Hard Choices

Posted on Sun Jul 17th, 2016 @ 4:10am by Admiral Percy Fitzwallace & General Domingo Chavez & Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev & Admiral John Mackintosh

Mission: Zero Week
Location: Federation Council Briefing Room/Palais De Concorde
Timeline: Mission Day 0, 0600

ON:

Admiral Percival 'Percy' Fitzwallace walked through the courtyard of the Palais de Concorde on the unseasonably cold day. As he reached the door, a Marine in full dress blues held the door open and snapped off a sharp salute. Returning the salute, Percy entered the building and hung a right turn, heading down the extremely long hallway, his steps echoing on the marble floors. Reaching the end of the hallway, he walked into the elevator and pressed his hand to the sensor. In a split second, the elevator shot downward deep underground towards a facility that was used to make decisions that were virtually unknown to even the highest levels of the Federation except the President himself. The elevator slid to a stop and the doors slid open to reveal a massive room that was occupied by four people: Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev- Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral John Mackintosh- Chief of Starfleet Intelligence, General Domingo 'Ding' Chavez- Commandant of the Starfleet Marine Corps, and the President of the Federation- Kellessar zh'Tarash. Each person in the room was seated around a massive triangular table and were having a heated argument. As soon as the doors closed, the room was overcome by an eerie silence and every eye was trained on him. Walking over to an empty seat, Percy quietly sat down and placed his briefcase on the deck.

After what seemed like an eternity, Percy spoke up. "Well judging by your silence and your penetrating stares, I'd say that you missed me." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He was no friend of any man in this room, they were all backstabbing snakes, the whole lot of them and he was simply a rat there for the feeding.

Domingo spoke up. "Look, Fitz, the reason we brought you here is that our units in the Jathlin Arm have advised us that Borg activity has increased and they are slowly making their way towards the Solaria Gateway."

Percy raised his hand to stop the man and turned his attention to Admiral Mackintosh, who was at the other end of the table. “I read the report that your office put out this morning, John and it stated 'The Borg are currently remaining within established boundaries and pose a minimal threat to Starfleet assets in the area, provided no incursion is attempted'. So which is it? Are you people sitting here blowing smoke up my ass or are your Intel units just incompetent?" he asked, venom entering his voice.

"If anyone is here is an expert in blowing smoke, Percy, you needn't look so far as to my direction...nor anyone else's for that matter" replied Admiral Jonathan Mackintosh. "Our intelligence is sound...my report is accurate, and your criticism is unwarranted" added the man, his pale white skin and glaciated gray eyes unyieldingly looking at Percy. "The Borg are remaining within established boundaries, but we do not know what goes on much beyond them" he explained


Alynna had been through these types of meetings before. 24th century as it were, there was still a sense of the 'gentlemen's club' when it came to the top brass in Starfleet. Sure, nobody was outwardly sexist and women had every damn right to serve in the positions of authority that they so rightfully earned. Nobody questioned that. Yet when you gathered a bunch of strong willed men in a room, it always turned to a silent pissing match. "Gentlemen, Please. Let's move things along and quit the formalities" said Fleet Admiral Nechayev interlocking her fingers and she rested her arms on the table top.

She looked around the room. "None of us got where we are today with taking things slowly" she added with a heavy sigh. "If we are going to discuss the Borg, then let's discuss the Borg. What are the latest reports stating and what is our present threat level in the Quadrant?" she asked as she awaited one of them to give her what she asked.

Domingo was the first to respond. "Sensor nets indicate that there have been fifteen small Borg incursions via transwarp gateways near Demeter, Tilamar, and the Solaria Nebula. Currently, there have been no land engagements and they've allowed us to scan their ships and conduct visual recon. However, one Marine Recon team aboard the USS Wollongong went aboard one and they suffered heavy casualties with six killed and four assimilated. They managed to get back to Starbase 900 and Rear Admiral Macedo transmitted this information to both myself and Admiral Mackintosh immediately."

"And we took the necessary counter actions and took additional precautions for a repeat offense" replied Mackintosh. "The Wollongong was an unfortunate casualty, but we have the best of the best out there."

Fitz laughed. "It seems like your best isn't enough, Mack. We need more ships out there with actual tactical capabilities because the ones we have aren't cutting it. We've got two Prometheus Classes, one Intrepid Class, two Sovereigns, and a Nova Class. Nothing short of the full might of the Fourth Fleet is going to push them back and keep them back, not that ragtag force that's spread too thin for its own good. "

Macintosh glared at Fitz. "What do you want out there, Fitz? What do you expect us to do? I'd order a task force full of Ronin class starships if that were a possibility, but you know how that will go" said Mackintosh shaking his head. "We'll be met with the Caplinger Maneuver if we even try to push a Ronin class out there."

Admiral Nechayev cut in. "If it takes some Ronin classes to get the job done, then I will do my best to get them out there" she said firmly.

Fitzwallace sighed for a moment. "Fleet Admiral, it's my belief based upon the data presented that it's the only way. Let me know what needs to be done and I'll do it. The Borg are a clear and present danger to the Federation and its assets in the Delta Quadrant and it will require a maximum tactical response. Leave Caplinger to me." he said in a steely tone. "Next would be the question of the ship's Captain." Turning to his desk, Fitzwallace opened the Starfleet Bureau of Personnel database. "Computer, initiate a search of qualified command officers, grade O-5 and above."

The computer beeped its affirmative and opened a list of over 750 officers that scrolled across the massive screen.

Fitz decided to break down the list. "Sort list by number of combat engagements completed in the Delta Quadrant." The computer beeped again and over 600 names disappeared from the list instantaneously. One name flipped to the top of the list. Tapping the small screen on his desktop, the face and personnel file of a Marine appeared on the list.

General Chavez chuckled slightly as this particular face stared out at the assembled party. Fitz turned to him, a slightly confused look on his face.

"Is something funny, General?" Fitzwallace asked.

Chavez controlled himself. "I remember this one. His name's Highsmith, a damn good engineer if not a little too 'by the book'. I trained him when he went through Officer Candidate School and I recommended him for his spot as Company Commander at the Academy back when I was a one star. He's gone through a lot in the Delta Quadrant and they pulled him back after an incident involving some fighters and a substantial loss of life-" Domingo stopped as he scrolled through the personnel record. "-the Mishap Investigations Board cleared him of any wrongdoing, apparently they blamed it on an improperly installed Warp Core." Continuing to scroll through his records, Domingo looked up at the rest of the officers assembled. "He's my guy for the job. He's not a career combat Marine so he knows to use his mouth instead of torpedoes when the need requires it."

Fitz interrupted him. "Are you nuts? We gave this man a ship once and he blew a hole in it, why should we give him another ship to take out?" he asked, practically foaming at the mouth.

Domingo looked up calmly. "Because, Fitz. We need a maximum tactical response and this man is the one to provide it. Also, Picard has twice as many ships as this one and taken each of them out. "


Mackintosh interjected with a deep clearing of his throat. "Before we do anything further...we need the right personnel for essential positions. If you are going to give Highsmith a command, then I will be sending one of my own to serve aboard under Highsmith and keep a close eye on him. We need someone who understands command, understands the security and tactical alertness needed for operating in the area, and someone who can keep up on the intelligence reports" he added strongly. "I know the perfect officer. A Lieutenant Commander with years of experience who will give Highsmith's 'by the book' philosophy a run."

There was a smattering of assorted chuckles throughout the room from other flag officers assembled. Fitz initially raised his hand to deliver a sharp retort and then lowered it. He had gotten what he needed for now, with very few concessions. "Our only issue now is Caplinger- “Tapping his console for a moment, Fitz stopped and had a moment of clarity. "Computer, open specifications for the Kelvin Class Refit. Authorization Fitzwallace-Delta-Six-Zero-Omega."

The computer beeped its affirmative and pulled up a miniature hologram of the Kelvin Class. It was larger than the Ronin and it was practically armed to the teeth. It was slightly older than the Ronin but it would suffice. Fitz smiled his signature half smile and closed the hologram. Tapping a few buttons on his console, Fitz selected a name for the ship sent a message to Starfleet Personnel Command and copied Fleet Admiral Nechayev for good measure. "That should get around Caplinger just fine. Now all we can do is wait..." Fitz said, his voice trailing off.

"Hah" replied Mackintosh. "The waiting is the best part. Let's see how it goes and take necessary measures from there" he said with a nod. "I'll have Lieutenant Commander Glyndar assigned to Highsmith’s command" added Mackintosh.

Fitz nodded. "Very well. It appears that my part of this is done. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office." Picking up his briefcase, Fitz stood from his chair and wordlessly exited the room, his footfalls echoing on the deck.


:OFF