"Ah, I hate paperwork. Anubis where the hell are you?" Forge said as Lt. Poi brought in more paperwork for him.

But the young warrior chuckled as he left.

Which only made the one star general smack his head into his palm.

"This sucks," he said next, setting down the PADD with the latest STF update that he hadn't participated in.

He looked around the office. With nothing in it. You see. He was in transition. While he'd gotten to his new office on Valhalla, his stuff hadn't. There was no guitar. Only his duty uniforms and some workout gear.

His wife and son were on station of course, Starfleet had paid for them to get out here, and for their interim housing while their permanent quarters were being refurbished.

That sucked too. A room with a bed and a couch that doubled for another bed for their son, who of course was woken up when he had to go to physical training at 0530 in the morning. So they'd set up his emergency shelter in the hopes it would insulate him and give him the feeling of his own room.

Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. Hit and miss.

And here he was, several decks away, working on rosters and things that meant he couldn't participate in.

Yet.

And that thought, the one where his gear, his ship, his crew; the one where they all were on his home finally.

So he rose from his desk. He past the silver model of the Locksley, his ship, the ship he'd defeated hundreds of enemies in. The one that he'd bled and sweat and cried in. Where he'd shared ale with his MACO comrades. His fleetmates too.

Outside the office there were his squad, rare for him to have a as Brigadier General of a Division. His Prowlers. It made him proud that they were all here for once. Terran, his XO, working on his school before he and his ship were out to engage the Borg yet again.

Hannibal, his Major, silent as ever as he filled out his duty roster for his vessel, regarding Forge respectfully without saying a word.

Riley, the Prowlers Captain, doing some of the best soldiering MACO had seen in a while, or at least as Forge was concerned, the thought making him smile. Soon he'd be a Lieutenant Colonel, if he'd let them promote him.

Angrymarine, his senior First Lieutenant, was busy, standing at his desk momentarily only to fill out his immediate supply requests and enemy reports before he was out the lock again. Good man.

Josiah's desk was the only desk that was empty, course he usually spent much of his time over in Colonel Sooner's area, covering down for his wife, who was about to pop. A MACO family.

Then there was Poi and Yeti, his two newest Lieutenants, and were doing well. Not as well as he'd like, but well enough. They spent most of their time out in space, quietly. He wished they'd report more, but such was their choice of duty.

He left their area, and went to the corridor. People came and went down the hallway, about their business.

Forge took a turbolift down to the trade center, where all the dozens of shops were. The smells were still there from the vendors and their wares. In several hours they'd be back, as would all the customers. Civilians, Starfleet officers, family members; they'd all be here. Bartering and haggling each other for a good deal.

His wife was a champ at it.

Forge prefered to get a straight answer and an honest deal. One that both parties were happy with.

He walked and walked, his uniform like a comfortable suit of weight and responsiblity. He took the lifts up to the tallest docking ring, where the heavy weight door blocked the other heavy weight door.

He pushed some buttons and the first of them opened. He went through to the other door, where he pushed some more buttons. the forcefield engaged before that last door opened, revealing what Forge truely loved about this universe.

The openess of it all. The vastness of the space. The nebula they called their home was around them, thousands of lightyears away. He went to the edge of the barrier and stood there, in awe of the thing they'd done out here on the edge of Federation space.

The 12th Fleet.

The Fleet.

His home.

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful

Starbase Valhalla appeared on the main view screen as the Wraith II, started its approach. Colonel Arkhan leaned forward in his command chair reading the long list of things he'd ignored while at the front. "So much boring paper work!" He had theorized in the academy that the computers that ran Starfleet actually fed on paperwork. Growing impossibly fat on the endless series of reports, he was required to file.

When he joined Starfleet he had imagined he would spend his days fighting the enemies of the federation, and then return home to a heroes welcome. He had never dreamed he would try slipping back into dock hoping 12th Command would miss his arrival. Just so he could put off those mountains of reports just a little longer. On the other hand it was great to be home! He couldn't wait to get back to MACO section, while it was clear his newly Renamed squad was now scattered across the quadrant. He would be able to catch an ale, with Sooner, Forge, Cassie, Riley and maybe even Anubis.

He couldn't wait for the long conversation debating the merits and flaws of the new prototypes, rumored to be released soon. To smell the plasma as someone "Candied" one of the colonel offices, just like they used to. Maybe even find out if that borg blender Ezme had made was still in the bar. Even the terror of being in the same system as Firix wasn't enough to make him turn the ship around. That is family. Those folks you would face whatever terrible fate Firix has in store for you just to talk to again.

Then a series red urgent marks began to flash on his Pad, and deep down he knew it was going to be a long time before he got that drink or that conversation.

_________________

========================
Arkhan
Lt. Bravo. MACO
The 12th Fleet
Current Mission: Finish Tech Transfer.
"Victory is Life"
========================

Colonel Forge's log, stardate 85692.86.

PT today. Hooah.

We started off with running around the Section D habitat ring. Twice.

Then we moved on to the manual emergency ladders, going up from Section D to Section B, a good 500 meters.

And up on the Beta ring, we did plyometrics (frog jumps, high knees, butt kickers, and iron mikes).

Awesome PT.

Tomorrow we're going to full spaceborne combat load and are going to turn up the mag-boots, level three I think is on the training schedule.

Such things make me smile.



See?

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful

It was early morning. Gwen barking up a storm, only meant one thing; it was time to get up. “I don’t care what command has to say about it!”, Sooner thought. A ship without a dog is like a bar without JD! He stumbled out of the bed, looked down, and stated “yeah, yeah, I’m up!”. He walked over to his desk, looking down, and thought, "why bother, Anubis, Forge, and Zero aren’t here", as he opened his personal communications. Soonergr still working with Engineering, and begging for a chance to be a MACO. Poor kid wouldn’t know what to do with his old man killing him every day in training. The rest was the standard, blah, blah, blah communications.

“Okay, I stalled long enough,” he thought and pulled up the daily reports. A note from his newly promoted Lt. Col. Cassie that she may need to take some sick leave shortly. He wondered if Forge knows that he’ll lose a man also during that time.

He picked up the LOA listing showing that Major Moroski is on personal leave, also 1st LT Jast is on TDY at the Academy. “Hmm…Rommel and Deadmarsh isn’t on the LOA listing” as he made a note to check into that.

Looking at the duty roster, he chuckled, Conarr, Mac, Sheridan and Balls are showing active. One of these days Mac is going to be promoted whether he likes it or not.

“I’m sorry baby”, he spoke softly looking at the repair reports on the Calvary. Once again, the Calvary had rode into the pits of hell and survived….barely. Higher ups are going to be mad about the damages, but what the heck, it’s on Starfleet’s dime not Maco’s. The Calvary with all of her aches and pains certainly beat the heck out of that Orion love barge “Musketeer” that he had to Captain during his last excursion into Klingon territory. It took a few weeks, but he was able infiltrate the KDF forces to get his own command at the rank of General.

Soon the klaxons sounded throughout the ship! Sooner looked up, shook his head while rushing out the door, his first officer’s voice stating over the intercom “Captain to the bridge, we got more Borg incoming to supply us with more parts for sale”. Sooner was about to say something, but who could yell at his first officer’s alto voice that made going into combat seem so comforting.

As he entered the bridge he called to his communication officer, “Let Forge and Anubis know we’ll be a little late to that command debriefing.” “Yes, Sir!” he heard in soprano tones as he sat down in the center seat looking at the view screen. It’s going to be one of those days, again.

Cassie glanced around her new quarters in satisfaction. It had taken a few days, but everything was, more or less, unpacked and put away. For how much she hated moving, she was certainly becoming a pro at it. To be fair, the reason she was moving this time was a pretty positive one, with the promotion and all. She was a little unsure of how this was all going to work; trying to settle into a new place and a new position was a tad overwhelming, given that she was ready to pop any day now. Trying to find the balance between work and family was never easy in the best of times. Yet Cassie knew she had a great CO and was really looking forward to spending time getting to know the rest of her new squad.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she surveyed the room again. It needed colour. Why Starfleet chose to use such drab colours, she could never understand. Cassie wondered what Col. Sooner would do if she painted her quarters, say, bright red or turquoise. It wasn't exactly regulation... To hell with it! She thought. If he can have a dog on board, I can paint! Making a mental note to sit down with a colour swatch that evening, Cassie turned her attention to the Strategic Task Force combat reports that had been trickling in over the past few weeks.

The latest set, the elite briefings, had come in several days prior, and Cassie had hardly even glanced at them. Replicating a mochachino with extra whip cream (she couldn't wait until she could resume spiking it with creme de menthe and cream de cacao), she sat at her desk and began reading. Looking for an exploitable weakness in these elite borg seemed about as futile as reasoning with her two year old son; practically impossible. Still, it wasn't totally unattainable. Few groups had attempted the missions, and fewer still had been triumphant, but there had to be Achilles heel they could consistently use to their advantage. Coming across a comment from her previous CO, Col Arkhan, she wrote a note reminding herself to ask him for some more details. Cassie was just itching to plunge into the elite runs herself; She just had no desire to do it under-equipped with an untrained team... Another thing to put on the "post-baby" to-do list. It was getting longer and longer every day.

Cassie checked the time and realized she was about to be late for her bridge shift- not a good first impression maker. She shot the remainder of her coffee into the back of her throat and ran (as quickly as she could waddle) into the bedroom to change into her uniform. It was getting too tight, again. If this baby didn't come soon, there wouldn't be a uniform on the ship big enough for her. At that thought, Cassie left her quarters for the bridge to see what the day would hold for her. I hope its more than routine maintenance, she thought to herself. As it turned out, the day was miles from ordinary routine.

_________________


Brigadier General Cassie
(Command Adviser)

BUMP

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful