"Sarcasm on Stun"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

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