[San Francisco Transit Station - Starfleet Headquarters]
"I'm agreed, Richard." Rojac said, walking along the walkway with his hands deep into his pockets. "But I'm not sure what other steps we can take. Should we just continue sending soldier after soldier to their deaths?"
"I'm all for ending the war without committing the lives of wave after wave of both naval and marine personnel, but surely we as a people have evolved past the need for a weapon of mass destruction." Richard said, as they entered through the rather over-elaborate entrance hall to the San Francisco Transit station. "We had the Atomic Bomb of the 1940's, which started a chain of events that culminated in the third world war. I just wish that there was a better way than this."
"Develop weapons with a more tactical emphasis rather than strategic emphasis. The Alliance has successfully downscaled weapons that were previously planet killers or worse. This TechEx technology could prove immensely valuable if it was scaled down to take out ships and stations. Imagine it a one shot kill on a Romulan Thelaron Cruiser or worse a Borg Tactical Fusion Cube. We shouldn't be shunning this technology but developing it to a usable stage" Walters said as he led the way up the stairs to the security checkpoint.
"Ah, but that's the problem with research and development." Rojac said, lokking down to find his Starfleet ID card to present at the gate. "They always develop the big bang first."
The clear aluminum window next to the group of three buckled under immense pressure as searing hot flames ripped from inside the station. The earth buckled underneath them throwing them to their feet. Then a deafening explosion clapped through the air. Rojac was tossed from the walkway onto the gravel of the street below. The fires tossed a car into a guardrail, narrowly avoiding the Captain's torso. Rojac rolled as more cars plowed into the stopped traffic, after the dust settled he looked up to see what could only be described as Armageddon. Columns of dark smoke climbed up high into the air underlit by crimson flames. Sirens could be heard in the distance.
Rojac climbed wearily to his feet and wiped the soot from his eyes as he surveyed the wreckage him. "Damn." He muttered.
=/\=
The explosion had sent the three men in different directions. Being in the middle of them, Richard had flown straight backwards, flipping over and over, spinning in the air as he flew backwards, landing with a sickening crunch on the walkway, a good one hundred feet from where he'd been before. Debris and body parts landed around him, as white hot metal fragments tore into his body.
He lay immobile for what felt like an age, but in reality, no more than fifteen seconds. A car flipped over him as a secondary explosion from the station caused a parked taxi to fly. Richard got to his feet slowly and carefully. This scene had shocking similarities to a combat zone, so Richard automatically engaged marine-mode, and put himself as a combat trooper. He did a quick shakedown of his body and its general status. He was standing with relative ease, so his legs worked. His arms appeared to be in tact, and his head hurt like hell, with a warm feeling sliding down the left side of his face. His uniform was torn and covered in a black residue, and he had cuts, abrasions and shrapnel in his body, but despite the pain, he was ambulatory.
Richard then surveyed his surroundings, taking in potentials risks, hazards and opportunities. First off, he noticed that the walkway was in imminent risk of collapse, which meant that his position upon it was not stable. There were fires raging everywhere he looked. The Captain was no where to be seen, and neither was Walters. Finding two men in this hell would be a secondary objective right now.
His survey took him to look at the Transit station, or rather, what had been the Transit station. The terminal building had been effectively nuked from the looks of it. It was on fire, the entrance
hall was gutted and large sections had collapsed, others looked dangerously close to collapse. The priority was to find survivors and wounded, and get them out of harms way.
Richard staggered over to the terminal building, spotting a handful of uniformed personnel standing nearby. They appeared to be in a highly agitated state, panic being prevalent in these conditions. Once he was closer, he was able to determine that they were a group of eight young men and three women. Five were Starfleet Cadets, all in the third year, and three were Starfleet naval crewmen, and three marine privates. Not exactly Patton's third army, but they'd do.
"You men." Richard said, his voice crackly and froggy. He hadn't spoken since the blast, and it was clear he'd swallowed some dust. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "You lot, on me, lets go!"
"Sir?" One of them looked at him, quizzically.
"Jump to it! When an officer gives an order, he expects it to be obeyed!" Richard barked.
The marine privates snapped to, and made to follow. The Starfleet personnel looked edgy, like the last thing they wanted was to go into that building.
"You have a duty." Richard said. "There are wounded and trapped men, women and children in there."
"But sir, we were told to wait here for our teacher, Commander Forbes." The Cadet said.
"Well, I feel that a General outranks a Commander, so you'll be forgiven for doing your job!" With that, Richard noticed them look at one another, and reluctantly follow him, as he started jogging towards the terminal.
The explosion had sent the three men in different directions. Being in the middle of them, Richard had flown straight backwards, flipping over and over, spinning in the air as he flew backwards, landing with a sickening crunch on the walkway, a good one hundred feet from where he'd been before. Debris and body parts landed around him, as white hot metal fragments tore into his body.
He lay immobile for what felt like an age, but in reality, no more than fifteen seconds. A car flipped over him as a secondary explosion from the station caused a parked taxi to fly. Richard got to his feet slowly and carefully. This scene had shocking similarities to a combat zone, so Richard automatically engaged marine-mode, and put himself as a combat trooper. He did a quick shakedown of his body and its general status. He was standing with relative ease, so his legs worked. His arms appeared to be in tact, and his head hurt like hell, with a warm feeling sliding down the left side of his face. His uniform was torn and covered in a black residue, and he had cuts, abrasions and shrapnel in his body, but despite the pain, he was ambulatory.
Richard then surveyed his surroundings, taking in potentials risks, hazards and opportunities. First off, he noticed that the walkway was in imminent risk of collapse, which meant that his position upon it was not stable. There were fires raging everywhere he looked. The Captain was no where to be seen, and neither was Walters. Finding two men in this hell would be a secondary objective right now.
His survey took him to look at the Transit station, or rather, what had been the Transit station. The terminal building had been effectively nuked from the looks of it. It was on fire, the entrance
hall was gutted and large sections had collapsed, others looked dangerously close to collapse. The priority was to find survivors and wounded, and get them out of harms way.
Richard staggered over to the terminal building, spotting a handful of uniformed personnel standing nearby. They appeared to be in a highly agitated state, panic being prevalent in these conditions. Once he was closer, he was able to determine that they were a group of eight young men and three women. Five were Starfleet Cadets, all in the third year, and three were Starfleet naval crewmen, and three marine privates. Not exactly Patton's third army, but they'd do.
"You men." Richard said, his voice crackly and froggy. He hadn't spoken since the blast, and it was clear he'd swallowed some dust. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "You lot, on me, lets go!"
"Sir?" One of them looked at him, quizzically.
"Jump to it! When an officer gives an order, he expects it to be obeyed!" Richard barked.
The marine privates snapped to, and made to follow. The Starfleet personnel looked edgy, like the last thing they wanted was to go into that building.
"You have a duty." Richard said. "There are wounded and trapped men, women and children in there."
"But sir, we were told to wait here for our teacher, Commander Forbes." The Cadet said.
"Well, I feel that a General outranks a Commander, so you'll be forgiven for doing your job!" With that, Richard noticed them look at one another, and reluctantly follow him, as he started jogging towards the terminal.
=/\=
A personnel shuttle of a type he was unfamiliar with landed at the far end of the platform dispensing men carrying phaser rifles. Walters was impressed, they had been quick or was that only his impression? Had it only been a minute or two or was it longer? A sense of unease settled over him. Something was far from right...
A flash of light dragged him back to reality. The images of the world gone wrong appeared as if in slow motion. The armed men fired round after round into the crowd who in turn either collapsed like a sack of potatos or turned and stampeded the other way faces locked in a silent scream.
[End Log]
Major General Richard Sharpe
Commanding Officer
SSF 1TF First Marine Expeditionary Force
Captain Cropa Rojac
Commanding Officer
SSF 1TF Flagship
USS Chimera NCC 96899-C
Erassian Major Scott Walters
Executive Officer
SSF 1TF Flagship
USS Chimera NCC 96899-C