Kansas

What if somehow the virus has reached the rig (change of personnel, incoming supplies) and then you're stuck on an oil rig surrounded by miles and miles of water, as opposed to having an exit strategy - running - on land, with zombies? I'm just saying is all. :-P

Stalking is good; I myself lurked and stalked and read the boards, logs and transcripts before jumping in to go cadet-ing. Welcome to STSF Kit - this is a wicked cool site to do some TREK RPG simming on!

06.10.09 Agincourt Mission Update: TBS: Short, long enough for any logs to continue the sim goings on. - CSCI Lt. Commander Odile “Sin” Condacin, Resident Sciences Bat Lieutenant Tay, and CENG Lt. Commander Kairi “Flux” Kassem continue the information gathering at the planetary research center; there are certain aspects of the situation that do not make sense with regard to the centers equipment. - XO Commander Kansas “Will” JoNs spoke with ENG Lieutenant (sg) Murray regarding his portion of the search and assessment launch teams: like the department building where both the refugees and looter/terrorist leads were first encountered, the southern section of the city has suffered less damage from the quakes, and the overall building construction is much better. - Marine GSgt. Mike “Slick” Hefner led a strike team against local colonists that have been identified as the terroristic looters, and SEC Lt. Messner was along for the boo yah ride. The well armed but amateur group were taken down quickly by gas grenades, and thankfully casualties were a non factor. - CSEC Lieutenant (sg) C.T. “Junior” Caine and Marine MCapt. Owen “Buddha” Matthews continue to question the captured and irate terrorist, Harvey, about his local buds and what they plan to do. The man straight up admitted that the Avarosian terror group have an interest in the Soltans and their brand of law and order. - Ship side, OPS Lieutenant Gordon Collins reported in to CO Colonel C.E. “Medusa” Harper regarding planetary casualty counts and updates regarding the general ground situation. JoNs, not yet cleared for full duty, beamed back to the Agincourt with a medical escort in tow to watch over her.

Right with you Precip! The water, the pipes, the old school metallic look - it reminded me at least of a working engine room of an aircraft carrier and such. Why should we automatically assume, 40 years of visual aid aside, that all engine rooms on the starships are so cut and dry with the cylindrical design and lacking pipe fixtures? Why not have different styles of engineering designs for different ships and engines? I'd like to point out, and I could be wrong, that the TOS series could have introduced such an initially sparse and "technologically advanced" engine room design, along with the plain cylindrical engine housing, possibly because of the budget at the time? The Transporter actually came about, per interviews with G. Roddenberry, because the FX budget couldn't afford to have the ship land on a planet every time one was to be explored. Voyager changed that concept though, didn't it? So .... is the Voyager series at (so called) fault for introducing a landing starship, just like it's Trek 2009's (so called) fault for introducing the old school pipes and water in the (our 40 year perception thanks to TOS) advanced engine room/engineering area?

Sweet! A covert ops stealth suit that kicks azz, terroristic type baddies, possible Soltan collaboration, and under your nose recon. I can't ask for any more military action in a log. Nice one Slick! - K >^..^<

Okay, I'm weighing in on the McCoy/Kelley/Urban blurble. Yes, I also noticed that Karl Urban is buff, mainly because I think he is a hottie. Bones looks like hell during the cadet shuttle ride, I presume, because his wife, quote, "took the whole planet in the divorce". So, you have this guy, who just got shredded during divorce proceedings. He's exhausted mentally and physically, maybe showing some gray in the beard because of the stress onset. And, Urban is 37, so I'm assuming that's about the age McCoy is as well - at least mid thirties. Sure, a guy can have gray by mid thirties. Zoom forward three years, end his academy run, and he's healthier and has a somewhat better outlook/direction with his new Starfleet life. DeForest Kelley was a six footer, and until he got much older, his weight stayed in between 160 and 150 lbs. In the common vernacular, the man was a beanpole, and it is true he was never ripped like Urban. However, I don't think people realize how so called built Kelley was because of the bean pole factor. He was more athletic to Urbans "ripped" McCoy. His forearms and hands were well toned from the extensive gardening (roses) he did throughout the property on his home, and can be seen pretty much every time he wears the short sleeved medical tunic on TOS. As McCoy, since Kelley was the medical guy, he didn't get into too many fisticuffs or swashbuckling stuff like Kirk. In his western days however, circa mid 1950's through mid 1960's? Different story. DeForest K. was definitely in athletic shape from the horseback riding, outdoor shoot locations and running around among scrub oak and rocks, bar fights, and all that stuff that was common to the western TV and movie actor, and he pretty much kept that physique throughout the run of TOS as well. I met Kelley back in 1993, when he was 73. Of course, he was elderly. I was surprised at his retention of his height as well as a general maintaining of that athletic bearing - he was pretty big/tall for a 73 year old. I'm only about 5 foot 3, but I was still dang surprised I only made it up to his chest.

Tracks listed for the soundtrack: Star Trek Nailin' the Kelvin Labor of Love Hella Bar Talk Enterprising Young Men Nero Sighted Nice to Meld You Run and Shoot Offense Does it Still McFly? Nero Death Experience Nero Fiddles, Narada Burns Back from Black That New Car Smell To Boldly Go End Credits I love a composer with a sense of humor when it comes to track titles. And for anyone interested in purchasing the CD or MP3/IPod download I recommend the soundtrack - has a kick azz adventurous naval element intertwined throughout most of the tracks, and the Labor of Love is downright haunting in it's own right.

w00t! Happy B-Day to Sam Kent - have a good one!

Sweet! Hateful Kitteh!

Note: The following is a non plot advancing log set the Mirror Universe that parallels the current Regular Universe mission to the Avaros colony world, set two weeks after the events in Blast From The Past (Caine/JoNs Log) and Caine: The Abel Factor (JoNs Log). 06.03.09 ISS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Avaros: The Mirror Image” The Avaros colony world situation was coming along, more or less. Some of the overall concerns were progressing at a more satisfactory pace then some of the tactical concerns however. The chief of sciences had made some strong arm headway with the local research scientists, and the civilian geeks were making some headway as well with the research into why the planet kept experiencing rolling earthquakes. There had been some speculation from both the Avaros civilian and Starfleet Agincourt camps that there may have been some local interference that had set off the seismic equipment at the research center, causing the quakes in the first place. Now, regarding the Avaros ground combat situation? Not moving along very smoothly, no it was not. It hadn’t quite gone into clusterfrag territory, but let’s just say the local militant upstarts were giving the ‘Court’s marine sharks and the security squids a tactical run for their credits in some of the ground engagements, particularly the one that was currently underway planet side. The Avarosian terrorist situation had become much more involved then the on site Intelligence from the Agincourt preliminary patrol squads had originally indicated. To complicate matters, the riff raff were armed to the teeth with modern weapons and equipment as well as old school projectile weapons. The terrorists were not affiliated with the sector wide Rebellion movement per se; this was more a locally contained uprising, against the Empire yes, but on a much more home grown local level. The militants held a discontentment against the Starfleet and the Imperial Empire, and they had used the rolling quakes as a convenient backdrop in order to launch their so called coup as the phenomena had continued to destabilize the cities within the area. An unfortunate side effect of the uprising was the fact that the other, non-rabble rousing residents were caught in the crossfire, initiated by their so called colony brethren. But, the Agincourt had sent out a semi-evacuation order for the areas of the city compromised by the rebellious faction, and caution markers had been placed about the skirmish areas as well – if a civilian happened to wander into a tagged area and got his fool head blown off? Then so be it. Commander Kansas “Will” JoNs swept her sniper rifle from side to side, sighting down through the scope on any moving and stationary targets and popping off shots. She concentrated, like the other snipers set on point guard and stationed within the interior of this dusty warehouse, on keeping the terrorist faction soldiers away from the ‘Court teams who were scattered about the exterior yard where the grouping of warehouse structures were located and various other heavy transport equipment was stored. Most of the ground side Starfleet teams were under some semblance of cover, utilizing the vehicles and equipment to their advantage. The militants were enthusiastic but not properly trained in military tactics, and kept exposing their positions by darting from cover spot to cover spot, offering easy targets to the highly trained Fleet and Marine officers as they ran. The ISS Agincourt’s resident Ex Oh feline had been planet side, overseeing the current skirmish of interest from her (relatively) safe warehouse vantage point with the joint marine and security sniper patrol covering Caine, Matthews, Hefner and the various other marine and security crew members who were currently scrambling about down there. The only reason she had started providing sniper cover along with the other men and women located within the warehouse was because the young man who had been covering this section of one of the large warehouse windows had taken a shot right to the head. The rank smell of blood and gray matter was strong within the feline’s nostrils, but she ignored the unpleasant smell as best she could. JoNs had been standing right next to the man when he had gone down, and the ships Ex Oh had automatically kicked into her training, grabbed his rifle, and started firing to close the gap in the defensive line. Petty Officer Darjhan, the felinoid commander’s secondary full time bodyguard had accompanied the feline senior officer to the surface of the planet and he had also procured a borrowed sniper weapon to fire alongside the Caitian out one of the other warehouse windows that had been shattered during the back and forth weapons fire. And while the Petty Officer was concerned with providing cover fire for the teams, he was also watching Kansas’s back – per his main duty. Regardless, everyone pitching for the ‘Court sniper team was kept quite busy keeping the proverbial wolves away from the door and off their men and women at the ground level fighting. Unfortunately, Darjhan didn’t happen to keep a portable force field generator within the pockets of his uniform: the feline had taken a stray bullet to the neck about ten minutes ago, and while the wound was not serious, thankfully, and the projectile had merely grazed her neck, she had still bled making her fur and the left top section of her red sleeveless uniform tunic jacket wet and sticky. Hurt cat is not a happy cat. “Sir! The ground teams report that the run and gun is moving one section over into the far end of the commercial property. The sniper team is ordered to move to the adjacent warehouse and re-condition our firing support for the new location.” JoNs ducked down out of range of the window she had been firing her shots from, and turned her head to acknowledge the officer who had spoken to her, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her shoulder and neck muscles. “Who called in the regroup bug out order?” “Called in by the senior on site lead Sir – Junior. Confirmed by Buddha as second site lead.” Lieutenant Caine called in the initial move and regroup order eh? Hell of a first two weeks as the security chief, ain’t it sweetie? JoNs would enjoy nailing Caine’s hide to the bulkhead if the Vulcan woman had miscalculated the current confrontation with the militants as the on site line officer, and perhaps this situation was something to be looked into and manipulated for the Cait Commander’s own personal use. The possibilities were there to be exploited if JoNs chose too, indeed. “Then carry out your orders Sergeant.” “Ma’am, with due respect, I suggest you disengage from your sniper support position with my squad and fall back to the Agincourt.” Her ears went completely flat. “Are you giving orders to me, Sergeant?” One of the home made shrapnel RPG’s that the insurgents had been peppering the teams with impacted with the warehouse structure next to the one the sniper team was hunkered down in. The Sergeant, Darjhan, and JoNs all ducked their heads while scattered debris and glass flew across the access alley that separated the two structures and landed across the warehouse flooring section where the three personnel where located. Once the projectile threat had passed and he was clear to do so, the marine officer resumed speaking to Kansas. “Yes Will, I am giving you an order.” The dark eyed enlisted marine easily slipped into the usage of the ‘Court call signs that most of the senior line and enlisted officers had for combat and mission operations. “You are bleeding and require medical attention. If this situation cannot be contained within the next few klicks, I cannot guarantee that my team will be able to protect you. And with due respect, if you do happen to pass out from blood loss I do not want to have to cover your furred ass.” Indeed, Kansas would laugh out loud later, when she had time to breathe and was out of immediate danger. She could handle blunt and to the point. Blunt was good. Her ears popped back up, and a quick and genuine smile broke out on her muzzle, exposing her fangs and causing her green eyes to twinkle with that manic mischievous light. She snapped off a salute, “Tell me how you really feel. Orders received. Will is falling back. Hoo rah and happy hunting Sergeant,” and then shouldered the sniper rifle that she had taken off the aforementioned dead marine. With a curt nod, the Human resumed his bug out pace with his team as the marine soldiers filed out of the current warehouse that had been used as a support staging ground in order to secure the new location for the third wave of the ground engagement. Soon, Kansas was alone save for her male Zaldan guard, in the wide interior expanse of the structure. And while she was by no means safe – her keen ears were still picking up the sounds of the outside battle – the typical sounds of battle were also going distant, indicating that the skirmish was in fact moving onto the next section of the commercial property as indicated by Lieutenant Caine. Darjhan remained under cover and out of view, with his back against one of the gray cement walls, phaser rifle at the ready and gripped in his webbed hands as he surveyed their surroundings like a hawk. Hesitating for just a moment, Kansas then half crawl walked over to the prone form of the soldier that she had replaced, taking care to keep her profile low and out of view of the various large windows that were part of the structures design. The golden furred Caitian officer began to rummage through a pocket on the inside of his flak vest, and she soon withdrew a small battlefield medicinal pack, and she opened the item and withdrew a self sealing medicated gauze cloth and slapped it to her clotting neck wound. It was illogical, considering he couldn’t hear her, but the feline command officer still spoke in a gentle purred tone to the dead male Human. “Sorry son, but I need your medicine pack right now.” JoNs then withdrew a locater patch from her own weapons utility belt and slapped the small rounded beacon device to a chest pocket of his fatigue jacket so the transporter techs ship side could locate and beam his body back to the ship. Staying low on her haunches, and mindful about casting her gaze about her to avoid any ambushes from straggler enemy patrols, Kansas brought a paw to her muzzle and spoke into her wrist communicator. “This is Will to Agincourt, lock onto my signal and beam out.” Kansas was caught in the shimmer beam effect, and she and all her molecules soon re-materialized on the transporter beam platform pad, her bodyguard Darjhan materializing right beside her. The transporter technician on duty behind the control desk console was a dark skinned Bajoran enlisted officer. Her eyebrows flew to her hairline when she caught site of the two combat mussed officers, particularly JoNs and her gashed neck. “Well damn.” Despite the hellish situation that she had just come from, the Cait officer couldn’t help but quirk her muzzle into a smirk and stepped down lightly from the platform. “At ease, Crewman. How’s the transport traffic?” Both Kansas and Darjhan handed off their sniper rifles to the security guard assigned to the transporter room for the shift duration; typically, the guards assigned to transporter room duty were the most extreme junior officers and any newbie’s that had transferred on board the ship, usually until they got their feet wet with guard duty and got used to the shift cycles. But, the tall and skinny Human male quickly, quietly, and efficiently took charge of the incoming weapons, an indication that Lt. Caine was training any of her new Security recruits very well. The transporter technician’s answer to the senior officer was prompt and professional. “Currently low level Commander - most of the squads are hoofing it rather then going for site to site, and no new injury beam outs have been called into Bridge Ops just yet.” The golden furred Cait nodded to the tech. “Okay, while you have a break in the overlap beam traffic, coordinate with the bridge Ops officer on duty and do a wide grid beam out to snag any of the locater beacons. Bring our dead home, Mister.” With that grim order hanging on the recycled air, JoNs whooshed out of the transporter room with her attentive guard trailing her in uncharacteristic silence. Darjhan could usually be quite the talker, but the well muscled and webbed hand Zaldan wasn’t saying much. The feline was as well quiet, ordering her thoughts as best she could. Exiting the transporter area, Commander JoNs walked upright on her hind paws, her chest puffed out with a confidence she didn’t really feel at this moment. The golden furred Ex Oh had an Avaros skirmish update report to make to the Agincourts commanding officer and the Caitian was definitely not looking forward to that conversation with Colonel Harper. Once the senior and enlisted officers had entered the relatively private confines of the turbolift conveyance, Darjhan did venture to speak with her. “Sir?” Kansas threw a glance over her shoulder and immediately regretted the movement as her neck muscles protested. “Yes Petty Officer Darjhan?” “How exactly does one delicately convey to a superior officer that the current tactical situation on the planetary surface is currently, how does that Human description phrase go, balls to the wall?” JoNs chuckled lightly. “Very carefully Mister Darjhan … very carefully …"

News story: there will be an auction house/company holding an event where, as an example, prescription pill bottles once owned and used by Elvis Presley will be sold. And a mink stole supposedly owned by Marilyn Monroe. I really tried to get this in perspective: what if say, prescription bottles once owned by my fav Trek actor DeForest Kelley were auctioned off? No. I understand the so called *mystique* here, I get it. But, you seriously have to not be working on all thrusters to spend good money on some dead rock and roll singer's prescription pills. "And here's Elvis's pills for high blood pressure that I purchased" - oh yeah, there's an interesting conversation. Assinine.

Hi Zremorca, and welcome to STSF - this is a wicked cool Trek site to RPG on.

Happy Birthday to STSF Laura, the Nice Host! Have a good one!

06.02.09 ISS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Caine: The Abel Factor” Commander Kansas JoNs rolled over in her bunk and sighed contentedly, taking a quick look at the digital chronometer set on the glass top of the silver faux plasti-steel frame nightstand; the bright red time display read just after two AM, and she was due planet side site for the morning shift in just a few hours. The current ongoing mission to the Avaros colony world was going about as well as expected. The on site sciences and engineering teams still hadn’t gotten a handle on what was causing the planet to practically shake itself apart, but the Caitian Ex Oh was pretty sure the two respective department leads would have some answers very soon … mainly because Colonel Harper and JoNs had both threatened the senior line officers. Command staff motivation was a wonderful thing when in motion. Otherwise, both the Security department and the Marine detachment were having fun causing chaos, in a manner of speaking. A local militia group had gotten it into their thick skulls to use the rolling Avaros quakes to their advantage, looting the city stores, and ranting about their cause against the Empire, and the ‘Court teams had been set on them. Putting aside the fact that the militant colonists were looting locations on their own home world and had also shot several of the other colonists in the process, the group had achieved what they wanted – the attention of the Agincourt. So, their Sharks and Squids had been unleashed on a joint “sweep and strike” op to contain the local upstart group. JoNs expected that the eventual confrontations would be swift justice and not very pretty. A tawny colored paw suddenly reached around her midsection from behind her and began to rub in gentle circles on her white furred belly, while a warm body melded and pressed close up against her own naked body. Now this was a much more pleasant matter to attend to … Kansas purred contentedly and stretched her muscles, her voice coming out low and husky. “You know, if we don’t get some sleep, the two of us will be half dead on shift tomorrow.” He whispered into her slightly rounded ear. “This is why caffeine was invented, and I’m a light sleeper.” Said paw belonged to Lieutenant Commander Sarritt, and the tiger like male was a feline of the Kzinti species. At one time, the Caitians and Kzinti had had a bloody history of confrontation with one another, but the last couple hundred years had seen the two cultures and species come to an understanding of sorts. The tribal wars were no more, and both species as a whole had moved on. Now, inter-species relations and marriages were a common occurrence between the Kzin and Caitian blood lines, let along crossing paths on the mercenary job circuit since both feline factions had a strong - and formidable - presence within that line of work. Unlike Kansas, who was born and bred into the Caitian mercenary life, the big Kzin officer had come from a family with a military background. He had transferred to the Agincourt some six months ago, and while it hadn’t been love at first sight or anything romantically epic or gag me sappy of that nature, JoNs had been immediately attracted to the male felinoid cat. Having two felines serving on the same ship was a rare occurrence, what with only about two hundred felinoids total serving throughout the Imperial Starfleet. The attraction had been mutual, and the two of them had entered into a relationship with one another. Honestly, Kansas had been on the rebound at the time, and jumping head first into yet another relationship had probably not been the brightest of ideas. Senior Grade Lieutenant Conrad Zimm - her Human male lover - and Kansas had had a parting of the ways so to speak just prior to Sarritt’s arrival on the ship, and the former relationship had been shot out the proverbial torpedo tube to shatter in the cold of space; this would be considered a rather corny metaphoric description, but very accurate all the same. Zimm was a twenty plus year veteran of both the marine and naval Starfleet, and had been more then ready for an early retirement. And, even though they had both discussed that they’d muster out together and start out on their own in some sort of mercenary line of work, when the time came Kansas had realized that she did not wish to leave her posting to the ‘Court or her career in the Starfleet. Discussions had ensued. Words had been exchanged, heated words, over a period of a few weeks. It was amazing that the two of them had not gotten into real trouble due to the unrest that had blown up between them, and the few instances their anger and frustration with one another’s actions and non-actions had manifested during on shift hours. Zimm and JoNs, both hurt by the other equally, eventually went their separate ways: Kansas stayed on the Agincourt, and Conrad had indeed resigned his commission and gotten an honorable discharge to continue his new non military life elsewhere. JoNs had loved the man, she admitted that, but she couldn’t change what had happened in the past and hindsight can be a stark and telling thing with regard to a present situation. The current relationship with Sarritt was actually much more convenient and beneficial once you got past the logistics. And then again, maybe she should have known better and stayed within her own species in the first place. At forty one years of age, Sarritt had ten years on her and was a couple years older then even Zimm had been. The fact that JoNs held a commander rank and posting as ships Executive Officer and Sarritt held a Lieutenant Commander rank and had come on board as the Chief Helm and Shuttle Officer was merely a difference between her aggressive career drives and his more passive aggressive career drive. Sarritt was very good at what he did, was a more then competent shift leader, and willingly went where that next duty or posting took him, but had no real desire to command his own ship. If anything, once he marked the Commander ranks, he’d probably take on a CAG posting or even a Second Officer or Executive Officer spot, but was adamant about going any further up the ranks and assignments. Kansas believed him for the most part, but she also knew that beings and situations could change as time went on, and no one could really know or predict what the future held for them with any sort of certainty. What the Cait feline did know was that she was on the command fast track … and she liked it that way. Sarritt had also briefly touched on the issue of Kansas phasing out of her reserve piloting status and opting for full time active stick jock advanced training, and transferring over to the piloting ranks permanently. The Kzinti had his paw, so to speak, on some internal Fleet Intelligence information from his own contact support network, and supposedly the Fleet was planning on expanding the Starfleet Starfighter Corps program. If the expansion went through, there would be big time advancement opportunities for any senior officers with any sort of past piloting experience or training who enrolled in the program. Kansas normally operated by the seat of her pants to the point that she was downright dangerous, but the female Cait had actually hemmed and hawed and offered no definite yes or no answer to his full time piloting career suggestion; she had a good gig going here on the Agincourt, and she was content to play it out for a while longer. In contrast, there had been no discussion between the two cats about “where the relationship goes from here”, and both cats were just enjoying the moment. Literally. Kansas moved from her reclining position and pushed Sarritt down on his back. The golden furred leonine Cait straddled the tawny-orange furred Kzinti tiger, her knees placed to either side of his hips while she leaned down to press her muzzle to his and her body the length of his torso; she rested her paws to either side of his head to give herself more purchase. He in turn returned her kiss and his large paws began to rub and grope at her back with deep caresses. A beep sounded from the hibernating wrist communicator resting on the night stand chime sounded in her quarters, indicating that she had an incoming call. The signal was a lower pitched tone, indicating that there was an incoming call on her personal channel, and the caller was either possibly the Colonel or one of Kansas’s retainers. “Dammit.” “You should probably answer that, you think?” “Well, dammit. Dammit!” JoNs reluctantly disengaged from Sarritt and rolled off of him and over onto her stomach to fully activate the wrist comm by her voice print and personal code. “JoNs 411 here. Go ahead.” Her professionalism automatically kicked in, and any trace of her anger that she felt at the interruption was erased and replaced with her neutral purred tone. The Kzinti feline merely repositioned himself on his side, propping himself on an elbow and holding his head up on one big paw and using his other paw to rub at Kansas’s lower back. His tail swished across the rumpled bed sheets. “Commander, Lieutenant Mical here. Apologies for the late call, but I have some hits on that digital trail you set me on and you had said you wanted to be informed ASAP Sir.” The blue skinned Andorian female was JoNs’s chief bodyguard and Kansas could forgive the interruption, since Mical would definitely fall under the retainer category. The Lieutenant had originally been in the Security department when the Cait had been in charge, and had since transferred out of the department, eventually taking on full time aide duties to the ships feline XO as well. Propped on one elbow, JoNs ran her free paw quickly through the mussed pixie cut of her copper colored mane, smoothing the fur down a bit. “What did you find Lieutenant?” “Any classified options on Caine’s records are out of my level of security clearance. Even if I were to bypass and access with your clearance, I might set off some trips with a deeper probe. The Lieutenants Fleet profile is very clean, almost spotless, completely by the book.” Well, there are always illegal and off the record search options to be employed as well. Kansas would look into those particular options herself at a later date if the action were to be required. She glanced over her shoulder at Sarritt and the big feline flipped a silent ear back and quirked a whisker to indicate his own interest in the situation, but he wisely kept his tongue on standby while Kansas continued with the vocal wireless conversation. “… almost spotless you say?” “Aye Commander. You were right about the Aldebaran sector posting; whatever happened back then put a kink in her career, and she did continue to move up the ranks like any other Fleet officer, but it was of course a much slower pace.” “You’re a student of military history Mical, what’s your take on Caine? I’m gathering that if it wasn’t for the Draconis assignment, she might say be at the Lieutenant Commander rank by now? Maybe even Commander? Taking her age into account as well?” “It’s really hard to say Sir, you know as well as I do that each officer’s individual service and situation is different, but yes, if I were the betting sort, I’d say that. Sir, is this Caine someone that you know?” “The situation is …ack!” Sarritt chose that moment to give her rear end a slap, causing Kansas to yelp mid-point through her sentence, followed by a muffled and exasperated sounding off comm you son of a b*tch! That she directed at the big cat. She laid her ears back and glared at Sarritt, but he merely shook his head from side to side and indicated that she remain silent on that particular matter. Kansas’s ears popped back up, and she gave him a quick nod of understanding as her temper abated as quickly as it had flared. She knew that Sarritt was just taking his so called silent partner status seriously. Mical might be her chief bodyguard and privy to most of feline Execs professional activities, but for right now, it would be best to keep the fact that Caine and JoNs had a personal connection on the down low. And sometimes it was best to listen to the counsel from those of a fellow feline species, depending on circumstances. “… I’m sorry, Ma’am? What was that?” “Never mind Mical, my fault … I got, erm, distracted. I wasn’t directly involved, but I know of what transpired at the base thanks to personal contacts.” And if I understand my somewhat limited Earth religious knowledge, I do not intend to become a murdered Abel to Lieutenant Caine, in any capacity, the feline Cait added silently to herself. “Aye sir. Should I have Darjhan and maybe one or two of the security boys keep an eye on her?” As a full Lieutenant, Mical had gained enough rank to have her own small but growing contact and “go to people” list set throughout the crew. Networking was a wonderful thing, indeed. “No need to bring Darjhan in on the matter, at least not yet …” Darjhan was Kansas’s second most senior bodyguard, formerly of Security as well. JoNs liked to keep the male Zaldan retainer guard in reserve for the heavy stuff, and the Caine situation hadn’t gone into the ballistic territory as of yet, “… have your boys do a low level shadow surveillance on her for now, ‘cause I really don’t need to or care to know what she eats for lunch everyday. Good job and get yourself some sleep. JoNs out.” Now that the so called conference call had been taken care of, Kansas rose up onto her knees and turned her mildly irate attention onto her lover, her animated tail switching back and forth in accordance with her current mood. “You know, Sarritt, you are so not subtle; you could have just waved a paw through the air to, you know, to get my attention like normal beings.” His muzzle twisted into a playfully feral grin, exposing his formidable canine fangs. “Now Kansas, we both know that you sometimes require more, shall we say, direct reinforcement.” She hauled off and whacked him with one of the bed pillows.

Job security Praetor NDak. Job security. Chin up, and if the ISD Padd should happen to be lost, then oh well. "How did the Praetors appointment Padd end up in the second floor head again....." (Like the log!)

I don't understand this whole Fear of Colonel Harper thing. 'Dusa's a total pussycat! (Nice Log, Junior and Buddha)

05.31.09 SS Excalibur Mission Update: TBS: No Pirate TBS. We pick up back in Regular Universe for next sim, Camelot Station. - This sim marks the end of our Pirate Universe plot line. - Captain Corizon has a new plan: completely break from our Rihan employers and start to attack and sack the outlying Rihan colony worlds. Commander JoNs expresses her desire to collect on personal bounties in the area, while Charlotte Matsumura approaches Rue about cosmetic surgery to meet up with an old friend who has gone undercover in Rihan space. Mreh Khal gives young Kansas JoNs a carved bone trinket that will allow her access to his family if the kitten ever needs to escape. - Commander Teykier heads down to Engineering to speak with CENG Admiran and his various … personalities, regarding plans to possibly launch a coup. - Corizon and his consort Lilet as well plot against most of the crew; you might say they have plans to clean house. - A firefight erupts on the bridge when Tandaris’s one personality launches the semi-coup; Teykier is caught in the crossfire, and Lt. Beckman of Tactical gets hit as well. The consort t’Temarr backs Corizon of course, but it would seem Kroells has his own plans as well. - Okay, there was so much mutli-vector plotting going on the last half hour of the sim, all I have to say is: w00t! That rocked out people! Nice job!

Okay, so far, you are probably good. But, if a ninja guy shows up and he's named after a piece of office equipment for paper, and a brown rat starts teaching the turtles to go all Crane Kick boo yah on the Cobra Kai guys? Problems. And, if you see green goo, run like hell.

VR does have a valid point there, with visual aid even, regarding sequels.

Written By: Lieutenant (sg) Christina-T'Prinn "Junior" Caine and Commander Kansas "Will" JoNs 05.30.09 ISS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Blast From the Past” Present Time, 2397 Station Keeping at Deep Space Nine It was mid-morning, ship’s standard time cycle, and for the most part things were going quite well. The Imperial ship ISS Agincourt was docked at Deep Space Station Nine, taking on new replacement and assigned crew as well as a small batch of passengers scheduled for transport to the Avaros colony world. Commander Kansas “Will” JoNs, Executive Officer to the ‘Court, stood confidently off to the side at the main access entry hatch, overseeing the stream of bodies as the new arrivals exited the connector hatch and set foot on the decking of the Prometheus-class warship. The ship’s security department also maintained a presence of course, checking assignment orders and transfer paperwork, ensuring that everyone here was where they were supposed to be. For the most part, JoNs maintained her watchful position along the lines of, “Hello, I’m the ships Ex Oh, and I shall stand here in all my kickass felinoid glory and oversee the influx of new crew. Fear the feline, all five foot three inches of me.” Occasionally, she would enter into a quick conversation with one of the new officers or cadets, welcoming them on board, but most of the takers were the younger ensigns or senior cadets perhaps completing a training mission on the Agincourt. The conversations served many purposes: on one paw, Kansas was able to perhaps put a young officer’s mind at ease about coming on board a new assignment. The same had been done for her way back during her cadet service on the ISS Arrowfire, and the Caitian had never forgotten the ship’s Exec as he greeted the incoming arrivals. There was no pomp and circumstance, just the Human officer offering that little bit of assurance. And being a human born and raised within the Imperial structure, of course Commander Hollis did make a requisite alien joke towards JoNs (Oh, we have another Cait; now the ‘Fire’s rodent problem will really spiral downward). Yet it was his manner and delivery that made the difference between Kansas ripping his throat out, which she did not of course, and going along with the banter (absolutely sir, I’ll get right on my assigned rodentia patrol) in her usual good natured smart ass type of way. He had meant no real harm, and that had been important to consider before taking any hasty actions against your new XO. Indeed, her tenure on the training vessel had been one of the better ones, and she had very rarely run afoul of Hollis. The felinoid officer had been a young cadet, starting her first training assignment, and scared out of her ever loving mind but not daring to admit it. It was just that one bit of welcome banter, in contrast to this dark universe that they all lived in, that tipped the scales and put then Cadet JoNs at ease as she planted a paw on that scuffed decking those years ago. So, in a way, JoNs was attempting to repay and emulate that experience now. It was the little things that counted in life sometimes. And, tactically, it gave her a read on the sort of personal caliber that the new officers and crew might possess; you could tell a lot about a being and their intentions - good or bad or neutral - by looking right in their eyes, and at any body language. So far, she was content with what she was seeing, and felt no need to put a general “heads up to be watched” target on any of them. Christina-T'Prinn Caine stepped through the entry gate of the ISS Agincourt off of Deep Space Nine and eyed the chaos of the rushing crowd of new officers with a cool patience. Most of them were young, green officers fresh out of the Academy; it only made sense that they would be at such a level of energy and enthusiasm for the new post, ready to strike out into the service of the Empire and more than likely put their foot in it squarely before they'd taken three steps in that service. Caine knew better. Twenty-seven years in Intelligence and Security had taught her to take things slow and cold; running hot into any new situation was a recipe for finding fire waiting for you. Her current situation was no different; she had received her orders from Intel to take over the position of Chief of Security on the Agincourt, and she was taking that assignment with all appropriate caution, waiting to see whether her constant niggling suspicions of the officers around her would this time come to fruition. She stepped quickly through the crowd, parting the younger officers and heading for the officer in command red around whom most of them seemed to be gravitating. Best to get this process over with as quickly as possible. JoNs was indeed wearing command red, the usual sleeveless wraparound tunic that she favored, exposing the golden fur on her arms. She wore the Fleet issue black trousers, no boots per her feline hind legs, and a utility belt that held her dagger and a sawed off plasma shotgun worn low on one leg. The shotgun wasn't Fleet issue, rather it had been passed down from the last generation in her family to her. She became aware of the one officer moving forward boldly through the crowd, and quirked a pointed ear back in curiosity. The senior officer, a Commander by her pips, was a Cait, a fact which soured Caine's mood immediately. Caine was an Intel officer of the first order, spent her time buried in the deepest levels of Imperial dogma, and her patience for officers not of Vulcan or Human origin -- particularly Caits -- was extremely limited. The half-Vulcan's cold expression tightened abruptly and she altered her course, swerving to move past the feline alien and follow the herd of greenhorns deeper into the ship. Kansas was standing off to the side as the officers and crew entered, so with Caine brushing past, it was really not anything of an issue. However, the new officer’s attitude - or rather, the manner in which she carried herself - set off the leonine Cait’s curiosity. "Hold up! You, officer! You're bypassing the receiving line." It was less an order, but definitely not a suggestion. Caine came to an abrupt halt, the ingrained response to that tone of command coming even though it was in the Caitian's voice. She turned slowly. "Commander?" she said coolly. Her eyes caught those of the other officer and she felt a sudden surge of deja-vu that for a moment she could not place. The Commander approached the Vulcan officer, and her keen feline green eyes took in the ears, some facial scarring, her stance, and her rank – senior Lieutenant rank pips. Gold uniform jacket. JoNs cocked an ear back. "You must be our new Security chief. Where's the fire, El Tee?" Caine's expression didn't shift at the Caitian's jaunty tone. "No rush at all, Commander," she said calmly, her eyes betraying distaste for the conversation but the rest of her face completely still. O-kay. Vibes. Not liking the vibes. Kansas flipped her one ear forward and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced about to make sure they weren’t the full focus of anyone’s attention - yet - and then turned her slightly puzzled and rapidly turning stern gaze on the security El Tee. "Then why are you moving like you have rabid squirrels nipping at your heels? I'm Commander Kansas JoNs, ship’s Ex Oh. You are Lieutenant Caine, I gather?" The name sounds familiar, and I’ve held some sort of suspicion since reviewing her personnel file. JoNs. Something clicked. The name, the race, something in the build or the stance or the eyes...it clicked together and if Caine's taut bearing would have permitted it, she would have stiffened even further. What on Terra was one of them doing here? "Yes..." she said, tilting her head slightly to look down at the shorter officer, the tone coming out cautious and just slightly strained.”Christina-T'Prinn Caine, Starfleet Intelligence." One of them...in a Terran uniform...that wasn't possible... What the hell? Something was really off here, and it set the cats hackles off. Kansas waved a paw. "Walk with me, Lieutenant." She then threw a glance back to one of the Agincourt Security officers, a Bajoran female petty officer, and spoke to her as she began to leave the immediate area with the new senior line officer. "Corla, take over with the incoming replacement crew and transfers. I'll be back momentarily." It took a surprising amount of Caine's finely-honed self-control to prevent her from rolling her eyes, turning her back on the alien Commander, and leaving to go get to her actual work. Her job description, unless she had missed something in the fine print, did not require her to hobnob with the command staff, and certainly not with this member of it. But she was also smart enough to retain enough control on herself to get a sense of the situation before she went about burning bridges. So she turned sharply and fell into step with the commander on her right side, looking straight ahead rather than meeting JoNs's gaze again. The Commander walked with an easy gait beside the tight Vulcan, her hind paw pads making no sound on the hard steel-gray decking. "So, Mister Caine. A welcome to the Agincourt is in order, and you are due that greet, despite the fact that we did not specifically request that you be sent to us." "Yes, I'm afraid SF Intel decided that someone of my caliber was an appropriate addition to this crew at this time," Caine said easily, still keeping her eyes straight forward. "I apologize if you were...disappointed." Her tone somehow managed to convey the impression that she was not sorry at all. "Let’s get something straight now - this ship belongs to Colonel Harper, her word is our law. I'm her second, and I enforce that law. You're serving on the Agincourt now, not with your Intelligence buds. You'd be wise to consider that, Lieutenant Caine, if you wish to have a somewhat comfortable tour of duty here." Kansas glanced at the scars on the underside of the woman’s jaw - claw marks? JoNs was no species expert, but the slice angle and the width were consistent with feline claws, either Caitian or Kzinti. She was almost reluctant to delve further into how the Vulcan officer had acquired them, but a nagging sensation in her gut already had a partial answer. Caine's grey eyes narrowed in something just to the left of a smirk; had she been fully human she might have laughed aloud at the Caitian's attempt to display her pack authority. "I have only the best interests of the Empire at heart, Commander. As long as you and your Colonel do as well...we should have no problems." JoNs stopped walking and simultaneously placed a paw on Caine’s arm; the feline’s grip wasn't harsh, but it also could not be ignored. "Watch yourself, Lieutenant." Caine's movement was checked and she pivoted slightly to take the pressure from her arm and she again caught the cat's gaze. Her jaw tightened and she sharply pulled her arm from JoNs's grip, taking care not to let claws injure her. "Touchy, Commander?" she asked, just the slightest bit tauntingly. The Commander instead answered the question with a question. "....Where'd you get those face scars?” Her tone was direct, and her green eyes held a cunning glint. Caine's body went perfectly still and she replied, with an evenness that said more than raging emotion ever could, "An operation some years ago...near Aldebaran II. Track-and-capture." She eyed JoNs balefully, wondering if she was being made fun of. "Sound at all familiar, Commander?" Twenty One Years Prior, 2376 Aldebaran Sector MVess JoNs knew that things were going downhill and fast; they had to bolt now in order to complete the job. The JoNs clan had been contracted to slip into Starbase Draconis Four and grab and tag specific medical inventory supplies by their current employer. Everything had gone according to plan, and all of their backpacks were filled with the required medications that they had been sent to steal. But, somewhere along the way, either she or one of her brothers had tripped an alarm unknowingly, or someone had made them and reported them to the local security offices. It didn’t matter; the mercenary clan needed to haul tail and make themselves scarce. Even though she was still settling into the role of ship’s master of the Dark Fury after taking over as captain from her father, VaRirr, the twenty-something brown-furred Caitian panther barked orders like an old pro to her older brothers. MVess turned to her golden-furred brother, who had gotten the more common lion genetics of the Cait felines. “Srrett! Take rear guard, I’ll do point.” Then, she fixed her attention on her twin Ravirr, who had the same un-common panther genetics as MVess that ran through the JoNs bloodline, as well as Ravarr, who also resembled a leonine cat like Srrett. “Take the sides of the cargo bay. Basic defensive stance, cover each other’s backs and head for the exit point we marked on the digital maps, so we can get lost in the crowds on the Promenade again. Ravarr, give Vrrowl a yell over the wireless and tell him to standby on the boat in case any of us gets dinged up, and make sure Pops has the scrambler launch program all set to go once we hit the Fury decking so we can breeze away from the base under cover. Let’s move!” Those damned cats had finally made a mistake. Ensign Caine's half-Vulcan features twisted in a tight smile as she heard the silent security alarms of Draconis Four begin sounding off. She had been tracking the Caitian smuggling vessel's runs for several months now; they were a slippery set of thieves and had been proving difficult for even the oldest of the Intel officers who had turned a hand to the case. Caine wanted that prize, not only as a step towards the cleaning of the Empire's space lanes, but as a boost to her career so much cleaner and more effective than the backstabbing that went on every day in the ranks of Fleet Intelligence. Not that Caine was averse to a little backstabbing, but satisfying as it was, it was, in the long run, a necessary evil, a distraction. This was the work -- to punish the wrongdoing. Firmly. Very firmly. “Alright -- on the bounce!" she called to the rest of the small detachment of Fleet Security currently under her command as they came to a halt outside the cargo bay where the alarms were sounding. She gestured a few of them into position, taking point herself, then tapped open the doors to the bay, immediately drawing a bead on the Caitian crew spread throughout the large and cluttered room. Ravarr, the most trigger-happy of the siblings but also the best and most precise shooter, popped off a round from his civilian issue phaser pistol, the neon green beam shot hitting one of the accompanying guards in the leg. Then the Caitian male ducked back down among the crates and barrels that littered the cargo area. The Imperial security guards may have been well-trained, but going up against mercenary Caitians, surrounded by cargo, was not the most ideal spot to be caught - for the Fleeter officers. Crewman Decatur's scream propelled Caine into action and as the young man staggered with the shot to his leg, she shoved him roughly to the decking to keep him from interfering. "Cover!" she shouted, dropping behind a cargo crate and squeezing off a shot at the offending cat over the top of it. "I am Ensign Caine with Starfleet Intelligence; we have your ship under guard and your escape routes blocked. Stand down and your punishment will be...less severe." All of which was, of course, a baldfaced lie, start to finish, but it would be nice to be able to take prisoners to bring back, and who knew; maybe the cats were dumb enough to fall for it. The "answer", was a low-grade, civilian-made flash bang grenade that came sailing through the recycled station air to land in the general vicinity of Caine and her men. The projectile device was crudely made, but effective - the grenade detonated and allowed the cats some sense of cover as they bolted out a side access duct diagonal from the location of the Imperial officers. Caine ducked as the explosion went off sending a few bits of container shrapnel over her head to embed themselves in the wall behind her. Right...I guess that answers *that* question. She poked her head back up over her cover just in time to see a tail disappearing into the Jeffries Tube access duct at the far end of the bay. She swore in four different languages and vaulted over the container in front of her, running full out across the huge room. "Do those ducts have an exit point over the hanger deck?" she called over her shoulder. "I don't know, sir!" "Well, damn well find out and go cut them off!" she barked, then, without waiting for an answer, barreled into the crawl space and began moving quickly after the retreating sound of paws. The space station's J-Tubes were slightly larger than a starship's, big enough for Caine to keep her shoulders and head up as she moved along, and she looked ahead, waiting for the sight of her prey again. The Caitian siblings led the Imperial officer in pursuit on a merry chase through the J-Tube sub network of the starbase. Cats, of all species, move very quickly on their paws and the confines of an access tube network posed no issues for the nimble Caitians. Soon, the JoNs's exited from a duct onto the hanger deck and their waiting ship. The sound of the running Cait's suddenly ceased as Caine's tracking brought her to an exit hatch -- the cats had left the duct system again. She fumbled for her phaser in the dim light of the tubes and then angled herself around kicked the hatch open with a smooth jump that sent her flying out into a crouch in the startling brightness of the hanger deck, aiming for the first feline form that she saw -- one of the males, running full tilt for a rickety looking sector hopper ship docked to the far side of the base hanger bay. The Vulcan security officer caught sight of and got a bead on him, aiming her weapon and prepping a shot. A brown furred whoosh of air was followed shortly by MVess JoNs getting Caine in a tackle pounce. MVess was not as strong as a Vulcan, but she was in her prime and possessed the muscular body of a panther cat; she immediately went to work on Caine, her claws flying and connecting with clothing and skin. Caine shouted as the heavy weight slammed into her torso and she went over backwards, her phaser flying out of her hands and all the breath whooshing from her body. She grunted under the weight and pivoted on her hips, slamming an elbow towards the Cait's eyes, but was blocked by a dropping clawed paw which slapped her arm aside and laid her jaw open to the bone. The oath hovering on her lips turned into a scream of pain and she wrenched her body up, kicking the cat off of her with all her strength. Now that her brother was out of harms way, relatively speaking, MVess got her bearings and quickly bolted away from Caine, still laid out on the decking from the Cait’s claw slash, and the other Fleet security men who had finally caught up with them and were entering the hanger bay; dock workers and civilians scattered and ducked for cover as the officers made a beeline for where Caine was located and the chaos continued about the hanger section. Caine couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think with a mixture of pain and humiliation that was overriding all the control and training she had ever learned. "Get them!" she screamed at the officers moving towards her, half-staggering to her feet and pointing after the disappearing Caitian captain and her accomplices. The Dark Fury had done this many times before, and the old class style civilian ship was ready to depart from the hanger as the cats leaped onto the entry ramp. MVess turned and called out to the Vulcan female, "Stay down, Junior! You'll live longer!" Caine swore violently but the sound was lost in the noise of the ship's engines gunning as it blew its way out of the hanger and into the airlock to open space. She stood there, dripping blood and gasping for breath, and her frustration found its mark in the first unfortunate security crewman who managed to make his way to her. Any unlikely solicitude he might have had for her well-being vanished as she rounded on him and, disregarding the agonizer on his shoulder, cracked him a sharp blow left to right across his face, nearly knocking him over. "Where the HELL were you?" she shouted as soon as she had the breath to do it. The man staggered back to a straight bearing, hatred most officers kept to a simmer boiling in his eyes. "Right where you told us to be…Junior." he said, and the rest of the now converging team laughed sardonically. "You have fun trying to take on a Cait mercenary crew by your lonesome? Enjoying the glory?" Caine finally had the presence of mind to find his agonizer and she let it burn into him for a long time, letting him writhe before allowing him to drop to the deck. This was, of course, her fault, not his, but that didn't really make a great deal of difference; she was going to suffer for this when she got back to Command, so why shouldn't he now, if he was within arm's reach. "I want them found," she said to the others coldly, about-facing and staggering towards the exit of the hanger deck, trying to ignore the searing pain that coated the bottom left half of her face. "One way or another I want those cats dead." Present Time, 2397 Agincourt Airlock Receiving Deck Oh dear. Kansas considered her options carefully. “Mm hmm. I’ve been wondering, wasn't just sure. Blond hair, short cropped, Vulcan, the scars - she got ya pretty good then didn't she? I've heard the story of that job …" The Caitian officer made no real secret of her family’s mercenary past and bloodline, and the ship’s commander, Colonel C.E. “Medusa” Harper, was well aware of the various - illegal and legal - side activities that the feline engaged in order to make a few credits on the side and establish her professional and personal contact networks. As long as Kansas kept her snoot clean and didn’t endanger the crew or the ship or Medusa’s command, she was fine. But now, this Caine was someone who could pose a danger to Kansas, or at least be the proverbial thorn in the senior command officer’s side. JoNs had only been ten years old, but she remembered that time period. Her elder female cousin by fifteen years had just taken over the captaincy of the family clan ship from her own father, and the times were lean for the mercenary family. The JoNs’s were taking whatever job came down the galactic pike, both legitimate and illegitimate. That one particular job had led to absconding with some medical supplies from a civilian held star base that had a small contingent presence of Imperial officers, and this was obviously when Caine and her squad had encountered Left Ear JoNs, or as she was known then, her birth name MVess; she hadn’t gotten the nickname of Left Ear until a few years after the Draconis job, which ironically had been Kansas’s doing. “Look, Lieutenant Caine, allow me to be completely honest: I’m familiar with the incident and or debacle that you speak of. My family finds work where they can, that’s the bottom line, and during that period, the jobs were scarce and we were borderline starving – it wasn’t an on the level job by any means, I admit that, but that medical supply job kept us fed afterwards for six months. Over the years, I’ve been told and re-told the story of that operation gone slightly wrong, and if my cousin gave you a claw thwack, then you probably deserved it. You were obviously in her way … I’d be thankful you didn’t get more strips taken out of your hide that day, because she could have really hurt you if she wanted.” One of Caine's fists clenched behind her back and she looked at JoNs now with honest dislike. "While we're speaking plainly, I assure you, Commander..." How the hell was one of that family a fleet commander? "...that I was doing nothing more than adhering to the law and doing my duty to the Empire; your family was a bunch of thugs and thieves. The fact that they got away...was an error, one of my few failures. Should the chance ever arise...I have no intention of letting it happen again." Her tone was still even, calculated to infuriate the other officer even as she expressed her own anger at an event which had once nearly destroyed her career. Kansas’s ears went flat, and her tail started to switch back and forth. Caine was practically vibrating with tension, an angry tension that had the potential to nosedive her, and in the process she could take others down with her, like JoNs. She eyed the female Vulcan officer with steady green eyes. “Mister Caine. What I choose to do with my life now, and the family that I happen to come from, who happen to be good beings, is no concern of yours.” "Actually..." Caine replied coldly, "it is very much my concern. Anything...everything...which impacts the security of the Empire is my concern -- up to and including rogue kittens playing smuggler." “Caine, you are going the right way for getting a dose of the agonizer less then twenty minutes after stepping on board this ship; I’m sure that would be a new record, let alone a poor start to your reputation as the new chief security officer.” Kansas’s purred voice came out with an unnatural tone, with a deep growl on the consonants that she didn’t normally get when dealing with the crew. It was a sign that she was getting angry, and the aftermath was usually not very pretty for the one on the receiving end of any boo yah the feline might unleash. If the threat of the agonizer made Caine nervous, she didn't show it. "Don't worry, Commander," she said softly. "If anyone's reputation is tarnished aboard this ship, it won't be mine." Fortune favors the foolish …

MISSION BRIEFING: Groundquakes continue, the science teams have found something interesting at the lab, there are terrorists shooting at our people and buildings burning down around them. Otherwise known as an average day on the Agincourt. But since most people don't like that much adventure in their lives, let's see if we can't fix some of it for the poor colonists. CourtChatLog_09_05_27.txt

Just avoid any headlights that come at you, and you'll be fine Kilby! Welcome to STSF - this is a wicked cool site to Trek RPG on.

05.27.09 Agincourt Mission Update: TBS: None given, or the XO's Player missed it. - GSgt. Hefner continues to patrol and track an unknown male who escaped from the building that housed some refugees; this Avaros colonist eventually hooks up with other comrades, and they seem to be up to activities not in line with the looters that the teams have been encountering. - MCapt. Matthews and Lt. (sg) Caine continue to question the captured and irate looter, Harvey. He got agitated, and began to spout semi-conscious ramblings about the Starfleet, the Soltans, the quakes, and other nonsense. - Lt. (sg) Murray and Ensign Karrigan are out and about, checking sections of the city structures and general layout for engineering assessment purposes. - Lt. Commander Condacin and Resident Sciences Bat Tay still deal/question with the scientists at the research center, and it might be that their equipment didn’t cause the quakes, but was affected by them somehow?

Opinions are going to be all over the place about this, totally, because everyone has a different film or films they enjoy out of the franchise. My personal favorite out of the old films is the Undiscovered Country, yet The Final Frontier (not a good showing overall as one of the films - more TV movie then film) is the reason I became a Trek fan. Wrath of Khan has the distinction of being the film that supposedly got the TOS movies "back on track", but after the sterile offering that was The Motion Picture, Khan did put the movies in a new direction thankfully. Wrath's a cool film, I can deal with it. And say if you've read any number of opinions, articles, or interviews (old Trek book or magazines) with Khan producer Harve Bennett or director Nicholas Meyer or whoever else? Pretty much a common statement that the film was intended as a new direction, and lets go with Khan the villian from the TOS. Khan was a classic villian from the past offering, and you cant go wrong with that formula. Search for Spock is a kick azz film - I like it. Voyage Home is a great space adventure ... even though it's not exactly set in space. As for the wrap/flap red tunic jacket verses the bomber type of uniform jacket - I like both, the bomber jackets rock out, and the flap red tunic are a classy styling that took the TOS films in a more naval tradition direction. Hell, anything is better then the "oh my gosh, the color has died" mono chromatic uniforms from the Motion Picture with the built in 70's style belt buckles. Admiral Pikes uniform in Trek 2009 (at the end of film medal ceremony) is modeled straight off of TMP according to Memory Alpha, but at least the design is updated and didn't force me to gag reflex. Out of all the 11 Trek films, my least favorites are: The Motion Picture (Oooooo, ten minute torture fly by as we stare at the Enterprise. Kirk is a PO'd "I want my damn ship back" Admiral) Nemesis (yes, Picard apparently you have a clone son of yourself, how convenient, and Data leaps across space to save the flippin' day) Generations (the TNG cast was half dead/tired at this point after doing the series for seven years and it shows)

Okay, I'm with you now. I've played my characters as having a general knowledge of Kirk, Spock, Janeway, Picard, Scotty and those guys. They've never met them any of them, but yes, they know of them and and probably the more well known exploits/missions.