Mission 001: Newborn – Hero Of War
by Commander Marcus Klans
Post Details
Lights off, no noise other than that of the engines humming gently at warp, and the light beeps of the console Marc sat at. Sitting in a pair of old fatigues and a tank top, tight to his well built body. He looked at the documents on the screen with intense scrutiny. Old news titles were presented to him.
"Captain Lucifer Marcelleous awarded highest Honours for ending a war between the Ceri and the Bovani."
The USS Kittyhawk had been dispatched to a small sector of space to prevent a war that was bound to happen regardless. The Ceri and the Bovani were at each other's throats for years. When the Ceri asked the federation to help out, the matters only got worse. Stationed in the small system for not evn two weeks when the war broke out. Marcus had been the ship's wing commander at the time. It now became his job to watch countless patrols do their job. Several war vessels had been destroyed, all belonging to the Bovani. The Ceri claimed these were unprovoked attacks, that nothing the Ceri had done to the Bovani deserved an attack of the supposed magnitude that was being used. The Captain had taken all the crew into a briefing one day, ecstatic.
"Men and women, we have a chance to end this war," he had said. The glow in his eyes had convinced Marc that he had meant it, that he really knew a way to end the war. "The only casualty will be the insurgents that are using the Ceri as a scapegoat. They have taken up hiding in abandoned orphanages. They are using children to build their weapons. We will stop this, with permission from both sides of course."
The talks began. The Bovani knew there were insurgents on their planet, known for causing trouble. If they could be done away with, then they would be grateful. The Ceri agreed, that if the insurgents were dealt with, everything would be better. It was decided that the lead attack squadron, the one that Marc personally oversaw would drop specially modified Quantum Torpedoes into the orphanages. These would be designed to penetrate deep, then detonate with a high density, shaped charge. The Ceri offered to even refurbish the torps. Marc knew now he should have questioned this motive. If he had, the attack would not have ended the same.
Sitting in the cockpit of his small peregrine, preforming his last run ups, the Marine Captain at the time was notably nervous. Captain Marcelleous had approached him. "You know Marc," the older man had said, "you don't have to lead the attack. You can stay here." But Marc had acted hurt, and joked that there was no better pilot for the job. The captain had laughed, wished him luck, and walked away. After all, the documents were all there, showing all the Intel on the system.
The flight had departed the carrier, inbound for the first target. On sight, Marc nodded, and released the first of the modified weapons. All four targets were hit. The detonators went off perfectly...
"Crew of USSKittyhawk interrogated in possible forged documentation.
The Intel had been wrong. The orphanages had been occupied, but not by terrorists, but by children. Over seven hundred children. But they had been the lucky ones. The 'modified' torpedoes had detonated with a secondary warhead. A custom build thermonuclear warhead within the quantum torpedo's warhead. The resulting explosion had vaporized the surrounding buildings and exploded with a ferocious combination of quantum energy and nuclear fission. Two of the rear fighters had been caught in the explosion, spiraling towards the ground, disappearing in the raging clouds of fire.
The children had been the lucky ones. It was everyone else who suffered. Four warheads of over 200 megatons detonated so close together, the pillar of nuclear debris and fire reached into the upper layers of the stratosphere. The resulting fallout covered the entire northern hemisphere of the planet, shrouding it in the beginnings of a nuclear winter. The surviving four Starfleet fighters peeled out as fast as they could. True, Marc could not hear the screams of the people, but their sheer terror and fear overwhelmed his mind until he breached the outer edges of the atmosphere.
As soon has he touched down, he was out of the fighter, throwing his helmet to the ground, Marine Captain Marcus Klans punched the man who designed the warheads for the fighters, the Ceri man of about thirty Earth years. The man's face had broken in seven placed, but Marc didn't stop there. Six marines pulled him off. Looking at the Wing Commander, still screaming obscenities, then over to Captain Marcelleous. When Marc couldn't fight anymore, the man he had respected for years smiled at him. "The Ceri have more to offer us than the Bovani M'boy. It was a political move. Now keep quiet about this..." But he hadn't. He had talked, and he talked a lot.
"Captain Marcelleous charged with attacking civilian targets."
Captain MArcelleous had lost his commission, gone to prison, and died after being beaten in a prison riot. That never bothered Marcus. The man had deserved it. No, what kept Marcus awake this night was the screams of terrified children, men and women. Their mental thoughts still permeated his mind. The one that had always haunted him, was the one from the eyes of a small girl. She stood there, and watched as the pillar of fire moved towards her, too scared to run, she just held onto her stuffed animal, and began to cry. She had been effaced from existence.
On one of the Marine transports to the ground, Marc had flown, so he could see the damage for himself. Securing his helmet to his head, and hoisting his shotgun, he followed the other marines through the door. The sky was stained black and red from the smoke and still burning fires. Snow fell from the sky as the temperature aloft was already below zero centigrade, and dropping. Bodies littered the streets. This would of had to have been what Hiroshima had looked like after the American's dropped the first nuclear bomb. Looking around, he saw skeletal bodies of people who hadn't died instantly, but from severe dehydration. There was no one to save, no one they could even try to. So, heading back to the Wyvern, they lifted off, and disappeared back into space.
Bova died. The once lush M class planet was consumed both by the clouds of nuclear debris and water, but by the civil war that broke out. The Ceri never became members of the Federation, and were threatened with brutal force if they ever landed on a Federation world. The president had seen fit not to punish Marc and his surviving wingmates. They had been unwilling pawns, and their only fault was doing their job.
So, sighing, as he stood and moved to his bed, dropping his clothes to climb in and try and sleep, he preped himself. For the images of what hell would look like, crumbling building and all. For the image of a small girl and her teddy bear. And for the images of the shriviled bodies, clawing at him, telling him that he had killed them. All this would feature tonight's dreams.
by Commander Marcus Klans
Post Details
| Title | Hero Of War | |
| Mission | Mission 001: Newborn | |
| Author(s) | Commander Marcus Klans | |
| Posted | Wed Jun 30, 2010 @ 11:08pm | |
| Location | Captain's Quarters | |
| Timeline | MD2 0322 |
"Captain Lucifer Marcelleous awarded highest Honours for ending a war between the Ceri and the Bovani."
The USS Kittyhawk had been dispatched to a small sector of space to prevent a war that was bound to happen regardless. The Ceri and the Bovani were at each other's throats for years. When the Ceri asked the federation to help out, the matters only got worse. Stationed in the small system for not evn two weeks when the war broke out. Marcus had been the ship's wing commander at the time. It now became his job to watch countless patrols do their job. Several war vessels had been destroyed, all belonging to the Bovani. The Ceri claimed these were unprovoked attacks, that nothing the Ceri had done to the Bovani deserved an attack of the supposed magnitude that was being used. The Captain had taken all the crew into a briefing one day, ecstatic.
"Men and women, we have a chance to end this war," he had said. The glow in his eyes had convinced Marc that he had meant it, that he really knew a way to end the war. "The only casualty will be the insurgents that are using the Ceri as a scapegoat. They have taken up hiding in abandoned orphanages. They are using children to build their weapons. We will stop this, with permission from both sides of course."
The talks began. The Bovani knew there were insurgents on their planet, known for causing trouble. If they could be done away with, then they would be grateful. The Ceri agreed, that if the insurgents were dealt with, everything would be better. It was decided that the lead attack squadron, the one that Marc personally oversaw would drop specially modified Quantum Torpedoes into the orphanages. These would be designed to penetrate deep, then detonate with a high density, shaped charge. The Ceri offered to even refurbish the torps. Marc knew now he should have questioned this motive. If he had, the attack would not have ended the same.
Sitting in the cockpit of his small peregrine, preforming his last run ups, the Marine Captain at the time was notably nervous. Captain Marcelleous had approached him. "You know Marc," the older man had said, "you don't have to lead the attack. You can stay here." But Marc had acted hurt, and joked that there was no better pilot for the job. The captain had laughed, wished him luck, and walked away. After all, the documents were all there, showing all the Intel on the system.
The flight had departed the carrier, inbound for the first target. On sight, Marc nodded, and released the first of the modified weapons. All four targets were hit. The detonators went off perfectly...
"Crew of USSKittyhawk interrogated in possible forged documentation.
The Intel had been wrong. The orphanages had been occupied, but not by terrorists, but by children. Over seven hundred children. But they had been the lucky ones. The 'modified' torpedoes had detonated with a secondary warhead. A custom build thermonuclear warhead within the quantum torpedo's warhead. The resulting explosion had vaporized the surrounding buildings and exploded with a ferocious combination of quantum energy and nuclear fission. Two of the rear fighters had been caught in the explosion, spiraling towards the ground, disappearing in the raging clouds of fire.
The children had been the lucky ones. It was everyone else who suffered. Four warheads of over 200 megatons detonated so close together, the pillar of nuclear debris and fire reached into the upper layers of the stratosphere. The resulting fallout covered the entire northern hemisphere of the planet, shrouding it in the beginnings of a nuclear winter. The surviving four Starfleet fighters peeled out as fast as they could. True, Marc could not hear the screams of the people, but their sheer terror and fear overwhelmed his mind until he breached the outer edges of the atmosphere.
As soon has he touched down, he was out of the fighter, throwing his helmet to the ground, Marine Captain Marcus Klans punched the man who designed the warheads for the fighters, the Ceri man of about thirty Earth years. The man's face had broken in seven placed, but Marc didn't stop there. Six marines pulled him off. Looking at the Wing Commander, still screaming obscenities, then over to Captain Marcelleous. When Marc couldn't fight anymore, the man he had respected for years smiled at him. "The Ceri have more to offer us than the Bovani M'boy. It was a political move. Now keep quiet about this..." But he hadn't. He had talked, and he talked a lot.
"Captain Marcelleous charged with attacking civilian targets."
Captain MArcelleous had lost his commission, gone to prison, and died after being beaten in a prison riot. That never bothered Marcus. The man had deserved it. No, what kept Marcus awake this night was the screams of terrified children, men and women. Their mental thoughts still permeated his mind. The one that had always haunted him, was the one from the eyes of a small girl. She stood there, and watched as the pillar of fire moved towards her, too scared to run, she just held onto her stuffed animal, and began to cry. She had been effaced from existence.
On one of the Marine transports to the ground, Marc had flown, so he could see the damage for himself. Securing his helmet to his head, and hoisting his shotgun, he followed the other marines through the door. The sky was stained black and red from the smoke and still burning fires. Snow fell from the sky as the temperature aloft was already below zero centigrade, and dropping. Bodies littered the streets. This would of had to have been what Hiroshima had looked like after the American's dropped the first nuclear bomb. Looking around, he saw skeletal bodies of people who hadn't died instantly, but from severe dehydration. There was no one to save, no one they could even try to. So, heading back to the Wyvern, they lifted off, and disappeared back into space.
Bova died. The once lush M class planet was consumed both by the clouds of nuclear debris and water, but by the civil war that broke out. The Ceri never became members of the Federation, and were threatened with brutal force if they ever landed on a Federation world. The president had seen fit not to punish Marc and his surviving wingmates. They had been unwilling pawns, and their only fault was doing their job.
So, sighing, as he stood and moved to his bed, dropping his clothes to climb in and try and sleep, he preped himself. For the images of what hell would look like, crumbling building and all. For the image of a small girl and her teddy bear. And for the images of the shriviled bodies, clawing at him, telling him that he had killed them. All this would feature tonight's dreams.