LeftEar JoNs

8.12.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Mirror-mare”

 

Location: ISS Agincourt, Off duty shift cycle

 

Mrrett Shaow JoNs, of tribe Honor Scar, Clan Shadow Pride, and officer of the Imperial Space Ship Agincourt, found herself traversing a Caitian burial ground. Feathers, beads and indigenous plains flowers decorated the small markers that represented the final resting place of these souls.

 

She wore a plain white, close fitting tunic and black linen trousers, ending just below the knee. She sensed an unnatural chill in the air, odd for the flat plains of Cait.

 

A synthetic leather arm band encircled her upper left arm, emblazoned with her family crest – two crossed swords above the head of an ancient saber cat. The same symbol was branded on the underside of her lower right forearm; when two Caits met, either of the same tribe clan or from a different clan, they would lock arms to ensure that the brands touched one another. This signified a racial unity, a shared code even though the Caitians had loyalties to different tribes and clans. She gripped a steel shield strapped to her left forearm, and a long sword was gripped in her right hand. The metals were black as onyx, glinting evilly in the waning daylight with the JoNs family crest prominently displayed on the shield.

 

“You are not welcome here. You should not be here.”

 

JoNs whirled around at the voice, searching the graveyard for the speaker. Her feline eyes locked onto another Caitian standing nearby among the headstones.

 

Her exact twin stood there with the same golden fur tone, the same features and the exact same clothing. The only differences were the weapons and the design of the crest symbol The weapons of the imposter showed a brilliant silver. A delicate filigree of knot work bordered the head of the cat beast in a diamond shape, replacing the clashing swords of her family symbol.

 

“Who are you?” JoNs demanded once again of the doppelganger, as she had in past encounters. “Explain yourself. This is my ancestral burial ground. I have every right to be here. I am Mrrett Shaow JoNs of Tribe Honor Scar and Clan Shadow Pride. ”

 

The other answered, eerily using the same voice as M’rrett. “I am Mrrett Shaow JoNs, of Tribe Honor Scar. Again, I repeat, it is you who do not belong here. You anger my family guardians.”

 

Dark Shield Mrrett registered the fact that there was no clan designation used, but the thought was fleeting as her temper bristled at the doppelgangers response. “It is you who do not belong imposter. This is the resting place of several generations of Shadow Prides.”

 

Silver Shield Mrrett retorted with, “No. Again I say it is you who do not belong. This is not your time or place. The ancestor guardians will protect this zone from all trespassers; there is no place for your darkness here. You must return through the looking glass to your own time. ”

 

Mrrett had had enough of this and her temper finally flared. Not considering the consequences, she rushed at the doppelganger with a battle cry, sword held high and ready to strike. The silver shield double brought her defensive weapon up in time to deflect the attack and then countered with her own sword. The sword swished in a deadly arc, blocked as well by the dark shield of M’rrett. The two women continued to trade blows for several minutes, the steel of their weapons ringing loudly across the burial ground. JoNs saw and opening and rushed at her double, intent on slicing her deeply.

 

With no warning, the ground exploded in front of her, stopping her charge and causing her to jump backwards. To her horror, skeletal Caitians began clawing their way out of the surrounding graves. They emerged from their eternal slumber, until M’rrett was surrounded by ten of the demons. Their sightless eye sockets glowed a sickly yellow. She turned quickly from right to left, snarling at the undead with a mixture of fear and anger.

 

Silver Mrrett pointed her sword toward Dark Mrrett. “You were warned Caitian rogue. Your kind has no place in the light. You will return to your shadow world.”

 

With a howling snarl that cut to the soul, one of the undead leapt at M’rrett. She had no time to bring her shield up as the claws slashed at her, ripping through her fur and into her skin…she fell…and then there was darkness.

 

Kansas jolted awoke in a sweat and panting, safe in her darkened quarters on the Agincourt. Bolting upright, she called out, “Lights!” She leapt out of the bed, throwing the covers from her. She rushed toward the washroom sink, slapping at the controls. She splashed cold water on her face.

 

The nausea became overwhelming. Bracing her clawed hands on either side of the sink, she dry retched a few times, her back arching up with the effort. Panting, she stared at the water dribbling down the drain of the stainless plasti-aluminum steel sink, concentrating on controlling her breathing and calming her heart rate. Once calm enough, her gaze traveled to the mirror above the sink.

 

The reflection looking back at her was the same as always, yet eerily a match for the dream twin. Rather, it was more a nightmare then a dream. Her senses were going ballistic. There was more to this then she realized; these nocturnal episodes placing her at odds with a counterpart, though sporadic, had plagued her for years. Tonights had been a bit different, leaving her feeling highly disconcerted, and she wanted to know why.

 

The doppelganger had mentioned a looking glass back to her own time, as if Kansas had been trespassing somehow. And the symbolism was not lost on her – light and dark weapons, good and evil. But, why had Kansas possessed the black weapons, the traditional evil looking weapons? Now that was just character assassination.

 

It had been recorded in the fleet archives that years ago the ISS Enterprise, James Kirk commanding, had encountered an alternate universe, inhabited by their exact opposites. These goodly opposites, due to an ion storm that had fried the transporters, had ended up on the alternate ISS ship. Kirk and some of his officers had been replaced by these do gooders, with their weak personalities.

 

Was this what Kansas was encountering in these dreams? Was it a manifestation of an alternate self, a goodly counterpart?

 

Or it could be a load of targ crud. And she needed to go to bed at a decent hour.

 

Besides, let’s say all this could happen - there was no way anyone’s “good counterpart” would last two minutes on the Agincourt, and Kansas was pretty sure she could beat the ever living snot out of an alternate self if it ever came down to it.

 

With a sigh, she shut off the water and walked back toward the sleeping area. The chrono display on her bedside table read 4 AM. In a few hours she’d be on duty, and she just could not bring herself to go back to sleep, so she might as well stay up. The Caitian threw on a steel blue colored sweat suit with the Agincourt security logo on the left chest area and exited her quarters. It was time for some nocturnal prowling; it was amazing what one could find happening on an Imperial ship in the wee hours of the morning.

 

She might even be catching some sleep demons. She had never been one to back down from a fight, either in reality or fantasy.

 

The time would come, yes indeed.

 

Lieutenant M.S. “Kansas” JoN’s

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

8.4.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“The Joy of Discipline”

 

Lt. JoNs stalked down the corridor toward Robairs private quarters. Stopping in front of the door, she exchanged a look with the security guard standing outside on his duty shift guarding Robair. His look said "What'd you do?" Her look said "Don't ask, it's a long story". JoNs rang the buzzer indicating she had arrived.

 

"Enter," stated Robair to the door, as he eagerly stretched out comfortably on his bed. He wouldn't admit it, but he had been waiting for this moment for several months. He watched JoNs as she entered, and a smile grew on his face, despite the fact she had not followed orders to wear something sexual. "Come on over, and we'll discuss what you've done and what we're going to do to settle it."

 

Standing at parade rest attention, JoNs regarded her superior. "I see. Is this how you conduct all department disciplinary business sir?" She bared her fangs slightly. Looking her body over, Robair merely smiled. "Oh, of course not. There aren't very many females in a security department, so I only get this luxury on special occasions."

 

JoNs cocked her head to one side, flicking an ear back. "What gave you any indication that I have any desire to...play in your sandbox?"

 

"I see your tail wag every time you see me, JoNs. And, besides, I'll order you to fill my desires before I check indications of your own." Robair sits up, placing his arms around his knees. "Come on over, kitten."

 

"No, actually sir it wags because I am a Caitian and we do that whole tail swish thing." Then, moving with an unnatural speed she pounced Robair.

 

Robair was quite surprised by the pounce, and may have screamed a bit. "Fiesty, are you? Well, let's just see what you can do!" He threw the cover up over their heads. "What do you do best, may I ask?"

 

With a purring in sharp contrast to the feral smile she wore, JoNs regarded her commanding officer and his rather...surprising disciplinary tactic. "I do many things well...but, one question. Are you sure you wish to...cavort with a non-Terran? You're taking quite the risk." Her claws danced menacingly along his neck.

 

Robair laughed a bit. "Just because I believe that non-Terran life forms are benign to Terrans doesn't mean I don't enjoy their company at... special events such as this. It is actually nice to have some different styles every now and again." With this, Robair kissed JoNs on the cheek. Kansas purred at the kiss. "I as well enjoy...the occasional distraction." Her claw moved gently down his arm, but her eyes locked onto his. ”One condition. What goes on in here stays in here. In our business, not being careful means our death..." She let the statement hang in the air.

 

"Oh, Kansas, I wouldn't dream of letting this get out into the open. Our little secret... and I like the purring." Robair brought Kansas up on top of him. "The walls are thick. Don't bother being too quiet, my beautiful kitten."

 

"Chief...this is one of the more pleasant disciplinary actions I have encountered." Purring deeply, Kansas leaned down and kissed Robair on the lips. Robair returned the kiss immediately. "Lieutenant, this one of the greatest disciplinary actions I've ever ordered. You must get in trouble more often." Robair began sliding his hand up Kansas' mid-drift, as his mouth made way for the cat's neck.

 

Reacting favorably to Robair's touch, she chuckled and her purring became louder. "In more trouble? Oh, of course. You know me..."

 

Lt. Commander Benjamin Robair

Second Officer-Chief Security Officer

 

Lt. (SG) M.S. “Kansas” JoNs

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

8.2.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Sarcasm on Stun!”

 

“Well, isn’t this a royal pain.” JoNs stood in the small office area in her private quarters, venting. She silently padded over to the closet and started rummaging. “Wear something revealing he says. Like Hades I will.” She should really consider herself lucky. Six months on the Agincourt and this was the first time Robair had fully zoned in on her. In the past, he had only gone on mild disciplinary rants with the Caitian. Annoyed, she mentally replayed Robairs discipline overtoned little speech to her on the bridge.

 

“You were late for your duty shift.”

 

Well, derrrr, that will happen when you brawl with a sciences officer, and then get waylaid by Lieutenant Prell for breaking a portion of his ship during dang said brawl. It did not help that Lieutenant Kroells showed up, throwing his weight around and trying to “claim” his officer. Both men basically got into a spitting in the galactic wind contest to see who had the bigger…authority. The Caitian smirked. So many comments, so little time.

 

“This is not good.”

 

Thank you Captain James T. Obvious.

 

“Report to my quarters when you are off duty.”

 

Oh dear. Talk about going into the wolf’s den. On the bright side, Robair was keeping it a private matter between the two.

 

During security training at the academy, JoNs had been researching for her Disciplinary Methods through the Ages class. She had come across a text document gleaned from the records of a Rihan war bird from many years back. This ship, the Claw, had been commanded by t’Raptor. She had apparently sentenced half the crew to flogging for active participation in a mutiny plot alongside some giant sentient octopi...or maybe it was shrimp…flounder? Anyway, some seafood being. The entire crew…well at least those not sentenced…were called to bear witness to the event in the shuttle bay. Very public message.

 

As a result, the Caitian was more then happy to endure her one on one session with the Chief.

 

Discarding her favored golden wrap tunic, she slipped into the mid drift baring version of the uniform. With a final snarl, she stalked out of her quarters and headed toward her destination, tail lashing.

 

“This is as revealing as you’re going to get buddy boy.”

 

Lt. (SG) M.S. “Kansas” JoNs

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

7.30.06

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Fight Club”

 

JoNs, dressed in black workout shorts and a black tank top emblazoned with the Imperial symbol, stalked down one of the side corridors. She was heading for the gym area, intent on a good workout.

 

Coming from the opposite direction in that same corridor was a certain scientist, in her own civvies of earth-toned brown and loose-fitting black pants. Brushing past the Caitian, she frowned, rolling her eyes. Her patience was tried from a few sharp-mouthed ensigns, and she was in no mood for oversized felines who'd found their way through the ranks more than a little too quickly. "Belong as pets," she muttered, half under her breath.

 

Stopping in mid stride, JoNs caught the remark. She turned and spoke as Quade walked past her. "I agree wholeheartedly...you belong as a pet. Possibly with a little g-string action toward some upper ranking officer that you have mislead as to your capabilities..."

 

Diane smiled as she turned, quelling the little uprising of anger that the smartass housecat ignited. "Oh, but you misunderstand, Lieutenant. I wasn't referring to me -- I was referring to you." Her arms at her sides, she raised her eyebrows. "I think you fit the overall description better than I..."

 

The Caitian paused for a moment, eyed Quade, and then spoke. "I know. That was my version of an involuntary reflex action a la mouth, also known as being a smart ass. But I would like to know - do you have some particular problem with me?"

 

"Other than the fact that a non-Terran... excuse me... not only a non-Terran, but a non-humanoid has somehow managed to con her way through the ranks, when there are worthier humans." She smirked, turning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some training to do, Kitty."

 

Service to the Imperial fleet was not without its constant stresses and hardships. Occasionally, things boiled to the service and one felt the need to open a carafe of whoop ass. "Hey!" Kansas leapt at Quade with a snarl. The science officer turned in time to greet the incoming furball as they both toppled through the doors to the gym area when the sensors reacted to the movement.

 

Crewmembers already in the workout area gazed at the rolling pair and stopped what they were doing or got out of the way.

 

Smacking at the hissy little tactician, Diane managed to find her way to her feet. "As you were," she announced to the crowd. Rubbing her hands together, she cracked her knuckles. "So Kitty can't control that feral nature, eh?"

 

“What are YOU looking at?! You heard the woman, as you were." The hissy tactician turned back to the prissy science nerd. "Feral? Who me? I'm sure it has nothing to do with that whole felinoid thing. And I tend to get cranky when beings question my competency." She adopted a fighting crouch.

 

Doubling her fists, she smirked. "Oh, I generally am the same way when I'm critiqued. Just part of being in the Fleet. We humans are assured that we're the cream of the crop to be aboard. As for an alien... such an assurance is harder to obtain." She swung a fist around towards JoNs almost lazily.

 

Dancing nimbly out of the way, the felinoid grabbed at the woman and brought her right knee up to connect with Quade's midsection as the science officer’s momentum carried her forward. "Then I'll just have to convince you otherwise..." JoNs worked her way around behind the downed woman.

 

“You do that,” she advised, chuckling in spite of how it ached the bruising muscles in her stomach. Swinging around again, she let a stronger, more determined fist connect with the edge of JoNs' mouth. Caught off guard by the quickness of the retaliation, the feline officer ended up flat on her back. Remaining on her back, she pointed upward. "That was good. The impact I give a ten. The form and follow through were a little rough though."

 

"I'm a little out of practice," she admitted. "Not as finely tuned as you goldshirts."In an uncharacteristic move for her dealings with inferior species, she offered Kansas a hand. With a "yowl" of unbridled glee and a crazy smile, Kansas took the proferred hand and then proceeded to pull, falling again onto her back and planting her feet (claws not digging thank you very much) squarely on Quades stomach and smoothly sending her flying.

 

Off-balance, she awkwardly rolled onto one side on her stomach, muttering. "Ungrateful and untrustworthy. I might even say 'catty'. She pushed off onto her feet again, a sharp glare aimed at the Caitian.

 

Kansas responded to the glare by smiling and motioning her paws in a "come on" gesture. "Lieutenant Quade. I'm not getting any younger here." With an equally crazy yell of her own, Quade rushed at the Caitian.

 

The impact of the running tackle carried them both right at the glass plasteel safety barrier for the second floor.

 

A resounding crash sounded as bits and pieces of the shattered barrier rained outward and down as the two officers crashed into it. The dynamic demented dueling duo went airborne, falling from the second floor down into the first floor pool. An ongoing water polo match was rudely interrupted as the two women crashed the party and landed with splashes in the water among the players.

 

Sputtering water, the Caitian called out to the pool inhabitants. ""Pay no attention to the, ahem, landing party. We are just playing through...right Ms. Quade?"

 

Diane screeched, inhaling a lungful of pool water. "Playing! Exactly! Like children, or kittens!"

 

Lieutenant Junior Grade Diane Quade

Assistant Science Officer

 

Lieutenant Senior Grade M.S. “Kansas” JoNs

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security

 

7.28.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Networking”

 

“And they call this progress?”

 

“There’s something to be said for a good old fashioned flogging.”

 

“Yeearrrrrgh!”

 

- ISS Enterprise, 2155, Captain Forrest, First Officer Archer, and Crewman Terav, respectively (regarding the “Agony Booth”, a newly developed discipline enforcer for use in the Fleet).

________________________________

 

M.S. JoNs stood, casually leaning against a cargo container as she watched the little drama play out before her. Her clawed fingers rested idly on the butt of her holstered sawed-off stun rifle.

 

Crewman Mason banged against the bulkhead as a blue fist smashed into his temple, leaving a bruise. Petty Officer Tager drew back his arm in preparation for another swipe. Another of her sometimes henchmen, a fellow security officer, stood nearby with a phaser trained on the enlisted cargo technician. Between the Andorian’s strength and Ensign Rrowl with the phaser, Mason stood no chance of fighting back.

 

A small grunt of pain escaped from the enlisted man’s lips. JoNs lifted an eyebrow in sympathy. Nasty business, this discipline, yet control needed to be maintained. She disliked having to come down this hard on someone so young, yet if she didn’t someone else would. She could have opted for using the Agonizer or the Agony booth, but had decided not too. The whip, while a brutally useful weapon at times, she preferred to use for moderate to severe offenses or random acts of stupidity. So, the option was to have a couple of her henchmen take Mason down to one of the cargo bays and work him over. One thing was for certain – the crewman was receiving a personal lesson on how business was conducted on the Agincourt. Both official and…unofficial business.

 

Tager again punched Mason, backhanded him, and then a leg sweep dumped the man with a resounding slam to the decking. His face impacted with the unyielding surface.

 

“Enough.” Her purred voice, while quiet, reverberated within the deserted cargo bay. The beating had lasted long enough; anything more would be overkill for such a minor offense

 

Mason attempted to try and get up at that point, going for Tager in his dazed state.

 

“STAY DOWN, or you’ll get more of the same!” It came out as a snarled order from the feline officer. Mason slumped back down to the decking.

 

Blood poured from his lip and a cut on his left cheekbone. He feebly coughed, spitting out blood, saliva, and a dislodged molar tooth onto the flooring.

 

Tager stood off to the side, keeping an eye on the downed Mason. Her male Caitian counterpart, Rrowl, backed up two steps to flank Kansas and face Mason, arms crossed. The cargo tech rolled over onto his hands and knees, his jaw clenched tight, his thick dark brown hair in disarray from his ordeal.

 

She casually walked over to stand in front of the kneeling Mason. With a natural feline grace, she bent on one knee, picking up the tooth gingerly between thumb and forefinger claws. A bit of red sinewy muscle still clung to the top of the tooth. She stood again and looked down at the man.

 

She let the silence stretch for a few more seconds before speaking. “Crewman Mason. I assume you know why you are here?”

 

Not looking up at the Caitian, he responded. “Aye Sir. I was late for my duty shift.”

 

“Correct. And?”

 

“I also made profit on a portion of a cargo shipment that was not officially recorded on the Agincourt registry.”

 

A cocky, yet not unkind smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That is completely incorrect.”

 

That got his attention. His gaze finally locked onto her, a mixture of pain and curiosity showing in his ice purple eyes.

 

Her tail casually swished back and forth. “All ship manifests are cleared through security, and can be updated accordingly if you catch my meaning. Keep that in mind for any future personal endeavors. You really do not want to annoy Imperial security by bypassing our systems.”

 

She continued. “Now, with the official Imperial Security speech out of the way, here is my personal one. Next time, inform me regarding any further dealings, I will clear the way, and all will be happy as the credits flow. You savvy Petty Officer?” She punctuated the words with a slight snarl on the “savvy”.

 

His mother thankfully did not raise a fool. “Yes Sir.” If anything, the enlisted man looked a bit surprised at the overtone of the conversation – a partnership of sorts with the Caitian.

 

Kansas nodded, satisfied. “Good.” She offered him a paw up; after a few seconds hesitation, he grasped her clawed paw and accepted the help up.

 

She looked past Mason and spoke to Tager. “Excellent work as usual. Your payment will arrive at your quarters within the next few hours. Return to your post.” Tager saluted and turned to exit the cargo bay.

 

JoNs turned and spoke to her remaining enforcer, “Rrowl, turn the Crewman loose. Escort him to sickbay. Have the medical staff treat and remove his wounds, on my orders. If the doctors ask too many questions, tell them to contact me.

 

“And see if they can do anything with this. I don’t know, shove it back in or something...” – she tossed the tooth at Mason, but contined speaking directly to Rrowl. Mason caught his own tooth but stared at it in the palm of his hand as if it did not belong to him – “then return to your duties. You will also receive payment.” Rrowl also saluted and moved to comply with the orders.

 

Kansas walked over to a nearby container, snatching a small cloth pouch from the top. She turned and tossed the pouch in the air. Mason tore his attention away from the tooth long enough to catch the pouch as it arced down toward him.

 

“After you are treated, return to your post. You’ll find two cred sticks in that pouch, worth about 15 credits each. Not much, but a start. Play your dabo chips right boy, and you’ll do very well here. ”

 

Mason saluted with his free hand, wincing at the strain the movement placed on his various bruises. Kansas watched the “new recruit” and his escort leave the bay with a feral half smile.

 

She stayed for a few moments in the slightly darkened cargo bay, enjoying the solitude, reflecting on the day’s business, and letting her senses search for any movement or surprises. Her thoughts wandered to the payment Mason had just received. She had made a tidy little profit on a kit of hypos liberated from the medical bay a few weeks back; she had intended to use them for a mission, but ultimately ended up selling them for a nice little off the market price right here on the Agincourt. Might as well share the wealth…and build some new informants in the process.

 

Satisfied that she was now alone, JoNs exited the cargo bay, business taken care off, intent on taking her post on the bridge.

 

Lieutenant Senior Grade M.S. “Kansas” JoN’s

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

7.21.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Supply and Demand” (Mature)

 

(A joint log by Levy and JoNs)

 

Lt. JoNs strode down the corridor leading to the main sickbay entrance, carrying a small sized plasteel container by the handle. The doors whooshed open obligingly, admitting the Caitian officer to the inner domain of the sickbay. Her feline eyes searched for Dr. Desdemona Levy.

 

Mona looked up from the padd she had been reading in her office. She quickly stood up and walked to the door and looked around for Kansas. She caught the Lt's gaze and motioned for her to come in

 

Kansas headed over to the doctors office with the merchandise in tow. She nodded politely to Levy as she passed her. "Doctor. That shipment that you had security looking for finally came in..." It was a bald face lie, purely for show in case anyone was listening. This meeting had been planned in advance weeks ago between the two female officers. .

 

Mona smiled and let Kansas enter. With a quick motion she locked the doors behind her and walked back to her desk. "So Lt JoNs, come to steal more of my hypo sprays?"

 

With a good natured smirk, the Caitian set the container down on the office desk and regarded the CMO. "Only if there is a profit in it for the two of us, eh?" Her clawed fingertips deftly entered a series of commands into the containers numerical grid, popping the top with a hiss. Kansas reached in and removed five credit sticks, wrapped in a bundle, tossing them to Levy. They clattered across the surface of the desk. "That last batch yielded some very good prices.” The Caitian smiled, baring her fangs.

 

Picking up the bundle she quickly glanced over it. "I am one of the best at this type of thing. I have been doing it for long enough." She gave the Caitian a sweet smile. "So what are our clients looking like these days? I assume the drugs are doing what they are supposed to."

 

"The trade on the Agincourt has dropped off lately, but we still have a couple clients going in the marines. They look like danged walking Neanderthals, but hey, that is the price for strength and stamina." She pointed a claw at the brightly colored cred sticks. "Most of that profit came from the star base layover during our last shore leave."

 

Mona nodded slightly. She ran her fingers slowly across the stack of credits. Not even looking up at the Caitian she harshly said. "Maybe you should try and do you job a little better. I have carried out my part of this deal."

 

Kansas showed no emotion, other then the low tone of growling that entered her purred voice. "Don't ###### me off Doctor Levy. We've been through this before; I sell where the customers are. The crew is getting wary of the command staff catching on; therefore, I and my contacts need to wait until we dock at a star base to sell the stuff, at least for now. You know you could do a little scouting now and then as well." Her tail lashed.

 

Mona crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Kansas across the table. "My dear Kansas, I didn't mean to make you angry. All I am saying is we must all stay on top of things." A smile spread across her face. "And as for the command staff...you forget the type of authority I have. Please don't trouble yourself with that type of thought."

 

"Mmmm-hmmm." The feline security officer lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have the next batch of medical" - she cleared her throat -” supplies ready or not?

 

Mona tapped a small console on her desk and a drawer opened and the side of the desk. She carefully pulled out a small silver case. Setting it on the desk she pushed it across the table. "Of course. I believe it is one of my better batches. I had a nice young Marine tell me so the other day." she paused a moment "you see Kansas, I do really do more than you think"

 

Kansas looked down and fingered the plain silver case for moment before locking her green slitted eyes back onto the medical officer. "I don't doubt it. I just hope that the jarhead was one of the smarter ones. Wouldn't want you to lower yourself or anything Doctor."

 

She chuckled slightly to herself. "One of my smarter ones? I don't think it will be a problem, he didn't even know what he had taken. Most men don't ask if a pretty girl gives them something. It doesn't help that I am a telepath either."

 

Again Kansas raised an eyebrow at Levy, particularly the telepath comment. “No, I can imagine where that is a handy little talent to have...but I do hope you aren't reading my thoughts on a regular basis." A feral smile punctuated the statement. "Wouldn’t want you to have access to any type of security codes that you wouldn’t want to be caught...dead with."

 

The doctor fixed her black eyes on the Caitian for a few moments and then just smiles. "My dear JoNs, I would never do anything like that. It would be a breach of trust."

 

Green eyes and black eyes locked for a moment, mirror images, each holding an equal darkness in their depths. "Of course. Doctor Levy."

 

Lt. Doctor Desdemona Levy

Chief Medical Officer

 

Lieutenant M.S. “Kansas” JoNs

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

7.21.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Firebrand”

 

Firebrand. I was called that many moons ago by the highly agitated Terran XO of the Thundercat. Right before she socked me across the mouth in a disciplinary action. But, I digress.

 

In the Caitian tongue, “phyreb’rrand” means “one who hunts in the night”. In the Terran language, the meaning is “one who causes unrest or strife”. Amusing how one word can have such differing meanings, yet you need to consider the sources. Perhaps both descriptions are accurate, at least in my case.

 

Serving as an officer in the Imperial Fleet has its benefits. I have had the opportunity to observe Terrans up close, learn how they handle themselves. I have developed my own “night hunter” skills and have become comfortable working in the shadows, for this is the only way for a lone Caitian to survive in this fleet of damned souls.

 

You can do your plotting and your planning. Desire that command of your own. Crave power. Wallow in your deceptions.

 

The hunters are out there. Waiting in the shadows. Observing. Alert for the correct moment to attack. Sleep is our ally and your downfall.

 

I am waiting. Observing. Watching. That shadow you saw, was it just a trick of the lighting or was it me on my patrol rounds, observing who it was that you just spoke to in conversation? Will you feel my claws shred into your skin. Will you feel my incisor fangs clamp down on your carotid artery, the warm blood oozing from your body?

 

Or perhaps something as mundane as a bypass of security coding, the implanting of sensitive information on your personal computer, information that you have no business having.

 

And yet, you may not be worthy of my time. But, perhaps you are…

 

The shadow moves. You are alone. The darkness envelopes you as the Reaper calls your name.

 

I am a predator by nature. The night shadows are always a constant, always a threat. And we are always hunting.

 

Lieutenant M.S. “Kansas” JoN’s

Chief Tactical – Assistant Security Officer

Jump to conclusions? Us? About the relationship between Lord High Regent Daks and his Girl Friday of Bondage Odile? Oh....neeeeevvvvveeerrr.

Could I have - Rogue Caitian.

 

Thanks! Flashes her ::Highly Evil Feline Grin: