Emergency Procedures

Posted on Thu Dec 23rd, 2021 @ 12:13am by Fleet Admiral Sturnack & Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford & Commander Marlena Glenn & Vice Admiral Nathan Cowell, MD & Rear Admiral Sal Andolini & Rear Admiral Jan van Groesbeck & Rear Admiral Duncan Hurroo & Captain Jocelyn Blake & Lieutenant Jordan Hoover

Mission: Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location: CinC's Office
Timeline: Mission Day 24 at 0830

[Commander in Chief's Office]
[Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, CA]
[MD 24 - 0830, immediately after the events of "Coffee Walk"]

It had been nearly 15 minutes since they had been transported back to Starfleet Command. Jocelyn perched on the edge of one of the chairs in Sturnack’s office, her elbows rested on her knees and her forehead rested on the bottom of her palms. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing lightly, taking long breaths in and letting equally long breaths out. Each breath was designed to calm, but with each inhale an image formed in her mind’s eye.

Breathe in -- Berryhill… solid one moment and completely gone the next, the sparkling motes of disintegration by disruptor fire the only evidence that she had been there and soon that was gone as well.

Breathe out.

Breathe in -- The panic on the streets. People running for shelter even as she and Sturnack watched through the window from the back of the shop.

Breathe out.

Breath in -- Green blood. Everywhere. Pooling on the ground next to her and drenching the bottoms of her uniform.

Her eyes shot open as the images from that evening and the nightmare images she had only just started to come to grips with from the bombing at the embassy began to meld. She let out a shuddering breath and forced herself to sit up, looking almost absently around the CinC’s office. It felt surreal to be sitting here just waiting.

Sturnack, too, sat in silence, his forefingers and thumbs pressed together to form a focusing triangle. With the rest of his fingers interlocked, the Vulcan began to run through a meditation of sorts; his breathing regular, his thoughts began to collect for analysis. Only twenty minutes prior, he had been engaged in harmless debate about Christmas with Blake, walking towards their favorite coffee shop as they'd done on several other occasions. But this time, someone had tried to kill one or both of them. And while the attempt had been rendered impotent, a security officer had lost her life in the process. That sat heavy on the Vulcan's mind.

Marlena, meanwhile, paced with nervous energy. She'd put out the calls as ordered and knew the Admirals and Hoover would be arriving any minute now. She'd secured the office door in the open position so they could come right in, having forgone the idea of greeting them individually as she might normally do. And for this meeting, she'd arranged no pastries or beverages, though the act of getting something together might have helped to settle Marlena's nerves. Instead, she simply moved back and forth, the carpet absorbing the impact of her steps as she walked, not really knowing what to say.

Vice Admiral Cowell stormed into the room, the cross look upon his face saying that he had a decent enough idea about what he had been called in for and liked the idea about as much as he liked anything that dragged him away from Starfleet Medical. The sad reality of everything transpiring was that Cowell has seen scenes like the one playing out numerous times, each of them in different stages of not just Earth history, but several other civilizations he'd been a part of over the centuries. It was a cycle that the elderly man was none too happy to have to live through yet again.

"Brought a kit just in case. Anyone need fixing before we get too much involved in... whatever the hell this is?" Cowell asked, lifting the rather large medical kit up for emphasis before his eyes found their way over to Capt. Blake. The sight of blood on her made his eyes narrow just a tad but the color wasn't dark enough to denote serious injury so he didn't immediately comment on it.

"Fancy seeing you here Doc," Jocelyn quipped lamely, the attempt at humor falling flat as her face gave away how rattled she actually was. She held up her palms so he could see the angry red splotches of brush burn where she had caught herself on the pavement. They had begun to throb now that they were well away from the action, but it was far from a significant wound. "Apparently hands and pavement don't mix," she tried again, still failing to hit the right tone to truly come across as light hearted.

"Nor do recently healed backs," Sturnack spoke up from his armchair. "I am afraid I may have further injured myself, Doctor. I can still walk and move around but it is painful and very sore. I am hopeful you will not need to remand me to a hover chair but some degree of care is, indeed, needed," the Vulcan admitted.

Cowell pulled out a tricorder from the kit and gave the Vulcan's back a quick once over with it before grumbling, "Half the muscle groups in your back are twisted up right and proper... I'll give you something for the pain, and you'll have to see me about getting them put back in place... but I can forego the chair from the look of things."

The elderly physician retrieved the hypospray from the box and loaded a cartridge, the satisfying click letting him know it was properly seated. Once he had the dosage dialed in to the device, a quick press on the Vulcan's neck and a hiss was all it took for the pain to fade into memory. After that, the old man took up his dermal regenerator and went to work on Blake's palms, a rather unimpressed scowl on his face as he worked.

Sal had been informed by his yeoman who wasn't prepared for the Admiral to head out to the entrance to see what happened. When he arrived he looked over the situation and crossed himself, almost a habit before heading over to Captain Blake

"Captain, are you ok?"

Jocelyn craned her neck around Cowell to acknowledge the voice of her boss. She nodded at him, the movement tense. "Yessir," she said. "Just scratches and an impending adrenaline crash."

Sal nodded, "Get checked out, just to make sure, if you need time take it."

Meanwhile, Hurroo made his entrance from the corridor where he had himself beamed from the command center at DHS. They had already been made aware of what had happened and before he had a chance to properly react he had been summoned. With some quick orders to his people and recalling his new senior staffers to take charge he made it fairly quickly to the Fleet Admiral’s location.

He shook his head when he saw the condition of the Fleet Admiral and Captain Blake he moved toward them keeping his distance to not crowd those who already clearly were going through an ordeal or at least so he could imagine. Despite his job and years of service he'd never been directly under fire before. Besides Cowell was there and he was going to be more help to the two of them than he could ever be.

He looked at the PADD he carried and checked for any updates on the investigation as it was. He had ordered a field team to respond and to take charge of the investigation. As he imagined they were likely still in the process of getting flack by the local team but in the end there'd be no question as to what agency would be investigating an attempt at Sturnack's life.

Rear Admiral Jan van Groesbeeck stepped into the office. He had been back on Earth for four days since his off-world trip to gather intelligence on the embassy bombing and Chalvana. He had been going through the information with Captain Leroy Tempeton and Commander Reginald Hertford. After being told about the attempt on Sturnack's life he ordered them if there was anything in the files from Gul Lim, "Apologies for my tardiness, Fleet Admiral, Admirals and Captain."

"Eh, it's a bit of a scramble. Don't worry about it," the DCinC spoke up from where he was leaning against the room's fireplace. Rear Admiral Whitford shook his head and then said, "We don't know yet who the target was. Could have been Captain Blake here," he nodded to the woman neutrally, "or the Fleet Admiral. Or maybe both, we can't be sure. But the one thing we do know is that they are not safe walking out and about San Francisco. I'd hope their safety could be guaranteed in the SFC complex itself but..." he drawled, "the embassy bombing and now an assassination attempt make me think we can't protect them here."

Jocelyn looked up from her seat, eyes scanning the DCinC for some sign of malice or even just effort to position himself in a more favorable way. There was none, though, and that alone gave her more pause than anything else. If Joshua Whitford was taking the matter seriously then it was a significant concern, indeed. Her eyes flitted from person to person throughout the room, trying to read reactions, guess what they might be thinking. The idea that she could be the target hadn't even occurred to her in any serious way until that moment.

"If we're not safe here..." she began slowly, trying to think this through as she spoke. "Where...?" Her expression dropped.

Nowhere. There was nowhere. Suddenly even the corners of the CinC's office felt menacing. She crossed her arms over her chest hunching forward slightly.

"Admiral Whitford is correct," Sturnack said with a nod. "Our safety cannot be guaranteed here. We cannot return to our individual homes, nor trust that Starfleet Security can protect us within these walls. There are too many people, too many places where danger could come from. But there is, perhaps, a place we could go. Someplace small and easily defensible with a small security detail. It is located in a remote area that would make it an optimal venue for sheltering in place."

"The Fortress, sir?" Whitford asked, looking up and across from the fireplace.

"Indeed," the Vulcan nodded. "Fleet Admiral McGarry had a cabin he used to getaway from the rigors of command. He called it his 'Fortress of Solitude.' Its location was kept a closely guarded secret, though Starfleet Security is aware of it. They would send a protection detail to guard the perimeter while the Admiral spent time there. And when he passed," Sturnack explained, "the cabin was left to me. As Admiral Whitford is aware, I, myself, have used the cabin to get away from time-to-time. A contingent of four security officers usually accompanies me there. But we could up that amount as needed. The difficulty would be in ensuring the cabin's location remains a secret to anyone who does not need to know it."

"I am afraid," the Vulcan turned to Blake, "it would mean sharing a space until the threat has passed. There are multiple bedrooms...you would have a space of your own without your privacy being encroached. But it would necessitate the sharing of the common rooms and food preparation area."

Cowell snorted when the name of the 'retreat' was mentioned and couldn't help himself, "What are we, in a bad Superman comic all of a sudden?"

Sal didn't comment on that, but the part of him that had been a reporter for decades felt this could be a horrid story, "We should plan to get in front of this, this is going to get out, and if we're reactive, it's going to only snowball." Inside he was figuring this would hit the news and Connie would be wanting to figure out if he was ok, and probably she'd be worried sick.

Jocelyn's brain was processing all of this information too slowly. It felt a bit as if she were wading through molasses and so she didn't immediately respond to any of the comments made. Her fingers came to the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up from her eyes and rubbing.

"Will we be able to work from there?" she finally asked, taking in Rear Admiral Andolini's comment and, as if her brain hit a kick start, suddenly running down all of the rabbit holes of possibilities. "Jordan can handle press conferences, but I shouldn't be entirely invisible. The press feeds off of unknowns and we already know they particularly like to run with unknowns or partial information about me."

Her eyes roved the room then, moving from one person to the other and, finally, returning to the CinC. "If that can be made to work then shared space shouldn't make any difference."

Rear Admiral Jan van Groesbeck listened to the room deliberate on the current crisis. He looked to Captain Blake and then to Fleet Admiral Sturnack. He wasn't fond of the idea to have them in isolation but knew it was necessary, "It would be my personal recommendation that you are at the Fortress."

Nodding to van Groesbeck, Sturnack then turned to Blake. "The cabin is very isolated but has the modern conveniences: working remotely should not pose a problem. I will need to do the same. However, comm calls and transmissions of any kind will need to be encrypted at the highest levels. We'll need to ensure that communiques cannot be traced back to our physical location, else we shall give ourselves away," the Vulcan commented.

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir," Whitford said, leaving his spot by the fireplace to come nearer to the group. "I'll, of course, man the fort here as much as is needed. I can coordinate with Commander Glenn to make sure only the highest level things need your tender loving care, sir. I can handle a lot of the normal day-to-day," he volunteered.

"Very well. Unless there are any objections," Sturnack said, "then I believe we have formulated a plan. Doctor Cowell," he spoke to the El-Aurian, "I will need to coordinate with you regarding my care. If more physical therapy is needed, I believe I can conduct that from the cabin. That said," the Vulcan perked an eyebrow, "you may need to visit in order to take updated scans and update treatment accordingly."

"Shouldn't be much of an issue. Not like I can't make house calls," the old man shrugged, "As long as you get your back cracked good, regular stretching and exercise will be sufficient."

"Excellent," Sturnack nodded in response. "I would prefer to avoid returning to the hoverchair."

"I think all Earth based Starfleet installations need to be raised to the highest alert statuses and while out of my particular wheelhouse other major commands likely should be increased off planet as well," RAMD Hurroo spoke up. "We can't pretend this isn't happening and we can't pretend that other department heads won't be valuable targets for whoever is behind this. And we should coordinate that with Federation Leadership as well."

"I concur," the Fleet Admiral said. "Raise the alert level and increase the amount of security officers protecting all installations here on Earth. All department Directors should have increased security as well. I will inform President Patel of what has transpired and work with her as needed around the Federation leadership's response. For now," Sturnack spoke stoically, "I believe we all have an idea of what needs done. Captain Blake and I will make preparations for our departure."

Rising from his chair, the Vulcan nodded towards the door. "Thank you for coming, everyone. Your diligence is most appreciated." And with that, Sturnack dismissed the meeting, sending the Admirals back to their offices to work on their own responses to the attack. There was very much to be done: alerting the media, calming an understandably would-be worried populace, and tracking down whoever had been responsible would not be easy. The CinC was confident in his people, however, and knew they would serve well during the crisis.


=/\= A joint-post by... =/\=

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

and

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford
Deputy CinC
Starfleet Command

and

Vice Admiral Nathan Cowell, M.D.
Director, Starfleet Medical
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Sal Andolini
Director, Starfleet Communications
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Jan van Groesbeck
Director, Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Duncan Hurroo
Director, Homeworld Security
Starfleet Command