"Irish Temper"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

02.24.07

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Irish Temper”

 

Lieutenant JoNs sat at her desk in main security, the low lighting in the office hiding her features from the neck up. There was one lone beam of bright stray light that illuminated the comm badge on her chest, and the shadows in general brought her some comfort. She fiddled idly with a data padd laying on the desk top surface, a claw gently tracing a graphic paused on the screen. The darkened office served to match her mood.

 

She was royally pissed.

 

Her feline eyes latched onto the distant entrance to main security, her sensitive ears picking up the sound of footfalls traveling from the corridor through the offices.

 

Petty Officer Third Class Kreval appeared in the entrance and then entered the outer office area, pausing before he began to walk toward her office. JoNs tracked his progress through the transparent aluminum picture window.

 

He seemed a bit unsure at the low lighting level of the office. “Reporting as ordered sir.”

 

“Enter.”

 

The Tellerite entered, and she pointedly did not offer him a seat. He adopted a rather relaxed parade rest, which served as another strike against him.

 

“Computer, close door and opaque the window, level ten.” The monotone female computer voice acknowledged the order obligingly, the office door and window conforming to the required specs. Kreval threw a glance at the window as it darkened, obviously not expecting the office to be ‘locked down’ in this manner and JoNs allowed a smirk to play at the side of her muzzle, knowing the Teller could not see it. She had always felt it important to keep both the office door open and the window clear, offering an available atmosphere to anyone in her department that required counsel.

 

However, all bets were decidedly off when she was about to rip a being a new one.

 

The Caitian emerged from a section of the shadows, leaning forward in her seat and entered a series of commands into the padd with a claw. Krevals service record popped onto the small screen, and it showed a solid account across the boards, high rankings, with only a few infractions regarding late for duty, some rather hyper shore leaves, and such. The only other time he had been dressed down in a formal setting was during his senior year at the academy. Oh well, there goes that winning streak. “Mr. Kreval. I see you will be up for promotion in another month’s time.”

 

“Aye sir.”

 

“It will be denied.”

 

The short, stocky Tellerite went ramrod straight. “For what reason?!”

 

JoNs now stood from her seat, planting her paws on the surface of the desk. “For what reason sir. Honestly, I feel as if you are not ready to move forward into the Petty Officer Second Class rank.”

 

“Explain!” He prompted again, his stance taking on an aggressive cast.

 

“Explain? It would be my pleasure. My reasoning is because you have a rather big mouth Kreval. Loose lips sink ships, or perhaps you are not familiar with that terminology.”

 

“Speak plainly Kansas. I demand more of an explanation.”

 

“You demand an explanation Petty Officer? And that is Lieutenant, Lieutenant JoNs, or Chief JoNs to you.” The Caitian quickly moved to stand closer to the Tellerite officer.

 

He tried to speak over her, breaking his stance and facing her. “I demand to know why…”

 

“ATTENTION!”

 

That got through to him; the security training kicked in over the ingrained Tellerite imperiousness and he went ramrod straight. Thank the gods because she had been about to grab him in a head lock. Hell, she still might.

 

“You demand reasons? You demand an explanation? And you just demand, period.” JoNs stalked around behind Kreval to stand at his right side. “Well, I will oblige you.” She stalked again, walking behind him to stand back at his right side. She knew she was making him nervous.

 

“You have quite the habit of bellyaching don’t you Petty Officer Kreval. You were complaining recently regarding the newly posted training programs. I believe you complained two days ago regarding the dry chicken coming out of the auxiliary food processors in the main lounge. I should know - your voice carried all through these offices.”

 

The lieutenant stalked back over to her desk, standing behind it as she placed the padd down and planted her paws flat on the surface. “And, you seem to have a running discourse concerning myself, complaining about me to anything that has a pulse.”

 

He said nothing, merely staring straight ahead.

 

“I do not appreciate being the object of gossip, especially when it enters into the character assassination realm, and when you carelessly start blabbing your discourse in front of the shuttlecraft maintenance techs. I was hoping you’d come to your senses prior to this, but, my goodness, the young in-experienced chief must have misjudged something again.”

 

Kreval glanced quickly at the Caitian lieutenant, prompting a barked “Eyes front!’ from her. “I want you to see this Kreval.”

 

She entered a coding on the data padd and the medium sized view screen on the wall behind her desk flared to life. Puzzlement creased the Tellerite’s features.

 

“Petty officer, let’s do some exploring together and see what we can learn. And oh my, it would seem we are examining my service record. I believe you had some issues with my recent brig stay correct?” She entered a command on the padd and the record zoomed down to the most recent notation.

 

“Wow. You know, it would seem as if there is a disciplinary notation there from Colonel Harper regarding said infraction.”

 

JoNs entered another command, bringing up a secondary service record. It was Kreval’s, and she placed her and his side by side for comparison. The Tellerite blanched a bit as he recognized his own record.

 

“Well, Petty Officer, it looks as if five years ago, you were also involved in a shore leave altercation and written up. I tell you, we must be two peas in a pod.” The sarcasm in the lieutenants voice dropped away to be replaced by a steel edge. “I seem to recall something along the lines of judge not lest ye be judged. Or perhaps throwing that first stone is more your speed?”

 

That was apparently more then the stubborn Kreval could manage. “I do not have to take this abuse, even if you are a ranking lieutenant.”

 

“Son, you have no idea what abuse is, at least not yet. Your ass is so mine it’s not even amusing.” The man obviously had no idea how hard it was to get JoNs to the point she was at. She was in fact past that point, there would be no mercy and he would very much remember this day. A fellow officer on the Thunder Cat had once remarked that she had the makings for an Irish temper.

 

She entered another numerical command into the data padd, prompting one final service record to appear on the view screen. Robair’s image appeared on split screen along with the section of his record covering various awards and citations.

 

JoNs spoke into the silence. “This man is now listed as wounded in action, and there is a very real possibility he will never wake up again. We will honor his memory in this department. That will not happen if I need to worry about rumors and backstabbing by my own officers, which can then lead to the malicious eroding of a department. We are in a very unfriendly area of unexplored space, and I need all my people at full tilt. I trust we now understand one another Petty Officer Kreval?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

She listened carefully to his tone, intent on picking up any insincerity. “Very good. Now, moving along to your disciplinary action.”

 

Kreval flashed JoNs a classic look of - You mean we aren’t done. What do you mean there’s more?! - before jerking back to attention.

 

JoNs sighed inwardly. Dang, she had really wanted to yell ‘attention’ again.

 

“Computer, turn the viewer off.” The lieutenant casually perched on the corner of the desk farthest away from the petty officer, arms folded. “As stated earlier, you will not be promoted, and it will be another six months before I even consider it. You will also be pulling double shifts for the next week. First shift will be your normal security duties. Your second shift duties will be comprised of assisting the armory squads with maintenance. Finally, I want a fifteen page report comparing the security training programs with the marine training programs, correlating the scores according to effectiveness, with an emphasis on the hand to hand, ballistic, and tactical assault sections. I will be checking for spelling, punctuation and general coherency, I abhor plagiarism, and any direct quotes are to be cited properly. I want the report in a week and a half. There will be no grace period, and if you are late I will come looking for the report.”

 

JoNs let the silence stretch, scrutinizing Kreval closely as he absorbed that little neutron bomb.

 

“One final bit of advice – do not call me Kansas or address or speak of me in a common manner again if you want to keep what remains of your hide. Familiarity is an earned privilege, and you do not rate that honor as of yet. You are dismissed Petty Officer Kreval.”