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Task Force One

I woke up this morning and they gave me another stripe.  Seems there was some sort of trouble at the ice mining camp out on Strentor at Jove L4, and the Emperor decided enough was enough.  He's claimed the whole Jovian Trojan system for Mars, and the 'Roiders didn't take kindly to that. Looks like a real war this time.

So Admiral Singh sent down the order: all naval officers of Belter birth or descent are to be immediately relieved of duty, with their next ranking Marsborn officer to assume command and rank.  Too bad that knocks off half of our senior officers - the more experienced half, I might add.  But I can see the point of getting rid of the 'Roiders.  They've helped us build up this fleet from nothing, them and a few Loonie expats.  But we can't trust them to fight a war against their own, can we?

So I escorted Commander Travis and Lieutenant Murkowski off the ship, and took command of His Majesty's Spacecraft, Vishnu PF302, a corvette three months past commissioning.  Of course we're short one command officer and a chief engineer, but I'm sure the two senior middies they just tossed aboard can fill in on the shifts.

Never thought I get my own command at twenty-six - um, I mean, twelve Glorious Martian - years of age.

Commodore Gautam says the Task Force breaks orbit in an hour, so I'd better get my act together and reprogram this uniform.

-Lt. Commander Pavel Mirza, 1 March 2519
 

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