand the second to his friend. "No war, but there is enough strife going on that there is pause for concern. How are the One-Fifty One doing?" Marcus shrugged, sipping his coffee. "Fair enough, I imagine that's the other reason you're here. We'll be acting as your resupply base."

"Sharp as always Yoshi," Marcus said, placing his cup down on the glass. "Plan is to make sure that the Fleet has a proper base, and with your new intelligence friends, you'll have plenty of support to work with. We'll be feeding off their intel as much as we can, and deploying where we think we can put down issues. But the dissent is growing. I'd blame the Romulans if it wasn't so damn cliche." Yoshi was about to respond when the door chimed and the pair turned to look.

"Come," Yoshi said for the second time in a short time.

The door hissed open, and a Private stepped in. "My apologies sirrr-s, but I was sent to grab the General. We are ready for offloading, and were told not to start until you were there to supervise."

"Want to see your new toys?" Marcus asked, standing, and Yoshi smiled.

"No, I think I will leave it to the expert, but before you leave you will have to come by for dinner. You know my wife won't take no for an answer."


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