Mitchell Patton FTR SFMC Meet Your New General

[Crash Calestorm 0]

It had been a surprise visit, but the man certainly wasn't wasting any time in getting to know his ground teams & ships crews in the field.

 

Brigadier General Mitchell Patton, newly installed officer in charge of FTR Ground Operations, had arrived at Aquarius Major just under six hours ago to check on the progress of the recovery efforts. He'd been making the rounds and with the Captain temporarily off ship, the meet and greet duties had landed on Commander Calestorm.Patton would be on board for the two weeks of the remaining Aquarius duty rotation and then travel with them back to the New Topeka orbital docks. He would introduce himself to the command staff and the department chiefs in due course.

 

Calestorm stood at parade rest in front of the desk.

 

All the divisions - marines included - that comprised the peacekeeping, defense and exploration aspects of the Federation Starfleet had the prima donnas, but Cale admitted right off that Patton was not that type of officer. He traveled light: standard issue BDU’s, a briefcase, one aide. Mitchell had promptly confiscated a secondary office set off the main hanger bay and not one of the VIP suites, an action that had earned him a few points in her book.

 

To be honest, Cale felt like she was looking at a life-sized version of the GI Jarhead action figures her brother Jon had played with as a kid and that she inherited in later years. The guy looked exactly like this one hero that all the kids had want—

 

“I’m sorry, Commander, do you have something to say?”

 

Aw damn, she’d been staring at him speculatively. “No, Sir.” She schooled her features to the state of expressionless worthy of any jarhead mud hopper.

 

He gave her a look that may have been slightly amused and then turned his attention back to the flimsy reports and data slates he’d been glancing over. “I don’t like showoffs and I don’t like troublemakers. You seemed to be the wildcat in your youth and then you finally got cultured.”

 

“I beg your pardon, General.”

 

A slight quirk to his lip may have been a smile. “Apologies, Commander. You calmed down. Mostly.”

 

Under the radar banter. Okay, banter was good. He was testing her, getting an idea of who he was dealing with beyond the black and white military profile. "Yes Sir, that I did. Mostly."

 

“And you also spent quite possibly the shortest stint at Parris Island.”

 

“Possibility, yes Sir. I’ve never checked into the demographics myself.”

 

“Why go from Marine enlisted to Naval officer?”

 

“That credit would go to Career Drill Sergeant Zimm. He suggested I transfer to the Starfleet Naval Fighter Corps as the Fighter Corps better suited my abilities and mindset.”

 

“Any regrets?”

 

“General, We all have regrets but I’ve none regarding that particular decision.”

 

“You’re due to complete your probation and be reinstated to commanding officer of theComanche Creek. What about that situation? Any regrets?”

 

“No Sir. The Grayson’s needed help and I was in a position to do so. I admit, I'd rather avoid annoying Admiral Coyote in the future."

 

“What about this…” Mitchell tapped a finger at a particular data flimsy printout. “Captain Korloth? You make a habit out of pumping ex-patriot Klingons for intelligence information?”

 

“I don’t normally, General, no. And I will never play poker with the man.”

 

He gazed at her for a few short moments, eyebrow quirked again. The taller, blond crew cut haired man then stood from his seated position behind the desk and leaned, offering a hand to Calestorm.

 

“Mitch.”

 

She took the offered gesture.

 

“Crash.”

 

Their handshake was quick but firm and each held the others eyes for a moment, and then the handshake was released.

 

“I’m looking forward to working with you and your people, Commander.”

 

“Captain Wesley will be in later, I think you’ll enjoy speaking with her…”