"Tribal Faith"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

2.02.07

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Tribal Faith”

 

It was twenty two hundred hours, and JoNs was where she could usually be found after the main shift – ensconced in the semi-deserted security offices catching up on and preparing reports, updates, and instructions for the duty shifts tomorrow. Taking over the security chief position had very much caused her to re-connect with her nocturnal instincts. “Night Owl” would be another term, although she had never really understood what the earth bird had to do with staying up late.

 

She idly fingered a mug of luke warm hot chocolate as she read over a weapons schematic submitted by the department’s chief weapons techie nerd - CPO Saunders. The schematics detailed some pretty solid upgrade possibilities to the phaser rifles. She needed to get Saunders and Nimetti together; she had no doubt the two of them could do wonders with the security weapon upgrades.

 

A slight shift in the air caught her attention, tickling her whiskers. That was a bit odd. That blast was too concentrated for it to have been the air filters kicking on. Maybe D’Angelo had walked by her office. The Caitian moved slowly out from behind the desk, rolling her neck as she did so. She walked through the doorway into the outer offices.

 

Immediately, she was hit with a myriad of sights, smells, and muted colors; it was a haze, but she was still very aware of what was going on. She was in the family room in her childhood home, with most of her family was present. She could not hear anything, but they looked as if they were praying. Her parents and Left Ear were seated at the front of the group. Her gaze then traveled to her grand elder – the matron was performing a series of gestures over the candles that were lit on the coffee table. She recognized the small statue among the candles. Everyone was performing the Ceremony of the Arrow .

 

A hazy blur of movement caught her attention, coming from the front of the room back to where Kansas stood behind the group. It was her pet cat, Molly. Her eyes were a vivid gold, the only true color coming through the muted surroundings. Instinct kicked in, and she knew the small feline could see her somehow. She went to reach for the little pet…

 

…and promptly found her self staring across the length of the security offices at the monitors, each one showing a different public area of the ship.

 

“Lieutenant?”

 

What in the name of the Great Bird.

 

“Lieutenant JoNs?”

 

That was seriously tripped out, for lack of a better description.

 

“Sir?”

 

Grand elder had always said the Cait ways were powerful.

 

“…Kansas?”

 

The Caitian lieutenant turned her attention to D’Angelo, who looked a bit uncomfortable, no doubt reading her chagrined expression as disapproval of his breaking protocol and referring to her as Kansas.

 

“…are you alright sir?”

 

Oh yes, I am just fine. Totally. Other then the fact I just had a schismatic moment, separated from the here and now, teleported or whatever to my parent’s home and witnessed half the JoNs family performing what looked like the Ceremony of the Arrow. Pardon me? I’m not working on all thrusters? You don’t say.

“Yes, I’m fine Crewman. I just got lost…”

 

Several light years away.

 

“…in some…”

 

Tripped out ancient tribal faith magic thing.

 

“…of my thoughts. I’m calling it a night. Carry on D’Angelo.”

 

Yes, I am calling it a night and imbibing no more caffeine for the next twelve hours, just to be on the safe side.

 

She exited the offices and headed for her quarters, and attempted to school the “Terran deer caught in the shuttle running lights” look she knew she had on her face into something more security-ish as she passed the random crew beings coming off of the second shift.

 

Kansas was very much like Left Ear when it came to the Cait faith and beliefs. She was not a regular practitioner herself, but had been exposed to and raised with the practices, and had a respect for the faith. Now, her responsibility was to perform her portion of the arrow ceremony, completing the circle, linking both of the ceremonies together, and adding power to the familial tribal bond. It was powerful magic, faith, whatever you wanted to call it, and to be respected.

 

Plus the fact, if she didn’t do what was required, Left Ear would know. The Elder Guardian and Guardian Child bond was strong, and was strengthened even more so when these tribal rites were invoked. Kansas had no intention of raising her Guardians ire; she had made that mistake over ten years ago during her service on the privateer Corsair, when she had “left” Starfleet for a period of time.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Kansas was dressed in a Caitian day robe, the iridescent colors catching the lighting coming off of the small candles placed in a half circle on the desk. A totem of the warrior pilgrim, S’Farrl, was placed in the middle of the desk, a representative of all travelers and those who were lost and attempting to find their way back from the brink.

 

She lowered her head and began to recite the Wanderers Prayer in the Caitian tongue, beginning the linking of modern times with the ancient past.