Mark straightened his ball cap out and leaned against the podium "Hey there. Okay, so, how to fight the Romulans, 101."
Mark hit a switch and changed the holo display to a simulation of a Romulan fleet fighting one from Starfleet, "The Puddle Pirates have, at our best-educated guess, eight hundred and fifty or so combat-worthy warbirds. So even though they outnumber our task force, they have to turn us back on the first try, or run the risk of getting smashed over the long run."
"We know they can't beat us in a prolonged engagement. We can build faster and better ships than they can, plus we have deeper manpower reserves than they can dream of having. Overall, from what I know about them and what I trained them on, these will be their planning assumptions."
The simulation continued, showing the Starfleet task force splitting into two equal-sized groups "They'll expect us to make a straight shot for New Romulus, so they'll try and thin us out along the way with hit and run attacks. A squadron or two will drop out of cloak, hit whatever they think is weakest on our flanks, and run away before we have a chance to hit back. The idea is to wear us out before they finally have an opportunity to come at us somewhere near New Romulus with relatively equal numbers and strength."
"So, we won't give them that opportunity. TF-57 will divide into equal FCTFs. Alpha group, centred around Repulse, will make a run at New Valdore, which is their primary fleet yard and fuel dump. Bravo group, centred around Vanguard, will seize and occupy Cestron, their officer training academy."
"Even though we'll be separated, we'll only be a few hours apart from each other in case one group needs support. Each group will move slowly, and carefully. We'll strike both targets at the same time, and by staying concentrated outside of the paths they'd expect us to take, the Puddle Pirates will either have to match us in space, or risk losing strategic assets to us."
"As it is, they can't afford to defend both worlds with enough force to stop both groups at the same time, so they'll have to make a choice about which one to give up to have a chance to stay in the fight. A little thing I teach my Marines called making the enemy react to you." Mark said, pointing to the display showing both targets.
The General continued, moving to a slideshow of Romulan training plans and historical records, "In space, you can expect the Republican Navy to be a tough customer. Their fleet basically matches us in terms of tech and capability. Their crews are well trained, and as experienced as they can be, considering they've been fighting Tomalak off and on for a few years. And unlike the Star Empire, the Republic lets their officers actually use their brains and innovate in the field, so don't expect them to abide by the old playbooks from the Imperial Navy."
"They'll sit back and watch us, study how we think and how we move, and when they do attack it'll be from an angle you probably won't be expecting. So, I'd recommend staying on your toes and sticking to the plan as much as possible."
Jack noticed the room's mood turning sour. From his time in Starfleet Academy, he could remember endless lectures about the Star Empire's tactics and strategy in war.
The Imperial Navy rarely made the first move, but the response was almost always an overwhelming final move.
It was a testament to the closing chapter of the Imperial Navy that the Romulans never once retreated from a battlefield during the war when they fought alone. Even in their few defeats, they fought to the last ship and man, and the Jem Hadar were bled dry as they continuously tried to smash the Star Empire's lines.
The Republic would be a completely different – but no less deadly – challenge in space.
Scimitar had proven to Jack that an innovative and skilled commander flying a well-equipped ship could match even the deadliest fleet.
They'd done away with rigid Command and Control and allowed the most promising of Commanders the freedom to fight an enemy the way they saw fit.
While the old D'Deridex was on her way to the pages of history, the Dehlan, the Valdore, the Alehal, and more were reasonably fast and manoeuvrable, well equipped with sturdy shields.
And unlike the Klingons who traded armour and firepower for speed, every type of Romulan ship was strapped to the gills with weaponry, from singularity powered disruptor banks, plasma torpedoes, tetryon cannons and a yet to be tested in battle CIWS system based on ultraviolet lasers that on paper seemed to be superior to Starfleet's anti-proton approach.
Mark smiled with his next bit of wisdom, "The one clear edge we've got is on the ground. Just like the Imperials, Republican Infantry is a joke. It's not even a formally organized military force, but closer to a citizen militia, and trust me when I say I'm being kind with that assessment."
"In reality, and I say this having trained the pointy eared bastards to shoot myself, they're a barely organized mob with a handful of shitty old disruptor rifles, minus a small group of their own Marines they've just started raising in the last two years."
"Regardless, you get my bootnecks on the ground safely, and I guarantee that they'll flatten any Rommie stupid enough to stand on the business end of our rifles."
Mark turned off the holo-display and stood up, "Okay, any questions for me so far?"
Bakay was on her feet again, "How much opposition can we expect on the ground, by your estimates Comrade General?"
Mark waved at Avalon's Captain, "Hey Zelina, been a while. And to answer your question, Cestron is probably where my Marines can expect any serious action. If there is anyone that can shoot, they'll be there. That's why I've detailed the Grizzly Bears and XOF to that particular job," he said as he held up a PADD, "and it looks like I was right. Avalon will be attached with Vanguard and Bravo Group, so try not to hit my guys alright?"
The room shared a polite laughter, but Jack couldn't help but to notice that Zelina tensed up. XOF was Rain's unit, which meant that the Major would also be going to Cestron.
As far as he knew, Jack thought that Rain was still dating Zelina, but her body language suggested that she wasn't happy with the idea.
Captain Jackie Fishier, the master of Vanguard, stood up next. Jackie was another ACCP project, much like Zelina.
And just like Zelina, Jackie was a creature that a few years ago would have been tossed out of the Academy on grooming standards alone. The young woman was a native of Detroit, a tough city that produced tough people and wore her dreadlocks in a tough looking ponytail.
Jack remembered her from the Academy, having to help one of his Tactical Instructors restrain the girl when she objected to their assessment of her Kobayashi Maru exercise.
Jack was pleased to see that the fiery young woman had earned her Captain's bars, "Are you coming with us General? I'd sure like to have ya on Vanguard. Seems like ya know a thing or two about dealing with the Puddle Pirates."
Mark sighed, "I appreciate the offer kid, but sadly our new prez decided I have to be on the same level as our esteemed Mr. Douglas here, so you lucky dogs get to have all the fun without me."
"Well on to my second question then. Who's in charge of this little shit show?" Jackie asked.
Her choice language was certainly not expected in the sea of brass around Jack, and he noticed a few older Admirals stifling their collars.
Mark, always appreciative of cursing to Admirals, pointed at his aunt, "My dear Auntie Lynna will be the task force commander. She'll be riding with you on Vanguard, and her second will be Thomas Quinn, who's over at Mars with Repulse at the moment seeing to the details. As for my guys, Major Kaimeao who's over in the back somewhere will be in charge of my spec-ops units, and she'll be reporting to S1 – Sorry, that's Brigadier General now – Jack Marshall, who also gets the privilege of riding on big ole Vanny there"
Jack was shocked. This was the first he'd heard of even going with the task force, let alone being in command. Two years ago, he'd been taking orders from Rain. Now he would be the one issuing orders.
Mark looked directly at him, "That's right bud. You stay behind after this little pow-wow and I'll fill you in on the details."
He then turned to the rest of the group assembled in the CIC, "One more thing. I'm well aware of the fact that more than a few of you don't like me or my Marines very much, at all."
"Only about fifteen out of the six hundred ships going along with the Task Force have MCT's aboard. I respect that, it's still your choice for now. But both myself and the President, not to mention my good friend Dougie here, have signed doctrines that say you Fishies will defer to us on the ground."
"You let us do our jobs, and we'll keep your ships safe. And I'll leave it at that. Good luck out there."
Nechayev leaned over at Jack and whispered in his year, "Don't worry Jack, I won't make you wear a dress uniform to dinner."
Mark returned to his seat and Mitchell returned to the podium, "I'll have more detailed operational orders for you all once TF-57 gets underway. I would however like to make the next point truly clear to all of you, Marine or Starfleet alike."
Mitchell made sure that everyone was paying attention before he spoke again, "I will caution you all to remember that the Romulan people are not your enemies here, ladies and gentlemen. The sons of bitches who blew up Europa are."
"Under no circumstances will either myself or General Castle have any tolerance for civilian casualties during this operation. A general court martial will be the absolute best you can expect in that case."
Once he felt the point had sunk in, Mitchell pressed on, "You will be restricted to purely military targets, and you will only use such force as is necessary to prevent the Republican Navy from continuing the fight. Our goal is not to conquer the Republic or to force a regime change in their government, nor will we occupy any planet longer than is strictly necessary for tactical reasons."
"Once we've confirmed capture or kill of anyone involved in the attack, we will turn and leave as quickly as we arrived, and that is final. Under no circumstances will any Starship or Marine target infrastructure, civilian facilities, or anything else that is not presenting a clear tactical threat to the task force. I think we can all agree that an economically stable and relatively happy Romulan society is better for everyone."
I'll agree, Jack thought.
The alternative was Sela and Tomalak, something that would only lead to blood.
"In the best-case scenario, D'Tann hands over whoever it was behind this atrocity, and we simply pick him or her up and bring him or her back for the hanging. But we don't have these briefings to plan for the best-case scenario, and I don't expect any Romulan, Republic or IRS, to come quietly. If it comes down to having to shoot our way in or out, then that's what we'll do."
"But you will all conduct yourselves as professional officers serving the Federation. Republican ships and soldiers are to be given every opportunity to surrender or retreat, and any of their forces that you happen to capture will be treated, correctly, as Prisoners of War. I'm not prepared to answer atrocities with atrocities, we're better than that. But we will also make it clear to anyone watching that the Federation stands tall to anyone stupid enough to test us. Are there any further questions?"
Commodore Chellix was on his feet again, "Can we expect any help or support from the Klingons or the Cardassians? This situation seems like something to invoke either treaty over."
Mitchell shook his head yet again, "No and No, Commodore. Even if I wanted the Klingon's help, which I don't, considering that turning them loose on Romulans is throwing Dilithium on a plasma fire, anyone who rode in Operation Soul's Edge knows exactly what kind of help the Klingons can offer right now, which is to say, the sum zero of fuck-all. As for the Cardassians, they almost immediately jumped for neutrality. It makes sense, not two years ago we were discussing sending a task force to Cardassia Prime over Risa. You were there, Chellix."
The Bolian nodded his blue head, "I was, sir. Just covering all the bases."
"Fair enough. This is our fight, and it will stay our fight. It's on the Romulans to decide how bloody it has to get. Is there anything else?" Mitchell asked, picking his PADD up.
The room was quiet for several moments. Most everyone seemed confident if a bit reluctant. No one wanted another war. The Dominion had taught a brutal lesson to the Federation a decade and a half ago on just how bad a small incident could turn.
The San Francisco Memorial, a tall white stone at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge, with the names of sixty-five million dead men, women and children stood testament to that lesson.
But if we have to fight again, let's fight to win, Jack thought.
Mitchell finally turned the overhead lights back on and stepped down, "Then you're all dismissed. Get to your postings and let's make this happen. Task Force 57 leaves Mars this time tomorrow, ready, or not."
As the sea of brass stood and filtered out of the room, Jack and Alynna were motioned to follow Mark and Mitchell into the Fleet Admiral's office, likely for Jack to receive his operational orders as OC-BESG (Officer Commanding, Boxer Expeditionary Strike Group) and for Alynna to add the title of COMTF57 (Commander, Task Force Fifty-Seven) to her ever-increasing jacket.
As Jack took one last look behind him before leaving the massive CIC, he only saw Rain and Zelina Bakay standing behind him. He hoped the Major had a pleasant conversation with her girlfriend, but he could not, for the life of him, shake the feeling that something was wrong.
