LeftEar JoNs

Oh dear. Someone got his Vorta feathers ruffled. ;-)

Note: the following log is just Exec Kitty personally and mentally venting, so please take the content in that context. Just picture a cat flaring with a bottle brush tail and you’ll get the idea. Thx! >^..^< 03.30.08 USS Excalibur NCC-81762 “Displeased” Commander JoNs stood in her private office, and gazed out the large picture window at the stars flying by. The scene should have calmed her thoughts, but it did not; her personal thoughts and complaints were going at warp nine and closing. The Excalibur was traveling at low warp to a Class M planet. The rumors of shore leave had already begun to circulate among the crew, and that was good. The last few cluster frags that had erupted on the duty cycles proved that the crew needed some down time, if only to get refocused on their reason for being out here – the search for the Founders. And if the crew did not refocus, Left Ear was getting close to going on a ship wide XO Reign of Terror in an effort to clamp down on the sloppiness that seemed to have enveloped the crew and re-enforce discipline. However, it was important to remember that this sort of action was always a last resort. The panther-like brown furred feline turned her gaze onto the small personal hideaway disruptor pistol that rested on her desk, next to the corresponding holster; it was her personal property, and she had finally managed to get the piece back from the security department. Now that whole situation had been a true cluster frag. Perhaps next time a memo from the security head asking for permission to perform the weapon sweeps would be forwarded to the command staff rather then jumping right in with the action of searching quarters for weapons. JoNs disliked when the security chief asserted his authority in this sort of situation, because nine times out of ten the head strong Trill butted horns with the equally head strong Captain Corizon, who in this case had countermanded the search by having the marines search the quarters of the senior security officers. These situations always seemed to erupt into the inevitable peeing contest between the two men, and all JoNs could do was put up an umbrella to avoid the yellow liquid raining down. Her mood kept getting darker, especially when her gaze lit on a data Padd that contained the information on that hoax engineering survey that the chief engineer had sent out. The feline exec still hadn’t confronted him over that, because to be quite honest, the whole situation was too off the wall in order to do anything official about it. She had poured over the regs and didn’t find any disciplinary actions under “silly memos”. And then the chief helm officer pulls a hissy fit, taking out his frustrations on an ensign, right there on the bridge. Her fellow Caitian had insisted that the senior officer -- again the security chief -- left in command of the bridge had ordered a dangerous warp vector through some fluctuating space, and that had angered the helm feline. You personally disagree with an order from a superior officer, and then take it out on an innocent ensign? Gives whole new meaning to the term sh*t rolls down hill, and Left Ear had never been a fan of the practice or the saying, and had always tried to not fall into the habit. Regardless, the walking furry attitude had been relieved of duty for the remainder of the shift….and again, this was not the first incident. JoNs had also relieved another officer of their duty a few duty cycles ago. It was a disturbing pattern, and one she did not wish to repeat again. Another thorn in her side was that the bridge seemed to be an open concourse, with junior officers coming up to complain about something that should have been handled through their departmental lead, or other officers delivering messages that boiled down to data that could have been sent over the inter-text mail system. And then there had been the incident the other day with one of the janitorial staff insisting on cleaning the consoles. How JoNs did not cuff the CJAN a good one is beyond her; let’s hear it for personal control. Other officers never seemed to come up to the bridge, unless there was an emergency or something, and if they did make an appearance, Left Ear immediately started worrying because, again, they never came to the bridge. The bridge situation was unacceptable, and it irked the straight arrow feline to the core. How would it look if JoNs started lurking among the departments instead of her duty station on the bridge? She would be sure to ruffle a few feathers and turn the tables, indeed. And despite that bit of dark business involving the officers who had re-animated one of the dead pilots to gather some information – and thank all the deities Corizon had dealt with that little bunch of high priests, as Left Ear would have probably re-instated flogging. Well, no, at least in Victria’s case, the Al-Ucard would probably have enjoyed that sort of thing -- the crew was now moving forward. A proper funeral was being planned for the deceased, and the feline exec was taking care of the nitty gritty planning details. Putting aside Lieutenant Ramsons original role in the re-animation, JoNs was glad the senior pilot had been cleared from her grounding, at least temporarily, by Corizon to lead the fighter flyby during the ceremony. The concession was fitting for the occasion, and a pilot belonged in the air. You could take the officer out of piloting, but never the piloting out of the officer. The Caitian executive officer stopped mentally griping long enough to realize that she had a raging tension headache. She rubbed her paws at her temples and tried to flex her neck in order to ease the pain. A purred groan of pain sounded across the confines of the office area. “Ah, forget this stoic officer who suffers through the discomfort stuff. I surrender.” She swiped a paw at her comm badge, and when the little communication device blipped, she stated what department she wished to be connected to. “Medical bay. This is Commander JoNs. I’ll be stopping by shortly. I need some medication for a tension headache, and some tension in my back I cannot seem work out. JoNs out.”

Hi there: as the feline half of the Excal command team, welcome to the boards Sheela Mouse. - Left Ear JoNs

Note: this is a supplemental character log following "A Blade Reforged" written by Cptn Irae Varen. 03.28.09 ISS Excalibur NCC-2004 C "Lowdown” MVess “Left Ear” JoNs, commander of the Caitian mercenary ship CSS Dark Fury, stood in the center of an open warehouse. The openness and feeling of vulnerability caused her feline instincts to go absolutely nuts, but with an effort she pushed down the feeling and concentrated on the business at hand. The cargo runner was meeting with a scruffy looking human and his crew in order to complete an exchange job. JoNs had brought the supplies -- clothing, rations, civilian data padds, and no weapons -- and the human was taking possession of the said supplies. He eyed the brown furred Caitian with a critical look. “It’s all there I assume?” The panther-like feline gave him a flat look. “My father always tells me never to assume. It makes an ass out of you and me. But, yeah, it’s all there. Calm down Sigidin, I’m in business to get a good rep and make some credits, so why would I risk that and cheat you?” In contrast to the almost rags the human wore, Left Ear was dressed in worn but well kept civilian clothing. The dark gray jacket she wore had the cut of a uniform to it, and her brother Srrett also wore the same type of jacket. Compared to the rag tag humans, the Caitians -- who tended to look scruffy anyway, living the lives of cargo runners as they did – looked downright impeccable. Srrett JoNs, a big ginger furred male, wore a disruptor pistol slung low on his hip, and was providing the back up for Left Ear. The third member of the party, Mrrett JoNs, was perched on a stack of crates as she kept an eye on the general internal perimeter of the warehouse. At sixteen years old, the female Cait was still very young, but was the eldest out of the children on board the Dark Fury; it was time she started learning something about the family business before she enrolled at the Imperial academy when she turned eighteen. As such, the female cousin was keeping watch over her the two elder siblings, providing more backup as a lookout. Sigidin just snorted, and then gave the signal for his people to start gathering the supplies; they started transferring the clothing and food stuffs efficiently and quietly to waiting hover skids. He moved with a slight limp toward Left Ear, handing her a small leather pouch. “Latinum. It’s all there.” He nodded, and then started helping his crew with the off loading. Within minutes, the human crew had cleared out of the area, and it was just Left Ear, Srrett, and Mrrett left in the warehouse … to the untrained eye that is. Mrrett hopped down from her perch and enthusiastically galloped over to her elders. Whereas both Left Ear and her brother bore the uncommon panther genetics that occasionally popped up in this gene pool or that gene line of the families of Cait, Mrrett resembled the very common leonine type of Caitian feline. The young feline had her adult height but was still all knees, elbows, and wide paws. The young leonine feline had not yet filled out into her adult weight, and was downright gawky. She skidded up to the two siblings, staying on all four paws. “What a rush!” Srrett gave a good natured smirk in response to the statement, but Left Ear’s visage remained dour. “Yes, it was a rush. Did you track all your targets?” “Of course I did.” Left Ear gently hauled Mrrett up by the collar. “Walk on your hind paws; you were not raised in a barn. And you missed a sniper.” A brown paw pointed to a darkened corner atop another stack of plasti-crates set off in the distance. A few seconds passed, and then sensing that his cover had been blown, a blond haired head poked out. The human sniper then had the audacity to wave at the three felines in a friendly gesture, and then he jumped down and started to make his way over to the small group. Srrett chuckled with purring laughter at the whole situation, his feline eyes dancing with mirth. Mrrett let loose with a mildly outraged, “I can’t believed I missed that damn son of a b*tch.” Left Ear tightened her grip on the collar. “Watch your language. We’ll do a debriefing back on the Fury. Go on, off with you now. Go get the transport shuttle booted up and ready to go.” A paw cuff to the rump got Mrrett moving towards the general direction of the warehouse exit. By this point, the human sniper had reached the group, and the young gold feline passed him. She stopped though to goggle at the sniper rifle he held slung over his shoulder. “Nice! A Piranha GX model?” Nothing pleased him more then to discuss his rig. “Actually, it’s more of a mongrel. Made it myself. Mostly a Pirahna model, but combined with an Imperial model, with various spare parts thrown in for good measure. Serial numbers have all been filed off, and I can switch out the ammo between plasma stun rounds, shredder rounds, or high impact distance rounds.” “Nice! What kind of distance rounds to you use?” “Mrrett Shaow JoNs. Don’t test me kitten.” “Oh come on MVess, we’re just talking weapons …” A hiss from Left Ear directed at Mrrett stopped the conversation flat, and the teenaged feline again scampered off to perform her assigned duties. The human looked at Left Ear with piercing blue eyes. “Keep her on a tight leash do you?” “That’s not your concern. You were left here as backup?” “Yep. Precaution to make sure you didn’t follow the main crew and back shoot them. We need to be careful with you Caitian mercenary clans. Never know which way you lot will pounce.” “…. You interested in making some extra credits?” “Always.” The brown furred feline reached into her inner jacket pocket, pulling out a bar of gold pressed latinum. She tossed it at the sniper, who easily grabbed it out of the air. “Where’s that raggedy crew heading with the clothes and rations?” “Somewhere in the Wakith sector. I have no idea the reason, but there are rumors circulating there that there may be rebel activity in the sector.” “… you going with them?” “Hell no. This sniper cover job was my last contract with Sigidin and his group. I’m a free agent as of right now. If they wanna get themselves blown up six ways to Hell by the Imperial fleet once the insurgents are found out, that’s their business.” “How’d you like work on my ship?” The human was honestly surprised. “Say what?” Left Ear casually leaned against a nearby cargo crate. “Well, you just said you’re a free agent. We need a sniper cover man, and you wouldn’t be the only human on board a shipful of cats, so don’t panic. The pay can be sporadic depending on the jobs we get, but your billet will always be clean and dry, and you’ll get three square meals a day.” “… what happened to your last point man?” “He was a stupid, drunk Klingon who couldn’t follow orders and was so plastered that he endangered an entire drop off mission, not to mention several members of my immediate family. For his troubles, he got shot in the back by my brother over here.” Srrett merely gave a jaunty one pawed salute in confirmation of the tale. A slow smile spread across the human’s fair features. “Honesty. I can handle that. It’s a lost art these days. You got yourself a point cover man Captain… JoNs was it?” “Aye, that’s correct. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I have a ship to run.”

03.19.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Never a Dull Moment” I’Denar, the HaVorante home world. The office of Cmdr. (retired) Arijella, political liaison to the HaVorante First Response Fleet “They said that they were working for you. We thought it unimportant…” In the few weeks that the Excalibur had been conducting operations in the HaVorante sector, Commander Left Ear JoNs had built up a good working relationship with former commander Arijella. However, when the feline had been told that Semil had been informed of why exactly the crew was doing out here in the back end of space, she knew her pressure had shot up by the slight ringing in her ears. The feline fleet officer abruptly rose from the chair she had been sitting on and paced over to the large picture window that was the center point of the HaVorante woman’s office; the serene city landscape that could be seen out the window was in sharp contrast to the block of ice that had formed in the Caitian’s belly. Arijella delicately cleared her throat. “I take it that that was the wrong thing to say to this Semil of yours?” JoNs just sighed. “Aye, you could say that Commander. And he is not, nor will he ever be, my Semil. Let’s just say that he is less an ally and more a competitor to the crew of the Excalibur.” The proto-Vortan woman rose from the plush leather chair behind her ornate desk and came to stand beside the brown furred Caitian. “What happens now?” “The Excalibur will continue with her mission, this has not changed. We will continue to search for the Founders, and a way to contact these missing leaders of the Dominion. Now, we just happen to have one more added complication of Semil knowing of our mission.”….and not to mention the Hundred soon being made aware of the disappearance of the Founders, but the feline kept this little tidbit of information to herself. “…you do not care for this man?” “No, I do not care for Semil, or his agendas. He is akin to a Caitian grass snake, slithering on his belly, coming up behind you, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Then, he retreats back into the shadows to watch the poison slowly work its way through your body.” “… no, honestly Commander, please tell me how you really feel.” Arijella’s deadpan delivery of her statement had the desired effect, and the normally dour feline executive officer started to chuckle softly at herself. “… I need to work on my diplomatic skills, can’t you tell?” Arijella merely smiled and walked back over to her desk, and as she moved the subtle pattern interwoven into her black business suit caught the waning afternoon daylight coming in through the window. “That knowledge comes with time. I myself did not start my own diplomacy education until I made the rank and position of second watch officer. I believe this rank is the equivalent to your current rank of executive officer.” JoNs maintained her position at the window, but turned around to face the politician across the distance, paws placed on her hips, her cat shaped hind legs spread wide. Her entire manner indicated a feline readiness to spring on an unsuspecting target. “How are the soldiers encountered by our away team doing?” “Ah, yes – the J’ehm Ha-Dahr, I think you called them? All they wish to do is continue to guard the ruins, and we are more then happy to leave them be to go about their duties.” The military politico let the silence stretch, and then offered a small, knowing smile to the feline. “You still carry yourself like a soldier JoNs. You have more to say. Out with it – what is troubling you now?” The Caitian snorted -- a companionable chuckle rather then one of derision – and pulled a data padd from the back of her trouser waistband. Her nimble hind paws made almost no sound on the carpeting as she walked over to where Arijella was perched on the edge of her desk, and she offered the padd to her. The senior HaVorante politician took the offered data device with a look of pure curiosity on her features. “Several of our pilots were found mortally wounded, with that symbol carved into their chests. I was wondering if you could possibly identify the symbol?” After studying the image on the small screen, Arijella let loose with a very unkind sounding stream of words in her native tongue; the dermal universal translator that Left Ear had embedded under the skin below her ear refused to translate the stream of profanity. Now, it was Left Ear’s turn to smile, her fangs on full display. “You can take the sailor out of the fleet, but the fleet never comes out of the sailor, eh Commander?” Arijella shot the feline executive officer a look that reminded Left Ear of her instructors back at the academy. The gray haired HaVorante woman then quickly bustled around the desk to get to the old style computer monitor and keyboard set on top of the desk; the Caitian officer heard a low hum as a computer terminal was booted up. “I have seen that symbol before, but only in history textbooks from my school days. From what I can remember, it represented some sort of blood cult.” Oh, that’s just fragging peachy. Left Ears tail started to lash, while Arijella calmly connected a USB cable to a port in the data padd. While the HaVorante level of technology and Starfleet technology was slightly different comparison wise, there were enough similarities between the technologies where many things -- such as fleet padds and HaVorante “old style” computers -- were backwards compatible. “… our records are probably sketchy Left Ear, but I can give you what information we do have, as well as a link to a group of beings that may also know more of the cult – the Satarimi.” The brown panther-like feline cocked her head to one side in curiosity. “The…Satarimi? Aye, I am sure my Captain would be very interested in questioning these people.” “I am downloading the information now to this data device of yours.” After a few minutes had passed, the tell tale blip of a successful data transfer pinged across the large office area. “Thank you Commander Arijella.” “Don’t thank me yet Commander JoNs. The Satarimi may or may not have the information you seek about the deaths of your pilots, perhaps even more information on these Founders you seek. The Satarimi were a very powerful empire with a long reach hundreds of years ago, but lately, have fallen into a state of distrust. Sightings of them are sporadic.” “…so, myself, the captain, and our crewmates should be cautious, as we always are.” A paw gently reached out to take the padd with the newly downloaded information. “Indeed. Happy hunting Commander JoNs.”

I tell ya, that MySpace is a pit of information. And, Mister Semil, you sir are to be watched very closely. ;-)

I totally want a mug with a skull on it and a caption that reads "Undead Inc." :-P In the meantime, it's best to avoid the slightly miffed Captain.

03.14.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Clear the Air” It was late, well into the third shift. The only crew members up at this hour were those brave enough to take on the responsibility of the night shift, and a Caitian who had her genetic makeup rooted in a nocturnal predator’s past. Commander Left Ear JoNs admitted to herself that even though she served on the day shift and had done so for most of her adult life, there was something comforting about the night, and she was as comfortable working at night as she was during the daylight hours. But, the night could offer so much more at times, and when she was able to, the feline embraced it. Like when you had a desire to complete a personal mission in order to put your own mind and possibly a few wandering spirits to rest. The brown furred executive officer currently stalked quietly down the corridor leading to the hanger bay, clad in off duty civilian attire and carrying a leather messenger bag that contained the few items that she would need for what she was planning to do this evening. As soon as she entered the hanger bay, the feline visually located the security guard assigned to guard the area, as well as the chief deck hand who was responsible for overseeing the night shift. She whistled sharply, and waved a paw for the two men to come over to her. The Human security officer and the Andorian deck hand both trotted over to the senior officer. Left Ear spoke quietly to the two junior officers. “Boys, I need your co-operation with a little project I have.” She turned her panther like gaze on the blue skinned Andorian, “Chief, I want you to round up your grease monkeys that are on duty tonight -- what is it usually, about four of you on shift? – and leave the hanger bay. Take a fifteen minute break and then come on back. I want to check over the fighter craft that we recovered, just to satisfy my own curiosity,” the Caitian then turned her attention to the security guard, “and Ensign, I’d like you to accompany them.” Both men exchanged a quick look, and then the two of them started speaking at once, overlapping their sentences, but their protests where plain. “Sir, the orders state that no personnel are to go near the fighter craft…” “And I can’t just up and leave the hanger deck ma’am….we need to process those fighters and get ‘em back on the jump line for the next available patrol hop.” Like a swift wind blowing across the grass plains of Cait, Left Ear’s normally dormant temper blew out, fierce and swift. It had been a long day, dealing with the escaped raiders, an unknown ship seen leaving the HaVorante system, dead pilots with the life and blood sucked out of them, and recalcitrant senior officers. It wasn’t right, but the feline chose that opportunity to vent some of her frustration on the two hapless men. “ATTENTION!” Her snarled tone reverberated back and forth between the hanger bay bulkheads, but it had the desire effect: both of the junior officers snapped to attention. The Caitian also noted that the various work tools that she heard clinking while being used went quiet, no doubt because the Chiefs deck hands were watching what was unfolding from afar. “I understand very well the nature of your orders gentlemen, as I was standing right here when they were issued! Some of the crew on this ship seem to have a slight problem with following the orders that I give. Last I checked gentleman, this ship was not a democracy! I say jump, you say yes ma’am, how high ma’am and in what direction ma’am! Do you get me?” “Yes sir!” Two voices answered her in unison. “Okay, then lets try this again - you two get your collective butts out of here, and come back in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?” “Yes sir!” JoNs made a curt gesture with her paw, indicating that the two off them could go now. The security officer ran like hell, and the deck chief soon followed after he had hastily rounded up his few people, and then he and his deck hands left the area as well. Left Ear began muttering to herself as she started walking toward the fighter shuttles in question. “… lucky I didn’t lay a paw cuff across their thick skulls … arguing, recalcitrant … remind me of my godchild ….” The feline officer as a general rule really didn’t practice any sort of Caitian spirituality, but her exposure to the belief system while growing up had instilled a respect for the practices and ceremonies. And so, Left Ear found herself skulking down here in the hanger bay, preparing to perform a Caitian spiritual prayer and ceremony. JoNs spoke to the air. “Computer, take environmental alarms off line for a period of eighteen minutes. Authorization code JoNs Hakim-sa Beta. Mark.” A double blip followed by the monotone voice of the computer system confirming the order indicated that the computer had processed the request and the environmental alarms were now temporarily offline. Gods forbid she set off the fire alarms or the environmental regulators or something. The brown panther-like Caitian stood quietly in front of the recovered fighter shuttles, all neatly lined up in a row and being prepped for maintenance checks. She suddenly felt a sadness weigh down on her chest. All pilots knew the risks. If you didn’t, then you were a stupid jump jockey. Every flight mission that a pilot engaged in had the potential to be dangerous. Left Ear had been one of the few lucky ones that had put time in as a pilot and was still among the living to tell her tales. It just so happened that the pilots found dead inside these birds wouldn’t be celebrating a mission gone well in the officers club this time around. She began to gather the items from the messenger bag: a small wood urn with green markings to hold the incense, an arrow, and a well-worn piece of parchment (she had to be honest; she didn’t remember the prayer word for word). JoNs had been told a story a few years ago by an old, tough as duranium human pilot that had helped train her and the other raw rookie pilots in her squad, and the story had managed to stick with her through all these years. Two pilots had gone on patrol back in Earth’s early twenty first century, and after about an hour, they both disappeared from radar. A recovery squad was sent out, and the one pilot was found, saying that the two of them had encountered some fog and gotten separated. The other pilot was not found until two weeks later, her fighter jet landed on a remote strip of land wide enough to accommodate the jet, with the pilot herself dead in the cockpit. The official records concluded that she had died of a heart attack. But, the rumors are always more interesting then the facts, aren’t they? Other pilots claimed that they had seen her restless ghost around the airfields and the barracks. And her plane, thought still in perfect working order, always seemed to have mechanical problems after the incident. It finally got to the point where none of the remaining pilots would fly the bird, claming it was cursed or some such. It was all superstitious nonsense. Could inanimate objects really retain the ‘vibes’ of a tragic event? Who the Hades really knew, and it was all according to what you believed anyway. Despite this conviction, Left Ear still found herself here in the hanger bay, preparing to perform a little ceremony over the fighter craft so the birds wouldn’t suffer any mechanical difficulties or be ‘cursed’ by the strange events that the now dead Excalibur pilots had encountered in the nebula. The feline supposed that she could do the same for the bodies in the morgue, say a few words over them, but she nixed that idea as soon as it had entered her head. Tampering with bodies under medical quarantine pending investigation was strictly against the regulations. Possible immoral. Yes – she’d stick with the inanimate and non-dead fighter shuttles, thank you very much. And so, the executive officer of the Excalibur quickly and quietly performed her little ceremony, a ceremony that she had first learned way back when she was still a little girl. If the simple act settled some, if any, dark spirits that prowled around the fighter shuttles, then so be it. ….Left Ear knew that this simple act of prayer made her feel a heck of a lot better.

03.11.08 USS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Old Comrades, Long Distances” Ethan sat down at the console, a determined expression on her face. She tugged her uniform straight, then spoke, "Computer, open a channel to Lt. Commander JoNs aboard the Yellowjacket." For a long moment, the computer worked on the connection, while Ethan drummed her fingers impatiently on the edge of the console. The incoming comm signal blipped a few minutes later on the ops board on the bridge of the Yellowjacket. The young Vulcan officer manning the board turned to the brown furred Caitian currently left in command of the bridge. "Commander?" A panther-like face turned to him. “Yes Ensign?" "Incoming call, I am not sure who it is yet. The transponder signal is Federation though." "Fine, I'll take it in the ready room." The feline exited the bridge and entered the vacant ready room, calling out "Computer, start link-up." Another long moment, then the computer popped up the image. Ethan couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of a former crewmate. "Hello, Left Ear. I'd ask how you are, but actually I'm calling with some news about the Agincourt." A genuine grin of happiness cracked the normally dour feline's expression. "Commander Hawke! Good to hear from you!" Then, her expression shifted back to the perpetual worry that had descended on her since the ships dissapearance. "What news?" Ethan smiled, "They're alive. I'm not sure where... But at least some of them are alive." The brown felines throat tightened, and she rested her elbows on the desktop and folded her paws, resting her muzzle on her clasped paws. She stared at the image of Hawke, seeing but not really seeing. "Thank you." Ethan nodded, "I wish I could tell you more... all I know is..." She paused, her throat tightening involuntarily, "That my bond-sister almost died. That's the first I've sensed her since... they disappeared. I had hoped that I'd know one way or the other. I ..." She paused again, "I think she's still alive, at least. But if she is or was... the ship wasn't destroyed, at least." Left Ear flipped a brown ear back. "You have a bond sister on the Agincourt?" She quickly tapped a series of commands into a nearby data padd, bringing up the roster yet again. "May I ask who?" "Lt. Col. T'Loren Day. She was assigned as assistant to Colonel Harper, the commandant of the Marines. She'd been reassigned there after the destruction of the USS Federation. Not a ship with fighters, but a chance at command experience." A claw deftly inputted the last name in the keypad, and the small data device showed the bio of the marine officer. Left Ear nodded. "Good officer. Just the type that a line ship needs....I hope she is okay Ethan, and that bond of yours just keeps getting stronger the closer they get to home." Ethan frowned, "I haven't sensed anything since they vanished, up until yesterday. It's just too far, I guess. But.. rather, I guess I should say that I haven't felt or sensed anything specific, but I felt this.. wrenching anguish when she..." She broke off again, not able to say it. "Anyways... I can't be sure, but if I had to guess, they are in the direction of the Beta quadrant." "....my lost one is M'rrett, my cousin and godchild. She's an assistant security officer, lieutenant rank....it's frustrating isn't it? There is not much we can do here." Ethan sighed, nodding, "I'm not entirely sure about that... I'm willing to bet on the direction that they are in... I'm going to contact Command to see if they can send a ship out that direction, but that's a long distance. Have you found anything where you are?" The brown feline snorted, a rare outward sign of her displeasure. "Random witness accounts of a ship of unknown alien origin, debris floating around from the now destroyed Gideon, as well as a few sightings of a 'vortex' thing that supposedly the Agincourt disappeared into while chasing said unknown ship. That's what the Yellowjacket and the other search vessels out here have uncovered." Ethan nodded, "Sounds a little like a trans-warp conduit or something... No evidence of those ships since? Agincourt was investigating the disappearance of a scientist, as I recall... do you think they're related?" The senior feline officer nodded once, indicating that she did believe that. "I'm sure there is a connection somewhere if the lead was investigated enough. The unknown ship could have been spotted in another sector for all we know, and scientists are always a target, depending on what they are working on." A single claw tapped on the desktop in a show of impatience. "Honestly, I truely want to bust some heads together over this whole incident...." Ethan grinned, "I'll hold them, and you punch." Fangs showed. "Now that is a plan." Ethan sighed, "Like I said, I'll see what I can do to get a ship sent out that direction... If you want, I can suggest yours." "Commander....Ethan. I would be grateful if you could look into that. And, I am sure I could talk the Yellowjackets Captain into another patrol run as well - as it is, I am driving him up the bulkhead." "Yes, as I recall, you're good at that." Ethan grinned again, "I'll let you know. But, take heart at least. They are out there... somewhere." Left Ear nodded. "I am taking heart; I just wish I could get it to stop aching...and puttng aside the worry, these unknown antagonists could cause more problems for all we know." Ethan nodded, "I know. I'll be in touch." She paused, smiled again, "Ethan out."

I sense a disturbance in The Force.

02.20.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C Executive Officers Personal Log Supplemental Entry “The Excal remains out of range from the HaVorante away team. I hope that the team is making some progress with regard to the Dominion-type tech in those ruins, and once we return to the HaVorante home system, they have some good news to report to us. Otherwise, we continue with our station keeping off of the explosives-coated nebula, and are still dealing with the situation regarding our missing fighter squadron and how to get them safely out of said nebula. The current plan that has been settled on is to use the specialized ATCM torps in order to plow the field; the torpedoes will be specially rigged up and attached to a couple of our remaining fighters, and the jump jets will then be detailed to deliver our packages smack dab into the nebula for a nice little fireworks display. Once we have a clear path, we’ll head in and drag our wayward pilots out by the ear. Engineering, tactical, sciences and the CAG are all coordinating on this endeavor. I hear that security is planning on implementing some hand to hand combat training which is good; the last training session I sat in on featured a few of the new junior recruits, and they looked a little sloppy. Internally, I’ve heard some rumors and scuttlebutt regarding some tensions departmental-wise. Nothing official has graced my inbox as of yet, so I find that encouraging. Only as a last recourse will I break out Tyrant XO for a Reign of Terror. However, one aspect of the tension rumors involves a yeoman currently attached to the operations department, and I’ve gotten my info from a couple different sources…” “Computer, pause recording.” Left Ear rummaged about on the surface of her desk, eventually grabbing the Padd she was looking for. The feline scrolled through the biography and service record that was currently displayed on the portable information device. “Computer, resume recording at last stopping point.” “… her record shows her to be of a warrior culture, an upbringing that I can relate too, and her service time in the fleet has been marked with distinction. But, it appears as if this girl has started to get irritable with certain staff and crewmembers. She may not be allowed to carry her knife, but I think we may need to worry about her razor sharp attitude as well. Like the departmental situation, I will keep an eye on the yeoman…she may just be a hyper kid who needs a good paw cuff to the ear to get her back in line.” “Computer, end recording.” End recording

And now, another view from the complete opposite end of the Mirror spectrum: WOOT! WOOT! Yeah baby! Thats what I'm talkin' about. ::is way too biased:: Mirror 'Verse rocks out.

Executive Officers Personal Log Supplemental Entry “Our current situation remains unchanged. An away team - comprised of officers from the science, engineering and security departments and led by Commander Teykier – was left on the HaVorante proto-Vortan planet to further study the ancient ruins located outside the main city. Hopefully, the team can determine the extent to which the technology found inside the ruins is Dominion based, and if there is any hidden data regarding where we might locate the device that will lead us to the Founders….that is a lot of ifs isn’t it? Meanwhile, the Excalibur had set off in search of a fighter patrol that had gone missing and got pounded by about a dozen or so flippin’ mines. We tracked our missing flight crew to what appears to be a nebula liberally peppered with a mine field. The assumption is that our pilots are trapped inside. Medical was kept busy with injuries incurred from the mine blasts, and I am currently waiting on a casualty report from the department. The mines do show on our scanners as a pre-set grid pattern, almost like a chess board. The fact that they showed up at all on our sensors is encouraging; if the mines had been rigged to be out of phase and then suddenly pop themselves into our path once getting a lock on us, that would have made things a bit more interesting and a lot more deadly. But, we still have interference from the energies swirling in the nebula, and we still haven’t determined if the damn mines are cloaked or attracted to the hull of the ship, and so for now the Excalibur remains on station keeping just outside the nebula. The bridge team, the tactical team, and main engineering are all brainstorming ideas to find a way to get us through the nebula, either by neutralizing the mines or finding a ‘back door’ to get to our pilots. Regardless, if the risk is too great, I refuse to put anyone else in danger or the ship in the line of fire again, and I’ll take the matter up with Captain Corizon if need be. I’ve already informed our CAG officer Ramson that if we can’t come up with some sort of alternative method around the minefield, we will leave…or rather, I will leave...the pilots. …I just hope that I didn’t come across as much of a cold and heartless b*tch to Lieutenant Ramson as I sounded to myself… … I’ve always disliked chess…” End recording

02.11.08 USS Yellowjacket NCC-1609 “Lost at Sea” Commander MVess “Left Ear” JoNs swiped a paw over the security device attached to her computer terminal, allowing it to take a scan of her paw print. Once her clearance had been indicated with a soft blip, the Caitian second officer spoke her commands to the terminal. “Computer, contact Commander Savette JoNs, Starfleet command headquarters, Intelligence Division. Private communications line JoNs Beta Orilla Five.” “Working…” After a few moments of staring at the familiar blue background and silver planet with matching oak leaves, the visual feed on the desktop viewer switched over to the image of an older Caitian - older, but definitely still sharp. The gray feline regarded her younger family counterpart with bright and enthusiastic gold eyes. “Left Ear. What’s the word?” “The word is still nothing. The Yellowjacket, along with the other ships assigned to the search group, have been patrolling this entire stretch of quadrant for over two months now. Two months. Nothing. No sign of the fragging ship.” Savette knew that for Left Ear to blatantly show her emotions like this, the stress was starting to get to the brown furred Cait and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. The older gray feline and the middle aged brown feline cousins were both very much alike: duty minded, didn’t put up with any crap, and straight as an arrow. A notable difference was that Savette tended to be a bit more forward or sarcastic with her humor and manner, in a mild fashion. She regarded MVess over the data feed. “Nothing at all? There has to be some record of what happened out there.” “Other then the debris that was identified as what is left of the Gideon, nothing new has been turned up about the Agincourt and where it is they disappeared to. Frag it all Savette, I’m getting ready to start busting some heads in order to get a straight extrapolation on what really happened out here, rumors of wormholes that appear out of nowhere aside.” The smoke gray Caitian lowered her voice so none of her colleuges at the Intel offices would overhear. “….there has been some speculation here at Intelligence that the enemy who engaged both the Gideon and the Agincourt may cause more headaches in the future, but we have no solid evidence other then random sightings in certain sectors, that may or may not be related.” “It’s all speculation at this point - the only thing I care about is locating that missing ship. And between you and me, the only crewmember that I really care about is my godchild…” “…I know that you know if nothing tangible is turned up out there within the next few weeks, Fleet command will call off the search and declare the Agincourt lost at sea.” “…Yes. I know that…”

If the Excal inanimate objects start talking all KITT like....that could be a problem. Michael, the Center Seat is receiving some input. Perhaps we should call Bonnie? ;-)

02.03.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Misunderstanding” The dinner shared by the Excal command staff, Cardassian diplomat Jeralla, and Vorta representative Lexin had gone relatively well, if a bit on the boring side. After her service in the Dominion war, Left Ear JoNs had never thought that she be sharing a supper table with a spoon head or a purple-eye. But, to be fair, the Caitian had found the various discussions of the “getting to know you” gathering interesting. The current mission of the crew, this quest to locate the Founders was also mentioned, but perhaps lacking in the detail that she had been expecting. The next morning found the feline executive officer beaming down to the planet I’Denar at the designated garden meeting area on the political campus in order to keep an appointment with senior agent Arijella. The HaVorante was an officer turned politician, but from what JoNs had gathered from her last conversation with the woman, the former commander still worked very closely with the HaVorante First Response Fleet to ensure the safety of the planet as well as the surrounding sector. Perhaps the best way to describe her primary duties was as the head of a homeland security department that also expanded outward into the local galactic sectors that surrounded the planet. And while Arijella was welcoming enough to the Starfleet officer, she had a certain hard edge to her gaze, and her manner showed that she was used to giving orders ad having them followed in short order. The stress level of her job was probably very high as well. “What can I do for you this time Commander JoNs?” “Thank for meeting with me, Commander. I wanted to ‘negotiate’ with you, so to speak, about retaining the services of some of your local scientists out at the main ruin site as well as the two secondary sites.” The proto-Vorta made a quick notation on a handheld data device. “…you have found something of interest to your mission at the ruins?” “To be honest Agent Arijella, we are not entirely sure as of yet. According to our sciences away team, some sort of ancient technology was uncovered, and this tech bears a resemblance to the current technological level of the Dominion, an organization founded by these Founders that we seek.’ Arijella chewed that one over mentally, not speaking for the space of a few heartbeats. “I find it hard to believe that the various HaVorante that have investigated the ruins never uncovered this technology.” “In my opinion, it was dumb luck, Agent; the current controls of interest were hidden behind a panel.” “Tell me, Commander JoNs, if these Founders are located based on whatever you uncover here, what would that mean for the quadrant that you reside in?” Hello. Loaded. Question. How much was too much? Left Ear hesitated with her response. “Answer me Commander.” There it was, ‘the tone’. Indeed, the proto-Vorta was a woman used to giving orders and then having them followed. The brown furred Caitian fought to maintain her decorum, but was only mildly successful. “I understand that I am a guest here on your world Agent Arijella, but I am not one of your soldiers to command.” The felines’ ears had gone flat, an indication of her own annoyance. Amethyst colored eyes flashed back in kind at the feline officer. “If that is all Commander, I must be going. If you further require my assistance, please do not hesitate to contact my office.” The Caitian inclined her head in a clipped gesture of respect. “Agent.” The proto-Vortan politician left the immediate area quickly, leaving Left Ear to make a disgusted gesture once she was alone before tapping at her comm badge to request a beam up back to the ship. ********** A few hours later Left Ear was holed up in her office going over some reports and updates when the second shift comm officer paged her. “Commander, I have an inbound communication for you from HaVorante.” “Who is it?” “It’s an old style inscription code, and it took me a couple minutes to figure out exactly what it was, but I read it as the private line of First Agent Arijella.” A feline ear flipped back in surprise. “Put her through Ensign.” The image of the HaVorante appeared on the desktop viewer, and Left Ear began speaking. “First Agent, what can I do for you?” “I wanted to call with an apology regarding what happened earlier; I sometimes forget that I am no longer in the military.” So the Caitian had read the signs correctly. In an effort to be fair, she stamped down on any lingering annoyance over the incident. “To be honest, my earlier hesitation was due to the fact that I do not know exactly how much information is too much information with regard to our mission. You had asked about what locating the Founder’s would achieve? I can say with certainty that some of us hope a balance of stability can be achieved within our home quadrants.” “Fair enough. Good night Commander.” “Good night, First Agent.”

==== Internal Memo ==== ==== Excal Security Department ==== To: Lieutenant Michael Garrison, Lieutenant junior grade Doug T., Lieutenant junior grade Victria Re: Security Departmental Roster, USS Excailbur Until Lieutenant Commander Segami is available to continue his duties as the departmental lead, I will be temporarily filling in as the acting chief of security. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. - Commander Left Ear JoNs cc: Captain Windu Corizon, Lieutenant Commander Atticus Segami ==== Internal Memo ==== ==== Excal Security Department ====

::pawforehead:: ::command ulcer forming:: ::must....get....Pepto Bismol::

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.

.... 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 ==========

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

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.