"Networking"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

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

Edited July 29, 2006 by M.S. "Kansas" JoNs