Discussing Tactics

Posted on Fri Feb 13th, 2026 @ 2:23pm by Captain George Charles [Reece] & Captain Addison 'Rico' Leyton

Mission: Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: USS Elysium, Fighting Tigers' Starfighter Pilot's Briefing Room
Timeline: MD 5 / 1324 hours
1301 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure

It has been a heavy workload, getting the damage to both the launch bays and the starfighters fixed, however, they had finally gotten things as ship-shape as possible, given their lack of proper supplies and personnel. The remaining members of the Fighting Tigers, and their Romulan counterparts, were now in the main briefing room, discussing how best to combine their two groups, with the goal of protecting both starship.

George, who had resumed his duties of Squadron Leader, following the recent loss of Kett, was standing up at the lecturn, facing the compartment of pilots, as he led the briefing. "Given that our Romulan counterparts have a larger surviving group of pilots and starfighters, we are going to gave to get creative on how to best divide our combined number in protecting our starships." He pressed a control on the lecturn and continued to speak. "As you can see, our combined force is twenty-one operational starfighters, with eight belonging to Elysium, and the rest from Havraha. So, for the breakdown, I'm going to break us down into four groups. Three of five starfighters and the other with six. That last group will be the Alpha Team, of which I will be a part of. Each team, Alpha, Beta, Delta and Gamma, will be on call for a six-hour shift."

He took a breath and continued. "Alpha Team will be on call from oh-eight-hundred, to fourteen-hundred hours. Beta Team will be on call from fourteen-hundred, to twenty-hundred. Delta Team, twenty-hundred, to oh-two-hundred hours. And then Gamma pulls the graveyard shift of oh-two-hundred, to oh-eight-hundred hours." He paused a beat, then continued. "While I realize that we are in a crisis situation, short of a drastic l8ss of numbers, no pilot will fly without at four hours mandatory downtime, minimum. We will be no good to either ship if we are flying exhausted out there."

He next punched up a holographic representation of both starship, flying in formation with each other. He then added the moving patrol path of each flight group, the paths encircling both starships, much like a Shepard dog continues to move around its flock of sheep.

"In accordance with the agreement from topside, as the Commodore is the senior-ranking officer on-scene, all flight orders will cone from from Elysium's command staff." He looked over the collected pilots as he asked. "Any questions thus far?"

Elijah Hunter remained seated for a few seconds after George finished outlining the plan, eyes tracking the holographic patrol routes as they flowed around the Elysium and the Havraha. Twenty-one starfighters. Two battered crews. One shared problem lurking somewhere beyond sensor range.

He exhaled slowly, then stood, boots planting firmly against the deck as he addressed the room.

“Second Lieutenant Elijah Hunter, Fighting Tigers,” he began, voice steady but carrying the unmistakable edge of someone who lived his life one scramble away from death. “Sir, first off—I want to say this is about as clean a breakdown as we’re going to get given the state of things. Rotating coverage, defined shifts, and mandatory downtime are exactly what we need right now. Flying tired gets people killed faster than enemy fire.”

A few pilots nodded. One or two of the Romulans inclined their heads slightly, acknowledging the sentiment.
Elijah stepped closer to the holo-display, gesturing toward the overlapping patrol arcs between the two starships. “That said, I do have a few concerns—and a couple of suggestions.”

He traced a finger through the inner patrol loops. “These zones right here? They’re going to be our pressure points. Anything smart enough to probe our defenses is going to test the gaps, the overlaps, and the response times. I recommend rotating not just teams, but lead positions within those teams. Starfleet one shift, Romulan the next. Keeps patterns from forming and makes sure no single group carries the heaviest load every time.”

His gaze shifted briefly toward the Romulan pilots. “It also forces us to learn each other’s habits fast—which is exactly what we want if this turns into a running fight.”

He straightened, hands resting loosely at his sides. “Second—comms discipline. I don't have much expierence in joint operations , but I believe that translation lag can kill reaction time. I propose standardized combat callouts across the board. One set of threat markers, one set of break commands, one emergency code. We settle that now, not when someone’s shields drop to ten percent.”

Elijah paused, then added, “I’m happy to work with whichever Romulan flight lead you designate to hammer that out.”

He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing, tone lowering slightly. “Third—and this is more tactical than procedural—we should assume this attack was reconnaissance. They tested our response time, our damage control, and our ability to launch under pressure. Whatever’s out there now has data.”

His jaw tightened just a fraction. “That means next time won’t be random. It’ll be deliberate.”

Elijah looked back to George. “Alpha Team being first up puts you in the position of stress-testing this entire setup. If there’s a weak link, you’ll find it. I’m requesting assignment flexibility—point, wing, reserve, doesn’t matter. I’ll fly where I’m most useful, regardless of team designation.”

He glanced around the room, meeting eyes—Starfleet blue, Romulan green—without distinction. “We’re past the point where colors on the hull matter. If one of these ships goes down, the other follows. We protect both, or we lose everything.”

His voice hardened just a bit. “I’ve already buried friends from this fight. I don’t intend to add names to that list because we hesitated or got comfortable.”

Elijah stepped back, squaring his shoulders. “No questions, sir. Just one final statement.”

“Whatever hit us before is coming back. When it does, it’s going to find two ships, one screen, and pilots who are awake, coordinated, and ready. If they’re looking for weakness—let’s make damn sure they don’t find it.”

He nodded once toward George and retook his seat, eyes already drifting back to the stars beyond the bulkhead, waiting.

As Elijah spoke, George watched from the briefing lecturn, a soft grin threatening to upturn the corners of his mouth. He had gotten to know the young pilot during their journey together, just prior to the Crossing. In the time they had been trapped in the Circinus Galaxy, he had come to see the young man as both confidant and open to learning anything new. It was a refreshing characteristic that George felt he held as well. It was why he had decided on elevating Elijah to a flight lead. He had excellent scores on the simulators and natural ability when the fight was real.

"Well said, Elijah," he finally replied. "And I agree with you, that we need to be one united team. So, with that in mind, I'm placing you as lead flight of Beta Team. I also want you to work wirh our friends here," he indicated the Romulans, "And iron out the necessary verbiage for us all to use." He then moved his eyes over all of the pilots present. "Alao, though we both have translation software, we need to learn to speak each other's native tongue. At least as much as is needed to communicate in a crunch. So," he paused to take a breath, then continued. "All Starfleet pilots are to learn as much Rhiansu as possible, and all Romulan p8lots are to learn as much Federation Standard. I'm not expecting us to become fluent overnight. Focus, for now, on certain phrases that would be useful to us all to learn."

He looked to the gathered pilots, then asked, "Anything else?"


~Truncated~