=/\= Starfleet Transit Station - H-Hour + 3 =/\=
Three hours after the explosion that had torn through the transit hub that was the heart of San Fransisco, and things had improved considerably. After the runabouts had arrived and had started shooting survivors, and Sharpe, Rojac and Walters had driven them away, Richard had ordered the two men to chase after them in their own shuttle. They'd parted company three hours ago, and Richard was left wondering if he'd made the right call.
However, chaos reigned supreme down here. Even with the shooters gone, survivors were fearful of Starfleet personnel, making rescue efforts that little bit harder than they needed to be. Communications had been severely disrupted in the city, with the subsequent collapse of the comms array near the transit station. It had made communication out of the city impossible, and communication within, very tricky. What hadn't helped in the slightest was some sort of secret order that had removed every single flag officer that held some sort of important position, and whisked them away somewhere.
This action had left rescue efforts relatively headless, until Richard remembered that he was a flag officer, and that he hadn't been whisked away. Using his intelligence, he'd spoken with the mayor of San Fransisco, as well as local marine unit commanders. He'd managed to get an MMCC set up on the road outside Starfleet Headquarters, since the building itself was useless with the communications blackout. A communications array was standard equipment on an MMCC, so it was from here that Sharpe was co-ordinating rescue efforts.
For the first time in history, tanks were rolling down the streets of San Fransisco, as Richard had instigated martial law in the immediate area surrounding the transit station. Since Starfleet personnel were suspect, marine personnel were considered a safer bet. Not much better, mind you, but he'd not seen marines shooting at civilians. That last bit was what had convinced the mayor to turn law enforcement of a large part of his city over to Richard. City policy were controlling traffic, both vehcular and pedestrian from the immediate area, as convoys of marine transport trucks hurtled down the roads at full pelt, bringing in much needed man-power to the transit station.
Since the Marine variants of combat engineers were far more used to dealing with collapsing buildings than Richard had assumed they were, the major in command, a Major Terrance Vorn, had laid out a series of operational plans to Richard in the MMCC.
By now, Richard had managed to get his wounds dressed, and had traded in his torn and ruined uniform for a practical marine duty uniform. He still looked awful, since he had burns down the left side of his face, and dried blood in places, and some of his hair had been burned away as well.
Vorn had proposed using cranes to lift the worst of the heavy debris, whilst using shoring lines to support it. Emergency forcefields were being errected throughout the remaining structure to prevent further collapse, whist bulldozers were being used to gently move some of the debris.
In the meantime, a very large contingent of marines from an outlying province were performing search and rescue operations within the wreckage of the terminal building, and the landing pad, with teams of Alsations and Huskies. All in all, things were going pretty darn well, considering. A large detachment of the Military Police, the marine corps internal variant of Starfleet Security, were in charge of roadblocks and policing.
"General." Said someone entering the MMCC. "We've been unable to find any of the senior brass from Starfleet Command. Apparently, some sort of operation, code named Tandra, was put into effect. We've no idea what that involves, but we do know that there were many firefights on the upper levels, where the top brass hang out. We're unable to determine if there were any fatalities amoung the brass or not, because we don't know where they are... if they're alive."
"Typical." Richard sighed. "Right now, I'm the highest ranking officer for a hundred square miles, which is really disconcerting in the city that houses Starfleet Headquarters."
"Yes sir." The aide said. "Starbase One also has no idea where the Starfleet Commander's gone, nor Admiral Janeway, Field Marshal Brisco or anyone. Although we did find the bodies of her bodyguards, and the residue of her Andorian aide. No signs of the Field Marshal yet, but we did find General Pope's body."
"Oh, so the old bugger's finally dead is he?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes sir. Phasered while on the can, of all places. Most undignified." The aide said.
"Yes, I would imagine he was scared shitless." Richard said, trying to take things seriously, and failing.
"We've been trying to get that secure link to Starbase Unity for you sir, but so far we've been unable to get through the traffic." The aide said. "But we'll keep trying."
"Thank you." Richard said, indicating that the man could leave. He was concerned that he'd been unable to inform either Harper or Chloe that he was alright. Fortunately, he'd made plans in the event of his being incommunicado, but even so, his mind worried for Chloe.
=/\= End Log =/\=
Major General Richard Sharpe
Commanding 1st Marine Expeditionary Force
1st Task Force
