communications relay login

Star Trek: MACO

Started By:
Forge04, Mon 05 Mar, 2018 5:23 PM
Views:
1288
Replies:
0
    • Paragon of Duty
      Uncommon (25 Points)

      Sign three roll calls in a row

      Unlocked Tue 01 Jun, 2021 5:00 PM

      9.77% have received this achievement

    • Eternal Servitude!
      Uncommon (25 Points)

      Be a registered user for five years

      Unlocked Wed 01 Sep, 2021 8:03 PM

      74.95% have received this achievement

    • Dean’s List
      Uncommon (25 Points)

      Pass all three Academy exams

      Unlocked Tue 27 Feb, 2018 6:04 AM

      3.99% have received this achievement

    • Ensign
      Common (10 Points)

      Receive a promotion to the rank of Ensign

      Unlocked Sun 25 Feb, 2018 1:09 AM

      3.60% have received this achievement

    • Starfleet's Finest
      Common (10 Points)

      Be a member of Starfleet Operations

      Unlocked Thu 01 Sep, 2016 3:00 PM

      28.11% have received this achievement

    • The Mad House
      Common (10 Points)

      Be a member of the Holodeck

      Unlocked Thu 01 Sep, 2016 3:00 PM

      13.01% have received this achievement

    ACHV. Points
    245
    Reputation
    0
    Join Date
    Sep 01 2016
    Posts
    45
    Location
    Idaho, US
    0
    • Users who disliked
    • None
    1
    • Users who liked
    • Silynn
    Reply With QuoteQuote
    #1
     –  Last edited by Forge04; Mon 05 Mar, 2018 5:46 PM.
    ADULT LANGUAGE WARNING!!!!!!!!!

    ADULT LANGUAGE WARNING!!!!!!!!!

    Some of you from the 12th know, but I've been working on several ST stories over the years, but this is by far my favorite. Please if you see grammatical errors or just things that don't make sense, shoot me a PM letting me know.

    Something to clear up though: this is changing continuity a little. Instead of MACO being utterly disbanded back in the 21st-22nd century, they were merely defunded, changed, moved around, kinda deprioritized. The Federation still had a need for a dedicated combat corps, but with so much value placed on exploration and diplomacy, the MACO branch of the Federation found themselves on the outskirts looking in. So for the purposes of this story, that's the background.

    Also, I intend to fill in some of the missing pieces, I just don't find the time to.

    Enjoy.

    *************************************************************************************

    “I’m sorry. You just don’t meet the prerequisites for entrance into Starfleet Academy,” the Senior Petty Officer said.

    I nodded and stood up. All 6’8” of me. I dwarfed this little Saurian man in the crisp black uniform. He reached up with his clawed hand and I shook it, both of us knowing I could snap it off if I’d wanted to.

    It wasn’t a matter of how well trained he was or how much experience he had. Sometimes size matters.

    A lot.

    I walked out of the office and turned to go home.

    I faintly heard over the imagined sound of disappointment from my Starfleet family the door open behind me.

    “Excuse me! Sir!” came the voice.

    I turned around to see a Klingon, obviously military, though wearing a MACO semi-formal uniform.

    “What can I do for you…?” I asked, trying to determine his rank.

    He was big, even to me. He stood slightly shorter than me, though he seemed to have a weight advantage. Still though, nothing on us was fat or soft.

    “Name’s Gunnery Sergeant Triuk. You look severely defeated coming out of the Starfleet office. Someone like you I would think would be a shoe-in,” he said, putting out his hand in true human fashion.

    I grasped it and was surprised by the grip, returning it in kind. He inhaled and raised his chin somewhat, as if trying to impose some form of superiority.

    From within I felt the usual urge. To answer the challenge. To compete, to win. Immediately I suppressed it like I always did, having learned the hard way through my 17 years.

    “Tyler Wetherly,” I said back, knocking down my competitive spirit.

    “Mr. Wetherly, why the look of defeat?” he asked.

    I figured, ‘why the hell not?’

    “I was disqualified for admittance to the Academy. Apparently I’m too big, go figure.”

    “Too big? How’s that?”

    “Well I exceed the maximum safe tolerances. I’m 35 pounds over what I need to be and I’ve plateaued. I’ve tried waivers and everything. They say I’m not safe to have on board. That ‘no one could save you in an emergency situation.’”

    The Klingon chuckled.

    “Mind if we step into my office here?” he asked.

    “Sorry, but I really don’t see the point-“ I began.

    “Mr. Wetherly, MACO is- please, step inside. Five minutes of your time.”

    That tone of challenge was still in his voice, he’d opened his door and I could see the holo-posters inside. In the Starfleet recruitment office the enlisted men and women were smiling and cheerful. Looking optimistic and hopeful. The poster I glanced for that brief moment showed men and women, not smiling. Not cheerful. Straight lipped and determined. Hard men and women.

    And it struck something within me. I walked in.

    The door shut behind me and the differences were stark.

    The Starfleet office had been inviting and bright. There had been bowls of candy for children of the recruits.

    Here though, the lights were low, almost too low. Much of the light came from the desks interspersed throughout. There were mini-MACO flags to take home. There were black stretchy bracelets with MACO in simple green lettering in bowls. There were more posters, but these shown warriors in full combat gear, riding assault vehicles, emerging from drop-pods shooting rifles, magnetically snared to the hulls of ships.

    “Why did you want to join Starfleet Mr. Wetherly?” he asked, crossing his brown arms in front of his chest.

    His uniform was perfect looking. Not a speck of dust or dirt on it. Not a crease out of line. His shoes were shined to such a degree they were like a mirror. Even his hair, Tyler finally noticed, was freshly shaved bald.

    “It’s a family tradition. Everyone in my family has served. It’s just what we do,” I said, still taking in my surroundings.

    The more I looked, the more I was taken in by it all. I felt a pride in my chest and stomach for even standing in the room.

    “But now you can’t serve. Not with Starfleet anyway. But what if I told you you could still? Maybe not with Starfleet, exactly, but serving the greater good nonetheless.”

    “If I couldn’t get into the Academy-“

    “Starfleet’s not the only service of the Federation with an officer academy kid,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

    Calling me ‘kid’ about made me snap. I had been told about the MACOs by my family. Grunts. Simpletons. Trigger happy, egotistical idiots they’d called them, just about universally.

    “Look, I’m really not interested alright?” I said and took a step back towards the door.

    “Bull♥♥♥♥,” he said, looking me square in the eye. “I know you’re interested. And do you want to know why I know that? Because you walked in this door. I’ve smelt the defiance in you since you’ve been in here. You are no failure! Service is in your blood and I’m giving you the chance to live up to it, right here and now.”

    We locked eyes.

    “It’s up to you to seize it.”

    ***

    I was crushed. My dream of Starfleet was dead. I’d done so much research, planned my curriculum, mapped out my career plan even. Now none of it would ever happen.

    I pushed the food around on my plate that night at dinner. Tossed and turned in bed. I went out with friends over the next week, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t get the vision of the posters out of my head. When I closed my eyes I saw them. When I dreamt I saw the recordings I’d looked up of MACO.

    “Son, talk to me,” my father said from the screen.

    We had these weekly chats over subspace as frequently as we could, though sometimes our schedules didn’t allow it. He’d followed my decision and progress with acceptance into Starfleet Academy with hope and pride.

    “I didn’t make it into Starfleet Dad,” I said, meeting his eyes though the words pained me with almost actual physical pain. I expected more than just a sigh from him, the lieutenant pips on his chest rising and falling.

    “I know son. I’ve been following your application and waivers. I’m sorry,” he said.

    We let silence hang for a moment before my father spoke up.

    “You know, I was thinking though. Does it have to be Starfleet?”

    My heart missed a beat, though my brain hadn’t caught up yet.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well I was doing a little reading kiddo and I think you still fit into the MACO Academy guidelines. I know it’s not Starfleet, but I mean, it’s still the military, which if you have your heart set on following the family, it’s better than nothing.”

    His face was genuine. His words hit me where it counted, right in my heart. I struggled to speak.

    “I did talk to a MACO recruiter actually, but kind of brushed it off. You’d be - okay with me in MACO Dad?”

    He smiled and chuckled, even from deep space.

    “Tyler, you’ve always wanted to be in the service. Your mother and I have always known that. And if you can’t be in Starfleet, it’s really up to you then. MACO is, in all actuality, a fine branch.”

    “You’ve all always talked down about them. So much-“

    “I know we have, but it’s just an inter-service rivalry bud. We give them flak, they give it back. In reality, we have our mission, they have theirs. We’re both extremely proficient at what we do.”

    My head was spinning.

    “And the family wouldn’t be too mad you think?”

    “Of course not, a little ribbing of course,” he said, again smiling.

    “Who’s ribbing? Who’d be mad?” said my mother from off screen, then coming into view, sweaty from obviously working out.

    “Tyler’s thinking about joining MACO,” my father said to her.

    “Oh honey I think that’d be great!” she exclaimed.

    “You would?” I asked.

    “Oh of course Tyler! You’re huge! You’d be a perfect MACO officer! And you’d be blazing the trail for the Wetherly’s. No one in the family has ever been in MACO. You’d be great!” she smiled.

    My heart was suddenly pumping out of my chest. She was excited for me. And suddenly the visions and holos I’d seen now had me in them. In dress uniform. In combat gear. Suddenly possibilities I’d never thought of were exploding in my mind.

    I shipped out a week later.

    ***

    The recruits were all arrived at the processing station at different times, but Tyler had been there since 0400 hours. He’d had nothing else to do. The senior coordinator came out and issued transport orders.

    “Wetherly!”

    “Sergeant here Sergeant!”

    “Way to sound off! Janus shuttle 4!”

    He already had his bag on his shoulder and walked off. He’d been to ESD before, this time was no different, other than it was the last time he’d see it from the civilian perspective.

    He found shuttle 4, strapped in and waited.

    Again the difference between Starfleet and MACO was apparent. He’d heard from his mother, father, brother and sisters, aunts and uncles that everyone was always so happy when they shipped out to the academy. Of course, for them it was a quick trip to San Francisco. For him, it was months on Saturn’s moon Janus. Plus various other training facilities he’d been told. None of them on Earth though. His home planet was too hospitable.

    But here, on this shuttle, with other MACO recruits, piloted by MACO pilots, with a MACO Staff Sergeant seated at the front facing rearward, watching them all, everyone was quiet. They all knew that when they got there, the hell would start. The yelling. The physical conditioning. The breaking down of their personalities, habits both good and bad, spirits. It would be horrible and they knew it. So they sat there, in silence, awaiting the storm.

    And then it was there. The engines slowed and died. The hatch opened and a DI stepped inside the shuttle only to yell. Without pausing to breathe Tyler noticed.

    “GETOFFMYMOTHER♥♥♥♥INGTRANSPORT! MOVEMOVEMOVE! GOGOGO! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT! GO! HURRY! MOVEIT! GOGOGO!”

    They were told to secure their gear, to get in a line, to not move, to get in the building, to sit in the chairs, to sit at attention, to not look around, to not move, to not open their mouths at all, to not move. It was a blur to them until there was finally a stop to the loud.

    They sat in a room with no posters. No windows. No anything except for tables and chairs, all facing the front. There were 40 recruits there, and 3 DIs. One was an Andorian, big and menacing, her face scowling all the time and an antennae shorter than the other. Another was a human woman, roughly 6 foot tall and of asian decent, scowling. The last was a Klingon, head shaved bald and he was not only scowling, he was angry at them.

    “First thing you will understand is that you will begin and end every statement with the rank or position of the person talking to you. I am a Drill Instructor. Do you understand?” he said, strongly.

    “Drill Instructor, yes Drill Instructor!” the class said, but out of unison and without enthusiasm. Except for Tyler.

    “Together! Again!” the DI yelled.

    “Drill Instructor, yes Drill Instructor!” they tried again, Tyler bumping up his volume, those around him catching on and joining in.

    “Last time to turn it around or we’ll go out to the pit right now until you all can figure it out! Do you understand?!”

    “DRILLINSTRUCTORYESDRILLINSTRUCTOR!” they all got out at the top of their lungs.

    Now the DI was walking around the outside of the room.

    “What rank are you?” he asked an average Bajoran man in the third row.

    “I’m a-“

    “STOPANDGETDOWNANDPUSH! YOUHAVEDISRESPECTEDMEANDMYENTIRECORPSOFDRILLINSTRUCTORS! THEREFOREYOUHAVEDISRESPECTEDALLOFMACO! IKILLANYONEWHODISRESPECTSMYBELOVEDMACO!”

    “Drill Instructor, sorry Drill Instructor!” the man said, having dropped to the ground and was doing push-ups as fast and hard as he could, his chair having slammed against the table behind him and wound up sideways on the floor next to him, the DI yelling directly in his ear.

    “OH I’M A SORRY DRILL INSTRUCTOR NOW HUH?! ISTHATWHATYOUTHINK?!”

    “Drill Instructor, no Drill Instructor!”

    “Get up and sit down!” he said, the man doing so, obviously about to cry. “Now answer the question, correctly.”

    “Drill Instructor, I’m an officer cadet Dri-“

    “YOU ARE A ♥♥♥♥ING IDIOT YOU GOD DAMN PIECE OF ♥♥♥♥! IF YOU ♥♥♥♥ING KNEW ANY-GOD DAMN-THING AT ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER ♥♥♥♥ING MACO YOU WOULD KNOW THAT THERE IS NO SUCH GOD DAMN RANK AS A ♥♥♥♥ING OFFICER CADET!” he yelled directly into the man’s ear from less than 5 cm away. Then he stood and continued down around the room.

    “This, this is the second mother ♥♥♥♥ing thing you will ♥♥♥♥ing under-god-damn-stand. Other ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ people going through pussy-♥♥♥♥ing basic training at this exact moment on the great god damn enlisted side are Privates. They are more than you. They have already proven a ♥♥♥♥ing ♥♥♥♥ ton more than you. Because they know they have signed up for the ♥♥♥♥, for the hell that is a soldier within the MACO ranks. They have more mettle than every single one of you god damn mother ♥♥♥♥ers. At this exact moment, you are nothing. In fact, you are less than nothing.

    You are candidates.

    You are here to lead those fine men and women in the enlisted side without ever earning their respect. Without ever knowing what they’ve done or gone through. You haven’t proven a ♥♥♥♥ing thing, to anyone. Period. And in order to earn that commission, in order to prove yourselves to them – you gotta prove yourselves to me. And I’m willing to bet that not a single one of you pansy ass piss-ants is willing to do that. Right here. Right now.”

    Tyler didn’t know why he did it, but suddenly he was standing up at the position of attention he’d studied in the manuals he’d studied.

    “Drill Instructor, I will prove it to you Drill Instructor!” he yelled, with a confidence and fire he’d never felt before.

    The DI looked up and stormed over to him, stopping millimeters from his cheek, speaking at a whisper.

    “You think you’re ready to be an officer? Do you candidate? Right now?” he asked.

    “Drill Instructor, I believe I’ve been a MACO since the day I was born Drill Instructor.”

    The Klingon breathed on him, breathed him in, looked him up and down.

    “Wetherly. Candidate Wetherly. You’re a big mother ♥♥♥♥er you know that?”

    “Drill Instructor, yes I do Drill Instructor.”

    “I look forward to tearing you down, Candidate BMF. If you can survive what I’m going to put you through, that statement you made a moment ago will be the defining moment of your life. Sit your ass down.”

    He moved on then, yelling at them collectively again. They moved out of the briefing room, to an area where they were issued their PT uniforms, then to chow, then to the barracks, then back out to get immunizations, then familial records, then health records, then dental, then back to the barracks, where they were finally allowed to sleep. Tyler had on one of the few watches, and counted up his hours awake.

    “Thirty-eight. Thirty-eight hours I’ve been awake,” he said.

    “What time is that, where?” a voice side from across the aisle, an Andorian female looking at him.

    “ESD,” Tyler said.

    “♥♥♥♥, I’m at 43. Andoria,” she said.

    “Wetherly,” he introduced.

    “Smith,” she said.

    “Smith?” he asked.

    But she was out already. He looked around their dark, black bay. He wondered about what the DI had in store for him.

    ***

    It wasn't that bad really.

    They were given their gear, made sure their health was in fact intact. Their paperwork and administrative information was verified and re-verified.

    Then it was on to the screening process itself. This consisted of 6 weeks, Sol time. He was of course singled out. First to be put in a leadership position, first to march the company to chow, first to give a class on giving a class, etc.

    They tested physicalness. Mental abilities to learn and adapt. Fortitude of character and morals.

    By the end of it, the candidates were weeded down from 104 to 21. Only 21 of them were deemed worthy enough to actually be MACO officers.

    Then they were moved to their basic training companies.

    Tyler went to Bravo.

    Not to his surprise, it was supposedly the hardest company. The Bravo Bonecrushers had the highest dropout rate amongst the candidates.

    Though once past screening, things settled down into a regular routine. Again, he was put in charge of the company as the company leader.

    Unlike Starfleet Academy which operated on two semesters with several lengthy breaks, MACO Officer Candidate School was continuous. They were tested and gauged on what each candidate could handle then a course load was selected for them. After a year of this the candidates were then assigned various branches very similar to Starfleet with exceptions; Engineers, Medical, Support and Tactical.

    The Engineers were the egg-heads of MACO. Basically tougher counterparts to their Starfleet brethren.

    The Medical MACO officers had less in-depth knowledge versus the Starfleet doctors, but they specialized in combat care, expedient treatment that would save lives and/or get the troops back in the fight.

    The Support officers – well they were somewhat the butt of the joke within the classes. No one wanted to be a Support officer. Not after everything they’d been through together. They were the requisition, the logistical, the maintenance officers. They would be far from any action, far from any enemy.

    Which is exactly where Tyler would be.

    Tactical. The poster branch of the MACO Officer Corps. The Tactical officers were the best of the class, in not just one area, but them all. Tactical officers were held to a higher standard than the others, because in the future, sometime somewhere everyone knew that lives would be in their hands, along with missions that had more lives at stake still.

    3 of his class were assigned Tactical positions, including himself.

    Over the last two years of his 3 at Janus, he went on training exercises all over the Alpha quadrant. Sometimes not even to actual training areas. Of course he was allowed to go on shore-leave once a year, which he always took when his family was home.

    Both times they’d commented on how he continued to get even bigger, how he was so much more mature, how he spoke with a confidence and determination he’d never had.

    With 6 weeks left to go before actual graduation, he was addressed by the OCS computer.

    <Senior Candidate Wetherly, report to General Thomson’s office by 1330 hours.>

    He didn’t respond as it was unnecessary. He cut his shower early and donned his uniform. Black undershirt. Black cargo pants with a green accent stripe down the side that were bloused in his black and shined combat boots. Then the overshirt, black again with green highlights. Finally was the Class B uniform top, thick synthetic cloth that fastened along the right side of the stomach, ribs and chest. On his collar were the 3 silver rectangles designating him a senior. There was no red for his assigned branch yet, he was still only a candidate.

    It would be a dishonor to wear the blood before he'd officially earned it.

    He walked with his usual quickness through the academy to the CG’s office and buzzed the door.

    <Enter> came the reply from the emitter.

    He went inside and stood at attention for the officer, a Brigadier General that had been in command of the Academy for roughly ten years, an aged Andorian man.

    “Candidate Wetherly, you’re early,” he said from his seat.

    “Sir, yes Sir,” he said back.

    “Are you aware of the tradition we hold with Starfleet, Candidate?” General Thomson asked.

    “Sir, if you’re referring to the practice of MACO personnel serving onboard Starfleet vessels, yes Sir, I am.”

    “I wasn’t son. Have a seat,” he said, which Tyler did. “There’s a tradition, every year, that our two academies have followed since they were both formed. Each year, we send them our best, and they send us theirs. For the graduation ceremonies. In our case, we send a MACO to be a first officer aboard their vessel, unfamiliar territory for us, usually. They in turn send someone to be an infantry officer and usually they get their asses handed to them.”

    “Sir, I was unaware of that Sir.”

    “Well, maybe you’ve figured it out, but you’re the best of your class kid.”

    The general let that hang for a moment.

    “Now I've read your file, especially your background, so I have to know, from you: would you be okay onboard a Starfleet vessel? Other cadets that you could have went to their academy with?”

    Tyler thought for a moment, looking over and out the window at the inhospitable planet outside.

    “Sir, permission to speak frankly Sir?” Tyler asked.

    “In this case, sure Candidate.”

    “Sir I can say with absolute honesty that not only will I be okay, I’ll make them regret ever letting me go Sir.”

    “Very good. You ship out in four hours. Do us proud MACO,” General Thomson said, Tyler standing at attention with the order.

    “Sir yes Sir,” he responded, having been called a MACO for the first time, his heart soaring in his chest.

    “Dismissed.”

    ***

    “Wow, you’re a big guy,” the transporter chief said to him as he checked in at ESD.

    “I’ve noticed,” Tyler said to him as he climbed onto the platform, but with a smile.

    “The Tagus is waiting for you. Captain Taggart is going to greet you personally. Good luck,” he said, the Saurian hands tapping away.

    One quick transport and he found himself on the Miranda class vessel, with a Denobulan man waiting for him. One quick look at the rank and Tyler approached then went to attention, the picture of military discipline.

    “Sir, Candidate Wetherly reporting as ordered Sir.”

    “Holy cow. Cadet, anyone ever tell you you’re huge?” the captain asked him, reaching out his hand.

    “Sir, yes Sir. All the time Sir,” he answered, relaxing a bit and shaking the officers hand.

    He also figured he’d let the ‘cadet’ label slide. He wasn’t a ♥♥♥♥ing cadet. Those were pussy designations for Starfleet ♥♥♥♥s.

    “I’m Captain Taggart and this is your home for the next six months, the Tagus, walk with me,” he said.

    They walked out of the transporter room and to a turbolift, where they went to the bridge. CPT Taggart then made a big show of having Tyler give the orders to leave spacedock, apparently as a test. This showed Tyler he either didn't think very highly of MACO officers or he hadn't read up on his new first officer. Either way, Tyler didn't like it. But before long and with a surprised CPT Taggart, they were on their way to Vulcan.

    “Captain, we’re receiving a distress call,” one of the other bridge cadets said. “No audio or visual Sir, just an automated message requesting immediate assistance."

    “Number One?” the captain asked him.

    Tyler had heard of the phrase used when he'd spent time on board his mother or fathers ships as a kid, so it didn't phase him. Again though, CPT Taggart had a look. This time of disappointment. But Tyler referenced his chairs console and took a quick stock of the situation.

    “Sir, we’re the only vessel within an hour of the coordinates of the signal. I’m weary of the initial circumstances and recommend shields be raised as we get close. We’re about ten minutes out Sir.”

    CPT Taggart seemed to be pleasantly surprised with how well Tyler had done, giving him a quick smirk before issuing more orders.

    “Very well, conn set course, best available warp. Shields up and everyone on your toes.”

    As they entered the system they discovered the SS Break Even, a simple cargo vessel, though badly damaged. A quick scan showed there were life signs on board, some in need of medical care.

    “Any threats out there?” CPT Taggart asked.

    “Negative Sir,” a cadet said, but Tyler spoke up.

    “Sir, what the cadet means to say is that the sensors aren’t picking up any threats. Obviously there are, somewhere. I recommend conducting a thorough scan of the immediate area first.”

    “A wise choice Number One, however, attacks in this area are scarce and erratic. Those people need our help. Sometimes the need outweighs the risk. Cadet, lower the shields and prepare to beam over Cadet Wetherly with a security detail and medical personnel.”

    With the order and an encouraging nod from CPT Taggart, Tyler rose and went to the turbolift.

    While en route the ship shuddered. His combat training kicked in from the countless scenarios they'd been put through. Torpedoes against the hull.

    <Wetherly! We’ve been boarded by Klingons! We’re losing systems. I need you to –> CPT Taggart started but Tyler finished.

    “Sir, I’m on it Sir,” he said, surprising himself with his calm tone and lack of adrenaline. It suddenly dawned on him just where he was and what was about to happen. This was no scenario. This wasn’t a test, at least that he knew of. This was real. He was about to go into battle, finally.

    The turbolift doors opened to a Klingon immediately in front of him, firing a disruptor rifle down the corridor. Training kicked in and he grabbed the rifle, twisting it and catching the enemies finger in the trigger well, snapping it in several places and eliciting a scream.

    “Should always be aware of your surroundings,” Tyler muttered as he slammed the butt of the rifle into the nose, intentionally shearing off the bone and jamming it into the brain of the now falling mass of flesh. He knelt while immediately firing on the squad with their backs to him, dispatching them all before they could really understand what had happened.

    <Wetherly, where are you?>

    “I’m heading towards Engineering Captain.”

    <Scratch that, we’ve regained some systems. I need you to head to the Weapons Control room though. We think there’s enemy contacts there.>

    “Roger that Sir,” he said and backed into the turbolift again.

    There were more enemy in the corridors on the way to Weapons Control, but he dispatched them with ease. For supposed battle hardened Klingons they were really quite easy. He rushed through them and past the Starfleet cadets, who looked up at him as though he were mythical.

    Once the Weapons Control room was clear he checked on the systems as other cadets came in and began assessing.

    “Sir, Wetherly. I believe you should have weapons back now Captain,” he said, nodding to a human woman as she took his spot at the console, allowing him to leave the room and go back up to the bridge.

    <Yes, yes we do,> he heard CPT Taggart say, then issue some orders to fire, <Are you on your way to the bridge Number One?>

    “Sir, yes Sir, on the way now Sir.”

    <Alright, when you get here- what the? Security to the -> and the voice was gone.

    Tyler sighed, checked the standard issue rifle he’d picked up and let the training take over.

    Known intel:
    1. Enemy on the bridge.
    2. Tagus systems coming back online.
    3. Friendly forces on the bridge.

    Unknown intel:
    1. How many enemy on the bridge.
    2. Intent of the hostiles.

    The doors opened just in time to see CPT Taggart and an enemy disappear into a Klingon transporter beam. Disruptor fire from out of sight on his left decided his next action.

    He knelt and swung around the door in the same maneuver, shooting three shots at the enemy by the conn. Two in the chest stripped the personal shield while the third found its mark dead center of the forehead, ending the Klingon’s life in about a second and a half. In that time the second bridge boarder rushed him, intending on using hand to hand combat, which Tyler was fine with.

    He deflected the blow then directed an elbow to the face, stunning the enemy so he could frontal kick him to the ground, followed by a full on buttstock drop to the skull, ending another life.

    He stood up and a cadet in tactical red picked herself up from the other side of the room.

    “Get those shields up,” he said, going to the first cadet on the floor and rendering aid.

    “Shields up, no more boarders at least,” she said, fighting to remain calm. He thought she was doing well.

    “Wetherly to sick bay, I know you’re busy down there but we’ve got more wounded on the bridge,” he said, the computer patching him through.

    “Aye, you just became number one on the list, teams headed your way.”

    “MACO, we’re being hailed,” the woman said.

    “Put it on screen. Name?” he asked.

    “Flores, Elisa,” she said, still busy tapping away.

    “Wetherly, pleased to meet you,” he said, turning towards the screen.

    <You will surrender your vessel now! Or I will hurt your Captain!> said the one-eyed Klingon on the screen.

    “Oh, oh you’re going to hurt him? Really? Um, because I thought you were just going to hold his hand and sing nursery rhymes together,” Tyler said, the contempt dripping off his tone.

    <You dare mock me boy?! I have your beloved Captain! You will surrender your vessel! Immediately!> he screamed.

    “Immediately? Wow I’m impressed by the vocabulary, honestly I am. Look, we have our shields back, as well as propulsion and weapons. Not to mention you’re neck-deep in Federation space. As we speak there are three – no, wait – four vessels on an intercept course and will be here within the next 20 minutes, of which, due to your obvious lack of tactical prowess I’m sure we can hold out for, no matter your cloak.”

    <Do you see this man?!> the Klingon said, grabbing CPT Taggart. <He has faced my kind. Tell your crew just how serious I am!> he screamed.

    <Number One,> CPT Taggart said, blood soaking the front of his uniform, his speech slurring due to the broken jaw and orbital bone. <Target my combadge! Now!>

    The Klingon swore and struck CPT Taggart again, but before he did, in that split second moment after the order had been given, Tyler Wetherly and Masc Taggart locked eyes.

    Tyler had of course run through this scenario and several others in his mind, but the captains words sealed the decision.

    “Flores lock on to the captain and fire,” he said, watching a knife brandished and thrust inside the Denobulan.

    “Locked and firing,” she said, though he could hear tears in her voice.

    They watched the mayhem aboard the vessel, until Flores switched the channel off. They watched the Klingon vessel decloak as the torpedo found its target, then warp away.

    Tyler let the silence settle, the turbolift doors opening and the medical teams emerging, personnel as well who started to man the consoles.

    “Hell of a first day,” she said, the tears starting to come down her face.

    ***

    Tyler was on Earth, in quarters he’d been in for a week. After the encoutner with the Klingons, the Tagus had been ordered back home, though Tyler didn’t think of it as such. They had the memorial for the Captain, the cadets had all be reassigned, and now he, the MACO, was awaiting his orders, having been told General Thompson would be contacting him.

    <Wetherly.>

    “General,” Tyler acknowledged.

    <Hell of a first day eh kid?> he asked, chuckling out loud.

    “Sir, you could say that Sir,” he answered, still rigid as a board.

    <Yeah well, I’ve read the report. You’ve done MACO proud son.>

    “Sir, thank you Sir.”

    <Look, I really don't see a need in making a formality out of this, so effective immediately you're a 2LT, congratulations.>

    “Sir, aye aye Sir. Thank you again Sir.”

    <Ah don't thank me just yet. When we first met you told me the general capacity for MACO. Ground, foot based combat operations. Security, guard duty and assault missions. What if I told you MACO command had bigger aspirations?>

    "Sir, what aspirations would those be Sir? If I may ask Sir."

    <You may. We'd like to make you the commander of the first MACO starship. MACOs on board doing all the duties of their Starfleet counterparts, save for one hard exception: Security. Guard duty. Assault operations. Everything we do better than Starfleet we'll now do in vacuum as well as on the ground. And honestly, you're the best candidate for the job. A Starfleet family, raised on various starships. The best officer Janus has seen in years. But it’s up to you. Something like this, well, you should be fully on board or not.>

    “Sir, remember the first time I asked to speak frankly Sir?”

    <I do,> the general said with a curt nod.

    "I'd only be repeating myself Sir," to which the General smiled and chuckled.

    <Alright. Well then let me tell you about your ship. It’s going to be a MACO girl, so she’s naturally gonna be a bit tougher than that glass boat you’re on now and she's old. Really old. NX class. But she's been modernized a good deal. Fitting for a MACO ship, tough and versatile. Any questions?>

    “Sir, yes actually Sir.”

    <Go ahead.>

    “Sir, there was a cadet on board the Tagus Sir. I’d like to have her reassigned to my command Sir.”

    <Wetherly this is a MACO boat.>

    “Sir, I understand that Sir, but she showed mettle. Worthy of a MACO Sir.”

    The older man looked at the young 2LT for a moment but sighed.

    <Alright, send my clerk her name and I’ll see what I can do. She’ll have to agree to it though, alright?>

    “Sir, understood Sir.”

    <Fair enough. Good luck Lieutenant.>

    ***

    “It’ll be a new opportunity for not only you, but Starfleet as well.”

    Those had been the last words Admiral Quinn had said to her, after he’d informed her that MACO had wanted her to join their first ever fully MACO run starship. After she’d been given the choice, explaining that she’d been requested personally.

    And after her latest run in a week ago with the only MACO she knew she at least knew WHO had requested her.

    By why? That was the real question. She didn’t think she’d done anything really special. She was one of the top in the class of 2409, but this was different. This was territory for a commander. Someone who’d seen and done things already in their career.

    She’d said yes because of that opportunity. This was historic stuff this. The first ever MACO starship. An entire MACO crew, except for one: her.

    She had taken a shuttle out to MACO headquarters, the harsh and unforgiving landscape of Cernan V. Supposedly the MACOs liked it out here because of the seclusion. They preferred to be unknown and mysterious.

    All of it seemed rather 31 of them as far as she was concerned.

    But nevertheless, here she was, her shuttle at warp and accompanying her on it was a full load of MACOs. They hadn’t just eyed her when she’d gotten in the line for this shuttle either.

    “This is the shuttle to MACO ma’am,” one of them had told her, after several minutes of waiting and it being apparent she was in fact in line for this shuttle.

    “I know. I’m on orders to the Ka’ala,” Elisa had said as calm as she could.

    But the truth was she was unnerved. The woman who’d spoken to her was a female MACO, she wasn’t sure of the rank, but the “ma’am” told her it was an enlisted soldier. But she was impressive for a bajoran female. At least 2 meters tall, and not skinny either. She appeared not a brute though; she spoke well and educated, and she hadn’t plodded up to the line either. She nodded her head knowingly though at Elisa’s response.

    But in fact, now that Elisa looked around, the minimum height of everyone around her was about 2 meters. Most of them even taller. Their uniforms were much like the standard Starfleet issued, except along with black the other main color was green. MACO green.

    “What’s your name ma’am?” the woman asked her, a friendly face and voice looking down at her with steely eyes.

    “Cadet Elisa Flores,” she said, extending her hand.

    “Pleased to meet you ma’am,” she said with a smile and shook it. “I’m First Sergeant Nirra, on my way to the Ka’ala myself.”

    “Oh really?” Elisa asked, suddenly extremely anxious to talk with the woman.

    “Yes ma’am. Quite excited. I imagine you must be as well.”

    They moved forward up into the shuttle and began strapping in.

    “Is it that obvious?” she asked, feeling like a child among all the large bodies.

    The shuttle was bare bones. No amenities or comforts. Hard deck plates, bare metal walls. But on those walls were compartments with labels on them: AMMO, RATIONS, FIRST AID, COMMO. GRENADES had been crossed out with “MACO CANDY” written crudely above. Everything had its place it seemed, very orderly and organized. The seats were harsh and uncomfortable. It was a no nonsense vessel.

    “No, you’re pulling it off pretty well ma’am. The situation is exciting in itself,” 1SG Nirra said with a smile. “The first ever MACO starship. Completely run by MACO?! And commanded by a fresh 2LT at that! I heard he’s huge, like the head shed made him specifically for MACO. So ma’am, when you said you were assigned to it, I figured you had to be excited as well.”

    “Well you’re not wrong there,” she said, buckling up like everyone around her did. “Can I ask you a favor?”

    “Of course ma’am,” the 1SG said.

    “I’m kind nervous and anxious over this whole, MACO thing. I don’t know anyone, well, sort of know one of you, besides you that is. So you think you can help me with some of the MACO-isms and stuff?”

    The MACO 1SG smiled and nudged her.

    “Ma’am, I was already planning on it.”

    ***

    "Remember son," he heard his father say from a memory, "women will always keep you waiting."

    That thought came to mind as he waited in the tiny 4 person transporter room aboard his ship, the NX-01 Ka'ala. MACO had seen fit to register it under the Federation "NX" classification as it was the first MACO vessel. It was a groundbreaking ship. His ship.

    Those two words continued to race through his mind as he waited for his first officer and first sergeant, trying not to feel anxious. Since the Tagus incident they'd seen each other plenty, but this was the first time under these circumstances.

    "Sir, I've received word the next transport is ready Sir," the enlisted Caitian woman said from the station.

    "Proceed sergeant, no need to ask," he said.

    The enlisted personnel had been the easiest. Plenty of them around MACO to spare 50 for his little ship. He'd been amazed at how easily they'd adapted to the new work too. Made Tyler wonder why they needed officers, at least in Starfleet. It also made him inwardly proud that MACO enlisted could do the job of Starfleet commissioned.

    The transporter hummed with power and four new MACOs stepped off the platform, gear in hands and ready to fight, or fly in this case. Two lance corporals, a Staff Sergeant and a 2LT, one rank below him.

    "Sir, Lt. Opul requesting permission to come aboard Sir," the Andorian man said.

    Tyler recognized his name from the manifest, ordnance officer and in charge of supply.

    "No need to ask. You're already on board. Get with Lt. Retiy about your quarters and immediate duties. We ship out in 2 days," Tyler told him.

    "Sir yes Sir," he said simply and was gone.

    So Tyler waited some more. More supplies and gear were transported up, with crews coming in to move them off and out. With some of the bigger loads Tyler helped them clear the platform, much to their surprise but immediate satisfaction. Plus the added benefit was the, even slight, exercise helped him work off his jitters. Though he showed none outwardly, inside he was quite nervous. Cadet Flores arriving signaled the true beginning of this assignment and journey, untested waters for his branch of service altogether.

    With her also meant that the roles would be severely reversed versus how things normally went: normally the MACOs were the minority on a ship. They provided security and infantry muscle to a situation. Special Operations teams, usually brought in for special missions, would be used in abstract and dangerous ways normal Starfleet personnel couldn’t handle.

    But here, on the Ka’ala, Ensign Flores would be the ONLY Starfleet officer on board. Hell, Starfleet person at all. Everyone else was in black and green. She was going to be the smallest living thing on the ship, literally. As nervous as he was about having her here, she had to be even more so given her situation.

    The transporter hummed yet again but this time one of the materializing silhouettes was much smaller than the others and seconds later there stood his first officer, the second in command of the Ka’ala. Next to her was the senior enlisted NCO of the ship, 1SG Nirra, a bajoran woman that was a veteran MACO. From her file and the people he’d talked to she was the perfect blend of MACO stubbornness and professionalism, but knew the right time to get down in the trenches and lighten up with the troops. She was in line to become only the 4th female MACO Sergeant Major of the Force, the highest NCO position they had. She was the perfect fit for this assignment.

    The two women stepped off the platform and came to attention to him, while the detail began moving off the gear that’d been transported up with them.

    They both took stock of the commander of the vessel, 1SG Nirra noting how large he was, how young as well, but also how he projected confidence and authority. There was a steel to him.

    Flores noted how not only was he not in a uniform, per se, but how none of the crew were. All of them were in armor, albeit without full combat kits and weapons, but they did have sidearms on them. As for 1LT Wetherly though, he was the same stoic, large MACO he had been a week prior.

    “Sir,” they both said, in unison and at attention.

    “As you were, and welcome aboard,” he said, staying expressionless.

    “It’s good to be aboard Sir,” CDT Flores said.

    “Sir, happy to be here Sir,” 1SG Nirra responded, maintaining her professionalism and sandwiching the ‘sirs’.

    “Follow me please ladies, I’ll show you to your quarters and the bridge. It’s good to finally have my command team here. We have a senior staff meeting at 1800 tonight in the briefing room,” he said as they moved out of the tiny room and into the slightly larger hallway.

    The Ka’ala was a NX class vessel. Literally it was the only ship MACO had, an antique by modern standards. It’d been modernized over the course of its life though and now could go Warp 6, had photon torpedoes and phaser arrays as well as cannons. Multiple transporter rooms and two shuttle bays with multiple type 8 and type 10 vessels.

    Modernization had actually done the old girl wonders, as with the addition of replicator technology there was no need for liquid water storage tanks and recycling facilities. This allowed for more quarters for more troops as well as holodecks for training.

    Also, unlike Starfleet vessels, MACO had refitted the Ka’ala for battle, security and war, with Starfleet assistance of course. So instead of multiple research laboratories and versatile sensor packages, the Ka’ala had additional infirmary sections and prisoner holding facilities. It really was like a tougher version of its Starfleet counterpart.

    They stayed on deck 4 and went forward, eventually going to the portside and showing 1SG Nirra her quarters, then to the starboard side to CDT Flores’ room. The Starfleet officer noticed that it was directly adjacent to 1LT Wetherly’s quarters.

    After they’d been able to drop their bags the trio headed up to the bridge, where it was noticeably quieter than the rest of the ship, though some MACOs were there at various consoles. He didn’t explain much of the bridge, assuming correctly that 1SG would rarely be up here to man a station and that Flores would know better than any of them what did what and where it was. Instead he led them to his office adjacent to the bridge and told them to have a seat.

    “Okay, so you’re here and we’re out of earshot. Let me just set a few things to rest, at ease, clear things up, however you want to word it. Firstly,” he said, fixing his eyes on Flores, “as of this morning you’re an Ensign, so congratulations. Second, this is a MACO ship and we’re going to run her that way. Our business is not seeking out new life and new civilizations. When we’re not getting called on to save the ♥♥♥♥ing day we’re going to be actively searching out something to either blow up or knock the ♥♥♥♥ out of. Our mission is simple ladies: we’re to scare the piss out of anything we come across. Winning hearts and minds is a lot easier when you have them by the balls.

    I use my language figuratively because that’s the mindset I want you to have. I want that to get pushed down and conveyed to the crew. I want them to be warriors first. To have that instinct to emerge victorious through survival, blood and pain,” he turned to 1SG Nirra.

    “That isn’t however to say that they will lose their professionalism. Whenever someone not of this crew is on board, the switch gets thrown. Whenever they’re dealing with civilians, the switch is thrown. Got it?” he asked.

    “Sir, absolutely Sir,” 1SG Nirra said, as emphatically as only a veteran soldier could be.

    “Third thing: this uniform I’m wearing right now is the standard for this ship. Class 2 armor at all times with a side arm. In addition, full kit and primary weapon system will be no more than 60 seconds away from either the MACOs primary duty station or quarters. Obvious exceptions are off site duties. If the MACO is off ship on shore leave, Class A uniform is the standard.

    Now, as to why you’re here, the two of you,” he said, suddenly more calm and with more tone and emotion coming across to them. “I have you both here because I need you both. First Sergeant, I need you because of the obvious respect every MACO has for you. I haven’t led real troops into battle or commanded them in any capacity. I need you to help me be what they need from a commander.

    Ensign, I need you to help me command a ship. I have some experience with it thanks to my family yes but our OCS was much different than yours.

    You both are different halves of the officer I’m expected to be. On one hand I’m supposed to be a commander of ground forces in every capacity. On the other a starship commander.

    They’re throwing us out into an unknown scenario because if we succeed, it looks great on them. If we fail, well, we were never supposed to succeed in the first place.

    We can rise or fall. And I intend to do the former, but I can’t do it without your help. You both good with that?” he said, then asked them.

    The two women didn’t look even break eye contact before answering with an enthusiastic ‘yes sir’.

    ***

    “Take us out Sergeant. One quarter thrusters,” Tyler said to the helmsmen, Sergeant Halloway.

    “Sir, one quarter thrusters, aye aye Sir,” he said, issuing the commands into the console.

    The old ship began moving, from the outside looking aged and tired, out of the spaceport she’d been nestled in. All the MACO brass was on that dock, along with some Starfleet admiralty as well, watching with anticipation as the first ever MACO starship set out on its own. Tyler knew that some of them wanted things to go well, others did not. They felt the only time a MACO should be in vacuum was when boarding an enemy ship or sucked out of a breach.

    But this was a new day. A new era for the proud, small and elite force of the Federation. Today they touched history.

    “Sir, would you like to address the crew Sir?” Flores said from his right, steering him where he needed to be. The past two days she’d been invaluable, as had 1SG Nirra, the two parts of the command working with him, teaching the group about the different peculiarities, customs and standards. It’d been everything he’d wanted when given this assignment.

    “Of course. Open it to the spacedock as well please,” he said, rising as if he were on visual as the chime echoed throughout the Ka’ala.

    “MACOs, this is your commanding officer. If you haven’t noticed by the thrum of the deckplates, we’re underway. Our first stop is Mars, where we’ll be evaluated on our day to day running, emergency operations and combat scenarios. After that, well, it’s back to the home sector for some good old fashioned patrols.

    Now our mission is a dangerous one. All MACO missions are. But know this: on your headstone it will read that you were MACO. That you changed the course of history by being on this ship. Your descendants will hold their heads high for all eternity because of you and what we’re going to do together. For being a part of this mission.

    A mission that will change. We will change with it. We will meet the enemy head on and kick them in their teeth, saving them for souvenirs. We will make all those who see the green wish they’d not gone to space that day. We will make them tremble in their very souls with the knowledge that a MACO vessel is within sensor range.

    These are not threats MACOs. Promises.

    Wetherly out.”

    He could hear yelling throughout the ship as the MACOs roared their approval. Spirits were high, morale at an apex. ENS Flores looked over at him with a smirk that said he’d done well.

    “Sergeant, take us to Mars,” he ordered, sitting back down.

    He’d ordered a fresh captains seat, which Flores had told him was a bad omen.

    But this was a fresh start. And Starfleet traditions didn’t apply to them.

    “You know what Number One?” he asked, his own usage of the term catching him off guard.

    “What’s that Sir?” she asked, looking pleasantly surprised by the moniker.

    “Hell of a first day,” he smiled.

    ***

    The doors opened to the bridge and 1LT Wetherly came on deck with his first officer right behind.

    "Sergeant, get us the ♥♥♥♥ out of here," he said curtly.

    Flores sat down, hiding her emotions better than he had.

    Two weeks. Two full weeks they'd been kept at Mars, drilled by the Starfleet trainers over and over. Their scathing words and reports were burned into his mind.

    It's a wonder they even made it to Mars.

    How did that chunk of metal ever hit warp?

    You're a publicity stunt for a dying and archaic organization.

    "Sir, aye aye Sir. Speed?" SGT Halloway asked.

    "Use good judgement. As long as it's as fast as possible," he said, coming to his chair and turning but not sitting down.

    "Sir, aye Sir. Course Sir?"

    "Staff Sergeant Heguli, where's the nearest distress call?"

    "Sir, looking it up now Sir. There is a rather obscure report of a Bolian transport that is overdue at ESD. Last reported whereabouts are somewhere in the Vulcan sector Sir."

    "SGT, you heard the SSGT. Get us there," Tyler said, sitting down.

    "Sir, aye Sir."

    "Sir, obscure and missing transports?" Flores asked him quietly, leaning over to him.

    The past weeks had brought them closer, as well as he and 1SG Nirra had gotten closer as well. The two women were getting along well too, which made him happy. But according to, "those who knew better" at Mars just about everything they did aboard the Ka'ala was wrong. It was substandard.

    Honestly he'd not been calm since they'd come within sensor range of the facility. Now he was just anxious to get out there and prove himself, his crew and his ship worthy.

    "We've got to start somewhere," he said. "ETA?"

    "Sir, I've been scanning the reported frequency the Azura was using and am picking up a faint transmission Sir," SSGT Heguli reported.

    "Let's hear it," he ordered. "Pinpoint the origin though."

    <To any ships in range . . . this is Danna Brott of the transport SS Azura. Please help . . . warp core containment field down . . . radiation flooding ship . . . communications and life support failing. Cannot eject warp core . . . need immediate evacuation and assistance. Please help us!>

    "Sir, it's a random collection of asteroids, what used to be a planetary system Sir," SSGT Heguli said.

    "SGT, get us there as fast as possible. Take us to yellow alert and get security teams ready," he ordered, watching his bridge crew carry out the orders.

    "Want me to kit up Sir?" Flores asked him.

    "I appreciate it ENS, but Top said I needed to prove myself to these soldiers. I intend on doing just that," he said, standing and going to his ready room where his combat kit waited. "Besides, with all due respect to you, I didn't exactly ask for you because of your ground team resume."

    "Right," she said, having followed him in. "I suppose this is how it's just going to be then Sir?"

    He pulled on his chest rig with extra power packs for his sniper rifle before the shoulder armor.

    "Not all the time no, but this is the first real mission and it's a sign of my leadership. It's something I've got to do."

    <Sir, we're arriving at the field Sir.>

    "Time to go," he said and they went back to the bridge.

    "Sir, receiving more audio, still static-y though Sir."

    "Let's hear it. Take us in SGT."

    <To any ships in range . . . this is Danna Brott of the transport SS Azura. Please help . . . we're being pursued by Orion Raiders . . . crew injured . . . taking heavy fire . . . dropping out of warp . . . need immediate evacuation and assitan->

    "Sir, I have the Azura Sir, she's in trouble alright. Two Orion corvettes just dropped out of warp and are hammering her Sir."

    "Let's hammer them back, red alert and engage the targets," Tyler ordered.

    The Ka'ala seemed to spring into the field of battle, the aged vessel seeming to find purpose again as her phasers, cannons and torpedos fired. The Orions were taken off guard by the sheer power and brazenness of the centuries old vessel, one being destroyed almost immediately. The second not fairing much longer.

    "Sir, I'm detecting elevated radiation levels on the Azura," SSGT Heguli reported.

    "I'm heading over there, SGT Quiry have a team ready when I get down there."

    "Sir aye aye Sir," SGT Quiry said, tapping commands into his security console.

    ENS Flores was behind him and waiting as Tyler stepped into the lift.

    "Kick ass Sir," she said, nodding as the doors shut, he doing the same.

    ***

    His team wasn't a normal MACO boarding party, at least by regulation. In a normal boarding party situation, it was either a spec ops team taking a HVT (high value target) or sabotaging the vessel in some way or gathering intelligence. In dire circumstances the manual even covered securing a cargo bay in the event of an evacuation.

    What they were doing was writing a whole new MACO manual. In fact they'd used Starfleet manuals for these training sessions. The team was composed of two tactical soldiers (himself and 1SG Nirra), two science soldiers (2LTs Boked and T'Vrell) and one engineering soldier (2LT Zarva). A starfleet team would consist of no less than 3 security personnel.

    But this was a MACO team. Everyone here was a rifleman and soldier first, then a branch second, which meant that they had more than enough tactical training and firepower than a normal Starfleet team. They'd been briefed that the levels of radiation would make the transport over routine, but would prevent the return trip until the damage was fixed.

    It also did not escape 1LT Wetherly's attention that the rest of his team was female. He smiled to himself as he'd come through the transporter room door. Breaking all the rules they were, as stupid as those rules were.

    They beamed on board and immediately felt the effects of the radiation. A sickening of the stomach and slight burning of the eyes.

    Without words the team spread out and secured the room, Tyler included.

    <6 this is 23, I'm reading 76 meters to the main engine room, recommend we get there ASAP,> 2LT Boked said over the comm net.

    <Roger, proceed. I'll take point, Top you're rear, staggered columns.>

    They breached the door and before them was the main corridor with rooms on either side. Green plasma was leaking from several conduits into the chamber.

    <6, 33, our armor will repel that for long enough to reroute it from the adjacent consoles,> 2LT Zarva said.

    <Acknowledged.>

    They kept moving the whole time, coming up to the conduit and waiting for 2LT Zarva to halt the flow of plasma.

    Once it quit they opened fire on the poor Orions on the other side. They weren't equipped to resist a full MACO team and were dispatched easily. They checked the rooms on either side, finding a recently deceased Azura crewman, but without being able to transport him to the Ka'ala he was a lost cause.

    They encountered several more parties of Orions, but again it wasn't much of a challenge, in fact, Tyler was a bit disappointed.

    They reached the engine room and found Captain Brott trying desperately to hold her transport together.

    "Captain Brott?" Tyler said, coming up to her while his team rendered aid to the few crewman that were left.

    "Yes, that's me!" she said, turning from her console as 2LT Zarva came and took over.

    "Sir, she's had it. There's nothing I can do to save her," Zarva said, bringing her weapon back around.

    "Alright then, Ka'ala we've got to get everyone off this ship. I need ideas," Wetherly said.

    <Sir, if you can get back to the point where we transported you in, I can get you back. The radiation has dissipated in that section somewhat since your arrival.>

    "Roger that. MACOs! We're getting off this boat, box formation with civvies in the middle-"

    "Captain I know this ship better than your engineer, I can hold her together for a bit longer, maybe buy you some more time," Captain Brott said, looking up at him.

    "Captain, my mission is to kill the enemy and get you out of here alive."

    "It's my ship. If I want to go down with her, that's my choice," she said, defiantly.

    "Take this," he said, putting an emergency transponder tag on her chest. "We'll get you out of here if at all possible. Move out!"

    "Sir I'm reading the Orions have regrouped and blocked our access to the origin point," T'Vrell reported.

    "Then we batter our way through. Leave no survivors MACOs."

    The door opened and they rushed, the civilians holding back their pace.

    Grenades flew, shots ricocheted. It was every bit the posters on the walls of the recruitment office Tyler had visited those many years ago. He'd thought heavily on what he would feel when that day finally came. Would he be a coward? Would he at least feel fear? Would aggression and adrenaline take over?

    But what he experienced was new to him. He felt at ease. It was a sense of belonging and home. He noticed his team around him, fighting and killing. Not screaming or angry. Methodical and with purpose. Like a machine. They were accomplishing the mission. Period. And Tyler realized something in that moment, watching 1SG Nirra butt stroke the skull of an Orion thug into a canoe:

    This was what he'd always been meant to do.

    They reached the boarding point and radioed for transport, which came.

    Once he saw the clean, gleaming walls of the Ka'ala he made for the bridge.

    "Flores get Captain Brott off the Azura," he said, running through the transporter room doors and down the corridors, the red alert lights still flashing.

    <I'd love to Sir but more Orions just showed up, we're engaging them first,> she said.

    "Do some Starfleet magic and make it quick, the Azura's not going to hold out much more," he said, the turbolift doors shutting.

    <Roger that Sir,> she said.

    30 seconds later he arrived on the bridge.

    "Status?" he asked.

    "We've destroyed two vessels, the flagship, if you can call it that, is hailing us," ENS Flores said.

    "Just out of curiosity, go ahead SSGT," he said, putting his rifle down by his chair.

    <Leave now if you know what's good for you, Starfleet! We're taking this ship, her crew and her cargo!> the Orion woman said from the viewscreen.

    Tyler tensed up and quelled his temper.

    "Okay, let's get one thing clear bitch. Don't get this old beater confused with a Starfleet boat. You're about to be destroyed by a MACO vessel. In fact the only reason you're still breathing at all is purely for my own experience. Which I think I've gained. Close channel," he ordered, the screen going blank. "Blow those ♥♥♥♥ers away. ENS Flores, see if you can help SGT Derout with Captain Brott's transport."

    "Aye Sir," she said, going over to the science station.

    The big Orion slavemaster ship took mere seconds longer than the corvettes before her, the fighters it had launched trying everything they could but it didn't matter, their silent explosions bursts of light almost like fireworks.

    "Get a lock on her," Tyler said, coming over to the console.

    "We're trying Sir, Ensign Flores definitely knows- oh wow, you're boosting containment by, wow that's a neat trick," SGT Derout said from ENS Flores' side, watching intently.

    "Got her," the first officer said, allowing a smile as she looked up at Tyler.

    "Great work. Remember that ♥♥♥♥ eh SGT?" he said, going to pick up his rifle and heading towards the turbolift. "Ensign please come with me to greet our newest guest."

    ***

    They came through the sickbay doors and went straight to the Bolian woman on one of the examination beds.

    "Captain Brott, glad to see you in some decent lighting," Tyler said, smiling.

    "Captain - I didn't even get your name actually," she said.

    "Actually Ma'am it's Lieutenant. First Lieutenant Wetherly of MACO Ma'am."

    "MACO? But this is a Starfleet ship. Aren’t you Starfleet?"

    "Federation yes, but not Starfleet. We're the first of its kind Ma'am."

    "Well with the way you handled today, I hope to see more of you MACOs around," she said, smiling.

    "The mission got accomplished Ma'am. It was our duty."

    ***

    <1LT, I read your report on the Azura, well done. Sorry to wake you,> General Thompson said.

    While it was Charlie time (third shift or 1600-2400 hrs) on the Ka’ala it apparently was Alpha shift on Janus.

    “Sir, thank you Sir. And it’s no problem Sir, anytime you reach out is a delight Sir,” Tyler said from his underclothes (a MACO green undershirt and black leggings, the under layer of their armor).

    <1LT, don’t kiss my ass. It doesn’t suit you. Relax a bit sometimes eh? When you ♥♥♥♥ up, that’s the time to kiss ass. Roger?>

    “Sir, yes Sir.”

    <I wanted to speak to you personally to give you the good news. You’ve got a mission son,> he said, leaning forward onto his desk.

    “Roger that Sir. Where’re we going?” Tyler said, relaxing his stance to ‘At Ease’.

    <The Klingons have agreed to a peace conference and the Federation believes Lt. Miral Paris a natural choice as mediator. Are you familiar with who she is 1LT?>

    “Negative Sir, but I will be by the time we get there Sir”

    <Well needless to say tensions will be at an all time high. The Federation Council, in light of your rescue of the Azura, has requested the Ka’ala and her MACOs on station for security purposes.>

    “A security detail Sir?” Tyler said, letting a slightly incredulous look come across his face.

    There was a ton of brass on that man’s collar, but they’d talked several times and every time the General tried to get Tyler to show more personality. This was a test of how far.

    <I know I know. Believe me. A ♥♥♥♥♥♥ tasking to be sure, but it gets the green out there and in front of people. You’re, stature, will be sure to put a face to MACO for everyone to see Wetherly.>

    “Aye aye Sir. The Ka’ala will be heading to Regulus then.”

    <Excellent. Enjoy Regulus IV 1LT, I hear it’s beautiful this time of year,> General Thomson said, smiling.

    “We’re MACOs Sir. We’d enjoy hell if that’s where the orders said to go,” he said, this time smiling openly, to which the General returned and chuckled.

    <Thomson out.>

    ***

    “Good morning everyone,” I said.

    “Good morning Sir,” came the reply from the senior staff.

    Starting on my left was 1SG Nirra, then 2LT Zarva from Ops, 2LT Baker from Engineering, 2LT T’Vrell from Medical, Tactical officer 2LT Kolez, Science officer 2LT Boked and Ensign Flores on his immediate right. Everyone was relatively rested, settling into the routine way of things that came with shipboard operations, so I spoke.

    “A representative of the Klingon Empire has agreed to meet with Lt. Miral Paris on Regulus IV. Lt. Paris is believed to be the Kuvah’magh – a savior figure of Klingon lore,” I began.

    “That may or may not be the case, but if it means that the Klingons are willing to talk peace with the Federation, the council will take the opportunity to do so.

    Our mission is to oversee security for the meeting. We have received intelligence that there are Klingons who are against any sort of treaty and we cannot allow them to disrupt the meeting.

    We’re to go to Regulus IV and secure the meeting site first, then stay on station both in vacuum and dirt.

    You’ll receive further specifications of the system and ground site at your stations.

    Any questions?”

    “Sir, yes Sir,” ENS Flores said, then with my nod kept going, “Is there any real reason to believe that whatever splinter group of Klingons that don’t want peace are in the area or are planning anything at all?”

    “Not that we know of no. The mission seems fairly straight forward,” I answered.

    “Then why are they sending a shipload of MACOs for simple standing around duty?” she continued.

    “I believe we’re the newest tool at the disposal of the Federation council and they want to show us off,” I said.

    “Sir, show you off you mean Sir,” 2LT Kolez said with a smile, which everyone around the room shared, except for 2LT T’Vrell of course.

    “Perhaps 2LT. But if we can avert a situation purely by being there, well I’ll chalk that up to a win,” I said.

    “If there’s not anything else?” I asked, then dismissed everyone.

    Everyone stood and we left the room, some staying and talking with each other but walking still. The doctor and chief went to the turbolift with 1SG Nirra while the rest of us went to the bridge.

    Once there I was told there was a transmission for me and I elected to take it in my ready room.

    <Hey there kiddo!> my mother said from the monitor.

    “Hi mom,” I said with a smile.

    <I heard what happened with the Azura. Your father and I are so proud of you.>

    “It was nothing Mom, but thanks.”

    <Oh honey. It wasn’t ‘nothing’. You saved people. There’re alive and going on because of you and your crew. You did a great thing,> she said, her eyes bright.

    “Thanks Mom,” I said, embarrassed.

    <Good. Accept a little praise. You can open up a bit you know that sweetie?> she said.

    The statement caught me off guard.

    “Open up?” I asked.

    <Yes honey. Ever since your first year in MACO you’ve become more and more cold. You’ve kinda, lost that spark you used to have. I was hoping once you graduated perhaps it would kind of come back a little. I’m afraid with the pressures of command it might be gone forever,> she said and from her face I suddenly noticed worry.

    “Mom – I – sorry. I don’t know what to say,” I said, feeling remorse and guilt at making that emotion come from my mother.

    <I'm the one who should be sorry for even saying that. You just keep doing good things sweetheart. I’ve got to go, just was hoping to talk to you for a second. Love you baby!> she said, then was gone after I’d said the same.

    ***

    “Sir, we’re entering the Regulus System Sir,” 2LT Zarva said, the viewscreen showing as much.

    “Sir, sensors indicate several Orion syndicate ships patrolling near the communications satellite ahead of us. I’m trying to contact the surface, but I think the Orions are using the satellite to boost their comm-jamming. We’re not getting through Sir,” 2LT Boked said.

    “Are they supposed to be there?” I asked out loud.

    “Sir?” came Zarva’s reply.

    “This is Federation space. Any KDF ships are required to make a formal request to enter any Federation system. Have they done so?” I asked, turning to look at the bolian MACO.

    “Checking now Sir,” she said, tapping, “Sir, they’re responding to my inquiry with a hail Sir.”

    “Go ahead,” I said, but silently making a bet to myself.

    An orion woman appeared on the screen and immediately looked smug, despite her ridiculous crown and bikini top.

    “We’re being paid handsomely to keep Starfleet from interfering with the Klingon – negotiations,” she said with a sneer.

    I was already standing but crossed my arms behind my back casually.

    “What is it with you Orions?” I said out loud, then signaled to Zarva to cut the channel.

    “Intent is clear. Red alert. Destroy all Orion vessels,” I ordered.

    I was happy to see my first officer not even bat an eyelash. We’d had this discussion during our time on Mars, when we’d been failed in our combat drills due to our ‘harshness’. Flores had told me that the MACO rules of engagement were different than Starfleet’s and to let it go. I’d looked up those rules myself and found my executive officer to be correct.

    The Ka’ala again burst into action, quickly reducing the corvettes to debris before tackling the brutish cruisers, but again succeeding in her mission.

    My officers made short work of the jamming problem.

    “Sir, I’ve made contact with Lt. Paris on the surface Sir.”

    “Put her through,” I said.

    <Lt. Wetherly, this is Lt. Paris and I need immediate assistance. The Klingons and Orions have beamed down in mass and are taking hostages.>

    “I’ll have teams down there asap. Are you in a safe area?”

    <Yes, I believe so.>

    “Stay put, my team will come to you, Ka’ala out,” I said before turning to ENS Flores. “Keep an eye in the sky for us eh?” with a smile.

    “Sir, always Sir,” she responded in kind.

    ***

    My team was designated ‘King’, beaming in closest to the main objective, 1.5 kilometers away from Lt. Paris’s supposed coordinates. We began moving immediately, this time 1SG Nirra taking point. I’d proven myself during the Azura mission and now could show tactical knowledge instead of skill.

    It made sense to put her up front. She had years more combat experience than I did and for a mission this serious she was the logical choice.

    We moved silently but quickly, finding no resistance, leading us to believe that the intelligence provided by Lt. Paris was correct and the enemy force was restricted to the main facility. We pinged the area with an IFF signal and approached Lt. Paris’s location.

    “You’re just in time, a group of Klingon operatives are attempting to sabotage the peace conference. They’re planting explosive charges throughout the grounds and they have Orion Syndicate forces as backup. There are Starfleet security forces but they were severely outmanned and outgunned,” she said, some slight dirt on her skin and uniform but none the worse for wear.

    “Have the ambassadors arrived already?”

    “Yes, they arrived 4 hours ago.”

    “Gotta love intel.”

    “Is it just you and your team?” she asked, but I ignored her.

    <All MACOs this is King 6 listen up,> I said over the net. <There are active explosive devices in place throughout the compound as well as hostages and resistance pockets.

    Queen you’re emerging from the hydro and securing the southern most building.

    Jack you’ll be coming from the water as well but hitting the building at the top of the cliff 600 meters north of Queens objective.

    Joker you’ll be blowing up the middle from the main gate, primary mission is distraction.

    King will be dropping from the eastern-uphill side then sweeping towards the main objective.

    Once all facilities, hostages and explosives are cleared link up with Xray element for further instructions. How copy?>

    The teams of MACOs acknowledged in order, from Queen to Joker, in rehearsed perfection.

    5 minutes later all teams signaled they were ready and I gave the order.

    My team made sure and kept Lt. Paris with us, as she was our only reliable intelligence asset, even though T’Vrell felt saddled with her. I could tell by the look on her face. Which is to say I guessed the Vulcan woman was irritated.

    We dropped down and swung around the side of the building, all teams attacking at the same moment, hitting the KDF teams with surgical preciseness.

    Things don’t always go as planned and this op was no different.

    Not only were there resistance pockets that flared our shields before they realized we were friendlies, but there were seriously wounded personnel as well.

    I hate to admit it but I swore the tactical prowess of my Starfleet counterparts in that moment. Zarva disarmed the bomb while T’Vrell patched up the wounded, then we moved up the hill to the real objective, encountering KDF resistance but nothing that put up too much of a struggle.

    Of course the door was locked when we had secured the main building.

    “Just as I was making a run for it into the woods a saw a Klingon captain go in the embassy. He probably has the diplomatic team hostage.”

    <Sir, we’re picking up an open broadcast signal from within the embassy.>

    “Go ahead,” I said, coming around to the front of the embassy.

    <To the MACO officer who has transported to the surface I am Captain T’Kurk and I have been waitin->

    I cut the channel at that point. Nothing could be gained from listening to the enemies rabble.

    “What did you just do?” Lt. Paris said, looking shocked. “You could have negotiated with them!”

    “Ma’am I mean no disrespect but this is not a Starfleet operation. It is a MACO one. Now there is no regulation or doctrine that states I’m required to speak to an enemy that has taken hostages.

    My mission at this point is to get those hostages back using any and all of the available tools, resources and experience at my disposal. Furthermore I rarely see the point in offering mercy or leniency. I along with my brothers and sisters in green prefer to put em down, hard and fast.

    So, you go find yourself a nice little picnic area, since you've already run from the battlefield once. We’re going to get the job done..”

    ***

    The doors were quiet as ever, as Warrior Rok’luk stood his position within the foyer of the main building, doing as told by Captain T’Kurk. It was an honor for his small house to be picked for a mission such as this. For years he, his cousins and siblings had fought to bring the standing of the House of Wer higher, to little avail. But this time, this time would be different. This mission was high profile and ambitious, especially by Klingon standards.

    Minutes ago they’d heard reports from outside. Rok’luk struggled with the fact that they’d left their comrades, even Orions, out there to perish. Was it dishonorable to leave them as such? Or to fight the strategic battle as they were? It was a conundrum that was constantly going through his mind.

    Suddenly the lights went out. Rok’luk gripped his weapon tighter, eyes on the doorway in front of him as he crouched in cover behind the front desk and braced himself for an onslaught.

    The thought of a knife entering through the back of his skull never entered his mind, so to say.

    ***

    Ambassador Kas felt excited as the lights went out around them.

    He’d read the report of who would be on station for the summit’s security. The Federation's MACO Corps had a mysterious reputation around them, but he’d dug up some intelligence on them.

    Low on funding. Low on priority, but several months ago that had changed. Drastically. One of their brightest in years apparently had acted quite valorously, igniting new interest in the forgotten branch.

    Weeks later this same officer commanded a ship and had executed an amazing recovery operation.

    It only made sense that they would send them and this “MACO” ship. He had figured B’vat would do something during this conference. The opportunity was too good for the hostile man to pass up.

    The guard that had merely been 1.5 meters away came closer once he couldn't see, putting his hand on Kas' shoulder to make sure he was still there.

    Suddenly there was a tremendous bang of sound, and the ambassador felt his eardrums pop, watching everything else from then on.

    Flashes of light filled the room as commandos flooded the room from the explosively opened door, supposedly secured windows and ceiling. The sheer number of them was impressive, as two, five man teams came from the windows, another team from the ceiling while the last came from the front.

    The flashes made the guards instinctively reach for their heads, the intended reaction of the devices, as weapons discharges reached the targets they were assigned to, ending lives immediately.

    It took 3 seconds to wipe away the lives of 8 Klingon warriors, as Ambassador Kas watched.

    He forced himself to, while others shut their eyes for relief, he intended to watch it all.

    And in the end, only Captain T'Kruk stood, defiantly waiting with a pulsewave weapon, ready to hip fire on Kas himself.

    Kas only barely noticed the last one of his captors action, his eyes going from blurry to right as he saw a sight that would forever change him.

    A mountain of a human, the likes Kas had never seen before that day approached. He was in medium assault armor, minus a helmet that he handed off to one of his team. He was easily 2 meters tall, but not skinny. No, he had the same if not more muscular build than the other soldiers with him, but taller still. He stopped when he was slightly less than 2 meters away from Kas and slung his rifle.

    He said something, and all Kas heard was ringing, but his demeanor said he was telling more than asking. His body language spoke of maturity beyond his young appearance.

    He did not have a swagger, there was no ego in his shoulders or brow. His eyes were a greenish-brown that exuded confidence.

    Behind him the MACOs spread out with weapons still up and trained, remaining engaged and prepared to kill the captain.

    Kas couldn't here was T'Kruk said behind him, but he could imagine it was short sighted and overly Klingon in nature.

    The human MACO said something quick and to the point.

    On his last word, a vulcan woman from Kas' left fired her own pulsewave, simultaneously throwing T'Kruk's weapon off target as well as knocking him to one knee. Kas followed the commander as he blew past him, a pistol suddenly at T'Kruk's head, more of the MACOs restraining him without delay, cutting the ambassador's bonds as well, apparently asking him if he was alright, and more. But Kas was more interested in watching behind him, turning to see.

    Kas could only hear the last bit, as his hearing began to return, "- never anything but dishonor in a mission like this," the human told T'Kruk, holstering the pistol as his men took the lone survivor away.

    As Kas stood up, the huge human came to him, rifle now unslung in both hands across his chest, like the other soldiers around him.

    "Sir, 1LT Wetherly. I assume you're alright?" he asked curtly.

    "Ambassador Kas. Yes I am. Your operation appeared flawless Lt.," he said back, the two of them starting to walk towards the front of the building.

    "Sir, we've finished our extensive scans, no further explosives found Sir. We've also deactivated the dampening fields Sir," a dark skinned female came up and reported, then left with a nod from the Lieutenant.

    "Training pays off Sir," he said, talking to his communication net afterward. "Bring Lt. Paris and her delegation back into the building, alert the Federation the situation is back to normal," then back to the ambassador, "Sir, I assume you'll be requesting to resume the negotiations Sir?" he asked finally.

    The Kuvah'magh came up to them in the corridor, her own escort with her.

    "If the grounds are secure Lt. yes I would, we could consider today an - opening ceremony," Kas said with a smile, looking the prophesized half-Klingon in front of him.

    "The grounds and system are secure Sir," he smiled, "If you have any further security issues please let my team leaders know, they are 2LT Kolez and 1SG Nirra. Otherwise please have a fruitful summit."

    He walked at a fast pace down the corridor towards the exit, immediately on his communicator again.

    ***

    <1LT, that was a hell of an op. No preliminary intelligence until you arrived in system?> the general asked him.

    Tyler had barely made it on board before he'd been summoned to his office to speak with General Thomson. The man liked to bull♥♥♥♥ more than lower enlisted soldiers.

    "Sir, that's correct. Only that vague warning in the operation order. We got there and it was crawling with Orions, and the KDF already had explosive charges in dirt. They'd been there for at least 4 hours Sir."

    <Goddamnit. That's the wrong ♥♥♥♥ing answer right there. But you handled it better than others would have. When is your transfer of the prisoner?>

    "I'm sedating him and sending him to rendezvous with the USS McGreggor by shuttle within the hour Sir."

    <Good. Any idea yet from Lt. Paris on how long their talks will be?>

    "Negative Sir. Honestly, just by looking at her, she'd of called the whole thing off. It was Ambassador Kas that wanted to keep it going Sir."

    <He's a believer of the Kuvah'magh 1LT. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity.>

    "Yes Sir," he merely said back.

    <By the way Tyler, be ready. I'm pulling some strings to get you your 3. Keep making history out there eh?>

    He reeled inside his mind for a moment at the words. Captain?

    "Yes Sir," he said out loud. "Will do Sir."

    <Thomson out.>

    ***

    MACO QUARTERLY
    STARDATE 88073.9

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    MACOs In Space!!!
    by SSGT Yeteri M'likt

    Several months ago MACOs and the galaxy at large were made aware of the NX-01 Ka'ala. The first ever MACO run ship. MACOs in Engineering. MACOs in Sickbay.

    MACOs on the bridge.

    Commanded by CPT Tyler D. Wetherly, the Ka'ala has already been on the front lines of the fight with the KDF, taking on the Orions in her first ever mission by rescuing the SS Azura, then saving the lives of Starfleet sailors AND enemy diplomats at Regulus IV. It seems MACO green just seems to sniff out the enemy where they lie.

    The presence of a more aggressive, combat focused vessel in space, even a retro-fitted NX class cruiser from the 22nd century, appears to be making a difference, felt even by civilians.

    "The cargo route from Vulcan to K7 is finally safe to consistently run. I heard that that MACO ship busted up a pirating attempt a couple days before I went, and there was no sign of a robbery in sight," said Captain Gerard of the cargo ship SS Terlain.

    MACO Quartly attempted to reach CPT Wetherly on board the Ka'ala about the impact he and his crew have had on the ongoing war, but he did not respond. Instead, MACO Public Relations issued this statement:

    "The NX-01 Ka'ala, its commander and crew are currently on mission patrolling Federation space and actively pursuing the Klingon B'Vat, whom they've encountered several times, thwarting his plans at every turn.”

    MACCOM has made no secret of the fact that with the success of the Ka'ala there will be more vessels carrying the green through the stars.

    "I've actually been approached by members of the Federation council on when we'll be able to put more MACO ships in vacuum," said GEN Thomson, Janus Commandant.

    For more information about volunteering for such a posting, contact your retention NCO.