"Department Chief"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

April 26, 2006 (June 2397)

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Department Chief”

 

Chiefs are responsible for those in their department, and are neither the upper command officers nor the junior officers. They exist as mediators between the command officers and the junior officers, and provide much needed experience and support for everyone on the star bases and star ships that they serve on.

 

Some chiefs are friendly. Others keep their distance. Some are sticklers for by the book. Others take situations as they come. Some are young. Some are old. All are responsible for their officers.

 

Department Chiefs are a special breed of officer.

 

The Agincourt, having completed dry dock repairs, now sped toward their next mission objective – repairs to an unmanned two deck outpost near the cargo lanes.

 

Lt. JoN’s manned the tactical console, correlating the incoming data from the surrounding sectors and scanning for anything even remotely strange. Once the ‘Court arrived at the outpost, and the outpost was cleared as non-hostile territory, plans were made and teams were set in motion. During the flurry of activity, Kansas’ chief, Lt. Commander Robair, arrived on the bridge to co-ordinate the assignment of security personnel to the engineering repair teams venturing over to the outpost. The Caitian was highly pleased when she heard Robair inform Midshipman Spitfire to form the teams but to “leave Kansas here”. Sounded good to her, manning tactical and observing for a bit; a nice change of pace.

 

JoN’s really didn’t pay attention to the bridge chatter, instead only picking up bits and pieces here and there. Chief Robair had walked away, and started to speak to Captain Davies. Dr. Levy was again checking over some readings on the medical console and Pilot was adjusting the big ship’s orbit around the outpost.

 

“…use the Obs lounge to speak with…”

 

Her clawed fingers froze over the console, in mid tap, and her left ear flipped backward toward the main bridge area when she heard her name spoken. Robair was asking to use the lounge to speak with her.

 

Great Bird of the Galaxy. Her pressure shot up, she knew it.

 

It was only a matter of time before Robair found out about her brawling on Star base 11. News traveled fast on starships, especially when the transporter technician on duty was treated to the sight of a bloody, bruised and just generally tuned up Caitian beaming back to the Agincourt. (Quote, Crewman Hauser, “What HAPPENED to you Lieutenant?” Unquote)

 

Captain Davies acknowledged the request with a yes. Robair turned and walked toward the doors to the lounge.

 

“…I know you heard that. Get in here now.”

 

That would be Robair speaking directly to Kansas. With a small sigh, she got up from TAC and nodded to the crewmember who replaced her. She started across the bridge, following Robair’s path. Oddly, she didn’t even feel the slightest embarrassment at being ordered in such a manner to the lounge, in full view of those on the bridge. Chief Robair had a quiet steeliness about him that caused him to be direct and to the point. Blunt would be a better term. Hell, direct was better then indirect any day. Well, provided you were not on the receiving end of one of his reprimands. For a second time. In so many weeks.

 

It’s five o’clock somewhere…it’s five o’clock somewhere…

 

Kansas stood at attention as the lounge doors swooshed shut. Thank the gods there were no Midshipmen around.

 

Robair spoke to her. “…you had a confrontation on the station?”

 

“Aye sir. It was an unfortunate event.”

 

He continued. “…unfortunate it may have been…but it was good that you showed some fighter capabilities. We’ll work on that.”

 

Destorie N’Dak could have pranced around the lounge in full ballerina regalia at that point, and Kansas would not have batted an eye. Or a tail. She was too busy being surprised at Robair’s statement.

 

She had to ask. “Sir…I am not complaining, but….what?” She lost her train of thought again. “…you’re not going to, uh, yell?”

 

Chief Robair answered her astonished query. “No. You were outmanned. We’ll work on it.”

 

If he blew her mind anymore she would start to drool. So, she wasn’t in trouble?

 

Of course she was in trouble.

 

JoN’s switched over to tactical think mode to avoid drooling. The chief’s actions told all. He had come to the bridge, waited until she was relatively free, the ship safely in orbit with the outpost, and made his move. He asked for permission to use the lounge for a private little talk. The stern tone employed when he told Kansas to get in the lounge. Robair showed by example that yes, she was being held responsible for her actions and hell yes; she was being admonished for them.

 

Yet, the “we’ll work on it” threw it all onto another tactical level. In other words, he would work with her as a mentor, a Chief. He’d help her expand her considerable hand to hand skills even further then they were now. It can’t all be about the weapons. What if you don’t have any within easy reach, or need to take down a hostile by physical force alone? Or…you throw caution to the wind and take on three beings much bigger then you are, as Kansas did.

 

 

Chiefs tread a thin line. They needed to be harsh sometimes, to discipline, in order to keep their people alive. They also need to guide them, in order to keep them from harm. That was just what Robair was doing. His job.

 

Thankfully, before Lt. JoNs and Lt. Commander Robair shared a HA’llmark moment that would probably scare the ever living Hades out of both of them, a comm came through to the two security officers from Chief of Sciences Kroells. Some sort of ruckus down in the offices, and security was needed.

 

Eh. Someone probably got a little too excited with the Samo Flux Bio Gel Inverter. Scientists. You can’t take them anywhere.

 

JoN’s and Robair sprung into action, the conversation and guiding reprimand session temporarily forgotten.

 

(And there were still no Midshipmen around to participate. Thank the gods.)

 

Lt. M’rrett Sh’aow “Kansas” JoN’s

Tactical Officer