LeftEar JoNs

12.28.07 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “A Quiet Drink” It was about halfway through the second shift, and Left Ear JoNs sat at a quiet table in the main lounge, sipping on her drink and perusing a report Padd. She was relaxed, but her feline features were set in a grim concentration. Mark had just entered the lounge with a dignified groan, after a long day of training security officers to shoot the enemy and not themselves. He made a gesture to the barkeep to produce his usual bottle of non sythehol whiskey. The Caitian Exec as well made a gesture to a passing waiter to refill her drink of choice, mentally noted the appearance of the newly transferred security officer, and then diverted her attention back to the data Padd. With his bottle in hand, Mark glanced over to Caitian who had just glanced at him. Putting two and two together as to who she was he walked over to her table. "Commander." He regarded the seat across the table from her. "Is this seat empty?" JoNs pulled her attention away from her studies and regarded the man. "Lieutenant....Garrison? New transfer to security? Aye, sit down." The tone was more an order then a suggestion. He raised his brow the slightest bit and took his seat, looking back at the Commander. He set himself into passive mode. These next few minutes would give him an understanding of how the Caitian thought and acted. It’s never wise to p*** off your XO until you know you are. The feline was getting used to the fact that as an executive officer, your time was never truly your own. Not with a couple hundred crew people to look after as well as a captain. Or at least, she was attempting to make that transition. "What’s the word Lieutenant? Oh, if we have pirates overtaking the ship, don’t tell me until I finish my drink." The statement was deadpan, but a mischievous glint could be made out in her green eyes. He poured himself a large helping of the whiskey and took a large drink setting it down with a grin. "I could only be so lucky. I'm beginning to think that I'm going to have to kill a few of my ensigns to whip the others into shape." "You and Mister Segami have a wet behind the ears department this time around? I'm sure the vets that re-signed on for the mission are a help." Another sip. "Unbelievably. But we decided its best for not to post the vets with the greens for training purposes, before we get too thick into it out here. I just seem to have drawn the worst group..." The brown furred feline nodded in commiseration, and then headed the conversation to business. "Mister Garrison, not to seem rude - but did you want to talk to me about something official?" One brown cat ear flipped back in curiosity. He took another drink, and produced a padd, which he always seemed to have an over abundance of. "Yes Commander, I do." He slid the padd across the table to her. "For the last couple weeks I've been doing a survey of the ship, determining likely points of attack, and suitable methods of defense. Some of the things on here aren't exactly doable without command staff authorization." "You've been surveying the ship on your own time? Son, I'm not sure whether to tell you to take a break or find a hobby." Regardless, the brown furred Cait looked at the Padd with the schematics with interest. After a moment, JoNs looked again at Garrison. "Okay, I like what I see, but here's the deal Lieutenant Garrison - you need to forward this through Lieutenant Commander Segami. I can't just leap frog over him and order these changes and such. Then, any requests come to me, and I go to Corizon." He nodded, refilling his cup. "Of course I intend to. I just wanted to make sure you and the Captain wouldn’t bite before I potentially waste more time." "Oh no worries. He bites. I scratch. Keep that distinction straight there." JoNs handed the Padd back to Garrison. "Fine then. Enter the upgrade report to Segami, and the command staff will go from there. You'll be kept informed Lieutenant." He nodded again, and took a sip of his whiskey, beginning to feel the fire in his belly. He made a quick order for a sandwich, but sat in silence, not exactly sure of what else to say. "What was your last assignment before the Excal Mister Garrison?" He blinked, not expecting her to continue on the conversation, let alone with that opener. "I served on the USS Mercutio, an Intrepid class for six years from the '75 until a year ago." "I served in security and piloting on a variety of assignments prior to the Excal." Her green eyes latched onto Garrison with an intensity, very cat like and a bit unnerving. "Do you have a secondary specialty Lieutenant?" He took yet another sip, the tell tale signs of inebriation starting to show. "Uh, not really I guess. I took some training in the academy in fighter piloting for the war, but I never had the opportunity to use it. Other then that...I take to the sciences, but mostly as a hobby." JoNs knocked back the rest of her drink and then spoke again. "Nothing wrong with having a few interests." She set her glass down and then turned those green eyes on Garrison again, her own alcohol bringing her ornery side to the surface. "But one more thing Lt. Garrison - again, why did you approach me with those schematic plans? While I admire the intent behind your readiness plan, we do have a command chain here. I expect all the officers to follow it, starting with an officer going first to their department head." He smirked, and took another sip, really starting to feel the booze. "Oh, I believe in Command, trust me. This is just an informal meeting, no? Like I said, what is the point in doing what I'm doing if the command staff won’t approve it anyway? Sometimes it’s helpful to go around the chain of command." "Fine, at least you're honest. I can deal with that." Her easy going tone belied her ears, which had by now gone flat. "If you'll excuse me, Mister Garrison. Thank you for the...insight. And you will be kept informed, trust me." The feline got up from the table, and nodded politely, if a bit stiffly. The feline then departed in a swish of a tail and the red of command. He nodded back, regarding her and then his drink. He took a sip, and decided to label her as 'Odd'.

Masking tape works wonders with removing that pet hair. w00t! Nice log Spots and Greenie!

Gives whole new meaning to the term Bite Me. Ba Da Bing. Yes. Yes, I went there. Nice log guys! w00t!

12.22.07 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 B “Command Chat” Left Ear JoNs paused just outside the private quarters, and then decided since she had gone this far, she might as well go all the way. The feline exec needed to know what was really going on, and chimed for entrance to the Captains quarters. Looking up from his drink and the book on his lap, Corizon leveled a glare at door. If it were another little officer coming to complain...he was going to skin them alive and make some new rugs for the place. "Come," he said, almost barking. JoNs entered the inner sanctum of her commanding officer, immediately adopting a relaxed parade rest. "Apologies sir, but I want to talk to you - off the record." Her tail swished idly, and the alcohol had calmed her down a bit from her earlier agitated state. "Are you drunk?" He said, sniffing the air and going back to his own drink. "What I do when off duty is my own business Captain. Besides, it isn't as if I'll imbibe, go to the bridge, and then belch out loud." The feline cocked her head to one side. Corizon grinned just wide enough for his fangs to show before motioning to a seat nearby. "No need to get defensive, it was just a question. Not like I am one to talk," he said as he put the amber-colored liquid to his lips. "So, you want to talk?" The brown furred Caitian took the offered seat and considered Corizon. "You realize that felines by nature are nosy?" "Curiosity," he said flatly. "You know what the humans say about it?" The feline commander merely squinted at the canine captain, and then sighed. "Look, sir - off the record, just what the hell are we really doing going off after some device to locate the Founders? Who's backing this little jaunt? And don't tell me it’s on a need to know basis." Leaning back, Corizon looked at her for a few moments, taking another drink. "You do realize that you might be getting into something you're not ready for?" "A little late for regrets now - we've already shipped out. Look Captain, I'll be blunt; I can do my job, no problem, I'd just like a little more information, if only to 'play dumb' if one of the department heads asks me 'so - what are we doing again?'" Considering again, he took another drink and set it down. "We're out here because they thought throwing me bone," he said, stopping to smirk at his bad pun, "would keep me busy and get me the hell out of their hair." "They as in Starfleet, and so this mission to find the Founders is a milk run?" "They as in certain elements of Starfleet." "Oh, wonderful. Certain elements as in shadow organizations? Wait, no, don't tell me - ignorance is bliss. So, we are gallivanting around out here at the behest of said shadow organization? And are we truly looking to find the Founders, or no?" The brown furred Caitians tail had begun to lash a bit, her former agitation coming to the surface again. "We're looking for them," he said. "Honestly, do you want to see the Hundred running the Dominion?" "Not particularly sir, no." Another tail swish. "But we can't entirely trust the Founders now can we? They are responsible for killing hundreds with their Vorta commanders and Jem Hadar enforcers....you served in the war, as did I! And we're looking for the Founders? That is a load Captain." "You don't have to remind me," he said sharply. "I spent nearly a month under the hostage of a Gul Mahet under orders of a Vorta..." There was a sudden distance about the Dameon. His face seemed vacant, as if thinking about something entirely different than the conversation at hand. "And I got my tail shot off I don't know how many times during piloting skirmishes and bombing runs!" With an effort, Left Ear pulled back. "...not the same situation as being held against your will though..." "Trust me," his voice remained vacant, "this isn't a battle you want to fight." He stopped again, blinking a few times and looking back at her. "Listen, I am not exactly thrilled about helping them find their 'gods,' either. But I made Taenix and Weyoun a promise..." JoNs as well had started to go vacant, more so from the alcohol then a lapse of memory. "Weyoun, one of the chief Vorta lieutenants during the war. I'd like to get that little so and so alone in a room. Five minutes...that’s all" The feline shook her head to chase away the mental demons and then regarded Corizon. "We are undertaking this due to a promise? I see. How much lee way do we have with this mission op Captain, and if this whole search gets fragged six ways from Sundown, do you and I get tied to the whipping post?" "They helped us at the wormhole," he said. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work...” "And if it does work out, then Starfleet gains allies in the form of the Vorta and their masters the Founders?" "I'd hope..." Though he didn't seem exactly sure. Left Ear pointedly ignored the hesitation. "Fine. Captain? I'm your Exec, and I thank you for the appointment and I'll back you in this endeavor, but let me make one thing clear - I don’t plan on rolling over like a dog. I'll make my opinion known whenever I feel it’s warranted." With that said, the feline walked over to where the canine sat, and offered a paw. "Sir. Thank you for your time." "Appreciated."

12.17.07 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Delayed Reaction” Time: this log is set two hours after the 12.16.07 sim The main lounge on deck five was hopping with activity, as was proper what with the first shift personnel going off duty and relaxing for a few hours before turning in for the night. Enlisted and commissioned officers, pilots, engineers, security – all the departments were equally represented here, including one half of the senior command staff. Commander JoNs sat at a table on the upper tier of the main lounge, calmly observing the general activity of the area. Her inner thoughts were anything but calm, however. With a disgusted shake of her head, the brown furred Cait knocked back her second drink since entering the lounge, and muttered under her breath. “The Vorta. Pfffht.” The Dominion War. The Vorta commanders. Responsible for killing hundreds of officers and civilians with their Jem Hadar enforcers, and all at the bidding of their masters, the Founders. And now, at the behest of the Vorta ‘representatives’ at Camelot, the Excal had been drafted to find the Sangra, which will aide in locating the supposedly missing Founders. Do we really want to locate the Founders? The Caitian executive officer, for the most part, had stayed calm and quiet when Captain Corizon had informed her of this latest mission to find the Sangra, and ultimately the Founders. The official story was that the Excal had been dispatched to explore some of the uncharted areas of the Gamma quadrant. In the meantime, what the crew would really be doing was looking for this Sangra thing so the Vorta could possibly locate and then contact their former masters. Do we really want to locate the Founders? Left Ear ordered and soon downed a third drink – the good stuff, not that synthehol white wash. Rank can have its privileges, indeed. The rumors were true. Gods help her. – and came to a decision soon after. No, we really do not want to find the founders. Or the Sangria. Sangra. Whatever. The communicator thing. There was more going on here, and JoNs intended to find out what exactly that more was. One of the flagships of the Fleet was not just “sent off” to find a communicative relic to attempt a link to the Founders or some such if there wasn’t more to the story. Who was backing this little endeavor, and why? In a flurry of brown fur, the Caitian left the main lounge, intent on the new target and plan forming in her alcohol charged yet tactically hopping mind. She should have asked more questions during the conversation that she and Corizon had had after the commanding officer had returned from his meeting with the Vorta reps on Camelot. She had to start thinking more like an executive officer and ask more questions, plan ahead if possible, and be even more observant. Therefore, the Big Bad Dog was going to have a second meeting with the Pussycat, whether he wanted to or not. That’s what Execs were for after all - someone has to keep these Captains in line!

Oh gods...they're multiplying.

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

Ooooo - intrigue! Who was the spoon head reflection? Undercover officer or actual Cardassian? Gul Mahet - was he performing experiments on Corizon? And who were the people being experimented on? w00t!

11.30.07 Mika Four Colony Outpost “Pirates” Note: this log is set in the third month of the four month re-deployment Lt. Commander Left Ear JoNs leaned casually against one of the outpost’s fighter shuttles, her amused gaze set at a point in the distance. The brown furred Caitian feline chuckled to herself, the happy sound of purring genuine. Lieutenant Preston currently had his hands full across the hanger bay, because listening to his every word and watching his every move as he worked on another one of the fighter shuttles was an avid listener of the feline variety. She kept peppering the human male with question after question regarding the fighter craft. M'rrett JoNs was a cousin to Left Ear, and was currently visiting her relative at Mika base. The gawky young Cait sported golden fur, green eyes of a lighter shade then Left Ears, she had not yet filled out into her adult weight and build, and was therefore all elbows, knees and wide clumsy paws. Commander Jinx Brennan entered the hanger bay, her long auburn hair flowing out behind her. She walked over to JoNs, a lopsided smirk set on her light skinned face. “….she’s an enthused one.” “Oh, you have no idea.” “You had told me that M’rrett is planning on attending the academy?” “Aye, probably next year, she’ll be going to the academy with the junior cadet program. Still doesn’t know what she wants to major in though.” As the two senior Fleet officers watched, the younger Caitian darted again around the distant shuttle, moving quickly on all four paws. Left Ear raised her voice, calling out across the expanse of the hanger bay. “M’rrett Shaow! Quit slouching and walk on your hind paws – you were not raised in a barn!” Her attention then turned back to her current commanding officer. “Thank you again, Jinx, for letting me bring her out here for a visit. I thought seeing what the pilots do might help the kitten with a decision.” “So, piloting is in the running as a career choice?” “Yes, along with operations or security. Medical and Sciences are definitely not her thing, as the desire really isn’t there at all. Engineering has a better chance in the long run as well.” “What about the marine program?” “She, like many Caits, would be better at commando tactics, so studying to be a full on ground pounder is definitely not a viable interest to her.” “And you also told me that your family is rather large?” “The entire JoNs clan ranges in age from my grandmother, who is in her mid nineties, down to the baby, M’rrett – she’s only sixteen. That will probably change once myself, one of my brothers, or one of our many cousins start having the next generation of babies.” “…you give the Irish a run for their money.” “Sweetie, Caitians can blow the Irish out of the water.” The Irish woman’s bout of laughter was interrupted when the yellow alert siren for the base started droning, and Brennan slapped at the comm badge attached to her flight suit. “Jinx here, what’s the word Fashal?” The strong voice of the Andorian executive officer quickly answered. “The Veshaka colony over in the fifth sector just radioed in a level two alert. Apparently one of their ground supply convoys is having some privateer troubles.” “Aye, I’m on it. Log out myself, Left Ear, and Beans as the interceptor party. Beans can use the flight time and Lefty and I can back her up. Jinx out.” The base commander turned to her the senior Caitian pilot. “Let’s move Lefty.” Like a shot, the lanky Irish woman was off at a flat run for her fighter shuttle. JoNs had quickly and gently guided her young cousin away from the hustle and bustle as the base scrambled to the yellow alert. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You mind Preston, and stay with him in the command ops staging room. You can see how a pilot recon and training outpost works…” She gave M’rrett a quick kiss on the forehead, and then hurried off to prep her own fighter. ********** “This is Scout One. No visual contact, repeat, no visual contacts as of yet.” Jinx responded to Beans and spoke into her helmet comm unit, the tone of her voice instantly activating the device and coming over the private channel to the two other females loud and clear. “Noted Beans, keep a sharp eye, Left Ear and Jinx still holding position on your six. Out.” It had taken a grand total of ten minutes for the three pilots to scramble, get airborne, and cover the distance between the base and the last known position of the Veshaka convoy. Every minute that ticked by was a chance the raiders would get away scott free. Left Ear spoke into her comm piece, “Let’s try a south vector run, maybe flush something out that…’ The excited voice of Beans interrupted, “…we have contact! Northwest of the convoy location, making good time with all terrain vehicles. Small group – we should be able to take them easy.” Jinx jumped into the conversation, “Let’s go! Beans, you have point run…” ********** JoNs banked her fighter shuttle, re-orienting herself according to the attack pattern called by Jinx. Her matte gray fighter arced gracefully around, and then she made good time bearing down on the last all terrain vehicle in the privateer bunch. Her adrenaline peaked, and the rush enveloped her. She rarely felt this way on starship duty; there was something about being a pilot, the thrill, the sense of a good job done… ….unfortunately, the big ass homemade grenade launcher that was being leveled at her as she approached was impeding her happy thoughts!! “Oh my gods!” The Caitian pilot jerked the dual control joysticks, causing her craft to zig sharply to the right. She avoided being hit full on with the projectile, but her underside was still caught, and the shuttle bucked and rolled wildly. Her stomach flip flopped as the internal equilibrium filters gave out, and the fighter started to go down with a screech of metal on metal. Left Ear hit the ground hard once, twice, three times before sliding the fighter shuttle to a rough halt. With a quick prayer, she was thankful that the only thing injured was her pride. “This is Left Ear to Beans and Jinx, I am down, I repeat, I am down but uninjured…” ******* After Brennan and the remaining pilot had completed the convoy mission, the clean up teams from the base had ventured out to further get the situation in order. All of the supplies that had been taken from the Veshaka convoy had been recovered, one pirate had been apprehended (the rest had managed to scatter) and remanded to the Fleet base for questioning. The pirates still at large would be hunted down by the colony authorities and dealt with on a local level. Left Ear was of the opinion that all of the thieves should hang from the nearest tree, but it wasn’t her place to say that – out loud at least. Jinx and Beans had given the Caitian a tow back to the Mika outpost, and she now sat on a bio bed in the medical bay getting patched up by the base doc. She had no doubt that once she was feeling better, Jinx was going to work on her about the damage to the downed fighter. The thought did bring a smile to her muzzle, oddly enough. M’rrett suddenly came scampering in, her young face taut with worry. The medical doctor wisely moved out of the way as the gold feline flew to Left Ears side. The two cousins embraced, with the elder feline speaking soft words of assurance to the younger feline. Left Ear disengaged from the hug, gently clamping a paw to the side of M’rretts face as she spoke to her guardian child. “This is all part of service, kitten. It isn’t all about reports, looking good in the uniform, taking over helm and tactical so you can fly the ship and shoot things, and meeting an admiral every other week. You’re too young to remember what happened to my brother, but he was killed in the line of duty. Fleet service can be dangerous, and you or those under your command may get hurt….you have to account for all this if you choose to enter into a career as an officer, okay?” “Mmm Hmmm.” M’rrett nodded, her eyes slightly misty with unshed tears. “Alright – go calm down, and I’ll be along shortly. We’ll grab some chow.” The golden Caitian again scampered off; JoNs stayed in the medical bay a bit longer, and then she also left. What she spotted in the outer offices stopped her dead in her tracks however. “What the hell is this?” Her young cousin and the pirate that had been brought in had been talking. The man had been brought to the medical area to have a wound cleaned and patched. He was secured with energy bonds and one of the base security officers stood nearby, it was true, but M'Vess did not like the situation one bit. “Oh, come on M’Vess, we were just talking….” A firm cuff to the rear end convinced a certain young Caitian that it was not wise to argue with an elder guardian; M’rrett again scampered off, post haste this time in a flash of golden fur and civilian attire. With a glower at the scruffy pirate, Left Ear moved past him to the exit way. “…you might want to watch that one.” The brown Caitian slowly turned. “Pardon me?” “That kid of yours. She knows more about, and is more interested in, the privateer lifestyle then you think.” “Don’t give me that targ crud. She’s on her way to the Fleet academy.” “Yeah…so was I at one time. Just watch her, that’s alls I’m saying… Commander is it?” JoNs regarded the human male in a contemptible silence for a few seconds and then finally left the area to track down M’rrett, her tail switching angrily. Her paw swiped at her comm. badge. “Jackson? Yeah, this is Commander JoNs – I’d like you to put a second guard on our guest. I want to keep him out of any mischief, JoNs out.” You never could tell with these damn privateers.

11.23.07 Mika Four Colony Outpost “Frost” Note: this log is set two months into the four month reassignment time frame ********** “Left Ear, you ready to go and ding up the target squad a bit?” Jinx’s voice cracked over her internal helmet comm Jinx Brennan and Left Ear JoNs were functioning as “the bad guys” for the upcoming training exercise, intending to blitz the ever loving bejeezus out of the four trainee recruits that were currently cleared for the training exercise. Blair, T’Sar, Maevan, and Tragg were all junior lieutenants assigned to the outpost for some extra piloting as well as officer candidate training before moving on to the senior officer command track. The Caitian spared a glance out of the tempered plasti-seal covering the cockpit over to the fighter craft flanking her, and smiled fiercely behind the orange tinted visor of her flight helmet, visually tracking her wingman. As much as she was willing to work in security, she truly did enjoy piloting and it would always be her first love so to speak. Checking the position of the target squad on the panel monitor inset one last time, she responded to Jinx. “Aye Jinx – let’s go rattle the cage.” Within seconds, the two women were bearing down on the squad, peppering them with holo tracer rounds. Several hits were recorded, but none were fatal; they could hear Blair issuing orders over their comm lines to his squad, and they all scattered. “Take care of the secondary targets, I have the leaders.” “Aye! They should have stayed stayed together! Blair knows better.” Left Ear took off after T’Sar and Tragg while Jinx dealt with the other two. “Watch Blair in case he works his way back around! They don’t call that man ‘Frost’ for nothing. Don’t get frostbitten, Jinx out.” ********** An hour later, both Left Ear and Jinx had touched down on the landing port at Mika, mission and training session accomplished. It had turned out rather well, and both of the senior officer instructors were pleased with the overall results. The officers entered the locker room area, and quietly set about stowing their gear amidst the excited retelling of the mock battle by Blair’s squad to their fellow pilots. “Hey sirs! Great training session, really got the blood flowing!” Tragg, an affable human, called out over across the expanse of the locker room to Lt. Commander JoNs and Commander Brennan. “It was not an acceptable training session.” A lone voice cut through the din, and Blair emerged from behind the lockers. His rich baritone voice seemed to linger on the air even after he finished the statement. “Explain Lieutenant.” Brennan’s clipped tone was all business. His gaze flew from Brennan and latched onto JoNs as he continued. “The Lieutenant Commander ignored the rules of engagement. Her manner was aggressive, and she followed me and fired off two extra shots that impacted with my fighter even after I had signaled that I had been knocked out of the skirmish and had gone out of range of the flight op.” At that point, Jinx’s gaze went to Left Ear, her gaze stern. “Is this true Commander?” “Aye. I followed Mister Blair out of the perimeter established for the flight training op and peppered his tail with a few parting shots.” “Not very sportsman-like and very unlike you JoNs.” The Caitian could tell that Brennan was not pleased with her off the cuff actions. “Yes sir.” When no further explanation was forthcoming, Jinx leaned in at that point and whispered in JoNs’s ear. “What the hell is the matter with you? I need to write you up and demerit you for this, its only fair – I’d do it to anyone that pulled that during an op.” “I understand, and once we clear the room, I can explain the reasoning behind the actions.” The Caitian pulled away and dutifully stood at a relaxed parade rest. Brennan pulled away as well, her expression vacillating between anger and curiosity. The commanding officer of the post then turned to address the small group gathered. “You all know as well as I do that aggression has its place during a fire fight, but we need to channel that into a productive force, not merely for the benefit of some twitchy fingered – or in this case pawed – fun. We all have our good and bad moments, and then we answer for any infractions, as the commander will. Good job out there today, all of you. Now, please clear the room.” The various squad members finished up and filed out of the squad room, most of them shooting mildly sympathetic or curious looks toward the Caitian, leaving Brennan and JoNs alone to square off. “Again I ask what the hell that was all about.” “Now, please just hang onto your Irish temper, thank you sir. I did intentionally fire at Blair for a reason – I wanted to gauge his response. What he just pulled now confirmed a few suspicions I had.” “Continue.” “He’s a good, solid squad leader. Gets the job done, and brings his people back. But, he’ll never make it past the lieutenant grade…and I don’t think he’s a very good candidate for senior OCS.” Brennan relaxed a bit and leaned a hip against the lockers. “How so?” “He’s manipulative. I’ve heard a few grumblings regarding it, nothing major, just along the lines of ‘that guy is a total ass’, you know that type of complaint. If he was so concerned with my performance, then why not come to you, or even question me about it directly? He did it in front of an audience, and he likes that.” Jinx nodded and motioned for her to continue. “I know that all officers use manipulation in some form or another, but usually it’s to motivate your people. Blair comes in from the other angle, the hard charging angle, and the one we don’t need or want. If he flies enough missions, it’s only a matter of time before he starts making mistakes with a squad, meaning setting himself up as’ unapproachable’ or something. You and I have run into that type before.” “Options?” “We keep an eye on him, and be completely honest when we grade him and such with regard to his interactions as a squad leader. I’m all for the two of us sitting down with him for a nice little two on one session actually. You and I joke with one another about us both being by the book? Well, in this case he needs to read that book and work on his people skills.” “Noted. I’m still going to demerit you though, per our by the book procedures, and don’t ever pull that crap again.” Brennan eyed the feline with a critical eye. “And you just had to launch this plan during a training op…you couldn’t have come to me regarding this?” “No sir.” A sly grin lit the felines' features. “I just really wanted to fire at Blair…” At which point a padd, a towel, and whatever else Jinx could get her hands on were flung at Left Ear in short order. Irish temper. Indeed.

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

11.23.07 Mika Four Colony Outpost “Talk to me Goose” ********** ==== Starfleet Command ==== ==== Personnel Office ==== ==== Private Comm Line N7==== ==== JoNs, M. - 20 N7 ==== To: JoN’s, Lieutenant Commander M’Vess Effective immediately, you are re-assigned for a temporary tour duration to the flight training and test program on Starfleet colony outpost Mika Four. ==== End transmission ==== ==== JoNs, M. 20 N7 Private Comm==== ********** “I am so being punished. Or something.” Left Ear did a combination glance and glare out the port window of the transport shuttle, her gaze taking in the endless miles of plains grass, scrub trees, and rocky formations. She would have been admiring the view, that is, if the Caitian wasn’t so ticked off. The shuttle pilot, a young dark skinned human by the name of Preston, glanced back at the feline from his spot in the main cockpit. “Tick off any admirals lately? It’s not so bad here ma’am, once you get used to the remote location of the base.” “Aye, this is definitely remote.” They had been traveling at a steady warp two for the last half-hour, and the base still hadn’t registered on the grid sensors. He chuckled. “Well, I will say it’s nice to be out in the middle of nowhere when we are flying our tests or training the recruits.” With a sigh, JoNs unbuckled from her passenger seat and ambled up to the cockpit area, re-seating herself in the co-pilots chair. There really was no good reason to be a pain in the ass with her attitude to the pilot; he was just doing his job. “What are the details Lieutenant? And don’t give me the tourist version that I read in the official Fleet data entry.” Preston chuckled. “Yes sir – the official rundown of the post is a bit of dry reading.” The officer banked the shuttle, and the course correction immediately came up on the twin console computers directly in front of both JoNs and Preston. The feline entered a quick series of commands into the co-pilot keyboard inset on a side panel, which enabled the secondary thrusters to power down and compensate for the course change. “Hey, thanks sir. Now, as I was saying. Mika Four is primarily used as a flight training base, but we also get proto-type fighters to test about every six months or so. Typically, we keep ‘em for another six months, working out all the bugs and cataloging the crafts performance, quirks and all that. It’s a pretty nice deal. I mean, we don’t get experimental fighters or anything fancy like that, but we get to play with top of the line craft ranging from runabouts, to troop transports, to interceptor craft.” “What about the training? What sort of officer do you get assigned here?” “Mostly the senior midshipman ranks up through the junior lieutenant ranks. They’ve already rotated out of the academy and onto their training cruises or first official assignments, so they aren’t raw.” “…you get the hard cases out here, don’t you?” His hesitation told the Caitian all she needed to know. Her ears went flat. “…aye ma’am. We do get the hard-cases out here. Now with that said? Every single pilot officer assigned here has the balls – pardon, ma’am – to be a pilot and do their job as a fleet officer, make no mistake. Yes some of them are sent here for disciplinary infractions, but most of the pilots just need some polishing up before they advance in rank or jump on the senior command track. And let’s just say that we all need to be a little tough out here on the frontier.” “Oh?” “Mika also does double duty as a listening post and patrol point. We are close enough to the three corporate research colonies established on Thrantos Three and Six, two M-Class planets located at the Terminus Vector Arm. The sites are minor corporations, but they get enough supplies and shipments in and out to sometimes attract un-wanted pirate attention, so us pilots run interference or go on hunting expeditions, if you get my drift.” “Oh, aye, I’m just drifting right along with you Lieutenant.” “Not happy about this assignment are you ma’am?” “As far as I’m concerned, the Starfleet personnel office can kiss my furry rear end. The only thing that kept me from storming in there and telling them what they could do with this assignment was the fact that an uncle of mine works for them, and I’m sure he wants to keep his job.” Preston cleared his throat. “Give it a chance sir.” She tactfully changed the subject. “So what’s your story Lieutenant?” “I’ve been here on Mika since right after the conclusion of my second training cruise. After being on two ships, I wanted to be assigned to either a ground posting or a station posting.” “Not a fan of zipping around the galaxy Preston?” “It’s not exactly that sir. Let’s just say I got tired of the fact that everyone, or at least some officers, tend to have the misconception that the only ‘dignified’ duty options are on the ships. Nothing wrong with a ground based assignment, and I can earn double career points doubling as a pilot and trainer. I couldn’t accomplish that on a starship, at least not as fast, depending on the ships assignment or if I was dividing my time between piloting and a department.” The console closest to Preston blipped, indicating that Mika Base had finally registered on the proximity sensors. “… one last question Preston. Who’s your commanding officer here? I had a devil of a time trying to pin a name down.” “With all due respect Lieutenant Commander, you’ll have to wait a bit longer – I have my orders. They want it to be a surprise.” And with that rather cryptic statement, the lieutenant brought the transport shuttle in for a smooth landing at the landing strip. ********** Left Ear departed the shuttle, making her way across the landing zone to the hanger bay beyond. She carried a travel cylinder over a shoulder, and held her pilots duffle in one paw. A blond haired yeoman met her at the entrance, and led her promptly to the base commander’s office. A few curious glances or welcoming nods from the various personnel as they walked through the cavernous hanger were thrown the feline’s way as she walked behind her escort, and JoNs nodded politely back. After a few moments they arrived at the intended destination, and the yeoman chimed for admittance. “Come!” The yeoman turned and nodded to JoNs. “I will take your things to your assigned quarters sir. If you need anything, feel free to comm me.” “Thank you Yeoman. Carry on.” The Caitian officer entered the confines of the office and immediately adopted an at attention stance. “Lieutenant Command…” The occupant at the desk turned toward JoNs and interrupted her, the office lighting now illuminating her face. “Hello JoNs. Fancy meeting you here.” The lean and lanky Earth woman’s long auburn hair framed her face, and she favored the feline with an impish smile. Her jaw dropped, and all vestiges of her protocol induced stance vanished as the feline’s surprised gaze latched onto the post commandant. “Lieutenant Brennan?!” “Aye. Don’t look so surprised Left Ear.” The Irish born human got up from the chair set behind her desk and walked around, facing the Cait as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And to be specific, its Commander now, transferred out of engineering, call sign Jinx, pilot instructor and commanding officer of this base. I am pleased to welcome you to the Mika Outpost.” A full ten seconds passed. “You were the one that had me assigned here?” “Yep. I…” Brennan never got to finish the statement; a brown paw zipped through the air to connect with the woman’s cheek, much as it had those ten years ago. The base commander went down and landed hard on her backside. A full two minutes passed, with Brennan alternately rubbing at her jaw and rear and JoNs standing over her and alternating between panting and purred growls as she got her usually deeply dormant temper under control. Commander Brennan finally broke the silence. “You know, it’s rare, but once you let that anger of yours loose, it can be a formidable force of nature.” Her Irish brogue was muffled by the hand clamped to her jaw. She removed the hand from her jaw and held it out to her fellow officer. The Caitian paused for only a fraction of a second, and then grasped the humans hand in a paw, pulling and helping her back up on her feet. Both JoNs and Brennan had been assigned to the USS Repulse with the Cait as a midshipman serving in a pilot designation, and the human as a senior lieutenant attached to engineering. Brennan had done some work on the fighter craft that JoNs typically used, and one of the panels blew out on the feline during a flight run. She lost her left ear tip in the explosion – and got tagged after the incident with the ‘Left Ear’ call sign. JoNs accused Brennan of dereliction of duty; words were exchanged, eventually exploding into a mild scuffle. Brennan was cleared of any fault, and JoNs was cleared of assaulting a superior, but the two women still gave each other a wide berth until the end of the tour. They had not seen each other since their service on the Repulse, at least until now that is. Brennan held a hand up in a placating gesture. “Let me explain.” “I’m listening.” The human leaned a hip against her desk and crossed her arms. “This isn’t the most glamorous of postings, but we do good work here. I need someone competent for the next few months; we have a new batch of officer recruits coming in, and I’m short handed. I checked the duty rotation rosters, saw that you had just been released from a duty tour on the Excalibur and were due to be re-assigned for a few months. So, I put in the transfer request, and here you are.” “Aye, here I am.” The Cait’s bitter tone had died down somewhat, leaning more toward curiosity now; at least she knew her temporary re-assignment had come about due to a past acquaintance. That helped a little with swallowing the ‘ass end of nowhere’ assignment. And, the truth be told, she was starting to find the whole operation - and piloting full time again for a few months - rather intriguing. “So, what is the plan?” “The plan is to assign you as a senior instructor. I remember that you always were good at long range recon and squad based operations? So we’ll start with that.” Brennan moved around the desk and started entering the necessary information in the computer as she spoke, as well as downloading the information to a Padd. Left Ear cocked her head to one side and flipped an ear back. “How’d the Jinx sign come about?” Brennan favored her with a wry grin. “Your fault. That dereliction of duty crap you leveled at me seemed to stick. Didn’t hurt my career any, mind, but it does makes the perfect pilot call sign so to speak.” “…I’m glad I didn’t call you Boom Boom then.” “Touche, my dear feline of the left ear.” Brennan walked back around to where JoNs stood, handing her a Padd. “That contains all the information to get you started. Your teaching schedule, a map of the base as well as the surrounding planet grids and planetary sectors; our patrol routes back and forth from the corporate posts are also included.” She took the Padd and quickly scrolled through the various topics. “Aye sir, I’ll familiarize myself with the operation here.” “It’s Jinx or Brennan. The ranking officers don’t stand much on ceremony around here unless we need to. Or we have a disciplinary issue such as fighting.” Left Ear’s head whipped up at that statement, only to be impaled by green eyes almost as bright – and piercing - as her own. “One thing we always seemed to have in common was our by the book predilections. So, with that said, senior officer or no, I do not tolerate brawling among and or being decked by my officers. Five demerits issued - you can work off the accumulated points through your flight runs.” The lieutenant commander flipped an ear back, but that was the extent of her protest. “Aye sir, understood.” “Dinner is at eighteen hundred in the main mess Left Ear, if you are so inclined to join me at the commandants table.” “I look forward to it – Jinx.”

Now don't be setting off any internal security alarms now. I mean, someone hears a scream, and then they contact security, security breaches the quarters thinking someone's getting attacked, then we see stuff that we really don't want too...it's just a nasty domino effect.... :-P NICE log guys! w00t!!

”11.18.07 USS Excalibur NCC-2000B “Re-Adjusting" Lieutenant jg. Left Ear JoNs had procured a free desk console in the main security offices, and was currently finishing up the requested report and assignment that Lieutenant Segami had given her. Sniper exercises, as well as intruder alert drills and hand to hand combat exercises were at the top of the report to do listing for the upcoming security training. The security department, overall, had shown weakened percentage numbers in these three interest areas, so the feline concentrated on them and worked downward. The Excalibur security officers seemed to excel in co-ordinated squad tactical formations by contrast. She also planned on relying heavily on Victria for the intruder alert portion of the exercises; the Caitian had reviewed some of the Al-Ucards past training vids, and had seen that the woman was downright unmatched when it came to dealing quickly – and brutally – with hostile forces stupid enough to breach the Excal defenses and board the ship. Therefore, she was a valuable, and fun, resource to tap for the security training. A feral smile lit the Caits features as she anticipated the gleeful mayhem that the training would cause; it would be good to shake up some of the greener security officers, get their blood flowing. Overall though, the security department was a good, solid group of officers, and Left Ear was glad to be serving with them. Satisfied with the report, which outlined one on one training slots or squad pairings for the next two weeks, the brown furred feline signed off on the document and sent it off to her Trill commanding officer. “Stuff that in your ear Lieutenant.” The Caitian muttered to herself as she logged off the console and got up from her chair. Segami had hinted to her during her bridge duty shift that the two of them were due for a nice little talk. Now that was going to be interesting. The Trill was just angry that Left Ear kept calling him on his ass-backwards methods. Superior officer or not, the man had no concept of un-officer like behavior, and that drove her out of her ever loving mind. She just hoped her family would visit her on the penal asteroid after she told him what he and his Klingon riding beast could go do with each other. JoNs placed a paw to her temple, taking a few deep breathes and recognizing that she was getting herself worked up again. The impromptu mission to that alternate universe had really thrown the Caitian for a loop. She knew that with time she would recover and re-adjust mentally and physically from the ordeal, but being tortured at the hands of a manic power military type tended to dampen one’s spirit for a while. The security officer checked the chronometer, deciding to call it a day and perhaps check out the hoo rah rah gala event that the Fleet was throwing in honor of the Excalibur’s return. Lieutenant Commander Laarell and she had both mentioned that they were planning on attending, so perhaps she could track the senior officer down and they could join forces against the brass induced party. A slight chuckle escaped the feline as she walked over to the officer of the watch, her hind paws making no sound as she moved. Per protocol, she would remand the offices over to the watch officer and be on her way. It was not until she was almost on top of the midshipman that he realized she was there, and he hastily minimized the holo-net first person shooter game that he had been playing. Her smile disappeared as she realized what he had been doing. “…sir. Uh, Aye sir. What can I do for you.” Left Ear knew that the ship was docked in the orbital facility, and that most of the crew had departed, or were departing for some shore leave, leaving the ship with about half the crew manning her. In short, nothing interesting was going to happen unless one of the worker bee drones fired at them. But that was no excuse for an officer to screw around on his watch. The junior grade lieutenant merely crossed her arms over her chest, and didn’t say anything to the middy, content to let her green eyes bore into him for a bit. The dark haired human shifted uncomfortably in his seat and would not meet her gaze, but JoNs continued staring right at him. Finally he ventured another glance at her, and the Caitian slanted a pointed look at his desk console. He hastily entered a typed command into the keyboard inset into the desktop. “… I logged out of the game sir.” Her normally warm, purred voice came out cold…and it was the usual voice that she reserved for Segami, come to think of it. “Good. I am going off shift now, and you have the offices. Sign me out. Keep your mind on your work Midshipman, and by the way, you are on report.” He was too stunned to remark, and JoNs quietly left the security offices in a whoosh of brown fur and security gold.

= = Level Seven Security Clearance Accepted = = = = Starfleet Command Personnel Files = = = = Starfleet Biographical Data: JoNs, MVess Vacer = = Birth Name: M'Vess Vacer (pronounced Vay-ser) JoN's Call sign: Left Ear <Reserve Pilot designation number CX-51> Service Number: SC-068920 Current Occupation: Former Executive Officer Current Rank: Commander Current Assignment: Formerly of USS Excalibur NCC-2004C Date of Birth: 5109.29 (2351) (31 Seasons of Age) Savirr Morravin Pediatric Facility Hissta Province General Statistical Information: Species: Caitian Feline Sex: Female Height: 5 foot 5 Inches Weight: 138 Lbs Medical Considerations: - Preventive flea treatment drops every four months as needed - Meat protein booster shots every four to six months as needed - Regular monitoring of heart to prevent the onset of the common heart defect disease associated with the Caitian genetic code General Appearance: Eye color: Dark green Fur / Hair Color: Brown fur, brown mane worn in a 'high and tight' cut Physical Appearance: A felinoid with an athletic build, muscular, strong and lithe, resembling the extinct species of the Earth leopard or panther, but with brown fur and lacking the spotting of the leopard or black fur of the panther. Her left ear tip is missing, and she sports healed gash marks, two on her outer left ear and one on the lower left jaw bone (see background). Primary Specialty: Security Secondary Specialty: Pilot Certified Training: First Aid Self Defense Small Arms - Phaser Type 1, 2 Compression Rifle Zero – G Ops Surveillance Pilot Tactics (Squad Based, Long and Short range scout, Dog Fighting, Troop transport) Certified Clearance: Starfighter (Lancelot and Archer) Shuttle (Type 6 and 9) Runabout (Danube class) Troop Hopper/Ambulance Transport Guinevere Heavy Bomber/Recon Utility Shuttle Ground Transport Vehicles Biographical Data: JoNs Tribal name: Honorscar Blood Pact Affiliation: Clan Shadowpride Grandparents: Grandmother: MVirran (87) - Retired Commander, Starfleet - Tribe Leader of Honorscar and Senior Representative to Clan Shadowpride Grandfather: Shibo, deceased Parents: Va'Rirr (61), (Son of MVirran) - Retired teacher M'Vess (59), (wife of Va'Rirr) - Communications expert, Civilian Sector - Tribal note: Crimson Pelts - Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride Uncles: Great Uncle: MSarr (56), Starfleet Personnel (Brother to M'Virran) - Secondary Head of Honorscar Tribe S'rrch (48), (Son of MVirran) - Civilian Security Supervisor, Starfleet Command Attachment Shibo (41), (Son of MVirran) - President of Med Corp Supplies Aunts: M'rree (47) (Wife of Srrch) - Administrative Staff, Starfleet Academy Registrar. - Tribal note: Saber Claws - Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride M'Vressa (37), (daughter of MVirran) - Chief of Operations at Med Corp Supplies Brothers: (Offspring of M'Vess and Va'Rirr): M'Rirr (M), Helm Officer l USS Odyssey NCC-71832 - KIA 2375 at age 34 Ravarr (M) (38), Security l USS Fearless NCC-4598 - Third Head of Honorscar Tribe - Specialty: Tactical Systems Vrrowl (M) (37), Medical l USS Ulysses NCC-66808 - Specialty: General Medicine Srrett (M) (32), Pilot Operations, USS Okinawa NCC-13958 - Specialty: Pilot, Call sign: Sideswipe Ravirr (M) (31), Operations/Communications Officer l USS Repulse NCC-2544 - Specialty: Operations Sister In Law: Savassa (F) (29), Registered Nurse (wife of Vrrowl) - Tribal note: Gray Paws - Affiliation by marriage: Tribe Honorscar and Clan Shadow Pride - Specialty: Pediatrics First Cousin: M'rrett Sh'aow JoN's (F) (16), Student at Jonathan Archer High School in San Francisco, CA - Daughter of Srrch and Mrree 6th Cousin: Savette-Shaow JoNs (F) (58), Starfleet Intelligence Administrative Department - Specialty: Security Distant Cousin: Jagrissa Honor-Scar (F) (26), Flight Operations l USS Excalibur NCC-2004C - Specialty: Pilot, Call Sign: Jumper Biographical Background: M'Vess Vacer JoNs was born in 2351 and raised on her home planet of Cait. She is the only daughter of M'Vess and Va'Rirr JoNs, and with four living elder brothers, is the youngest member of her family. The first recorded JoNs to serve in the Federation Starfleet was Shaow Seval JoNs, who joined the then fledgling human Starfleet of the 2150's under the Officer Exchange Program. Following in the footsteps of her brothers as well as the family legacy, M'Vess enrolled in Starfleet Academy in 2369 to pursue security, tactical and piloting studies. Her eldest brother M'Rirr, was killed in action in 2375 during a confrontation between his ship and an Orion Syndicate ship. The death was hard for the entire family, but the JoNs's are nothing if not survivors. She is named as Guardian to a younger cousin, M'rrett JoNs, a high honor within Cait society and a duty she is more then happy to undertake. Within Caitian society, a guardian will take an active role in the guidance of a young Cait, at times and depending on the preferences of the family, functioning as a third parent. M'Vess is currently planning to sponsor the younger Caitian through the academy when she is of the age to enroll. In addition, JoNs is also the granddaughter of retired commander M'Virran JoNs, formerly of the USS Gorkon NCC-1991. From 2373 to 2375, M'Vess cut her piloting teeth participating in several minor skirmishes of the Dominion War, usually comprised of scouting missions, supply runs, personnel transport and border patrol runs. The Caitian has trained on and clocked many hours in a variety of craft, ranging from shuttles, runabouts and short range fighter craft. The young midshipman received her call sign of Left Ear on her tour of duty aboard the USS Repulse, the result of an accident that involved an exploding manifold not properly secured after a landing. The shrapnel and debris peppered the Caitian, causing injuries to her left ear and lower jaw. This accident led to an altercation with a technician, who M'Vess accused of dereliction of duty. No charges were filed against either combatant, but the situation itself exposed a rare occurrence – JoNs losing her temper. As with most Caitians, she exhibits remarkable control of her emotions. In late 2375, JoNs was taking part in a troop transport mission with her squad mates. The Dominion War had drawn to a close and the various fighter squadrons had been tapped in order to aide in the sector cleanup. Namely, removing marine troops who had been sent out to various duty stations and bringing them back home. A freak malfunction caused an aft converter to blow out on one of the transports, and the resulting shrapnel flew out to impact with the canopy on the feline pilots transport shuttle. The event triggered something within the Caitan, and she was unable to continue functioning. The squad lead took up a wingman flanking position on the compromised vehicle, and the other pilots managed to talk the scared feline down without any further incidents in the air. While the resulting multiple psychological and physical tests proved nothing, JoNs herself has speculated that she had been suffering from battle fatigue and burnout, and the condition cumulated in that moment of panic. For the next two years, the feline remained in her duty station as a jumper jock, mainly doing courier runs, personnel transports, and long and short range recon hops. There was no combat duty for her during this time, and this was probably for the best. JoNs maintained her piloting skills, but made the switch full time to security during her service stations on the USS Zhukov and Sky Harbor Aegis. Her security training and service has focused on the required basic and advanced courses, with a later concentration in the tactical aspects and some surveillance work. A temporary piloting assignment in 2383 to the Mika Four Colony outpost marked her first official flight assignment since 2377. JoNs was posted as a pilot trainer and patrol leader and she excelled in this temporary position, showing that you can take the pilot out of the squad, but you will never take the pilot out of the officer. While not necessarily putting her past demons to rest regarding the incident in 2375, it is safe to say that the feline officer has come to terms with the demons as well as the personal events of that day. The Caitian has a high respect those she serves with, and will always treat everyone fairly. But, she can exude a cat – like wariness and stubbornness that can be hard to penetrate. While competent and thorough in her duties, personality wise, she can be a bit rough around the edges. When she allows it to show, M'Vess has a pleasant sense of humor. Her interests include flying atmo runners, hover boarding, the Caitian hover board team, and working out with the Bo staff. Psychological Profile: M'Vess Vacer JoNs is a competent officer, and is healthy in mind a body. With that said, she is also very set in her ways and a very by the book type of officer. She loathes 'un-officer like behavior', and will not hesitate to make her opinion known when such a breach of etiquette occurs. These traits, while admirable, can also lead her dangerously close to a 'hidebound' or an inflexible state of mind, which does not always coincide with the frequent situations that occur when an officer must make a command decision based on the moment, rather then what the proper procedure is for a situation. While not necessarily desiring a command position, the subject has received command training and has demonstrated that she is more then capable of handling a leadership position, and will always serve and do what is required of her. Like any competent pilot or security officer, she is comfortable with making decisions on the fly as a situation warrants. This officer is cleared for service, case file number 543 - Doctor Mishaasa Vaar'll, M.D., Ph.D, Starfleet Command Medical General Updates: 0708.19 to 0711.04: M'Vess, as well as the entire crew of the Excalibur, is stranded in an alternate universe due to an unfortunate trip through the Bajor wormhole. The Caitian is tapped to go undercover with an away team to the space station orbiting Bajor in the alternate universe. The mission does not go well, and M'Vess is mistaken for her counterpart in the unknown universe - a cargo running privateer. JoNs then spends a few weeks being tortured under Inspector Korix Vaos, until finally escaping along with most of the other away team members with a group of Rihan rebels. Eventually, all away team members are recovered, and the ship and crew find their way back home to the correct universe. 0711.18 to 0712.02: JoNs, along with the entire crew of the Excalibur, is re-assigned on detached duty. The Caitian serves for a period of four months at the Mika Colony Outpost as a patrol pilot and instructor. After completing this assignment, MVess is promoted to Commander and assigned as the Executive officer for the Excalibur C. 0806.29: Boganary pirate raiders board the Excalibur; M'Vess is critically injured with a shotgun wound. The ballistic shrapnel spray from the projectile weapon ripped into her right shoulder, arm, neck and chest area; the resulting injuries cause a week long recovery stay in the medical bay and follow up physical therapy. The Caitian XO is eventually cleared for light duty and then full duty. Service Record: - 2369: Enters Starfleet Academy, double majors in security with piloting as a secondary major. - 2370: Begins officer training. - 2372: Training Cruise: USS Gettysburg NCC-3890, divides service between security and piloting departments. - 2373 to 2375: Pulled from the training cruise roster for active duty as a pilot and assigned to the USS Repulse NCC-2544. - Note: Involved in altercation with MCT (Maintenance Cargo Technician). No complaint filed in permanent record. Verbal warning received from the commanding officer of the Repulse. - 2376 to 2381: Assigned to USS Zhukov NCC-26136, Security Department. (2006) <<<<<< >>>>>> c. 2382-2383: February: Assignment: Sky Harbor Aegis, Security Department, Rank: Midshipman. <<<<<< >>>>>> March: Promoted to Ensign. July: Promoted to Lieutenant (JG). December: Transfer request from Sky Harbor Aegis to starship reassignment. <<<<<< >>>>>> c. 2382-2383: December: Assignment: USS Excalibur NCC-2004 B, Security Department. <<<<<< >>>>>> (2007) 0711.18: Promoted to Lieutenant Commander. <<<<<< >>>>>> 2383: Temporary Assignment: Mika Four Colony outpost, Pilot Trainer and Patrol Leader <<<<<< >>>>>> 0712.02: Promoted to Commander, takes position as Executive Officer, USS Excalibur C. (2008) 0808.03: Inducted into the Excalibur: Order of the Knights of the Round Table == End Transmission Stream = = = = Security Coding Log Out = = = = ARC Charlie Beta Tango = = = = = = Copyright Notes: - Caitian heart defect information appears courtesy of the FASA Star Trek RPG game source books (1983) - The USS Odyssey NCC-71832, USS Fearless NCC-4598, USS Zhukov NCC-26136, USS Ulysses NCC-66808, USS Okinawa NCC-13958 and USS Repulse NCC-2544 appear courtesy of the Star Trek Encyclopedia (1999) -All other original information copyright Kansas Jones or STSF Kansas 2005-2009

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

::popcorn:: Oooo! A shore leave fling - nicely done. Now is this the Orion version of a "girl in every port"? :-D

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

10.13.07 USS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Forgotten” Left Ear quietly finished dressing next too the bunk she had been assigned in the common barracks of the hidden Rihan base on the surface of Bajor. The clothing was secondhand, discontinued military fatigues of Terran design (probably lifted from warehouse or something), but they were warm, dry and a worthy substitute to her ripped and rumpled civilian clothing. Her green eyes checked the doorway, and there was no mistaking the outline of her escort, tr’Ravellan just outside in the corridor; the feline smiled to herself. The boy was no more then fourteen seasons of age, yet worked with this Romulan resistance cell. It was a sad fact, but resistance groups typically took all the members they could get. As a junior member, he had been assigned to basically shadow her – to make sure she didn’t “wander” into a sensitive area of the hidden resistance base, but also to familiarize her with the base. Left Ear wasn’t exactly a prisoner, but she wasn’t exactly trusted either. If anything, she felt forgotten. The Caitian finished dressing, and then with a sigh, walked toward the entrance way to the barracks; she needed to link up with Segami and Maturin so they could start hatching some plans. Lieutenant Commander Laarell was still detained on the Imperial star base orbiting high above Bajor, and then there was the little matter of tracing the Excalibur. No worries, snorted Left Ear to herself. “Hello tr’Rav.” The smile that the cat flashed at the boy was genuine. He inclined his head to her. “Miss” The brown furred feline pointed a paw at him. “What did I tell you about the ‘Miss’? It makes me sound old. It’s Left Ear or MVess.” “Of course…sorry. Left Ear.” The feline waved it off and the two of them started to walk down the hall. “…you were a pilot?” The boy asked the question with an underlying tone of hope, and it was the latest in a series of inquires he had made to the Caitian; it was obvious that he wanted to know more about the universe she had come from, so much like his own, yet very different. Left Ear always answered him, but still maintained her caution; it wouldn’t do to reveal too much concerning her own universe and such. “I am a pilot, but my specialty is security.” “And you have seen action?” “…yes. Perhaps too much. I cut my teeth on a nice little conflict called the Dominion War. Flew quite a few combat missions, then after it was all said and done, transferred to security full time.” A smile split the boy’s features. “I hope to enter battle soon, and fight the Imperials.” How do you tell a kid that he’ll be fighting a losing battle? And get himself killed in the process? JoNs abruptly came to a halt and gently grabbed at his arm, stopping him as well. “Listen to me. You have a girl? No? Well someday you might. And if you get yourself killed fighting the Imperial Fleet, you won’t meet her. Get out tr’Rav, otherwise, you will end up with a disruptor blast between the eyes. From what I have seen, the Imperial Fleet has a stranglehold all over the known galaxy. One resistance group won’t make much of a difference.” Hot fire flashed behind the young Rhan’s eyes, and he flushed copper bronze. “You belittle our cause?” Gods save me from the brainwashed”lets go get ‘em, hoo rah” training. “I would never belittle a cause. My own planet fought for causes, and my Dominion War was a cause, and it was fought with the best intentions in mind. It’s just that causes tend to get you killed, and if you follow blindly without any sense of your own creeping in, then yes, you will catch a disruptor bolt. And then, you’ll be one of the forgotten, one more downed corpse in the face of the advancing Terran agenda. You need to be practical. Always watch your own back tr’Rav…” He opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it; a myriad of emotions flashed behind his eyes. Maybe someone had never been that blunt with him before? Left Ear sighed. “Come on; don’t mind the ramblings of a displaced and cranky Starfleet officer. Let’s go get some chow. It’s going to be a long day…”

....the cat is not going near the science offices. Ever.

I agree - summary logs are great to get your sim thoughts in order, and help out the other players as well. Nice Joy! We. Love. Mirror.

Ni! All the men in tight tight, tights! The poster looks good - looking forward to what it is exactly we will be questing for. :-D

09.10.07 USS Excalibur NCC-2000B “Squeaky Clean!” Written by: Internal Affairs Junior Inspector Korix Vaos (power wielding git) and Lieutenant JG Left Ear JoNs (royally scrooged) A few minutes after the Bajoran, who clearly ran the show, left the room, his two minions began plotting. After some hushed conversations one of them returned to the room. Young and clearly a little too excited about this, the young human officer walked up to JoNs' cell, smiling with glee. "So Kitty." A flat look greeted the statement. "Guard. Come near me and you will be hurt." "Oooo," he said nearly giddy. "She's a feisty little kitty." Left Ear's tail fur had puffed out in anger, and her ears were both flat. "Mister, you have no idea. I am not a common housecat that you can give a bath too." "Oh how little you know!" Hitting a button, the officer activated a series of half a dozen strong jets of water from the ceiling, literally dousing JoNs. After a few moments he hit the stop button and grinned. "Oh I can't can I?" The Caitian had adopted a ready fighting stance. Not that it would do much good, but she was damned if she was going to go down without a fight - at which point the streams of water hit her. She went down in a sputtering rage. “Listen to her hiss!" Left Ear picked herself up from the decking, her fur and clothing sopping wet, and glared balefully at the guards. Several other officers and enlisted had by this time made their way into the room and were laughing hysterically. "Do it again!" "Okay!" He hit the button again and the streams hit her again, this time burning hot. The junior grade security lieutenant howled in pain as the scalding water hit her; she stumbled back from the force of the water jets. "That won't get her very clean," one of the onlookers pointed out. "She needs a flea bath." "You've got a point..." the officer in charge of the bath said.” Think we can run a hose in here?" "Maybe we can replicate some long-handled scrub brushes. You know -- like they use in zoos?" "Ooo," someone said, "I think Vaos would like that!" One of the throng of 'fleeters headed over to the replicator and came back with half a dozen brushes and two buckets filled with water and some sort of cleaning solution and an anti-flea and tick additive. Her brown fur and clothing were plastered to her now, and the Caitian was incensed. "I DO NOT have fleas! By what authority do you treat a being like this?" "The Empire's, cat," drawled an officer. "Now hold your tongue or we'll muzzle you." "So who wants to start scrubbing her?" At this point, Left Ear launched into a rather interesting dissertation on the questionable ancestry of the Empire and its mother. A few juniors could be seen taking notes, while the others were howling in delight. With an effort, the feline reined her temper in; it was obvious the diatribe fell on deaf ears. 'Accidentally' one of them hit the water button again, hitting the felinoid with another stream of jets, this time from both sides and the ceiling. The water pelted JoNs mercilessly, and she went down hard on the decking. She inhaled water, which caused her to cough uncontrollably. She stayed flat on her stomach, continuing to hack and choke even after the water jets had stopped. *************** Tapping a metallic stylus against the table in methodic rhythm, Inspector Vaos glanced to the soaking wet and collared Caitian that was strapped into the seat before him. "State your name for the record, please." Green cat eyes stared back sullenly at Vaos. "JoNs, MVess." And that was all the official information that she was prepared to impart. Stopping his tapping, Vaos made a note on a tablet in his hand. His own eyes were dispassionate and cold, and there was no trace of warmth about him at all...or any emotion really. "I assume you know why you've been brought in." "I was detained due to the scuffle with the security guards on the Promenade. My companion had ... marginally… overreacted it would seem." Her purred tone was clipped and formal. Blinking a few times, Vaos tipped his head ever so slightly. "Oh yes," he said sardonically. "That's it. A mere scuffle with Security..." "...although I am sure you are planning some suitably more daring and dangerous reason for the arrest? What was that title again? Investigator?" He didn't respond visually to anything she'd just said and simply looked back to his tablet. "I suppose we'll have to add that incident to your file." And he tapped again at the tablet with his stylus. Left Ear picked up on the implied statement. "My record? I see. Would you care to enlighten me?" The Starfleet security officer was hedging, her tactical mind going at warp five. "So what brought you and your companion," he looked down at the file again. "Atticus Idarin to Deep Space Nine?" Atticus Idarin? This was totally one of those situations that she so needed to be someone else; her mind desperately latched onto the bio she had read of her counterpart. "Business. Mister...Idarin...is interested in my services for hauling some cargo." "So you readily admit to collusion with him?" Inwardly, Vaos was more than a little shocked. This was going to be way easier than he thought. Usually people accused of terrorism were a hell of a lot harder to crack--especially a Caitian pirate. An ear flipped back. Oh, I do not like this. "Collusion is a loaded word Investigator. I was merely feeling out prospective contacts. There was no contract signed with Mister Idarin as of yet..." "Now you change your story," he said making a move to cut her off. "You were, after all, found with him on the Promenade and attempted to flee with him." "All hell was breaking loose! What the frag was I supposed to do? And what exactly is on that little padd of yours?" He made a note and continued his line of questioning. "So you admit to interest in Mister Idarin's inquiry for your services?" The feline could continue to play act, making this man believe that she was a cargo runner of questionable practices, or betray the fact that she was an officer from another universe and Starfleet, and that a very large spaceship was hiding somewhere in this sector and would indeed be a large prize if it fell into the wrong hands. Decisions, decisions. "Business is business, and I go where the money is." "I see," he said, making another note. "Even if it is illegal business...apparently." She knew her pressure spiked. "I had not yet gotten into the details of what goods he wanted transported. What kind of illegal business?" "Caitians," Vaos' tone of voice was dismissive and divisive. "The lot of you are worse than the Ferengi. You don't even care enough to do research on your 'clients'," the quotation marks were audible in his voice, "before you go running off with their Latinum." Shaking his head he made a few more noted. The disdain in his voice was real. He had little love or respect for mercenaries and cargo runners who made their living by shipping illegal goods, and didn't care in the slightest to bust them all in. Say one thing for rebels, at least they had an ethos beyond making money. Left Ear was weary to the bone, but his dismissive tone got her ire up. With an effort she schooled her voice to remain calm. "I have no reason to be loyal to Mister Seg...Idarin. How can you be so sure of your facts?" Suddenly his interest was perked. "Seg..." he said brightly.”Finish that thought." Oh damn. Damn damn damn."No thoughts. Idarin just happens to resemble a Trill that I had done business with some years back. His name was Segamis, Segamor, or something like that. I can’t really recall the full details." Had he managed to obtain a symbiot on the black market? This just got more interesting by the minute. He made a note on the file and looked back across at the still wet kitty. "I'll put this simply." "Mister Idarin is a wanted and known terrorist. He was an enemy of the state and the Imperial Crown. I have enough evidence to suggest you were colluding with him to deliver who knows what. At the very least, that could result in your losing your cargo operating license, not to mention the fines and fees for your prior transgressions. I'd say that you're looking at best incarceration. Worst case scenario, the seizing of your ship and being tried for treason." The shock on her face was palpable. Treason? Imperial? Incarceration? Losing of a transport license? Or rather, the other Left Ears loss of license. Great Bird of the Galaxy, she needed to think clearly. A salvation point - anything - was needed for her to latch onto. Her security training took over and pulled her back into the stark reality. She needed to survive. They all needed to survive. Weary green eyes latched onto the Investigator. "Mister Vaos...perhaps we can come to an understanding. I can perhaps assist with your witch hunt." Vaos kept his inner sense of triumph from showing, but on the inside he was grinning from ear to ear. The look on the Caitain's face was enough to tell him she was throwing in the towel. Such was the case with most small time criminals and those caught up in the plots of others. Show them the worst things and they caved quickly. And there it was...capitulation. It sounded so sweet to his hears that he almost ignored the witch hunt comment. Until it caught in his head. “Witch Hunt?" He said strongly, his cold eyes locking onto the kitty. "Witch hunt??" "Idarin is a terrorist who has killed hundreds of Imperial civilians without remorse. He has disrupted the order of the Empire and is no doubt connected to rebels in the Cardassian sectors. Witch hunt..." The Caitian would indeed cave...but she'd be damned if she gave into the fop easily. "Indeed sir. This is what I said. A witch hunt. And I gather this is how you came by your illustrious career as well - dealing with riff raff such as myself and Mister Idarin." "So you are in league with him," he said with a sigh. "That changes everything. I was prepared to make you a deal, but I am afraid I can't offer that if you are a terrorist yourself. Such a pity really. It’s a shame your whole family will have to be brought in for questioning. They'll more than likely face the booth themselves. " Even though it was not "her" family, the feline still felt a sympathetic pang. And then her temper flared. "I am sure you will do that. Get your kicks out of hurting woman and children do you Vaos?" "Not at all. But if it saves the lives of innocent civilians...we do what we must." The image of Vaos arresting the JoNs family popped unbidden into her mind, along with the man spotting the "real" Left Ear in this universe. A slow, un-amused smile spread across her muzzle. Now that would really tick him off. He frowned. "I am afraid the nature of your incarceration has changed," he said making a note on the file. "You are being declared an enemy of the state and terrorist-at-large. You are being charged with attempt to commit treason and colluding with known traitors." Clapping his hands armed guards enter the room and looked towards Vaos for orders, completely ignoring the Caitian. "Yes, sir?" "I'm afraid that the kitty here won't be released into the custody of Colonel Kimura, but will be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I think a good boothing is in order to remind her of the price of disloyalty." Now what in the heck was a boothing? The Caitian junior lieutenant suddenly blurted out, "Do you have a mirror Vaos?" The question caught Vaos off guard. "What?" A feral leer lit the felines face with a somewhat unholy light. " 'Beware the looking glass as you gaze, for it just might show you the entrance to the Nether World’ – it’s an old Caitian saying. And you wouldn’t last two minutes in that world, Investigator Vaos.” Rolling his eyes he motioned for the guards to take her to the booth. "And next time...blow dry her before bringing her to me. Wet cat smells horrible."

USS Excalibur NCC-2000B “Field Trip” The away team materialized on the Bajoran station, in a quiet section a bit away from the main concourse. Left Ear JoNs immediately scanned the area visually, knowing the others were doing the same; once she detected no immediate problems, the brown furred feline allowed herself to relax marginally. She glanced over at her comrades – Lt. Commander Teykier, the ops and sciences manager; JoNs’s security chief Lieutenant Segami, and Lieutenant Maturin from sciences – and saw that they were all glancing around as she was, attempting to get a visual picture of the meeting area for when they would return to be beamed back to the Scorpiad fighter piloted by Victria. The Caitians investigative tendencies were in over drive, and she was basically being nosy as well. The security officer moved over to a small alcove leading to another section of the main concourse area, and stayed in the shadows, looking out and observing. Her dark fur and clothing aided her with blending in. It was rather unremarkable, as space stations went; drab gray decking and bulkheads, banners advertising this and that, various shops, offices and the like. The workers and station inhabitants all went about their business, really paying no mind to the Caitian. Then, a commotion from down the corridor that she was adjacent to caused her to flip an ear in that direction, followed by her eyes. A scruffy looking Bajoran, say in his mid to late teens, bolted past her hiding place, clutching what looked like a wad of credit sticks, with two Starfleet security officers right on his heels. The uniforms…the uniforms were just…different. The man and woman – both Terran – wore the black trousers, but the male’s gold tunic jacket was sleeveless while the woman wore a gold halter top that left nothing to the imagination. What the…? They both caught up to the kid, and based on the shouted conversation, he had supposedly taken the credit sticks from one of the open vendor stands on the promenade. That meant he would be booked… The woman, who wore her hair in a military style cut, just up and socked the young Bajoran kid right across the jaw with her fist; he went down and the cred sticks flew out of his hand. The male officer, who had a full beard, chose that moment to bring his stun baton down on the kids mid-section. … or perhaps the Bajoran juvenile would be beaten senseless. No one helped, and no one moved as the two security officers continued to beat him - including Left Ear. With an effort, she stayed in the shadows, ignoring her security protection instincts and instead listening to her self-protective instincts. The discipline these officers were doling out to the civilian – for a minor infraction - was brutal and savage. What exactly had they gotten themselves into in this so called alternate reality?

USS Excalibur NCC-2000B “Curiosity Kills the Cat” It had only taken Left Ear JoNs about twenty minutes to get ready and equipped for the upcoming away team jaunt to the Bajoran space station. The brown furred Caitian had chosen a plain, close fitting dark green tee-shirt that matched her eyes, a black windbreaker flight jacket – minus the Fleet patches – from her piloting days, and a pair of charcoal gray slacks ending just below the knee. She also wore an anklet and small hoop earrings. Hey, she was known to break out the jewelry now and then – Lieutenant Commander Teykier had ordered them all to wear civilian attire, after all. The decidedly un-civilian parts of her attire were the weapons. The Caitian had her hideaway type two phaser strapped to one arm, and a Caitian dagger hidden in the small of her back. She would have opted for an ankle weapon, but that was kind of hard to do when you had cat-like hind paws and did not wear shoes, so she wore a second phaser pistol in a shoulder holster, hidden by the jacket like the arm band. The junior grade security lieutenant glanced at the computer console *one more time*. It was now or never, as the minutes to the away team rendezvous were ticking down. “Computer, prepare a search query…” She moved over to small office area in her quarters, and settled in at the desk. It was logical to assume that the technology across the universes – if they were indeed in an alternate universe if the ships gossip were to be believed – would be the same, if not in theory, at least in practice. She would confine her search to the civilian news feeds; if she went botching around in whatever passed for the Starfleet data banks in this universe, she could trigger any number of alarms. A low profile was very much called for right now. “Computer, search civilian news feeds, public sector. Information on the following individual. JoNs, MVess Vacer, junior grade lieutenant rank, pilot call sign Left Ear, currently attached to Starfleet Security.” The monotone female voice of the ships computer was compliant. “Searching…” “No information found. Please adjust search parameters.” Left Ear was surprised at that. Oh gods…was she dead in this universe? No information at all? She cleared her throat. “Computer, same search query for the Caitian news feeds, all civilian and business sectors. Go.” “Working…information located.” JoNs promptly devoured the information as it popped up on the screen – even though her jaw dropped several times during the process. === Caitian Civilian Database === Name: JoNs, MVess Vacer Known Aliases: Left Ear, Lefty Age: 29 Family Affiliation: Tribe Honorscar Clan Designation: Shadowpride Status: Single Notes: Captain of the CSS Dark Fury, CX Class. Caitian Cargo transport, registry number unknown, civilian clan ship. Warrants: Unpaid docking ticket, Space Station K-7 Cargo theft, New Mars Transparent Aluminum Corporation Unpaid speeding ticket, issued by Halkan patrol ship === con’t === JoNs began muttering to herself. “…docking ticket, theft, speeding – not in a million years. My brothers would skin me alive.” Against her better judgment, she continued reading the profile, and got more disturbed as she went on. The Dark Fury was a name from the past. At least in “her” universe, the cargo ship had been one of the ships used for Lynxcis Transport, the family run cargo business belonging to a section of the JoNs family. But, that business had been bought out over twenty years ago, and the Fury scrapped. “Great Bird of the Galaxy…” Left Ear whispered. Her entire immediate family was listed on the crew roster for the cargo runner. Her father was the engineer. Her one brother was listed as Helm and First Mate. “Grand Elder MVirran?!” Her grandmother was listed as the financial retainer for the ship and crew. “The woman is in her nineties?! What in….what is she doing zipping around the cosmos?” The children were on the ship as well. It looked as if they were schooled by her Aunt Mrree. “Computer, pull file for JoNs, Mrrett Shaow.” Her fourteen year old guardian child was listed as an engineers mate. “Mrrett…she is an engineer? Oh, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kid blew out a few panels here and there…” But, why was the entire family on this…this clan ship? What made them leave Cait and head for the stars as cargo jockeys? It was like looking through a mirror. The same image, yet reversed, especially the pictures that accompanied the profiles that JoNs perused. She knew, in her heart, that these Caitians were different from the ones that she knew and loved. Left Ear knew she wasn’t looking at…herself, as well. Her counterpart was rougher looking - she might as well break down and say scruffy – mainly due to her facial scarring. Unlike the same scars that JoNs wore, the scruffy JoNs missing ear tip and facial scarring were more…stark. It was as if the wounds were not treated properly, and then healed over, or medical attention had come at a later date. The junior grade lieutenant settled back into her seat, mind blown. “What exactly are we in the middle of here?” There was no forthcoming answer from the bulkhead, but the computer chose to respond to the query with a dissertation on the known occurrences of the alternate universe.