Duty Log | Gen. Richard Sharpe | "The weight of stars"
Posted on 241503.11 @ 6:23am by General Richard Sharpe
Mission: The Fight For Peace [GQ Plot]
One of the few luxuries afforded to an operational theatre commander was that he was able to actually go to bed and rest. This was where Sharpe had retired to after a 19 hour shift in the war room, supervising the invasion of Krigora. So far, there had been almost zero opposition to the marines landing, and the establishment of a Forward Operating Base (FOB) at the Krigorian spaceport. This allowed for those in the higher echelons to get some sleep, in preparation for the events that would take place in several hours time if the Krigorian government didn't surrender.
It felt to Richard that he'd barely put his head on the pillow when there was an urgent beeping of his communicator. He reached over and picked up the small Starfleet chevron device, and tapped it. "Sharpe."
"Sir, you're needed in the war room immediately." Came the voice of the watch officer, who clearly was not happy at having to wake up his Commanding General.
"I'll be there in a moment." Sharpe said, closing the channel, and throwing on sweat-pants and a SFMC sweater, as he made his way downstairs to the 'War Room', which was a basement level command-and-control facility that was totally state of the art - thanks to the recent rebuild. Two marine sentries in uniform snapped to attention at Sharpe's approach and opened the dual opening metal doors for him.
As he entered, one of the officers called out 'ten-hut', and marines and fleet personnel wearing HQ standard uniforms stood to attention. Sharpe waved them down, and took a chair at the head of a large meeting table that sat in the middle of the room. "What's going on?"
"Sir, less than 20 minutes ago, Krigorian forces kidnapped a fireteam on security patrol outside the airport. At this point, we believe that they're still alive, but being held hostage by the Krigorian government as leverage." Colonel Talbot reported, the watch commander.
"Have we heard anything from the Krigorian government?" Sharpe asked.
"No sir, nothing new since they demanded we leave their sacred soil." Talbot replied.
"Do we know where they're holding our marines?" Sharpe asked.
"We have strong indications that they're being held at a government controlled military base three miles south of the capital." Major Lancer, the duty Intel Officer, chimed in. "We believe that they'll execute the marines on subspace broadcast if we try to move on the capital."
"That's a very flimsy bet." Talbot retorted. "They're banking on Federation morals that we value all life and are squeamish of a fight."
"What are our options?" Sharpe asked the room.
"We can put together a rescue operation in eight hours, then a further six to execute an extraction." Lieutenant Colonel Williams, the SPECOPS liasion to HQ reported. "But that would put us well over our deadline time, and that could be seen as a sign of weakness or lack of resolve on our part. That could open the doorway for them capturing more marines to delay our tactics."
"Surely you're not advocating we leave those men in enemy hands!?" Talbot exploded.
"That's exactly what he's advocating, Colonel Talbot." Sharpe said, coldly. "And its the right advice."
"Sir!" Several people said at once in protesting voices, and they all began shouting their objections at the seated General.
Richard slowly rose from his chair, and slammed his fist down on the wooden desk, causing the contents of the table to rattle. "Enough!" He snapped.
Everyone went deathly quiet as they looked at his face, which was etched with unrestrained anger.
"They're trying to call my bluff." Sharpe snarled. "They sorely miscalculated. Issue orders to the 5th MEU, tell them to roll onto that military base, and shoot at anything that moves - even in the breeze. I want my people back, and I'm not going to do it stealthily either. Move up the time-table, have the fighter-bombers start targeting strategic and government targets as per strike profile blue. Have the 3rd Division move into the capital. I want General Trident in the Premier's mansion by dawn. Am I clear?"
"Sir, if they see what we're doing, they could execute our people." Major Lancer opinioned.
"My job is strategic, not tactical, Major." Sharpe replied, coldly. "I have to accept a certain number of losses on a campaign. If Colonel Towers can't secure the marines in time... its a calculated risk."
"That's cold math." Lancer glared at Sharpe.
"That's why I wear stars on my shoulders, Major." Sharpe sighed. Right now, those four stars were as heavy as any tank. "Carry out my orders."
= End Log =
General Richard Sharpe
CG, 1st MEF
Gamma Quadrant
