LeftEar JoNs

01.20.08

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“First Contact”

 

Commander Left Ear JoNs felt like a schmuck to the ninth power.

 

She was not a first contact diplomat.

 

She was a security grunt and flight jockey.

 

She was a newly minted executive officer currently involved in the fine art of first contact based schmoozing.

 

And she was attempting to not cause an intergalactic incident.

 

Jeralla, Vorta representative Lexin, and the Captain were meeting with the planetary presidential administrator, while JoNs was meeting with Commander Arijella. The commander was retired and formerly served in the First Response Fleet. As near as the feline could gather, the proto-Vorta female had retired into the civilian political sector, and was responsible for overall planetary and sector security as well as coordinating with the senior admiral of the fleet in order to protect the planet of I’Denar, the HaVorante homeworld. Left Ear was halfway hoping that she did not get to meet the admiral – that much brass in one day may just make the Caitian spontaneously shed.

 

The two females walked along a pathway in an enclosed promenade garden that was filled with native trees and flowers. A retinue of HaVorante guards followed them. In the interest of fostering diplomatic relations, JoNs had opted for bringing no Excalibur guards with her down to the planet. Hello? Can we say walking target?

 

The design of the buildings themselves was plain, almost a modern style that could be considered timeless. And while the planetary defense ships that had escorted the Excalibur through the system were indeed of an older Dominion design, JoNs had seen no evidence of any other Dominion influence. There was also a notable absence of any version, modern or proto, of the Jem Hadar soldiers usually favored by the Vorta, and it was a fair guess that the First Response Fleet was the HaVorante peoples sole method of defense. While these people looked very much like the Vorta, they were also markedly different based on what the feline had observed and had no ties to the Dominion.

 

After giving the feline commander the short version of how the planetary space fleet – comprised of members from many different families and political powers - had come into existence shortly after the implementation of warp capability, JoNs had reciprocated by telling a few minor (and safe) things regarding the birth of the Federation and the Starfleet. Now though, with the pleasantries aside, Arijella began to steer the conversation to the business at hand.

 

“Now, what is it that you wanted to ask me Commander JoNs?”

 

“I’d like your clearance to bring down investigative teams from our ship. Science would love to get a look at those ruins we detected, our engineering contingent can look into the tech level of your cities, and I’m sure medical would like to get a look at your hospitals and current medical practices. It would be a beneficial exchange for my people and your people.”

 

“Will there be guards with them?”

 

“Aye, there will be Excalibur guards assigned to each team or individual as they do their investigations. Although, you are more then welcome to assign your own guards to shadow my people. I would.”

 

The Caitian gazed at the woman, so very much like a Vorta and yet visually identified as an ‘early model’, as she mentally worked out the logistics of this little Starfleet endeavor that had invaded her planet. “And this Vorta of yours? He is searching for these ‘Founders’, who seem to be akin to the Ancient Ones that once roamed our planet?”

 

The executive officer almost blurted out that Lexin wasn’t her Vorta, but she managed to push the bitter feelings aside and speak civilly. “Yes, our Vorta representative is keen on finding out whatever information is available on the Founder leaders.” The feline paused, unsure of how to phrase her next statement, other then to be blunt. “…the Founders have disappeared, and the Vorta and his compatriots wish to find them.” Hey, the worst that could happen was a court martial if the feline revealed too much information to the newly contacted HaVorante

 

The political representative turned an intense amethyst gaze on the feline executive officer. “Honestly, the Ancients – these Founders you speak of – have long been gone from this planet. The ruins themselves are old, moldy, and long relegated to the history books and to be studied by our scholars.”

 

“We understand that ma’am. But, this is a search mission, and we still need to try to uncover whatever information we can, wherever the information leads us.”

 

“Very well then – I will make some calls and distribute the necessary clearance paperwork for your teams to conduct their work.”

 

“Thank you Commander Arijella.”

 

First contact was definitely an art unto itself, indeed.

I am zero for one in Starfleet. My very first probe failed to survive its initial mission.

 

.... you're giving me The Probe Went Boom guilt here.

01.11.08

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Off the Record”

 

Left Ear JoNs, satisfied with the completion of at least half of her workload, had decided to grab some refreshment in the main lounge. Truly, she seemed to spend quite a good deal of free time there as the lounge atmosphere seemed to relax her. Upon entering the establishment, the Caitian visually searched for an available nook, cranny, or table to claim as her own.

 

Sitting at one of the small tables by the view port, Mreh was sipping at a frosty glass of water. Working a split shift today, he'd just handed over the helm to the number two navigation and flight control officer. Deciding he'd spent too much time hunkered down in his quarters on his last stint on Excalibur, he'd decided to head to the lounge to relax and socialize. Having a good view of the lounge entrance, he saw Lefty enter and smiled, raising a paw in her direction.

 

A fanged grin greeted the paw. Score! It would be agreeable to speak with her fellow Caitian. JoNs nodded in his direction and then headed over to the table. "Lieutenant - mind if I join you?"

 

"Commander," he said with a nod. "By all means." Gesturing to the seat across from him, he smiled. "I take it the Captain finally made his way up to the bridge?"

 

“Aye, but I am due back there for the next shift or so." A sigh escaped the brown female cat. "What with this "unknown planet" that popped onto the sensors, we need to be a bit cautious." JoNs focused her attention on a waiter long enough to order a drink and some food, and then turned her attention back to Khal. "So, Mreh. I must say that you seem to be settling into the Akira helm pretty well."

 

"Yeah, she's a beauty to fly. Much more maneuverable and..." he waved a paw around as he thought of the proper word. "Intuitive than any other class I've flown." He grinned. "And better than the Sovereign by far. A plate and a tin can with two overlong sausages attached. If it can't use it's firepower as an advantage in battle, it's nearly impossible to avoid major damage. Can't say I was surprised by all of the hits it took. Speaking of settling in, how's the view from the top treating you?" He asked, his gold eyes locking on to hers.

 

Left Ear’s gaze went to the view outside the port window before actually replying, schooling her thoughts carefully. Finally, her own green eyed gaze locked back onto the male feline, and she decided to be truthful. It probably helped that he was a fellow countryman, and she dropped her defenses a bit. "It is quite the learning experience, but, hey, I did go through OCS training and so I always knew that command was a possibility. I just thought I'd be a bit...older? when I did finally accept some sort of executive command position."

 

Mreh nodded, and then a wicked grin spread across his face. "I'll never forget the look on your face when you opened that assignment order. It's probably a good thing I didn't have a holocam on me at the time."

 

An equally wicked grin matched his. "Even if you did have a holo recorder, it would have long been confiscated and shot out an airlock by now." Left Ear chuckled and sipped at her own drink of Altair water. "I do have one question Lieutenant - between your medical expertise and your legal medical license, as well as your piloting skills, you could find employment out along the frontier planets and make some serious credits as either a pilot, medical doctor, or a combination of both. I read up on your last assignment as an ambulance jockey? It seemed an interesting duty station. Would you do it again, as I said?"

 

"Ha," Mreh said, twirling his water glass on the table. "I certainly hope I never have to pilot ambulatory shuttles ever again, that was about as boring an assignment as I could imagine." He smiled, as his eyes closed, searching inward for the answer to her question. "I have a feeling I haven't treated my last patient, though I expect that it will be a case of 'lucky I was there' than anything planned. I plan on sticking with being a helmsman for now... Plus the operations and science 'side' bits that I have with the department structure here.”

 

"Maybe I'll try command training later on." He grinned and laughed aloud. "Can you imagine that? A biologist, piloting medical doctor in a command position?" His amused eyes twinkled in the moderate lounge lighting. "That's a long way down the road though. As for being in the private sector... Nah."

 

JoNs knew it was probably the ease she felt with a fellow feline, but it was nice to drop the command act for a bit. "That would give whole new meaning to the term multitasking, indeed." She took a bite of her sandwich, chewed a bit, and then asked another question of Mreh. "How are the navigation jockeys holding up? Have you heard any below decks muttering, or rather, do you think the junior members of the crew realize what it is exactly we are searching for?"

 

"As far as the rest of my staff is concerned, they seem pretty satisfied with the 'Peaceful Exploration of the Gamma Quadrant' angle. Though it probably won't last long before people start scratching their heads and wondering. Of course, I only know the bare minimum myself. I'm sure many of the junior officers will catch me up soon enough. Though being on the bridge, I'm sure I'll continue to pick up tidbits." He twitched his ears and grinned. "Can't help it with these comm arrays."

 

"They do come in handy, do they not? Everyone wishes they were a feline."

 

"So..." He angled his head to look at her better. "If this is out of line, just pretend I didn't ask, but... I was wondering how you're getting along with the Captain? It is a very... unusual command combo, species-wise, after all."

 

"To be honest, we are getting along fine. A feline and a canine are not the two most exotic species to ever command a starship, I am sure about that. But I will say that anyone who cracks a derogatory cat and dog joke in my or his presence will find themselves scrubbing the intake manifolds, no questions asked. And yes, you may spread that rumor around by all means." A wicked and dangerous grin exposed her fangs.

 

"I will," he said, laughing. "I'm glad there are no problems. Those between the command crew would cause a lot of morale problems for everyone else." He showed his own fangs. "Then of course, there's the fang brigade on this ship too..." He used a barely extended claw to scratch his chin. "Though I can say I'm concerned with some of the other... personality conflicts on this ship."

 

Her one ear flipped back. "Is this an official complaint? If so, you need to file it in writing to me accordingly. Otherwise, I'm all ears - pardon the pun - but it's off the record. Savvy Lieutenant?"

 

He nodded and smiled. "I hate to say that Commander Teykier is most of it. She's been shooting sarcasm like quantum torpedoes lately. You saw some of that earlier today on the bridge. And whatever it is between Commander Tekyier and Victria... I keep expecting bolts of lightning to shoot between their eyes whenever they're in the same room. I heard that the Ell-Tee actually used her fangs at that party. I'm afraid it might get uglier if it's not checked."

 

It was only a matter of time before the below decks gossip started. "Aye. I was there at the party and let's just say the two of them are not on my happy list right now for their little public display of bloodsucking. It depends on the ladies, really. Either they put aside their differences and play nice, or I step in." A tail lash punctuated the statement.

 

"Glad to know it's under control so that I don't have to worry about it... except for being caught in potential crossfire." He grinned. "Think we can install a lightning rod on the bridge, just in case?"

 

"Just duck under the Helm console."

 

"I will," he said. Looking out of the view port at the stars streaking by, he sighed. "At least it's a distraction. I have a feeling this search isn't going to end without more of the same... death, destruction, pain. I hate this quadrant."

 

"And I don't care for the Vorta, nor the Dominion, nor the Founders. But, like you, I'll do my job and deal with it all." Her own gaze went to the outside star scape. "It's all we can do...and hope we don’t get knocked six ways to hell in the process." A low growl punctuated her words. Commander JoNs turned her gaze from the window, mentally pushing away the darker thoughts that were rapidly encroaching, and instead picked up her glass in a gentle paw, offering it in toast. "Lieutenant Khal, here's to the Excalibur and the crew. May all our future endeavors be successful."

 

Mreh reciprocated the gesture. "Hear, hear."

01.11.08

USS Excalibur 2004 C

“The Rundown”

 

JoNs had retreated from the main bridge after her initial shift and now stood in the entrance way to her office. And not for the first time, one particular thought crossed her mind: this office is bigger then my last three duty station quarters combined. The brown furred feline had finally managed to decorate the area, although no one could ever accuse her of being an interior decorator. The personal items were random and scattered about the office: a small Caitian tapestry hung on one bulkhead. Over in the sitting area, her old pilot training helmet graced a shelf, and the Caitian was known to bring it out of retirement on occasion for use in a flight run. A violet hued crystal sculpture sat on one corner of the desk. There were just enough of the personal items to identify the office as her “territory”, but the bric a brac did not detract from the main purpose of the executive officers suite – work.

 

The feline executive officer pulled herself from her temporary mental roadblock and her thoughts flitted back to her duty shift. Like any officer, she needed to draft and submit a personal duty shift report to her direct superior. Hey, it was boring, but it needed to be done. With her tail swishing lightly, the officer settled herself at the desk. “Computer, access duty log template JoNs command version point two and prepare for voice print to text conversion. Begin recording.”

 

==========

Duty Log 0801.06

JoNs, MVess recording

Subject: Daily Shift Report, Bridge First Shift

 

Captain Windu Corizon:

 

The following is my personal rundown regarding the first bridge shift. It was fairly quiet, with a few notable exceptions.

 

An unknown planetary configuration appeared on the long range sensors, Class M, with trace amounts of some sort of Vorta based telemetry. It may be of interest due to our little godly treasure hunt. The travel time is ten hours away at warp seven, and the Excalibur is currently on course for this planet.

 

Cardassian junior representative Jeralla came to the bridge and presented her diplomatic credentials to me. No red flags regarding the encounter. If anything, I found she presented a confident and pleasant exterior. The Vorta representatives have not been informed regarding this planet, per my orders to Jeralla, at least until we can recon some more.

 

Personal comment: By the way, Captain? A Cardassian ambassador to the Vorta? While the Vorta search for the lost gods the Founders for a return to the Dominion? Who says the universe has no sense of humor?

 

Commander MVess JoNs

==========

Who are the Hundred?

 

The quick version is they are an offshoot/rebel type of Vorta group, and they could cause some serious problems if they wanted to in order to upset the galatic political playing field. And Semil is a big time Hundred representative. We want Weyoun and company to find the Founders...not the Hundred. Bad, very bad.;-)

 

These links, provided a bit back by Semil, may help to figure out the backstory behind them:

 

http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showt...;hl=The+Hundred

Of course not! You should quickly switch allegiances and encourage the peoples of the Dominion to accept benevolent leadership under their rightful heirs, the Hundred.

 

The Hundred? In control of the Dominion? Holy Intrique Batman, my Radar of Evil Detection is going off!

01.06.08

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Discreet Inquiry”

Left Ear JoNs was currently residing on deck thirteen, the secondary shuttle bay. Or rather, she was residing cross-legged on top of a shuttle located on deck thirteen, the secondary shuttle bay. About four data Padds lay strewn about at various intervals across the top surface of the shuttle craft. The Caitian executive officer did have to admit that she loved her private office, however, there were times per her nature that she needed to “get away from it all”, and find someplace else to work. This was one of those times.

 

It was halfway through the second shift, so therefore the shuttle deck was quiet and the jump recovery exercises for the fighter department had concluded a few hours prior, so the deck was clear for the most part. The vast openness of the bay reminded her of the plains she ran across as a child, and the brown furred feline took some comfort in that. In addition, she was able to easily survey the whole area from her vantage point on top of the shuttle, and that also made her feel comfortable, no doubt tapping into a long buried feline predator instinct of gaining the higher ground.

 

She signed off on yet another report update and placed the Padd down, and then grabbed at yet another of the devices and perusing the contents. Supply requests. Joy. Well, she’d be lying to herself if she said she found this type of report fascinating. Regardless, it was standard procedure to forward a supply request to the exec, and JoNs was glad to see that most of the Excalibur officers followed the procedures of command. The Caitian found herself wishing, however implausible, that everything could be as easy as a simple supply request.

 

This mission to locate the Founders kept bothering the commander. Badly. To say nothing of the fact that there were certain elements of a shadow organization involved, and the Excaliburs official cover story was that of a routine patrol rather then the true intention of locating the smooth faces. While the talk with Captain Corizon had indeed answered some of her questions, it had also brought to the light other factors that made the feline a bit uncomfortable. In short, it sent her long since ingrained security hackles bristling. You can take the security officer out of the department, but you can’t take the security out of the cat.

 

Then again, with quite a few of these so called unknown factors already in play, it wouldn’t hurt for her to make a few discreet, and unofficial inquires at command. All was fair in love, war, and borderline official missions, as far as Left Ear was concerned. She accessed her own personal Padd, and prepared a text message to her Uncle MSarr, serving at Fleet Command in the personnel division. If there was a shred of information regarding who truly was backing this mission, and say any true reasoning behind re-locating the Founders beyond letting the Vorta reclaim their ‘gods’, that old plains cat M’Sarr would find it.

 

JoNs finished off the message and sent it, signing off as “The cranky plains cat” and then encoded it onto a personal communications sub stream. She always called her uncle an old plains cat, but he in turn called her the cranky plains cat. It was a back and forth teasing shtick that the two of them had been doing for years, starting back when she had been a young teenager.

 

The discreet inquiry would probably yield no results, but she would feel a bit better for trying. She had a responsibility to keep the crew safe, and be a go between for them and the captain, and she intended to do that with any information she could use at her disposal.

12.28.07

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“A Quiet Drink”

 

It was about halfway through the second shift, and Left Ear JoNs sat at a quiet table in the main lounge, sipping on her drink and perusing a report Padd. She was relaxed, but her feline features were set in a grim concentration. Mark had just entered the lounge with a dignified groan, after a long day of training security officers to shoot the enemy and not themselves. He made a gesture to the barkeep to produce his usual bottle of non sythehol whiskey.

 

The Caitian Exec as well made a gesture to a passing waiter to refill her drink of choice, mentally noted the appearance of the newly transferred security officer, and then diverted her attention back to the data Padd.

 

With his bottle in hand, Mark glanced over to Caitian who had just glanced at him. Putting two and two together as to who she was he walked over to her table. "Commander." He regarded the seat across the table from her. "Is this seat empty?"

 

JoNs pulled her attention away from her studies and regarded the man. "Lieutenant....Garrison? New transfer to security? Aye, sit down." The tone was more an order then a suggestion.

 

He raised his brow the slightest bit and took his seat, looking back at the Commander. He set himself into passive mode. These next few minutes would give him an understanding of how the Caitian thought and acted. It’s never wise to p*** off your XO until you know you are.

 

The feline was getting used to the fact that as an executive officer, your time was never truly your own. Not with a couple hundred crew people to look after as well as a captain. Or at least, she was attempting to make that transition. "What’s the word Lieutenant? Oh, if we have pirates overtaking the ship, don’t tell me until I finish my drink." The statement was deadpan, but a mischievous glint could be made out in her green eyes.

 

He poured himself a large helping of the whiskey and took a large drink setting it down with a grin. "I could only be so lucky. I'm beginning to think that I'm going to have to kill a few of my ensigns to whip the others into shape."

 

"You and Mister Segami have a wet behind the ears department this time around? I'm sure the vets that re-signed on for the mission are a help."

 

Another sip. "Unbelievably. But we decided its best for not to post the vets with the greens for training purposes, before we get too thick into it out here. I just seem to have drawn the worst group..."

 

The brown furred feline nodded in commiseration, and then headed the conversation to business. "Mister Garrison, not to seem rude - but did you want to talk to me about something official?" One brown cat ear flipped back in curiosity.

 

He took another drink, and produced a padd, which he always seemed to have an over abundance of. "Yes Commander, I do." He slid the padd across the table to her. "For the last couple weeks I've been doing a survey of the ship, determining likely points of attack, and suitable methods of defense. Some of the things on here aren't exactly doable without command staff authorization."

 

"You've been surveying the ship on your own time? Son, I'm not sure whether to tell you to take a break or find a hobby." Regardless, the brown furred Cait looked at the Padd with the schematics with interest. After a moment, JoNs looked again at Garrison. "Okay, I like what I see, but here's the deal Lieutenant Garrison - you need to forward this through Lieutenant Commander Segami. I can't just leap frog over him and order these changes and such. Then, any requests come to me, and I go to Corizon."

 

He nodded, refilling his cup. "Of course I intend to. I just wanted to make sure you and the Captain wouldn’t bite before I potentially waste more time."

 

"Oh no worries. He bites. I scratch. Keep that distinction straight there." JoNs handed the Padd back to Garrison. "Fine then. Enter the upgrade report to Segami, and the command staff will go from there. You'll be kept informed Lieutenant."

 

He nodded again, and took a sip of his whiskey, beginning to feel the fire in his belly. He made a quick order for a sandwich, but sat in silence, not exactly sure of what else to say.

 

"What was your last assignment before the Excal Mister Garrison?"

 

He blinked, not expecting her to continue on the conversation, let alone with that opener. "I served on the USS Mercutio, an Intrepid class for six years from the '75 until a year ago."

 

"I served in security and piloting on a variety of assignments prior to the Excal." Her green eyes latched onto Garrison with an intensity, very cat like and a bit unnerving. "Do you have a secondary specialty Lieutenant?"

 

He took yet another sip, the tell tale signs of inebriation starting to show. "Uh, not really I guess. I took some training in the academy in fighter piloting for the war, but I never had the opportunity to use it. Other then that...I take to the sciences, but mostly as a hobby."

 

JoNs knocked back the rest of her drink and then spoke again. "Nothing wrong with having a few interests." She set her glass down and then turned those green eyes on Garrison again, her own alcohol bringing her ornery side to the surface. "But one more thing Lt. Garrison - again, why did you approach me with those schematic plans? While I admire the intent behind your readiness plan, we do have a command chain here. I expect all the officers to follow it, starting with an officer going first to their department head."

 

He smirked, and took another sip, really starting to feel the booze. "Oh, I believe in Command, trust me. This is just an informal meeting, no? Like I said, what is the point in doing what I'm doing if the command staff won’t approve it anyway? Sometimes it’s helpful to go around the chain of command."

 

"Fine, at least you're honest. I can deal with that." Her easy going tone belied her ears, which had by now gone flat. "If you'll excuse me, Mister Garrison. Thank you for the...insight. And you will be kept informed, trust me." The feline got up from the table, and nodded politely, if a bit stiffly. The feline then departed in a swish of a tail and the red of command.

 

He nodded back, regarding her and then his drink. He took a sip, and decided to label her as 'Odd'.

It was always fun to gripe about the boss, Atticus made his own addition. "And now we have a cat as his first officer. I know its wrong to say it... but the bridge is gonna be covered in fur."

 

"And a helm-cat, to boot. I'm already running out of lint rollers."

 

 

Masking tape works wonders with removing that pet hair.

 

w00t! Nice log Spots and Greenie!

Gives whole new meaning to the term Bite Me. Ba Da Bing. Yes. Yes, I went there.

 

Nice log guys! w00t!

12.22.07

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 B

“Command Chat”

 

Left Ear JoNs paused just outside the private quarters, and then decided since she had gone this far, she might as well go all the way. The feline exec needed to know what was really going on, and chimed for entrance to the Captains quarters.

 

Looking up from his drink and the book on his lap, Corizon leveled a glare at door. If it were another little officer coming to complain...he was going to skin them alive and make some new rugs for the place. "Come," he said, almost barking.

 

JoNs entered the inner sanctum of her commanding officer, immediately adopting a relaxed parade rest. "Apologies sir, but I want to talk to you - off the record." Her tail swished idly, and the alcohol had calmed her down a bit from her earlier agitated state.

 

"Are you drunk?" He said, sniffing the air and going back to his own drink.

 

"What I do when off duty is my own business Captain. Besides, it isn't as if I'll imbibe, go to the bridge, and then belch out loud." The feline cocked her head to one side.

 

Corizon grinned just wide enough for his fangs to show before motioning to a seat nearby. "No need to get defensive, it was just a question. Not like I am one to talk," he said as he put the amber-colored liquid to his lips. "So, you want to talk?"

 

The brown furred Caitian took the offered seat and considered Corizon. "You realize that felines by nature are nosy?"

 

"Curiosity," he said flatly. "You know what the humans say about it?"

 

The feline commander merely squinted at the canine captain, and then sighed. "Look, sir - off the record, just what the hell are we really doing going off after some device to locate the Founders? Who's backing this little jaunt? And don't tell me it’s on a need to know basis."

 

Leaning back, Corizon looked at her for a few moments, taking another drink. "You do realize that you might be getting into something you're not ready for?"

 

"A little late for regrets now - we've already shipped out. Look Captain, I'll be blunt; I can do my job, no problem, I'd just like a little more information, if only to 'play dumb' if one of the department heads asks me 'so - what are we doing again?'"

 

Considering again, he took another drink and set it down. "We're out here because they thought throwing me bone," he said, stopping to smirk at his bad pun, "would keep me busy and get me the hell out of their hair."

 

"They as in Starfleet, and so this mission to find the Founders is a milk run?"

 

"They as in certain elements of Starfleet."

 

"Oh, wonderful. Certain elements as in shadow organizations? Wait, no, don't tell me - ignorance is bliss. So, we are gallivanting around out here at the behest of said shadow organization? And are we truly looking to find the Founders, or no?" The brown furred Caitians tail had begun to lash a bit, her former agitation coming to the surface again.

 

"We're looking for them," he said. "Honestly, do you want to see the Hundred running the Dominion?"

 

"Not particularly sir, no." Another tail swish. "But we can't entirely trust the Founders now can we? They are responsible for killing hundreds with their Vorta commanders and Jem Hadar enforcers....you served in the war, as did I! And we're looking for the Founders? That is a load Captain."

 

"You don't have to remind me," he said sharply. "I spent nearly a month under the hostage of a Gul Mahet under orders of a Vorta..." There was a sudden distance about the Dameon. His face seemed vacant, as if thinking about something entirely different than the conversation at hand.

 

"And I got my tail shot off I don't know how many times during piloting skirmishes and bombing runs!" With an effort, Left Ear pulled back. "...not the same situation as being held against your will though..."

 

"Trust me," his voice remained vacant, "this isn't a battle you want to fight." He stopped again, blinking a few times and looking back at her. "Listen, I am not exactly thrilled about helping them find their 'gods,' either. But I made Taenix and Weyoun a promise..."

 

JoNs as well had started to go vacant, more so from the alcohol then a lapse of memory. "Weyoun, one of the chief Vorta lieutenants during the war. I'd like to get that little so and so alone in a room. Five minutes...that’s all" The feline shook her head to chase away the mental demons and then regarded Corizon. "We are undertaking this due to a promise? I see. How much lee way do we have with this mission op Captain, and if this whole search gets fragged six ways from Sundown, do you and I get tied to the whipping post?"

 

"They helped us at the wormhole," he said. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work...”

 

"And if it does work out, then Starfleet gains allies in the form of the Vorta and their masters the Founders?"

 

"I'd hope..." Though he didn't seem exactly sure.

 

Left Ear pointedly ignored the hesitation. "Fine. Captain? I'm your Exec, and I thank you for the appointment and I'll back you in this endeavor, but let me make one thing clear - I don’t plan on rolling over like a dog. I'll make my opinion known whenever I feel it’s warranted." With that said, the feline walked over to where the canine sat, and offered a paw. "Sir. Thank you for your time."

 

"Appreciated."

12.17.07

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Delayed Reaction”

Time: this log is set two hours after the 12.16.07 sim

 

The main lounge on deck five was hopping with activity, as was proper what with the first shift personnel going off duty and relaxing for a few hours before turning in for the night. Enlisted and commissioned officers, pilots, engineers, security – all the departments were equally represented here, including one half of the senior command staff. Commander JoNs sat at a table on the upper tier of the main lounge, calmly observing the general activity of the area. Her inner thoughts were anything but calm, however. With a disgusted shake of her head, the brown furred Cait knocked back her second drink since entering the lounge, and muttered under her breath. “The Vorta. Pfffht.”

 

The Dominion War. The Vorta commanders. Responsible for killing hundreds of officers and civilians with their Jem Hadar enforcers, and all at the bidding of their masters, the Founders. And now, at the behest of the Vorta ‘representatives’ at Camelot, the Excal had been drafted to find the Sangra, which will aide in locating the supposedly missing Founders.

 

Do we really want to locate the Founders?

 

The Caitian executive officer, for the most part, had stayed calm and quiet when Captain Corizon had informed her of this latest mission to find the Sangra, and ultimately the Founders. The official story was that the Excal had been dispatched to explore some of the uncharted areas of the Gamma quadrant. In the meantime, what the crew would really be doing was looking for this Sangra thing so the Vorta could possibly locate and then contact their former masters.

 

Do we really want to locate the Founders?

 

Left Ear ordered and soon downed a third drink – the good stuff, not that synthehol white wash. Rank can have its privileges, indeed. The rumors were true. Gods help her. – and came to a decision soon after. No, we really do not want to find the founders. Or the Sangria. Sangra. Whatever. The communicator thing.

 

There was more going on here, and JoNs intended to find out what exactly that more was. One of the flagships of the Fleet was not just “sent off” to find a communicative relic to attempt a link to the Founders or some such if there wasn’t more to the story. Who was backing this little endeavor, and why?

 

In a flurry of brown fur, the Caitian left the main lounge, intent on the new target and plan forming in her alcohol charged yet tactically hopping mind. She should have asked more questions during the conversation that she and Corizon had had after the commanding officer had returned from his meeting with the Vorta reps on Camelot. She had to start thinking more like an executive officer and ask more questions, plan ahead if possible, and be even more observant.

 

Therefore, the Big Bad Dog was going to have a second meeting with the Pussycat, whether he wanted to or not. That’s what Execs were for after all - someone has to keep these Captains in line!

Oh gods...they're multiplying.

Go Fangs!

 

Don't we all love organizations that officially un-officially exist? I tell ya, they are a bunch of laughs.

Ooooo - intrigue! Who was the spoon head reflection? Undercover officer or actual Cardassian?

Gul Mahet - was he performing experiments on Corizon? And who were the people being experimented on?

 

w00t!

11.30.07

Mika Four Colony Outpost

“Pirates”

 

Note: this log is set in the third month of the four month re-deployment

 

Lt. Commander Left Ear JoNs leaned casually against one of the outpost’s fighter shuttles, her amused gaze set at a point in the distance. The brown furred Caitian feline chuckled to herself, the happy sound of purring genuine.

 

Lieutenant Preston currently had his hands full across the hanger bay, because listening to his every word and watching his every move as he worked on another one of the fighter shuttles was an avid listener of the feline variety. She kept peppering the human male with question after question regarding the fighter craft. M'rrett JoNs was a cousin to Left Ear, and was currently visiting her relative at Mika base. The gawky young Cait sported golden fur, green eyes of a lighter shade then Left Ears, she had not yet filled out into her adult weight and build, and was therefore all elbows, knees and wide clumsy paws.

 

Commander Jinx Brennan entered the hanger bay, her long auburn hair flowing out behind her. She walked over to JoNs, a lopsided smirk set on her light skinned face. “….she’s an enthused one.”

 

“Oh, you have no idea.”

 

“You had told me that M’rrett is planning on attending the academy?”

 

“Aye, probably next year, she’ll be going to the academy with the junior cadet program. Still doesn’t know what she wants to major in though.”

 

As the two senior Fleet officers watched, the younger Caitian darted again around the distant shuttle, moving quickly on all four paws. Left Ear raised her voice, calling out across the expanse of the hanger bay. “M’rrett Shaow! Quit slouching and walk on your hind paws – you were not raised in a barn!”

 

Her attention then turned back to her current commanding officer. “Thank you again, Jinx, for letting me bring her out here for a visit. I thought seeing what the pilots do might help the kitten with a decision.”

 

“So, piloting is in the running as a career choice?”

 

“Yes, along with operations or security. Medical and Sciences are definitely not her thing, as the desire really isn’t there at all. Engineering has a better chance in the long run as well.”

 

“What about the marine program?”

 

“She, like many Caits, would be better at commando tactics, so studying to be a full on ground pounder is definitely not a viable interest to her.”

“And you also told me that your family is rather large?”

 

“The entire JoNs clan ranges in age from my grandmother, who is in her mid nineties, down to the baby, M’rrett – she’s only sixteen. That will probably change once myself, one of my brothers, or one of our many cousins start having the next generation of babies.”

 

“…you give the Irish a run for their money.”

 

“Sweetie, Caitians can blow the Irish out of the water.”

 

The Irish woman’s bout of laughter was interrupted when the yellow alert siren for the base started droning, and Brennan slapped at the comm badge attached to her flight suit. “Jinx here, what’s the word Fashal?”

 

The strong voice of the Andorian executive officer quickly answered. “The Veshaka colony over in the fifth sector just radioed in a level two alert. Apparently one of their ground supply convoys is having some privateer troubles.”

 

“Aye, I’m on it. Log out myself, Left Ear, and Beans as the interceptor party. Beans can use the flight time and Lefty and I can back her up. Jinx out.” The base commander turned to her the senior Caitian pilot. “Let’s move Lefty.” Like a shot, the lanky Irish woman was off at a flat run for her fighter shuttle.

 

JoNs had quickly and gently guided her young cousin away from the hustle and bustle as the base scrambled to the yellow alert. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You mind Preston, and stay with him in the command ops staging room. You can see how a pilot recon and training outpost works…” She gave M’rrett a quick kiss on the forehead, and then hurried off to prep her own fighter.

 

**********

“This is Scout One. No visual contact, repeat, no visual contacts as of yet.”

 

Jinx responded to Beans and spoke into her helmet comm unit, the tone of her voice instantly activating the device and coming over the private channel to the two other females loud and clear. “Noted Beans, keep a sharp eye, Left Ear and Jinx still holding position on your six. Out.”

 

It had taken a grand total of ten minutes for the three pilots to scramble, get airborne, and cover the distance between the base and the last known position of the Veshaka convoy. Every minute that ticked by was a chance the raiders would get away scott free.

 

Left Ear spoke into her comm piece, “Let’s try a south vector run, maybe flush something out that…’

 

The excited voice of Beans interrupted, “…we have contact! Northwest of the convoy location, making good time with all terrain vehicles. Small group – we should be able to take them easy.”

 

Jinx jumped into the conversation, “Let’s go! Beans, you have point run…”

 

 

**********

JoNs banked her fighter shuttle, re-orienting herself according to the attack pattern called by Jinx. Her matte gray fighter arced gracefully around, and then she made good time bearing down on the last all terrain vehicle in the privateer bunch. Her adrenaline peaked, and the rush enveloped her. She rarely felt this way on starship duty; there was something about being a pilot, the thrill, the sense of a good job done…

 

….unfortunately, the big ass homemade grenade launcher that was being leveled at her as she approached was impeding her happy thoughts!!

 

“Oh my gods!” The Caitian pilot jerked the dual control joysticks, causing her craft to zig sharply to the right. She avoided being hit full on with the projectile, but her underside was still caught, and the shuttle bucked and rolled wildly. Her stomach flip flopped as the internal equilibrium filters gave out, and the fighter started to go down with a screech of metal on metal.

 

Left Ear hit the ground hard once, twice, three times before sliding the fighter shuttle to a rough halt. With a quick prayer, she was thankful that the only thing injured was her pride. “This is Left Ear to Beans and Jinx, I am down, I repeat, I am down but uninjured…”

 

*******

After Brennan and the remaining pilot had completed the convoy mission, the clean up teams from the base had ventured out to further get the situation in order. All of the supplies that had been taken from the Veshaka convoy had been recovered, one pirate had been apprehended (the rest had managed to scatter) and remanded to the Fleet base for questioning. The pirates still at large would be hunted down by the colony authorities and dealt with on a local level. Left Ear was of the opinion that all of the thieves should hang from the nearest tree, but it wasn’t her place to say that – out loud at least.

 

Jinx and Beans had given the Caitian a tow back to the Mika outpost, and she now sat on a bio bed in the medical bay getting patched up by the base doc. She had no doubt that once she was feeling better, Jinx was going to work on her about the damage to the downed fighter. The thought did bring a smile to her muzzle, oddly enough.

 

M’rrett suddenly came scampering in, her young face taut with worry. The medical doctor wisely moved out of the way as the gold feline flew to Left Ears side. The two cousins embraced, with the elder feline speaking soft words of assurance to the younger feline.

 

Left Ear disengaged from the hug, gently clamping a paw to the side of M’rretts face as she spoke to her guardian child. “This is all part of service, kitten. It isn’t all about reports, looking good in the uniform, taking over helm and tactical so you can fly the ship and shoot things, and meeting an admiral every other week. You’re too young to remember what happened to my brother, but he was killed in the line of duty. Fleet service can be dangerous, and you or those under your command may get hurt….you have to account for all this if you choose to enter into a career as an officer, okay?”

 

“Mmm Hmmm.” M’rrett nodded, her eyes slightly misty with unshed tears.

 

“Alright – go calm down, and I’ll be along shortly. We’ll grab some chow.”

 

The golden Caitian again scampered off; JoNs stayed in the medical bay a bit longer, and then she also left. What she spotted in the outer offices stopped her dead in her tracks however.

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

Her young cousin and the pirate that had been brought in had been talking. The man had been brought to the medical area to have a wound cleaned and patched. He was secured with energy bonds and one of the base security officers stood nearby, it was true, but M'Vess did not like the situation one bit.

 

“Oh, come on M’Vess, we were just talking….”

 

A firm cuff to the rear end convinced a certain young Caitian that it was not wise to argue with an elder guardian; M’rrett again scampered off, post haste this time in a flash of golden fur and civilian attire. With a glower at the scruffy pirate, Left Ear moved past him to the exit way.

 

“…you might want to watch that one.”

 

The brown Caitian slowly turned. “Pardon me?”

 

“That kid of yours. She knows more about, and is more interested in, the privateer lifestyle then you think.”

 

“Don’t give me that targ crud. She’s on her way to the Fleet academy.”

 

“Yeah…so was I at one time. Just watch her, that’s alls I’m saying… Commander is it?”

 

JoNs regarded the human male in a contemptible silence for a few seconds and then finally left the area to track down M’rrett, her tail switching angrily.

 

Her paw swiped at her comm. badge. “Jackson? Yeah, this is Commander JoNs – I’d like you to put a second guard on our guest. I want to keep him out of any mischief, JoNs out.”

 

You never could tell with these damn privateers.

11.23.07

Mika Four Colony Outpost

“Frost”

 

Note: this log is set two months into the four month reassignment time frame

 

**********

“Left Ear, you ready to go and ding up the target squad a bit?” Jinx’s voice cracked over her internal helmet comm

 

Jinx Brennan and Left Ear JoNs were functioning as “the bad guys” for the upcoming training exercise, intending to blitz the ever loving bejeezus out of the four trainee recruits that were currently cleared for the training exercise. Blair, T’Sar, Maevan, and Tragg were all junior lieutenants assigned to the outpost for some extra piloting as well as officer candidate training before moving on to the senior officer command track.

 

The Caitian spared a glance out of the tempered plasti-seal covering the cockpit over to the fighter craft flanking her, and smiled fiercely behind the orange tinted visor of her flight helmet, visually tracking her wingman. As much as she was willing to work in security, she truly did enjoy piloting and it would always be her first love so to speak. Checking the position of the target squad on the panel monitor inset one last time, she responded to Jinx. “Aye Jinx – let’s go rattle the cage.”

 

Within seconds, the two women were bearing down on the squad, peppering them with holo tracer rounds. Several hits were recorded, but none were fatal; they could hear Blair issuing orders over their comm lines to his squad, and they all scattered.

 

“Take care of the secondary targets, I have the leaders.”

 

“Aye! They should have stayed stayed together! Blair knows better.” Left Ear took off after T’Sar and Tragg while Jinx dealt with the other two.

 

“Watch Blair in case he works his way back around! They don’t call that man ‘Frost’ for nothing. Don’t get frostbitten, Jinx out.”

 

**********

An hour later, both Left Ear and Jinx had touched down on the landing port at Mika, mission and training session accomplished. It had turned out rather well, and both of the senior officer instructors were pleased with the overall results.

 

The officers entered the locker room area, and quietly set about stowing their gear amidst the excited retelling of the mock battle by Blair’s squad to their fellow pilots.

 

“Hey sirs! Great training session, really got the blood flowing!” Tragg, an affable human, called out over across the expanse of the locker room to Lt. Commander JoNs and Commander Brennan.

 

“It was not an acceptable training session.” A lone voice cut through the din, and Blair emerged from behind the lockers. His rich baritone voice seemed to linger on the air even after he finished the statement.

 

“Explain Lieutenant.” Brennan’s clipped tone was all business.

 

His gaze flew from Brennan and latched onto JoNs as he continued. “The Lieutenant Commander ignored the rules of engagement. Her manner was aggressive, and she followed me and fired off two extra shots that impacted with my fighter even after I had signaled that I had been knocked out of the skirmish and had gone out of range of the flight op.”

 

At that point, Jinx’s gaze went to Left Ear, her gaze stern. “Is this true Commander?”

 

“Aye. I followed Mister Blair out of the perimeter established for the flight training op and peppered his tail with a few parting shots.”

 

“Not very sportsman-like and very unlike you JoNs.” The Caitian could tell that Brennan was not pleased with her off the cuff actions.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

When no further explanation was forthcoming, Jinx leaned in at that point and whispered in JoNs’s ear. “What the hell is the matter with you? I need to write you up and demerit you for this, its only fair – I’d do it to anyone that pulled that during an op.”

 

“I understand, and once we clear the room, I can explain the reasoning behind the actions.” The Caitian pulled away and dutifully stood at a relaxed parade rest.

 

Brennan pulled away as well, her expression vacillating between anger and curiosity. The commanding officer of the post then turned to address the small group gathered. “You all know as well as I do that aggression has its place during a fire fight, but we need to channel that into a productive force, not merely for the benefit of some twitchy fingered – or in this case pawed – fun. We all have our good and bad moments, and then we answer for any infractions, as the commander will. Good job out there today, all of you. Now, please clear the room.”

 

The various squad members finished up and filed out of the squad room, most of them shooting mildly sympathetic or curious looks toward the Caitian, leaving Brennan and JoNs alone to square off.

 

“Again I ask what the hell that was all about.”

 

“Now, please just hang onto your Irish temper, thank you sir. I did intentionally fire at Blair for a reason – I wanted to gauge his response. What he just pulled now confirmed a few suspicions I had.”

 

“Continue.”

 

“He’s a good, solid squad leader. Gets the job done, and brings his people back. But, he’ll never make it past the lieutenant grade…and I don’t think he’s a very good candidate for senior OCS.”

 

Brennan relaxed a bit and leaned a hip against the lockers. “How so?”

 

“He’s manipulative. I’ve heard a few grumblings regarding it, nothing major, just along the lines of ‘that guy is a total ass’, you know that type of complaint. If he was so concerned with my performance, then why not come to you, or even question me about it directly? He did it in front of an audience, and he likes that.”

 

Jinx nodded and motioned for her to continue.

 

“I know that all officers use manipulation in some form or another, but usually it’s to motivate your people. Blair comes in from the other angle, the hard charging angle, and the one we don’t need or want. If he flies enough missions, it’s only a matter of time before he starts making mistakes with a squad, meaning setting himself up as’ unapproachable’ or something. You and I have run into that type before.”

 

“Options?”

 

“We keep an eye on him, and be completely honest when we grade him and such with regard to his interactions as a squad leader. I’m all for the two of us sitting down with him for a nice little two on one session actually. You and I joke with one another about us both being by the book? Well, in this case he needs to read that book and work on his people skills.”

 

“Noted. I’m still going to demerit you though, per our by the book procedures, and don’t ever pull that crap again.” Brennan eyed the feline with a critical eye. “And you just had to launch this plan during a training op…you couldn’t have come to me regarding this?”

 

“No sir.” A sly grin lit the felines' features. “I just really wanted to fire at Blair…”

 

At which point a padd, a towel, and whatever else Jinx could get her hands on were flung at Left Ear in short order.

 

Irish temper. Indeed.

Samuel T. Cogley ain't got nuthin' on the Joy class. :D

11.23.07

Mika Four Colony Outpost

“Talk to me Goose”

 

**********

 

==== Starfleet Command ====

==== Personnel Office ====

==== Private Comm Line N7====

==== JoNs, M. - 20 N7 ====

 

To: JoN’s, Lieutenant Commander M’Vess

 

Effective immediately, you are re-assigned for a temporary tour duration to the flight training and test program on Starfleet colony outpost Mika Four.

 

 

==== End transmission ====

==== JoNs, M. 20 N7 Private Comm====

 

**********

“I am so being punished. Or something.”

 

Left Ear did a combination glance and glare out the port window of the transport shuttle, her gaze taking in the endless miles of plains grass, scrub trees, and rocky formations. She would have been admiring the view, that is, if the Caitian wasn’t so ticked off.

 

The shuttle pilot, a young dark skinned human by the name of Preston, glanced back at the feline from his spot in the main cockpit. “Tick off any admirals lately? It’s not so bad here ma’am, once you get used to the remote location of the base.”

 

“Aye, this is definitely remote.” They had been traveling at a steady warp two for the last half-hour, and the base still hadn’t registered on the grid sensors.

 

He chuckled. “Well, I will say it’s nice to be out in the middle of nowhere when we are flying our tests or training the recruits.”

 

With a sigh, JoNs unbuckled from her passenger seat and ambled up to the cockpit area, re-seating herself in the co-pilots chair. There really was no good reason to be a pain in the ass with her attitude to the pilot; he was just doing his job.

 

“What are the details Lieutenant? And don’t give me the tourist version that I read in the official Fleet data entry.”

 

Preston chuckled. “Yes sir – the official rundown of the post is a bit of dry reading.”

 

The officer banked the shuttle, and the course correction immediately came up on the twin console computers directly in front of both JoNs and Preston. The feline entered a quick series of commands into the co-pilot keyboard inset on a side panel, which enabled the secondary thrusters to power down and compensate for the course change.

 

“Hey, thanks sir. Now, as I was saying. Mika Four is primarily used as a flight training base, but we also get proto-type fighters to test about every six months or so. Typically, we keep ‘em for another six months, working out all the bugs and cataloging the crafts performance, quirks and all that. It’s a pretty nice deal. I mean, we don’t get experimental fighters or anything fancy like that, but we get to play with top of the line craft ranging from runabouts, to troop transports, to interceptor craft.”

 

“What about the training? What sort of officer do you get assigned here?”

 

“Mostly the senior midshipman ranks up through the junior lieutenant ranks. They’ve already rotated out of the academy and onto their training cruises or first official assignments, so they aren’t raw.”

 

“…you get the hard cases out here, don’t you?”

 

His hesitation told the Caitian all she needed to know. Her ears went flat.

 

“…aye ma’am. We do get the hard-cases out here. Now with that said? Every single pilot officer assigned here has the balls – pardon, ma’am – to be a pilot and do their job as a fleet officer, make no mistake. Yes some of them are sent here for disciplinary infractions, but most of the pilots just need some polishing up before they advance in rank or jump on the senior command track. And let’s just say that we all need to be a little tough out here on the frontier.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Mika also does double duty as a listening post and patrol point. We are close enough to the three corporate research colonies established on Thrantos Three and Six, two M-Class planets located at the Terminus Vector Arm. The sites are minor corporations, but they get enough supplies and shipments in and out to sometimes attract un-wanted pirate attention, so us pilots run interference or go on hunting expeditions, if you get my drift.”

 

“Oh, aye, I’m just drifting right along with you Lieutenant.”

 

“Not happy about this assignment are you ma’am?”

 

“As far as I’m concerned, the Starfleet personnel office can kiss my furry rear end. The only thing that kept me from storming in there and telling them what they could do with this assignment was the fact that an uncle of mine works for them, and I’m sure he wants to keep his job.”

 

Preston cleared his throat. “Give it a chance sir.”

 

She tactfully changed the subject. “So what’s your story Lieutenant?”

 

“I’ve been here on Mika since right after the conclusion of my second training cruise. After being on two ships, I wanted to be assigned to either a ground posting or a station posting.”

 

“Not a fan of zipping around the galaxy Preston?”

 

“It’s not exactly that sir. Let’s just say I got tired of the fact that everyone, or at least some officers, tend to have the misconception that the only ‘dignified’ duty options are on the ships. Nothing wrong with a ground based assignment, and I can earn double career points doubling as a pilot and trainer. I couldn’t accomplish that on a starship, at least not as fast, depending on the ships assignment or if I was dividing my time between piloting and a department.”

 

The console closest to Preston blipped, indicating that Mika Base had finally registered on the proximity sensors.

 

“… one last question Preston. Who’s your commanding officer here? I had a devil of a time trying to pin a name down.”

 

“With all due respect Lieutenant Commander, you’ll have to wait a bit longer – I have my orders. They want it to be a surprise.”

 

And with that rather cryptic statement, the lieutenant brought the transport shuttle in for a smooth landing at the landing strip.

 

**********

Left Ear departed the shuttle, making her way across the landing zone to the hanger bay beyond. She carried a travel cylinder over a shoulder, and held her pilots duffle in one paw. A blond haired yeoman met her at the entrance, and led her promptly to the base commander’s office.

 

A few curious glances or welcoming nods from the various personnel as they walked through the cavernous hanger were thrown the feline’s way as she walked behind her escort, and JoNs nodded politely back.

 

After a few moments they arrived at the intended destination, and the yeoman chimed for admittance.

 

“Come!”

 

The yeoman turned and nodded to JoNs. “I will take your things to your assigned quarters sir. If you need anything, feel free to comm me.”

 

“Thank you Yeoman. Carry on.”

 

The Caitian officer entered the confines of the office and immediately adopted an at attention stance. “Lieutenant Command…”

 

The occupant at the desk turned toward JoNs and interrupted her, the office lighting now illuminating her face. “Hello JoNs. Fancy meeting you here.” The lean and lanky Earth woman’s long auburn hair framed her face, and she favored the feline with an impish smile.

 

Her jaw dropped, and all vestiges of her protocol induced stance vanished as the feline’s surprised gaze latched onto the post commandant. “Lieutenant Brennan?!”

 

“Aye. Don’t look so surprised Left Ear.” The Irish born human got up from the chair set behind her desk and walked around, facing the Cait as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And to be specific, its Commander now, transferred out of engineering, call sign Jinx, pilot instructor and commanding officer of this base. I am pleased to welcome you to the Mika Outpost.”

 

A full ten seconds passed. “You were the one that had me assigned here?”

 

“Yep. I…”

 

Brennan never got to finish the statement; a brown paw zipped through the air to connect with the woman’s cheek, much as it had those ten years ago. The base commander went down and landed hard on her backside. A full two minutes passed, with Brennan alternately rubbing at her jaw and rear and JoNs standing over her and alternating between panting and purred growls as she got her usually deeply dormant temper under control.

 

Commander Brennan finally broke the silence. “You know, it’s rare, but once you let that anger of yours loose, it can be a formidable force of nature.” Her Irish brogue was muffled by the hand clamped to her jaw. She removed the hand from her jaw and held it out to her fellow officer. The Caitian paused for only a fraction of a second, and then grasped the humans hand in a paw, pulling and helping her back up on her feet.

 

Both JoNs and Brennan had been assigned to the USS Repulse with the Cait as a midshipman serving in a pilot designation, and the human as a senior lieutenant attached to engineering. Brennan had done some work on the fighter craft that JoNs typically used, and one of the panels blew out on the feline during a flight run. She lost her left ear tip in the explosion – and got tagged after the incident with the ‘Left Ear’ call sign. JoNs accused Brennan of dereliction of duty; words were exchanged, eventually exploding into a mild scuffle. Brennan was cleared of any fault, and JoNs was cleared of assaulting a superior, but the two women still gave each other a wide berth until the end of the tour. They had not seen each other since their service on the Repulse, at least until now that is.

 

Brennan held a hand up in a placating gesture. “Let me explain.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

The human leaned a hip against her desk and crossed her arms. “This isn’t the most glamorous of postings, but we do good work here. I need someone competent for the next few months; we have a new batch of officer recruits coming in, and I’m short handed. I checked the duty rotation rosters, saw that you had just been released from a duty tour on the Excalibur and were due to be re-assigned for a few months. So, I put in the transfer request, and here you are.”

 

“Aye, here I am.” The Cait’s bitter tone had died down somewhat, leaning more toward curiosity now; at least she knew her temporary re-assignment had come about due to a past acquaintance. That helped a little with swallowing the ‘ass end of nowhere’ assignment. And, the truth be told, she was starting to find the whole operation - and piloting full time again for a few months - rather intriguing. “So, what is the plan?”

 

“The plan is to assign you as a senior instructor. I remember that you always were good at long range recon and squad based operations? So we’ll start with that.” Brennan moved around the desk and started entering the necessary information in the computer as she spoke, as well as downloading the information to a Padd.

 

Left Ear cocked her head to one side and flipped an ear back. “How’d the Jinx sign come about?”

 

Brennan favored her with a wry grin. “Your fault. That dereliction of duty crap you leveled at me seemed to stick. Didn’t hurt my career any, mind, but it does makes the perfect pilot call sign so to speak.”

 

“…I’m glad I didn’t call you Boom Boom then.”

 

“Touche, my dear feline of the left ear.” Brennan walked back around to where JoNs stood, handing her a Padd. “That contains all the information to get you started. Your teaching schedule, a map of the base as well as the surrounding planet grids and planetary sectors; our patrol routes back and forth from the corporate posts are also included.”

 

She took the Padd and quickly scrolled through the various topics. “Aye sir, I’ll familiarize myself with the operation here.”

 

“It’s Jinx or Brennan. The ranking officers don’t stand much on ceremony around here unless we need to. Or we have a disciplinary issue such as fighting.”

 

Left Ear’s head whipped up at that statement, only to be impaled by green eyes almost as bright – and piercing - as her own.

 

“One thing we always seemed to have in common was our by the book predilections. So, with that said, senior officer or no, I do not tolerate brawling among and or being decked by my officers. Five demerits issued - you can work off the accumulated points through your flight runs.”

 

The lieutenant commander flipped an ear back, but that was the extent of her protest. “Aye sir, understood.”

 

“Dinner is at eighteen hundred in the main mess Left Ear, if you are so inclined to join me at the commandants table.”

 

“I look forward to it – Jinx.”

Now don't be setting off any internal security alarms now. I mean, someone hears a scream, and then they contact security, security breaches the quarters thinking someone's getting attacked, then we see stuff that we really don't want too...it's just a nasty domino effect.... :-P

 

NICE log guys! w00t!!

”11.18.07

USS Excalibur NCC-2000B

“Re-Adjusting"

 

Lieutenant jg. Left Ear JoNs had procured a free desk console in the main security offices, and was currently finishing up the requested report and assignment that Lieutenant Segami had given her.

 

Sniper exercises, as well as intruder alert drills and hand to hand combat exercises were at the top of the report to do listing for the upcoming security training. The security department, overall, had shown weakened percentage numbers in these three interest areas, so the feline concentrated on them and worked downward. The Excalibur security officers seemed to excel in co-ordinated squad tactical formations by contrast.

 

She also planned on relying heavily on Victria for the intruder alert portion of the exercises; the Caitian had reviewed some of the Al-Ucards past training vids, and had seen that the woman was downright unmatched when it came to dealing quickly – and brutally – with hostile forces stupid enough to breach the Excal defenses and board the ship. Therefore, she was a valuable, and fun, resource to tap for the security training. A feral smile lit the Caits features as she anticipated the gleeful mayhem that the training would cause; it would be good to shake up some of the greener security officers, get their blood flowing. Overall though, the security department was a good, solid group of officers, and Left Ear was glad to be serving with them.

 

Satisfied with the report, which outlined one on one training slots or squad pairings for the next two weeks, the brown furred feline signed off on the document and sent it off to her Trill commanding officer.

 

“Stuff that in your ear Lieutenant.” The Caitian muttered to herself as she logged off the console and got up from her chair.

 

Segami had hinted to her during her bridge duty shift that the two of them were due for a nice little talk. Now that was going to be interesting. The Trill was just angry that Left Ear kept calling him on his ass-backwards methods. Superior officer or not, the man had no concept of un-officer like behavior, and that drove her out of her ever loving mind. She just hoped her family would visit her on the penal asteroid after she told him what he and his Klingon riding beast could go do with each other.

 

JoNs placed a paw to her temple, taking a few deep breathes and recognizing that she was getting herself worked up again. The impromptu mission to that alternate universe had really thrown the Caitian for a loop. She knew that with time she would recover and re-adjust mentally and physically from the ordeal, but being tortured at the hands of a manic power military type tended to dampen one’s spirit for a while.

 

The security officer checked the chronometer, deciding to call it a day and perhaps check out the hoo rah rah gala event that the Fleet was throwing in honor of the Excalibur’s return. Lieutenant Commander Laarell and she had both mentioned that they were planning on attending, so perhaps she could track the senior officer down and they could join forces against the brass induced party.

 

A slight chuckle escaped the feline as she walked over to the officer of the watch, her hind paws making no sound as she moved. Per protocol, she would remand the offices over to the watch officer and be on her way. It was not until she was almost on top of the midshipman that he realized she was there, and he hastily minimized the holo-net first person shooter game that he had been playing. Her smile disappeared as she realized what he had been doing.

 

“…sir. Uh, Aye sir. What can I do for you.”

 

Left Ear knew that the ship was docked in the orbital facility, and that most of the crew had departed, or were departing for some shore leave, leaving the ship with about half the crew manning her. In short, nothing interesting was going to happen unless one of the worker bee drones fired at them. But that was no excuse for an officer to screw around on his watch.

 

The junior grade lieutenant merely crossed her arms over her chest, and didn’t say anything to the middy, content to let her green eyes bore into him for a bit. The dark haired human shifted uncomfortably in his seat and would not meet her gaze, but JoNs continued staring right at him.

 

Finally he ventured another glance at her, and the Caitian slanted a pointed look at his desk console. He hastily entered a typed command into the keyboard inset into the desktop. “… I logged out of the game sir.”

 

Her normally warm, purred voice came out cold…and it was the usual voice that she reserved for Segami, come to think of it. “Good. I am going off shift now, and you have the offices. Sign me out. Keep your mind on your work Midshipman, and by the way, you are on report.”

 

He was too stunned to remark, and JoNs quietly left the security offices in a whoosh of brown fur and security gold.

= = Level Seven Security Clearance Accepted = =

= = Starfleet Command Personnel Files = =

= = Starfleet Biographical Data: JoNs, MVess Vacer = =

 

Birth Name: M'Vess Vacer (pronounced Vay-ser) JoN's

Call sign: Left Ear <Reserve Pilot designation number CX-51>

Service Number: SC-068920

 

Current Occupation: Former Executive Officer

Current Rank: Commander

Current Assignment: Formerly of USS Excalibur NCC-2004C

 

Date of Birth:

5109.29 (2351) (31 Seasons of Age)

Savirr Morravin Pediatric Facility

Hissta Province

 

General Statistical Information:

Species: Caitian Feline

Sex: Female

Height: 5 foot 5 Inches

Weight: 138 Lbs

 

Medical Considerations:

- Preventive flea treatment drops every four months as needed

- Meat protein booster shots every four to six months as needed

- Regular monitoring of heart to prevent the onset of the common heart defect disease associated with the Caitian genetic code

 

General Appearance:

Eye color: Dark green

Fur / Hair Color: Brown fur, brown mane worn in a 'high and tight' cut

Physical Appearance: A felinoid with an athletic build, muscular, strong and lithe, resembling the extinct species of the Earth leopard or panther, but with brown fur and lacking the spotting of the leopard or black fur of the panther. Her left ear tip is missing, and she sports healed gash marks, two on her outer left ear and one on the lower left jaw bone (see background).

 

Primary Specialty: Security

Secondary Specialty: Pilot

 

Certified Training:

First Aid

Self Defense

Small Arms - Phaser Type 1, 2

Compression Rifle

Zero – G Ops

Surveillance

Pilot Tactics (Squad Based, Long and Short range scout, Dog Fighting, Troop transport)

 

Certified Clearance:

Starfighter (Lancelot and Archer)

Shuttle (Type 6 and 9)

Runabout (Danube class)

Troop Hopper/Ambulance Transport

Guinevere Heavy Bomber/Recon Utility Shuttle

Ground Transport Vehicles

 

Biographical Data:

JoNs Tribal name: Honorscar

Blood Pact Affiliation: Clan Shadowpride

 

Grandparents:

Grandmother: MVirran (87)

- Retired Commander, Starfleet

- Tribe Leader of Honorscar and Senior Representative to Clan Shadowpride

Grandfather: Shibo, deceased

Parents:

Va'Rirr (61), (Son of MVirran)

- Retired teacher

M'Vess (59), (wife of Va'Rirr)

- Communications expert, Civilian Sector

- Tribal note: Crimson Pelts

- Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride

Uncles:

Great Uncle: MSarr (56), Starfleet Personnel (Brother to M'Virran)

- Secondary Head of Honorscar Tribe

S'rrch (48), (Son of MVirran)

- Civilian Security Supervisor, Starfleet Command Attachment

Shibo (41), (Son of MVirran)

- President of Med Corp Supplies

Aunts:

M'rree (47) (Wife of Srrch)

- Administrative Staff, Starfleet Academy Registrar.

- Tribal note: Saber Claws

- Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride

M'Vressa (37), (daughter of MVirran)

- Chief of Operations at Med Corp Supplies

 

Brothers: (Offspring of M'Vess and Va'Rirr):

M'Rirr (M), Helm Officer l USS Odyssey NCC-71832

- KIA 2375 at age 34

Ravarr (M) (38), Security l USS Fearless NCC-4598

- Third Head of Honorscar Tribe

- Specialty: Tactical Systems

Vrrowl (M) (37), Medical l USS Ulysses NCC-66808

- Specialty: General Medicine

Srrett (M) (32), Pilot Operations, USS Okinawa NCC-13958

- Specialty: Pilot, Call sign: Sideswipe

Ravirr (M) (31), Operations/Communications Officer l USS Repulse NCC-2544

- Specialty: Operations

 

Sister In Law:

Savassa (F) (29), Registered Nurse (wife of Vrrowl)

- Tribal note: Gray Paws

- Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride

- Specialty: Pediatrics

 

First Cousin:

M'rrett Sh'aow JoN's (F) (16), Student at Jonathan Archer High School in San Francisco, CA

- Daughter of Srrch and Mrree

 

6th Cousin:

Savette-Shaow JoNs (F) (58), Starfleet Intelligence Administrative Department

- Specialty: Security

 

Distant Cousin:

Jagrissa Honor-Scar (F) (26), Flight Operations l USS Excalibur NCC-2004C

- Specialty: Pilot, Call Sign: Jumper

 

Biographical Background:

 

M'Vess Vacer JoNs was born in 2351 and raised on her home planet of Cait. She is the only daughter of M'Vess and Va'Rirr JoNs, and with four living elder brothers, is the youngest member of her family.

 

The first recorded JoNs to serve in the Federation Starfleet was Shaow Seval JoNs, who joined the then fledgling human Starfleet of the 2150's under the Officer Exchange Program. Following in the footsteps of her brothers as well as the family legacy, M'Vess enrolled in Starfleet Academy in 2369 to pursue security, tactical and piloting studies. Her eldest brother M'Rirr, was killed in action in 2375 during a confrontation between his ship and an Orion Syndicate ship. The death was hard for the entire family, but the JoNs's are nothing if not survivors.

 

She is named as Guardian to a younger cousin, M'rrett JoNs, a high honor within Cait society and a duty she is more then happy to undertake. Within Caitian society, a guardian will take an active role in the guidance of a young Cait, at times and depending on the preferences of the family, functioning as a third parent. M'Vess is currently planning to sponsor the younger Caitian through the academy when she is of the age to enroll. In addition, JoNs is also the granddaughter of retired commander M'Virran JoNs, formerly of the USS Gorkon NCC-1991.

 

From 2373 to 2375, M'Vess cut her piloting teeth participating in several minor skirmishes of the Dominion War, usually comprised of scouting missions, supply runs, personnel transport and border patrol runs. The Caitian has trained on and clocked many hours in a variety of craft, ranging from shuttles, runabouts and short range fighter craft. The young midshipman received her call sign of Left Ear on her tour of duty aboard the USS Repulse, the result of an accident that involved an exploding manifold not properly secured after a landing. The shrapnel and debris peppered the Caitian, causing injuries to her left ear and lower jaw. This accident led to an altercation with a technician, who M'Vess accused of dereliction of duty. No charges were filed against either combatant, but the situation itself exposed a rare occurrence – JoNs losing her temper. As with most Caitians, she exhibits remarkable control of her emotions.

 

In late 2375, JoNs was taking part in a troop transport mission with her squad mates. The Dominion War had drawn to a close and the various fighter squadrons had been tapped in order to aide in the sector cleanup. Namely, removing marine troops who had been sent out to various duty stations and bringing them back home. A freak malfunction caused an aft converter to blow out on one of the transports, and the resulting shrapnel flew out to impact with the canopy on the feline pilots transport shuttle. The event triggered something within the Caitan, and she was unable to continue functioning. The squad lead took up a wingman flanking position on the compromised vehicle, and the other pilots managed to talk the scared feline down without any further incidents in the air. While the resulting multiple psychological and physical tests proved nothing, JoNs herself has speculated that she had been suffering from battle fatigue and burnout, and the condition cumulated in that moment of panic. For the next two years, the feline remained in her duty station as a jumper jock, mainly doing courier runs, personnel transports, and long and short range recon hops. There was no combat duty for her during this time, and this was probably for the best. JoNs maintained her piloting skills, but made the switch full time to security during her service stations on the USS Zhukov and Sky Harbor Aegis. Her security training and service has focused on the required basic and advanced courses, with a later concentration in the tactical aspects and some surveillance work.

 

A temporary piloting assignment in 2383 to the Mika Four Colony outpost marked her first official flight assignment since 2377. JoNs was posted as a pilot trainer and patrol leader and she excelled in this temporary position, showing that you can take the pilot out of the squad, but you will never take the pilot out of the officer. While not necessarily putting her past demons to rest regarding the incident in 2375, it is safe to say that the feline officer has come to terms with the demons as well as the personal events of that day.

 

The Caitian has a high respect those she serves with, and will always treat everyone fairly. But, she can exude a cat – like wariness and stubbornness that can be hard to penetrate. While competent and thorough in her duties, personality wise, she can be a bit rough around the edges. When she allows it to show, M'Vess has a pleasant sense of humor.

 

Her interests include flying atmo runners, hover boarding, the Caitian hover board team, and working out with the Bo staff.

 

Psychological Profile:

 

M'Vess Vacer JoNs is a competent officer, and is healthy in mind a body.

 

With that said, she is also very set in her ways and a very by the book type of officer. She loathes 'un-officer like behavior', and will not hesitate to make her opinion known when such a breach of etiquette occurs. These traits, while admirable, can also lead her dangerously close to a 'hidebound' or an inflexible state of mind, which does not always coincide with the frequent situations that occur when an officer must make a command decision based on the moment, rather then what the proper procedure is for a situation.

 

While not necessarily desiring a command position, the subject has received command training and has demonstrated that she is more then capable of handling a leadership position, and will always serve and do what is required of her. Like any competent pilot or security officer, she is comfortable with making decisions on the fly as a situation warrants.

 

This officer is cleared for service, case file number 543

 

- Doctor Mishaasa Vaar'll, M.D., Ph.D, Starfleet Command Medical

 

General Updates:

 

0708.19 to 0711.04: M'Vess, as well as the entire crew of the Excalibur, is stranded in an alternate universe due to an unfortunate trip through the Bajor wormhole. The Caitian is tapped to go undercover with an away team to the space station orbiting Bajor in the alternate universe. The mission does not go well, and M'Vess is mistaken for her counterpart in the unknown universe - a cargo running privateer. JoNs then spends a few weeks being tortured under Inspector Korix Vaos, until finally escaping along with most of the other away team members with a group of Rihan rebels. Eventually, all away team members are recovered, and the ship and crew find their way back home to the correct universe.

 

0711.18 to 0712.02: JoNs, along with the entire crew of the Excalibur, is re-assigned on detached duty. The Caitian serves for a period of four months at the Mika Colony Outpost as a patrol pilot and instructor. After completing this assignment, MVess is promoted to Commander and assigned as the Executive officer for the Excalibur C.

 

0806.29: Boganary pirate raiders board the Excalibur; M'Vess is critically injured with a shotgun wound. The ballistic shrapnel spray from the projectile weapon ripped into her right shoulder, arm, neck and chest area; the resulting injuries cause a week long recovery stay in the medical bay and follow up physical therapy. The Caitian XO is eventually cleared for light duty and then full duty.

 

Service Record:

- 2369: Enters Starfleet Academy, double majors in security with piloting as a secondary major.

- 2370: Begins officer training.

- 2372: Training Cruise: USS Gettysburg NCC-3890, divides service between security and piloting departments.

- 2373 to 2375: Pulled from the training cruise roster for active duty as a pilot and assigned to the USS Repulse NCC-2544.

- Note: Involved in altercation with MCT (Maintenance Cargo Technician). No complaint filed in permanent record. Verbal warning received from the commanding officer of the Repulse.

- 2376 to 2381: Assigned to USS Zhukov NCC-26136, Security Department.

 

(2006)

 

<<<<<< >>>>>>

c. 2382-2383: February: Assignment: Sky Harbor Aegis, Security Department, Rank: Midshipman.

<<<<<< >>>>>>

 

March: Promoted to Ensign.

July: Promoted to Lieutenant (JG).

December: Transfer request from Sky Harbor Aegis to starship reassignment.

 

<<<<<< >>>>>>

c. 2382-2383: December: Assignment: USS Excalibur NCC-2004 B, Security Department.

<<<<<< >>>>>>

 

(2007)

0711.18: Promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

 

<<<<<< >>>>>>

2383: Temporary Assignment: Mika Four Colony outpost, Pilot Trainer and Patrol Leader

<<<<<< >>>>>>

 

0712.02: Promoted to Commander, takes position as Executive Officer, USS Excalibur C.

 

(2008)

0808.03: Inducted into the Excalibur: Order of the Knights of the Round Table

 

== End Transmission Stream = =

= = Security Coding Log Out = =

= = ARC Charlie Beta Tango = =

 

= = = =

Copyright Notes:

- Caitian heart defect information appears courtesy of the FASA Star Trek RPG game source books (1983)

- The USS Odyssey NCC-71832, USS Fearless NCC-4598, USS Zhukov NCC-26136, USS Ulysses NCC-66808, USS Okinawa NCC-13958 and USS Repulse NCC-2544 appear courtesy of the Star Trek Encyclopedia (1999)

-All other original information copyright Kansas Jones or STSF Kansas 2005-2009

Nice!

 

Oh and Checkers? If there is an Admiral Nixon somewhere, please warn us. ;-)

::popcorn:: Oooo! A shore leave fling - nicely done.

 

Now is this the Orion version of a "girl in every port"? :-D

Cats seem to be having such an awful time with water lately! It's rather a shame.

 

This is true.

 

Demoted? Sent to marine basic? The girl's in trouble when I get my paws on her. :-P