Kansas

I don't know about a plastic Enterprise, or a metal case, or insignia. I purchased the two disc non Blu Ray DVD, with a plain movie art/title slip cover and the plastic hard case; the package contains the movie, a digital copy, and all extras. Bling is all well and good, but sometimes you just want to get at the object in question: a good adventure movie. :-)

Two sweeties! My congratulations to Mom and the family!

The Spock/Uhuru romance thing has been done before, and is one of many topics explored throughout this thread: Touched on briefly in the 1st season Original Series episode Charlie X. It was an off duty lounge scene, Uhuru was singing and teasing him, he was smirking -- yes, smirking, TOS Spock was actually showing emotion -- and the impression was that the two had some sort of past chemistry/romantic leanings. Any hinted at Uhuru/Spock romantic chemistry was dropped for the remainder of the series, obviously, along with any noticeable future slips into emotion for Spock. DVD extras confirm: I *think* during either Quinto's introduction or Saldana's (Casting), there is a voiceover that confirms -- I'm paraphrasing here -- the Spock/Uhuru characters are exploring a past path never taken with the two Trek characters. In other words, a revisit to Charlie X expanded. Mister Loverboy: Of course Kirk was staring at Uhuru and Spock kissing on the platform...this guy is used to getting all the girls! He hit on her in the bar scene. He kept trying to get her to tell him her first name. He, ah, had relations we assume with her roommate. Mister Loverboy is prolly shocked Uhuru went for Spock instead of him! ;) **SPOILERS** Anyone catch the Rura Penthe excerpt among the deleted scenes? The helmets that that Klingon guards sport remind me of the Predator helmets from Predator/Aliens vs. Predator movies.

Pirates are way cooler then Ninjas or Vikings. Spamalicious.

A few advertisements were flashed a couple months back; there's also an article at Wikipedia. So, Stargate Universe will follow the adventures of a crew working from an Ancient ship. The article maintains that it will be "dark and edgy", and will supposedly appeal to both veteran fans and allow new fans to watch without being overloaded with all the canon backstory. I've never gotten interested in Stargate, so I'm assuming if I wanted to dive in, I'd do so with this series. Lou Diamond Phillips will be taking on the role of a Colonel Telford, but it's not known if he is a permanent series regular after the pilot. That whole "ship based crew" and "dark and edgy" thing makes it sound as if Stargate gets together with Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica Re-Imagined. Not saying that this formula is a bad thing, but definitely a blending of sci fi show formula. SG-1 lasted for what, 10 seasons? Atlantis was on for five seasons, and that's pretty good for a spin off. Universe will either last for one season, two at the most, or crash and burn within 12 episodes. No middle ground with this series, my opinion.

MISSION BRIEF: Our ETA from the Romulan Border is 30 minutes. Colonel Harper is holed up in her Bridge ready room, finalizing the last minute details of our search mission for possible Soltan incurson and theft within Romulan space. All Dept Heads, Line Officers and Shift Leads are either on duty at their bridge/department stations or are off duty. JoNs has called a meeting for the Marine Battalion reps (line officers, senior enlisted) to attend in the main NNC gym. CourtChatLog11.18.09.doc

11.18.09 Agincourt Mission Update: The Agincourt continues forth into Romulan territory to investigate a possible Soltan presence with regard to activities and theft of Romulan property. The chief engineer has some doubts regarding her Rihan background and our mission; her senior line officer attempts to offer some comfort. A new private is slated to join Snoop Teams recon patrol squad. The Ships CO deals with the last minute logistical planning of our current mission while her XO jumps from command red to marine gray for a career change. Note: Time Between Sims is a few hours. We will not be meeting on 11.25.09 due to the Holiday. The In Character scheduled senior staff/department head meeting will be Simmed on Dec 2.

Note: this log takes place just after the 11.18.09 Sim. 11.18.09 USS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Darn Will-ful Cat” A lot of things and events could happen in a period of thirty six hours: some good, some bad, and some events that you truly never saw coming. And she had truly not seen this one coming. Blindsided. Out of the Blue. Someday you’re the clear dura-plasti shuttlecraft windshield, and other days you’re the Tiger Mosquito. The whole situation was definitely a splat factor within these last thirty six hours. Seething didn’t even begin to describe the state of mind of Comman…Lieutenant Colonel Kansas ‘Will” JoNs. The feline officer was downright snarked off at the current state of Marine based transfer and ranking affairs that she found herself in. And through no fault of her own, thank you very much. For the last hour or so, Kansas had retired to and been holed up in her private office on the NNC Marine Command deck, with the entry door closed and the picture window that exposed the main deck area of the NNC set to dark opaque as well in order to give her a bit of privacy as she attended to her personal matters. Kansas had already spoken to (read: needed a shoulder to rant on) Colonel Harper, who had of course been made aware of and been copied in on her first officers internal dual transfer to Battalion Exec and accompanying Lieutenant Colonel rank. Despite her normal reaction of sympathy, Harper had still responded to her officer in the only logical Medusian way possible -- “Every single officer who serves in this Fleet is a soldier to a capacity or extent, and we go where we are needed and ordered”. Which was senior colonel code speak for: Yes, I’m totally sympathetic towards your current situation Kansas, but you need to calm down and get a grip before I boot you one. Colonel Harper code talk translation skills. I haz dem. Level two clearance. JoNs wasn’t normally the complainer type. And the hallmark of any good officer, squid, shark, geek, medico, or grease monkey alike was to adapt and move forward no matter what a situation threw at you. The golden furred Cait understood this outlook on life, but all the same she was still damned well going to ask some pertinent questions regarding her current situation. Anyway, back to the current crises at hand: her lateral department transfer orders from Naval commander to Marine lieutenant colonel had come directly from General Kerrin Tor, Office of Starfleet Personnel Transfers, Subsection: Soltan Response Task Force/Joint Marine and Security and Pilot Readiness. For the last hour, the feline command…lieutenant colonel had been attempting to track down this general responsible for her new rank and branch assignment, via the subspace wireless network in order to have some ‘words’ with her distant superior officer across the parsecs. And that ratfink, paper pushing, desk flying, so and so had been avoiding her, she was sure of it! Okay okay, in all fairness, the desk flying and paper pushing descriptions might have been a bit nasty and over the edge…but JoNs was still ticked off to no end. If you were going to screw up someone’s career or job plans, then at least be available by pager communicator badge, or something. General Kerrin Tor was a forty year veteran of the Federation Marine service, and had come up the Starfleet ranks the hard way. In other words, she had scraped her way through many a foxhole and ground engagements across dozens of planets over the years before being kicked upstairs into administrative duties for the Marine branch of the Starfleet. Kansas had perused the personnel file of said mofo ratfink, and honestly, she had come to respect the woman through the sheer digital leakage of power coming through the service jacket transcript that showcased the now senior administrative ground pounders service time. Didn’t mean Will was particularly fond of the woman though, battlefield decorations and campaign ribbons aside. The Bajoran woman currently held the rank of Brigadier General, and aside from a few recent special ops engagements that she had overseen personally, she had not been rotated into direct battle for well over ten years. However, JoNs would be credits to navy beans that Kerrin could still do the dance of the ground pounder and show the current Devil Dog generation a thing or three or four about their chosen profession. The wireless signal confirmed that an answering signal had finally been picked up at the San Fran personnel offices, or at least connected by some office yeoman, and shortly thereafter the image of a light skinned Bajoran female popped into existence on JoNs’s computer monitor. She was a woman who had strong though lean features, almost Vulcan like in her appearance if not for the typical crinkle of skin at the bridge of the nose. Her light brown hair, worn in a regulation style one length cut that ended just below her chin line, had begun to go silver. Mentally, Kansas immediately took in the physical features of the gropo administrator within a flat count of five seconds. Like most -- but not all -- Bajorans who followed the religion of her species, one ear lobe sported a plain silver earring that was interconnected to a cartilage cuff attachment. Kerrin offered a guarded though warm smile, and launched into the business at hand without so much as a hello. Her eyes, which were a light brown were bright and alert, but also showed cunning in their depths and a military shrewdness from a lifetime of service. “Lieutenant Colonel JoNs. I admit that I’ve been expecting your call since your personal orders were shunted out in the digital packet.” With an effort, the golden furred leonine Cait ignored the general weirdness of hearing that foreign rank precede her last name, and the surname had grown quite attached to the ‘Commander’ designation thank you very much. “Damn right you’ve been expecting my call. With all due respect General Kerrin, What gives you the right to go messing with my career options?” This Cat was direct. Then again her personnel file did state as much. “This does,” Kerrin pointed a slender finger at the general pay grade insignia cluster affixed to her uniform collar, “as well as my appointment to the Office of Personnel post Soltan attack. This Fleet needs to be ready in the future for any more attacks, surprise or not, and it’s now my job and my departments job to make sure all of our best personnel and ships are maneuvered into positions better able to fortify our battalions and fleets.” “Is this Marine rank and departmental assignment temporary or permanent?” Although, JoNs had a feeling that the point was probably moot as the rank and departmental specialty transfer had already gone through as official. “Temporary with regard to the current Rihan border mission that the Agincourt has embarked on; to be frank, the Fleet brass wants two Marines in charge of the Agincourt for right now. Permanent depends on the general outcome as well as the continued threat of the Soltan. Listen to me JoNs: either way and no matter the service branch rank, you are a capable officer and you wouldn’t be the XO on one of the lead line ships if you had your head up your ass.” So, I’m the latest in some sort of recruiting and reconfiguring experiment. Joy. The compliment fell on deaf ears, as the fiery Cait was way too hot under the collar to read anything else into the statement other then sure fire annoyance on her part. “Excuse me, General, but I came up through the ranks as a Security officer, and my training and operational MO has always been Naval. An officer can’t just laterally jump departments let alone a rank and specialty!” “Untrue. Trans departmental and rank changes can be rare but are not unheard of, and the event has happened in certain instances since the inception of the Starfleet. If you’re the type of officer I think you are, you’ve already accessed my own profile to see who it is you are dealing with. You obviously read that I started in the non commissioned Naval ranks, then opted for line officer training and transferred over into the commissioned Marine ranks. I started at the rank of First El Tee and then worked my way through the tiers of service options.” With an effort, Kansas managed to not interrupt the woman, waiting until she was done with that particular litany on the inner workings of the Fleet and Marine ranking structures. “Be that as it may Ma’am, I do not like having my career toyed with.” The golden furred feline’s ears were so flat against her head that she looked like she didn’t have any ears in the first place. “In other words, based on your little recruitment spiel, I’m fine as long as I don’t screw up on this Rihan mission with regard to this nice little colonel experiment.” “It has not been toyed with Lieutenant Colonel. You may have started out as a Naval squid, Lord help us, but you’ve had the Marine basic training and have served alongside any number of both commissioned and non commissioned ground pounder officers, learning by example. You also agreed to serve in whatever capacity and go where needed when you signed on that dotted line those years ago JoNs.” “Does this have anything to do with a little known Reserve Activation Clause, General Kerrin? I’m asking because there seem to be a few peculiar instances throughout the ‘Fleet history where the clause seems to be invoked during times like this, such as a threat to Earth or Federation borders. Granted…we have the Soltan instead of V’Ger this time around…” JoNs trailed off, her tone direct and her eyes hard. “And history can and will repeat itself Lieutenant Colonel, and you know your Federation history.” Ever since the Soltan attack on the Earth, the Starfleet and embarked on a protective military grade mobilization that in some ways almost dwarfed the Dominion War scramble of the 2380’s. Personnel and ships were moved, bunkers were erected, and all bets were off. “…what exactly are we mobilizing for here Ma’am?” “The Soltan.” Kerrins lips twitched a bit in anger and her tone was slightly sarcastic though very well schooled; she was not used to having her statements or orders questioned, least of all by an inquisitive Cait. Now JoNs’s muzzle twitched in annoyance and she spoke with a mild reproof at the other females tone. “Thank you Sir, because I’m not up on my latest Intel on public enemy one. So, if you’ve taken a career security squid and made them a marine lieutenant colonel and battalion exec, what’s next? Take a few gropos and put ‘em in charge of flight ops for a planetary base?” “Actually, yes. The simple fact Lieutenant Colonel is we need to mobilize wherever necessary to meet the continued threat of the Soltans, personnel transfers included.” “…what are my options. Sir.” JoNs was still respectful, but the sir was tacked on as an afterthought and her tone was still very blunt. The general matched the tone syllable for syllable. “Not many. Your commanding officer, Harper, has garnered much respect and a reputation among the Fleet with her dual posting as battalion commander and ships commander, and making the dual assignments work and work well. Since the marine naval command arrangement has worked so well for the Agincourt, it would seem the commanding admiralty and generals want to keep the situation as is -- therefore, welcome to your Marine life JoNs.” Tor paused for a second before continuing the explanation. “You’ve been exposed to the continuing example of Colonel Harper who has served as your executive officer and now as ships commanding officer, and worked side by side with her during that period as well as working directly with her in the commanding officer capacity when you yourself took over your current XO posting assignment. I’d say you are more then capable of taking on this new assignment, and again, you wouldn’t have been considered in the first place if my office didn’t feel that you would not be able to tow the line.” “It’s just that, this is all so unorthodox General, surely you must understand that?” “Unorthodox? Then surely you are in good company JoNs with your new designation, for your file does not show you to be an orthodox officer; you have the ability to think outside the box and that is exactly the sort of skill that we will benefit from in these current times.” Kerrin’s eyes took on a shrewd cast as she continued speaking, “I am aware that you have a call sign of Will, therefore reaffirming the fact that you do have exposure to the Marine culture. Most call signs seem to make absolutely no sense to outsiders, but the meaning is always plain….care to share?” Baleful Caitian green eyes met shrewd Bajoran brown eyes. “It’s short for Damn Willful Cat. Former Ex Oh christened me with the call sign.” “And there you have it. Marine culture, Lieutenant Colonel. Not many experience it or have the on the job training as you have. It is an option that we will use and exploit within our defensive mobilizations.” “Permission to speak freely General?” “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” A lopsided smirk accompanied the statement. The smirk was met with a silently bared lip, exposing one front fang. “With all my due respect, this entire situation and conversation is one of the biggest loads of bullsh*t I’ve ever heard in my life, General Kerrin.” The senior marine officer had been patient with the younger line officer, but that particular comment and in particular the tone in which it had been delivered had just wiped out any patience that Kerrin had been employing for the duration of the conversation. “You are treading dangerously close to going on report Lieutenant Colonel.” “You go right ahead and do that General if you so desire. It won’t be the first report my Cee Oh has gotten on me, it probably won’t be the last, and at least I’m trying to be honest in my dealings with regard to this current mess you’ve landed me in.” Kansas placed an emphasis on the honest and the my and the you’ve. Irate cat is irate. Kerrin prepped to verbally fire back, and a flush crept up her neck; but Will offered a purred growl, effectively and simultaneously hiding the displeased vocalization in her next statement and smoothly interrupting the general. Tor was not at all used to being cut off by a subordinate, but the veiled snarl and predatory shine to the eyes brought her up short and her tactical mind kicked in with a message: Pick your battles with this one, General. The feline Cait’s light green colored eyes had taken on a dangerous glint. “Good day to you General, thank you for your time, and I will follow my current departmental orders and ranking position to the letter. Oo Rah.” JoNs said the Oo Rah with a flat inflection that could cut tri-duranium hull plating. With a quick jab of her paw to the inset keyboard on the desktop and with no further warning, Will disconnected her connection of the two way visual wireless feed, blanking her desktop viewer screen. It took her about five minutes to calm down, gather herself, and replay the conversation in the memory recall centers of her brain. Her common sense eventually popped to the forefront of her mental musings as well, and she wiped a paw across her leonine face tiredly. “Aw Hell. I just hung up on a line officer…” Damn Willful Cat. Indeed.

Some films are better in the theater, others are better on DVD. I had no complaints about the large screen bling of Trek 2009. IMO, the DVD port of the movie gains more bling and credibility from a presentation standpoint on the smaller screen.

Note: this Semi-Plot log takes place early on during the 36 hour Time Between Sims. 11.15.09 USS Agincourt NCC-81762 “Drafted Orders” It had been a rather pell mell rest of the afternoon as the executive officer of the Agincourt had made her ship board rounds, checking in with a few of the departments as to the current working condition of the slightly battered ship and her slightly battered crew. She had been released from medical to light duty, although the ‘light duty’ aspect had been up for interpretation as the golden furred feline had discovered, what with the general responsibilities of a ships Ex Oh. Other then a slight warranted delay by the very concerned though way overprotective CMO, Commander Kansas ‘Will’ JoNs had eventually completed her rounds in an acceptable time and retired to her quarters for a nights rest in familiar and relaxing surroundings. JoNs was currently ensconced behind the desk within the medium sized work area of her personal quarters, sitting comfortably though carefully due to her injury in the desks matching office chair. She wore only a short length silk bathrobe of pseudo Earth Asian design, the crisp white coloring of the garment offset by the robe’s delicate golden lily pattern: the front of the robe was half open, and the feline had a medicinal pack fixed across her abominable injury to further aid with healing the lingering vestiges of the assault visited upon her person by an enemy soldier. The Alpha Quadrant front lines had been stabilized for now, and new orders had been drafted and sent out over the Fleet wireless comms to the Agincourt and a few other ships that had participated in the main front line protection battles; the Soltan forces had supposedly retreated (again, from this second full incursion into Federation territory), and some of the first response skirmish line ships were being redirected to these other missions that now took priority. Will had no idea of the contents of the other order packets, as she was of course concerned with the ‘Court’s orders proper. The lead shift officer on the main bridge -- it had probably been Lieutenant Commander ‘Sin’ Condacin -- had spoken with the main Fleeter offices in San Fran, and then the encrypted content information had been picked up by the ships secure computer server, and then the draft orders were then finally forwarded to Colonel C.E. ‘Medusa’ Harper’s private terminal as well as JoNs’s desktop terminal so the recovering command team would be able to keep up with the latest orders. …the feline had to admit, her curiosity as well as her caution was peaked due to what she had just read. The crew was being ordered to a new position at the Romulan border, and they were to gain entry into Romulan space and investigate certain assets and holdings that may have been compromised or stolen by Soltan agents. Currently, the Agincourt was to head straightaway to the nearest star base for layover and ‘bubble gum, duct tape, and spit’ repairs before heading onto the Rihan border mission proper. The entire repair, prep work, and travel operation was to take place within the next 36 hours. Kansas puffed a breath out of her delicate nose before speaking in a mutter to herself. “Well…damn. It’s bad enough that the Federation and the Starfleet can’t keep our own Alpha home space clear of the threat, now we have to deal with spot repairs and then run off and babysit Rihan Empire Space and their problems?” In another life or in another universe, that sort of treason laced remark probably would have gotten a ship’s XO killed. As it stood, it was a flat out grumpy complaint with no seditious leanings, and there were no assassins lurking in the shadows of her quarters preparing to take her out for the flippant remark. JoNs grasped the mug of tea sitting within easy reach on the desktop and took a sip, gently placing the liquid filled mug back on its coaster before immediately opening another text mail window and composing a response piece for general distribution among the crew regarding the new orders that had been intercepted by the command staff. It was the golden furred felines job as command second to shoulder the respective paper work that inevitably accumulated as the result of running an exploratory warship of the line, freeing up Medusa Harper whenever possible, and this newly drafted orders situation was one of those times. JoNs would type up a brief summary of the current orders and send the digital hardcopy mail out across the internal Agincourt computer transmittal server to all of the department heads and shift leads, who would then disseminate the information onto their departments and shift cycle personnel. By early AM tomorrow on the first shift, and no later then the second shift, each and every officer and enlisted crewmember on board would have a basic understanding of where the Agincourt and her crew would be warping off to as well as their purpose for being in the arse end of Rihan space in the first place -- to do some investigating. Once she had cleared that little bit of official business out of her Inbox, the golden furred Cait accessed another new mail that was waiting for her perusal; it was a specific text mail from Fleet Headquarters intended for Kansas, but she noted that the Colonel had also been copied in on the correspondence. Expecting a general day to day Fleet Command to senior field officer email from the home offices, Kansas was really not very prepared for what the digital mail actually contained, and her jaw figuratively dropped to the decking as she perused the contents in all of their white on black typed glory. “They want me to WHAT?!”

MISSION BRIEF: Quarantine was in place, repairs were ongoing, the command staff was awol medically speaking, and all the signs were in place for the Great Gods of Doom Dice to hit us with another mission. CourtChat09_11_11.txt

11.11.09 Agincourt Mission Update: Time Between Sims: 36 Hours - The Colonel, Commander, and Crew get some new marching orders: repair layover at a Starbase to deal with our Warp Nacelle damage along with the other things that were blown up all to heck, and then straight on into Romulan space for some sort of (we assume) sensitive mission. Next sim will start with the Agincourt reaching the border of Romulan space.

Been there. Done that. OoRah. http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showt...&hl=recruit

::chuckles:: A stuffed E.Coli? I'd rather your cat have the stuffed geeky version then the real thing. ;-) And here goes the newest entry. Apologies for another cat, but this one is precious. Not amused Cat is totally not amused: Iwillhavemyrevenge.bmp

November 17th release upcoming. Disc Additions, prices per Amazon. The One Disc Addition will be offered for $10.00 for the first week; Amazon is definitely showing this price, I'm not aware if the retail chains will have this first week price. It will contain some, but not all (deleted scenes) of the extras. If you are all geekified like myself, you will be going for the Two Disc Special Addition. All extras as well as a digital copy of the film will be included. The purchase price through Amazon is $22.99. There is also a Three Disc Special Edition for Blu Ray users. And will contain the Extras, Digital copy, etc. I have no idea what the third disc is for, but the retail price is at $22.99. Even if the 2009 re-boot movie is not what you consider your perfect Trek nirvana, I'd still go for a copy, if just to have a version of what New TOS is all about for your Game Master or Player reference: the prices are pretty good.

T'ashaya: Welcome again to STSF, and this is a wicked cool RPG site to go Star Trekking on. And, I'd say that BIO blurble is a good springboard for when you eventually start on an Advanced Sim because it gives a glimpse at the character and what other Players can expect. If you check out the various areas for our Sim ships, you'll notice that the Character Bios are long, short, in between, non existent -- some folks don't go for the whole biography creation thing -- or that a Player has been 'driving' the same character for years, in character and out of character), in some cases. And then you get the Biographies that are like a 700 page novel and record. every. single. little. detail. of background. :-P See you in the Academies!

11.04.09 Agincourt Mission Update: TBS: None - The crew continues the clean up effort, and the quarantine remains in effect. So far, no crew is showing the systems associated with the Soltan Turning. The respective Dept Chiefs heads of Medical and Science have a pow wow regarding the quarantine procedures and the possible methods the Soltan turn others 'Blue'. The CO and XO are released from the medical bay on light duty only. Engineering deals with the many repairs as a result of the ship to ship battles.

Note: Chat log saved in Word format; Text format is hating me today. Edit: Chatlog replaced with text format. MISSION BRIEF: The Agincourt crew continues the quarantine procedure as well as the cleanup after the ship to ship battles with the Soltan. Ag110409.txt

Note: the following is an off plot Mirror Universe memo log and directly references the JoNs log “Wheeling and Dealing”. I’z on ur internal shipz mail server, sendin’ memoz and uzin ur megahertz. = = = = Agincourt Internal Wireless = = = = To: Caine, Lieutenant C.T. From: JoNs, Commander Kansas CC: Harper, Colonel C.E. Re: Larentia Sector Mission Lieutenant Caine: Attached to this text mail is a full visual recording as well as the full recorded text data from a conversation I had earlier this morning with Jagrissa Honor-Scar, more commonly referred to as Jumper. Ms. Honor-Scar is a blood clan relative of mine, and has been known to operate as a cargo runner within the Larentia sector systems. As she would be a logical starting point as we continue to build our investigative case, I contacted her in order to, you will pardon the pun, ‘Jump Start’ our informational options with regard to the Larentia Ketracel Meth business the ISS Agincourt had been ordered to investigate. Per our orders from Colonel Harper, I am acting as administrative support and reporting my findings to you since you have been assigned as the Larentia mission lead. I do hope you don’t mind me taking the initiative and moving forward with this particular contact, but I assure you that my contact gathering and informational skills are at your disposal. And you will note that this particular referenced question and answer session was quite lucrative if I do say so myself. I have high hopes that you and I will continue to work very well together for the duration of this mission, Mister Caine. Commander Kansas JoNs Executive Officer ISS Agincourt ICC-81762 <Text REC Attachment JoNs1.doc> <Visual REC Attachment JoNs2.doc> = = = = Agincourt Internal Wireless = = = =

Could I get: Modus Operandi: by the seat of her pants Thanks!

::youngling:: ....and 1989 is na even considered a good entry in the TOS movie franchise, Rekkhai. From 1979's The Motion Picture on up through 2009's Star Trek, the one film (out of the entire franchise, mind) that I've never cared for is TOS's The Motion Picture. Yes, yes ::ducks and hides behind something so as to avoid incoming:: I do understand that that TMP was the first film after an almost ten year stretch of no new Trek (not forgetting early 70's Trek Animated) with the reruns delegated to 70's syndicated stations, so at the time it was the Second Coming and such. Historically, the generally accepted "god awful" films of the franchise have always been: TNG's Insurrection and Nemesis, and TOS's Final Frontier, am I right y'all? Honestly (Resident Rihan feelings aside on Nemmy, totally understand) I'll take Final Frontier, Nemesis, or Insurrection over TMP anyday.

It might not be so much one person replacing another as a person who completely either ceases to exist, or not being born at all. Jim would remain Jim and Sam would remain Sam, although either one might never have came into existence w/ the new timeline. Temporal, timeline, and alternate reality debate issues. Gotta love 'em. Granted, the kid walking along the side of the road during the joy ride? That *was* supposed to be Sam, and then the Sam part was written out of script.

Note: the following is a non plot log set in the Mirror Universe of the ISS Agincourt, following the events of Mission Lead and (Dis) Satisfaction. It had been a rather long duty shift with unwelcome surprises. Commander Kansas ‘Will’ JoNs had retired to her office located on the Marine NNC deck to reflect and recover from the events of the day. And she had also retired to plot, of course. Kansas sat in the office chair located behind her Starfleet issue desk, staring at the desktop computer module and puttering about, accessing this program and that program or that report and that update; the golden furred Caitian was going about the busy work on automatic, while her mind reeled and worked through what had transpired earlier in the day in her commanding officers Ready Room office. While the commander understood that mission parameters would often dictate what crew and what officers would take the lead role, the leonine feline was not overjoyed that Lieutenant Caine was given the go ahead by Colonel C.E. ‘Medusa’ Harper to spearhead the Agincourt’s current mission to derail the drug traffickers in the Larentia system. By personal rights, as ships Ex Oh and the one with a mercenary blood clan background, Kansas should be the officer functioning as mission lead. Not only was the cat smarting personally and professionally at the slightly perceived snub to her authority, but she also found herself questioning the motivations of her Sponsor with this particular decision on the lead officer -- and any questioning of Medusa Harper from Will’s perspective did not happen very often. But, as the Humans said, there was no use crying over spilt milk; JoNs needed to move forward and adapt like any good mercenary with a day job as an Imperial officer would in the grand scheme of things. And indeed, there were personal schemes to be undertaken and angles to spin with regard to this new adventure that the ‘Court had been assigned to undertake. A white coffee mug emblazoned with the mission symbol of the ISS Agincourt was set off to one side of the desk, just at her elbow and within her reach. The cup held hot Klingon raktajino sweetened with cream and sugar; the Klingons might have been berserkers with a misguided sense of honor, but the ridge heads made damn fine coffee. If anything, the coffee was functioning as a caffeine induced comfort drink. She was staring at a biographical profile emblazoned across the screen of the monitor, and the profile was on one Jagrissa ‘Jumper’ Honor-Scar, a blood relative of JoNs. Her current whereabouts were unknown (well, semi-unknown. JoNs had a general idea of where she might be located within the Larentia sectors), and the profile content was incomplete and missing chunks of digital data since Jumper was a mercenary who traveled constantly, but these complications would soon be remedied once the Agincourt reached the apex point of the star systems that made up the Larentia sector and began to launch their full investigation into the burgeoning civilian drug trade. Honor-Scar would be a prime source of contact information, and JoNs intended to manipulate this source. The sector was currently dealing with a rampant drug trade, and if a mercenary knew where to look for the trade, they could make easy money transporting and delivering the goods to interested buyers and sector citizens. One too many civilians had gotten caught in the line of fire as the drugs and trafficking reprobates continued to make their way further in system; the area was starting to destabilize to the point where the commanding big shots of the Empire had took notice and one of their lead warships had been diverted to slap some wrists. The ‘Court was ordered to investigate and route out the undesirables, which would enable the general problem area to ‘calm down’, in theory. In practice was a whole other matter entirely. Jumper Honor-Scar, like Kansas, had come of age and worked within the Caitian mercenary clan system. Unlike the JoNs family proper though, ‘Scar had never been averse to getting her paws dirty. Really dirty. She had worked in the past as a gun runner, drug runner, civilian displacement specialist, ‘protection’ enforcer for any local goons, and various other sundry activities. To date, the weapons running and drug trafficking had been her most lucrative jobs, which explained Honor-Scars presence in the Larentia system. The Caitian cousin currently owned and operated a blinged out Runabout class shuttle by the name of the SS Phyrrebrand. Conversely, Kansas had grown up on her family ship -- the SS Dark Fury -- with her mother and father, aunts, uncles and immediate cousins. Yes, just like Honor-Scar, the family had always contracted out to the highest bidder for thievery jobs, protection jobs, and whatever needed doing. But, Kansas’s family was not the same stripe as Jumper. The family as a whole had never fully agreed with the types of contracts and jobs that their distant relative and cousin had taken on over the years. Blood was thicker then water, but it didn’t necessarily excuse all things. The JoNs’s were of the Honor-Scar Tribe, within the influence of the Clan Shadow Pride bloodline. And even though Jagrissa Honor-Scar held the same last name as the familial tribe, she was not a tribal elder or a clan elder or held any say over the decisions of the JoNs family. Jumper was a distant relative, about a 6th cousin down on the genetic line. She and Kansas could be sisters, they looked almost exactly alike and both resembled an Earth lion thanks to the leonine genes that popped up in the JoNs and Honor-Scar blood lines. The only marked differences between the two Cats were Honor-Scar was about an inch taller then the five foot three JoNs, was ten years older, and sported an orange-brown tawny colored coat of fur as opposed to Kansas’s golden fur. Kansas had met her a few times over the years, and while the two females were not friends, the older feline had always been nice to her. Be that as it may, Jagrissa was dirty and ruthless, so there was no doubt that she was more then capable of losing anyone on her trail. She would no doubt give Caine -- and Harper -- a run for their credits if it came to pass that she was a prime mover of the drug product here in this sector, or was working for a criminal syndicate that was responsible. However, JoNs would hold her own judgment..for now. Commander JoNs angrily swiped at a data Padd and downloaded yet another shift rotational report onto her personal desktop computer for her perusal and final clearance. The senior ships officer was currently caught between two worlds, the world of her birth and the world she chose to work in, and was feeling the squeeze. After a tense meeting, Colonel Harper had chosen and ordered Lieutenant C.T. ‘Junior’ Caine to handle the investigation into the drug trafficking in the sector. The meeting and aftermath had only served to further aggravate JoNs in her ongoing rivalry with Caine. Kansas had dabbled in her own drug trade during her days as a junior officer on the ‘Court -- she knew the transaction territory. She was the ships Exec. By command rights, the Caitian felinoid should be spearheading the investigation. But, she was not, and Caine was per Harper’s orders. If JoNs had fussed and protested or refused the orders any more then she had, then she’d look like a traitor. As it stood, not only was the feline officer pissed, she had the secondary problem of should she get some sort of word to Honor-Scar about what might be going down. Caine…would shoot first and ask questions later, taking justice to that overkill level, and the hidebound chief of security wouldn’t even give 'Scar a chance if there was a chance to be given. If JoNs sent a warning over the wireless to Jumper…it would mean her career and life should the transgression be discovered. Then again, blood was blood…and Kansas had never claimed to do things the proper way. Besides, taking that side shortcut road rather then a main highway route was always more fun. The Commander continued staring at the standard formatted biographical profile of Honor-Scar on the computer viewer screen, the cooling mug of raktajino coffee forgotten on the desktop. Send a coded transmission…and simultaneously gather needed information while possibly tipping off a suspected contact…or not… JoNs had made her decision in just under the next ten minutes. She would contact Honor-Scar and roll with the punches, come what may. The feline command level officer accessed her personal communications account and entered into a triple encoded and routed communicator program that would employ a number of civilian as well as commercial based wireless relays scattered across a couple of the sectors. The contact line that she was using was an old family access point, but still in use at random times by either the JoNs family or the Honor-scar lineage. If Jumper was still using the wireless encoding for this civilian contact channel, then the commander would get an answering ping in about two hours. ***** It was oh one hundred in the morning, ships time, when the answering communications ping roused the sleeping officer; she had fallen asleep at her desk, paws braced on the edge of the desk, head thrown back on the chair. JoNs quickly wiped the grogginess from her features and perked up as the incoming transmission continued to connect with the Agincourt communications lines. The equally groggy though rapidly perking up features of Jumper Honor-Scar appeared on the desktop viewer; Jumper had aged pretty well, although her tawny orange colored fur had started to gray about the muzzle area. She cocked her head to one side when she caught sight of Kansas on the other end of the wireless visual feed and offered a smile that was both welcoming and guarded at the same time. “M’rrett Shaow? Well damn girl long time no see! It’s one o’clock in the morning, what’s goin’ on? We didn’t have another death or wedding in the family or somethin’, did we?” “Nope. This is personal business ‘Scar. Apologies for the weird hour, but I need some information on the Larentia system.” “…are you asking as an Imperial officer, or blood clan family?” Jumper didn’t even bat an eye, delving full on into the late night skullduggery conversation as if this sort of transaction happened all the time. And in reality, it did. “Both.” JoNs was truthful, and as well did not hesitate while also slipping easily into the ‘mercenary speak’ discussion. ‘You gonna catch any flak?” “Probably. Nothing I can’t handle though.” JoNs cocked her head to one side and offered a brilliant fanged smile to her cousin, her golden furred leonine features alight with mischief. “Is this channel monitored?” “Well, it’s my personal wireless account. But, there’s always the chance it might be, probably by my commanding officer and at the very least by our pain in the ass security chief, but you and I are not exactly conspiring to take over the universe here. I need information on Larentia due to an upcoming mission we have undertaken, and figured you’d be the best cat to start with. A little information gathering off the grid sometimes has the best results, but I’d like to keep it in the family though, so that’s my story.” “Will I get paid?” “Absolutely. And the standard operational fee for information assistance applies here. Five hundred fifty credits?” “You’re family. Three hundred, call it even.” “Done. The money’ll be wired and sitting in an account number of your choice in about one hour, just send the encoding information to me via text mail. Mind if I record and forward this conversation for hard copy evidence, that is, if you want to play ball so to speak? I’ll be sending the digital text and visual format onto my CO as well as the mission lead for our Larentia shindig.” “Sure, knock yourself out. Want me to say Hi to them?” “Uh, no. Just tell me everything you know regarding the drug trafficking within the civilian sectors. I’ll act as the contact go between, thank you very much.” Jumper then considered the young kitten for about half a minute, considering her options as well as the intentions of her distant relative. “Well, that is an honest answer, and an honest deal. Guess I can return the favor. What’dya need to know?” “Anything you can tell me. Let’s start with the basics: are you involved with this Ketracel Meth business in the sectors?” A pause. “I was, about a year ago. Nothing big, just doing grunt work and running the product from planet to planet for various buyers or sellers. Things changed -- for the worse I might add -- I got out, and from what I’ve heard from other crews at the local cantinas is that the drug trade has really exploded in the past six months.” “You still head into Larentia for any reason?” “Supply runs mostly, legit cargo transport such as foodstuffs and equipment for the outer colonies. I avoid the regular and secondary space lane routes and stay with the switchback trails to avoid the dumbass meth runners.” “What changed? And why the upswing with the product and civvie deaths?” “Word has it that an Orion Cartel faction is responsible.” “You have any names for me?” “Just back room cantina talk, and not really substantiated as of yet: Jinor. Rihan born, self made mercenary, chief lieutenant for one of the paramilitary cells that run the product. As for a particular cartel or employer, all I’ve heard so far is hearsay and second hand stories about ‘Stilleto’. Could be a code name, could be a group, or it could refer to the person responsible for the whole Larentia sector meth issues.” “What makes this…mercenary group and whatever Orion cartel faction that the grunts work for so different within this situation?” “Came in hot and heavy, they want to take over the drug trade in the sectors, and haven’t let up. This is a dirty lot, and not real nice, professionals all the way. You know the type -- shoot first, ask questions later and damn all others to Hell. Be careful Kitten, bad bunch all around.” And that opinion was coming from Honor-Scar? Who by her own rights could and would be down and dirty with her jobs and methods? Kansas couldn’t help but chuckle softly in a bit of gentle derision. “You should talk ‘Scar.” The older Caitian female got angry then, the tawny fur of her neck ruff flaring out in accordance with her level of annoyance. “I ain’t never raped anyone, or killed families just ‘cause they got in the way! You watch your high falutin’ opinions, Kitten.” Kansas put her paws up in placation, the gesture showing clearly over the visual wireless feed. “Whoa. I meant no harm, easy Jumper.” The tawny furred Cait-leo visibly reined in her temper, and then continued the conversation. “Just watch yourself Kitten; you know how these para-military types can get, especially the ones that might have ties to the independent Orion factions or the Cartel proper.” “You know it. And Jumps? I’ll only say this once -- you’d best make yourself scarce for a few months. Imperial ships have been authorized to board and detain any ships operating within or near the Larentia sectors. Keep your snoot clean for a little while, you hear me?” Honor-Scar stared out at Kansas for a while, her expression neutral as she considered someone who she had watched grow up both up close as well as from the distance giving her some ‘orders’, let alone telling her to stop her current trade for a few months. Then, she came to a decision and a slow grin made its way across the slightly older feline’s muzzle. “Yes ma’am, Commander JoNs, sir…looks like someone grew up while I’ve been away.” And with that little comment riding on the subspace, Jumper winked an eye at her semi-twin relative and then abruptly cut the two way connection, making sure she got the last word in. Kansas spoke out loud into the silence and no one in particular. “Now what is that supposed to mean?!

Note: the following is an off plot log set in the Mirror Universe of the ISS Agincourt. Commander Kansas "Will" JoNs exited from Colonel Harper's Ready Room office, smarting emotionally and professionally from what had gone down during the meeting between the ships commanding officer, her executive officer, and the ships chief of security. Not a happy Cat, indeed. C.T. Caine, the CSEC in question, had already left the room and was striding along the hall. A faint smile was on her face, in stark contrast to the aggravated look of the Caitian XO; Caine was feeling the glow of victory in every muscle. Harper had won points back, there was no question about that in her mind. JoNs called out, just loud enough for Caine to hear, and her tone was professionally neutral. "Lieutenant Caine. A word - observation lounge." The golden furred Cait strode confidently across the bridge towards the secondary bridge room in question, but where Caine vibrated with victory, JoNs vibrated with barely concealed tension. Caine checked her step near the turbolift from the bridge and then turned without a word, following the commander into the observation lounge, the smirk still twitching at her lips. Coming to a halt inside the door, she hooked her hands behind her back and looked at JoNs placidly. "Commander?" she asked evenly. JoNs had wandered over to the large observation window that was the showpiece of the lounge, and merely stood with her paws clasped behind her back for a couple of minutes. Her ears were a bit flat, yet her tail remained still and lightly wrapped about one ankle. Soon, the Caitian senior officer turned her attention back to her nemesis and spoke quite frankly. “Fine. You won. Is that what you want to hear Caine? You got permission and the clearance from our commander to take the lead role for the investigation into the Larentia system, and I was pulled off from taking the lead. I’m sure that makes you happy…wipe that smirk off your face.” "Was there something you actually wished to speak to me about or are we merely here to make small talk?" Caine countered, not bothering to change her expression. JoNs merely narrowed her predatory eyes, and kept on the topic at hand. “I’m sure you’ll do your job, I only hope that you are capable of delving into the concept of the drug trafficker. It’s one thing to come at it from an official angle. It’s quite another matter when someone who is familiar with the lifestyle is actively seeking out the perpetrators.” The leonine officer let that statement hang there for a moment before continuing, “…as for any of my blood kin who may or may not be contracting out within the sector…..all I ask, is that if she happens to be completely innocent, you give them a chance. Can you handle that concept Lieutenant? A chance?” "Commander," Caine said coolly. "I have been performing intelligence investigations of this sort since you were barely old enough to walk. I assure you, you do not need to remind me of how to operate. And as for your...'blood kin'..." Her lip curled slightly with an expression of distaste. "You and I both know that such a chance will not be required. Please don't play naive." "You may be more mature in chronological age Lieutenant, but you clearly lack in other areas. You have a bit of a heavy hand, and do not know when to back off." The Cat's gaze took on a bit of a cunning - though inquisitive - cast. "How can I and Colonel Harper be completely sure that you won't miss out on vital Intelligence while handling this mission just for the sake of wiping out a few mercenary elements?" "I suggest you ask Colonel Harper that question," Caine replied casually, "and I look forward to hearing of her response to your lack of confidence in her judgment." Now the tail started to switch slightly, an indication that the famous temper was starting to resurface. "I really don't recall saying those specific words Lieutenant...do not put words into my muzzle. If the Colonel chooses to employ your particular talents for this mission, then so be it. As I've stated previously, her word is our law." Caine's expression of satisfaction deepened as she saw JoNs's temper rising. Like a kitten with her toy stolen...so easy to rile. "Good...then you will kindly refrain from questioning my methods until you have seen their result, Commander." "If I am to check in with you regarding this current mission, then I expect regular updates on your progress as well, as per normal procedures, Lieutenant." Caine really smiled now, her teeth flashing in an incongruous expression of amusement. "I will be more than happy to inform you of my progress, I'm sure." “Oh, I’m quite sure that these future progress reports will make your day. And, of course, I so look forward to your particular talent with the official written word. Scintillating reading, by the way; sets my inner officer all aquiver with glee and such.” "You know how to give a fine compliment, Commander; be careful or I may get a swelled head," Caine deadpanned, and then looked at Kansas sidelong. "But then, I suppose it's a practiced skill in the path to command...for some..." The little tete a tete meeting over, at least in her mind, JoNs abruptly began to leave the room without so much as a vocalized “you are dismissed” to Caine. However, when Kansas reached the immediate area in front of where Caine stood, the felinoid extended a fore claw, and very casually traced the outline of Caine’s jaw line with it. “Don’t press me El Tee…” And with that statement hanging on the air, the Caitian commander then exited the Obs Lounge quietly and quickly.

Note: The following Harper, Caine and JoNs joint log is an off plot Mirror Universe Log Colonel Harper was developing an unfortunate tendency to interrupt Caine during mealtimes; admittedly, this time it had not been her in person but a comm call which had pulled Caine from the mess hall, but it had necessitated the abandonment of a replicated sandwich of, if not stellar, then at least inoffensive quality. However, the tone of Harper's voice had intimated something of import, so Caine had left the mess and made her way into a lift, up to the bridge, and towards the ready room without any outward complaint. She couldn't resist a grimace, however, when she saw Commander JoNs heading in the same direction a few steps ahead of her, apparently having taken a just-earlier 'lift. With a low grunt to herself, she increased her pace, her longer stride allowing her to casually overtake the Cait XO and arrive at the door first, pinging the chime. Immediately after a similar summons had been received on her personal wrist communicator, Commander Kansas JoNs had briskly exited the secondary turbo lift and headed straightaway towards the main bridge Ready Room. The golden furred Cait’s personal guard for this shift, Lieutenant Mical, followed in the senior officer’s wake, cobalt blue eyes searching the bridge confines and any officers on duty carefully and efficiently for any outward threats towards her feline charge. When JoNs reached the outer entry way to Harper’s bridge office, she offered the still walking Lieutenant Caine a perfunctory though respectful nod, yet also smirked a bit. “Mister Caine.” The feline was half wondering why the Lieutenant would be present as well, but chose not to dwell on the matter. She motioned for Mical to remain on standby just outside the entry door to the office while waiting for admittance to the CO’s inner administrative sanctum. From the comm panel beside the door a voice drifted out. "Come." The doors hissed open, admitting both women to the Colonel's office. Once the official ‘come forth’ order had been offered by the Colonel, Kansas merely put a paw up in the air and indicated that the Lieutenant should go into the office area first. Caine cast a look sidelong at the Commander, then at the Cait’s blue skinned Andorian guard, and her lips twitched in a return smirk, though she otherwise did not acknowledge the greeting or the courtesy. She stepped quickly through the door and took up a position at half-attention, her hands clasped behind her back, in front of Harper's desk. "Colonel." “Lieutenant. Commander." The colonel gazed at the two of them, her expression fixedly neutral. "We have a new assignment, and I have the particulars for you." JoNs maintained her relaxed parade rest position next to the half-Vulcan in front of Harper’s desk, and her one ear merely flipped back in curiosity. “What sort of particulars Ma’am?” Caine said nothing, merely nodded, her grey eyes fixed on Harper, waiting with as much curiosity as JoNs but, she was pleased to notice, more restraint. "Division of labor," she replied briskly. "We've been ordered to investigate and halt some drug running. I've decided that Lieutenant Caine will be heading up the investigation." The commander’s ears went back then forward and then both ears began doing it independently of one another as the feline officer was a bit surprised not so much at the labor division as Harper called it, but the specifics of the mission. Caine's head cocked to the side slightly as she took in the information, and then she nodded sharply. "Aye, Colonel." "Wait, pardon me?" Kansas spared a glance over towards the older Vulcan woman before turning her full green eyed attention back on her commanding officer. "Caine as mission lead? May I ask why Sir? I understand that Caine is our resident investigator, but I myself have the background -- and contacts -- that may be manipulated for this sort of mission. Tailor made, even." "You do," Harper agreed, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which is why the lieutenant will head up this particular mission to avoid any conflict of interest." The golden fluffy tail had started to lash. Not aggressively, just a sort of languid back and forth motion indicating Kansas’s growing level of annoyance. “With all due respect Colonel, I can handle this sort of fandango just as well as Mister Caine.” Harper's expression began to lose its studied neutrality. "I don't recall asking for opinions on the subject, Commander." “I have no problem reporting to the Lieutenant. I do have a problem with the particular assets that we are in possession of not being employed to their full extent, in this case the direct knowledge that I do have regarding the drug trade as it plays out across the sectors. Caine, who had not moved during this exchange, quirked an eyebrow up in dark curiosity at this comment, but she said nothing. Better to let the cat dig her own hole for the moment. "You're welcome to provide the lieutenant with information on your contacts, Commander, but my decision stands." The last three words were delivered in a decidedly frosty tone and accompanied by a sharp glare. "Mister Caine does not have the particular mindset to pull this sort of operational mission off. This is not the sort of cut and dry situation that she is used to dealing with." “You'd be surprised, Commander," Caine said, finally speaking up and delivering a glare as cold as Harper's in the XO's direction. "I think you'll find I'm quite capable of handling myself.” "Commander." Any warmth that might once have been in the colonel's voice had packed its bags and left for Qo'nos. "If you have such a problem with my orders, I would be happy to relieve you of duty for the duration." JoNs broke her parade rest, leaned forward to place her wide paws on Harper's desk, and spoke to her CO in a calm and semi-familiar manner. "Colonel, if I had a problem with your orders, I would not be your Executive Officer." Kansas kept her position leaning on the desk while she huffed a breath out through her nose and turned her attention to the half-Vulcan woman. “I know you can handle yourself Lieutenant. It’s just the methods that have me concerned. You don’t exactly work with kid gloves, and you have no idea of the mindset of the mercenary. That’s all I’m saying. And drug running is a whole other astro ball game. Some of those people would sell their own mother." "I have learned a great deal from...prior engagements..." Caine said coolly, letting the tacit reference to her last encounter, pre-Agincourt, with a JoNs family member hang in the air. "I'm sure I will manage to take care of the situation very cleanly." JoNs kept her half leaning posture on the desk while still half looking towards Caine, and the Caitian's eye whiskers rose upward to her mane line. "Lieutenant, past engagements you might have had, but not everyone is as....nice...as my familial line." The comment was indirect, but nevertheless a reference to the encounter that they both knew she was talking about. "And I'm sure Lieutenant Caine will benefit from your advice," Harper broke in. "Feel free to take that discussion back to your own offices." "Yes...I'm sure I will benefit exceedingly," Caine said, her grey eyes not leaving Kansas's, and it was only inaccurate to say her voice dripped with sarcasm because it was cold enough to freeze those drips to ice. Breaking their staring contest with a dismissive jerk, she turned her head slightly to meet Harper's eyes. "Dismissed, Colonel?" "Quite," the colonel said dryly. Now, the leonine Commander turned her sharp attention back on the Colonel. She was miffed at the whole situation, that emotion was certainly showing in her bright green feline eyes, but her purred vocalization was professional and courteous. "Indeed. I know she'll benefit from my advice, and I will report to Lieutenant Caine for this mission’s duration Ma'am." The feline then moved back a step and re-adopted her parade rest, her tail still animated…the appendage got a bit close to the half-Vulcan, just to annoy her. "Permission to retire from the meeting, Colonel?" JoNs’s tone came out flat. "Go," she said, just barely restraining a snap. Kansas again indicated with a paw that Caine go first to lead the way out of the Ready Room. "After you....Lieutenant. You being the mission lead and all....." Kansas offered a sarcastic wink. Caine ignored her deliberately, nodded sharply to Harper, and turned, moving towards the door and tapping the controls to let it swish open. It was only after she had turned her back fully on both the CO and the Cait and was halfway through the doorway that she allowed a smirk of victory to slide its way onto her face.