"Karma"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

(Note: contains some violent content)

 

5.27.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Karma”

Written by: Colonel Harper and Lt. Commander JoNs

 

Harper was waiting in the NNC. The large room was empty but for the two bodyguards standing unobtrusively to one side, but she was well aware that the marines she'd ordered to clear the room had not gone far. Nor, indeed, did she want them to. A little privacy would be well and good for the first part of this interview, but there should be nothing private about discipline.

 

A cold smile curved her lips as the door opened. It was probably just her imagination that made the halves seem to fly apart, but it was fitting.

 

The stillness seeming to hover in the air and was soon shattered as a muffled commotion could be heard from the outside corridor. Shortly thereafter, the entrance doors whooshed open and a golden furred Caitian and a light skinned male Terran were thrown into the NNC, landing unceremoniously in respective heaps.

 

JoNs and Zimm were in uniform, but both were in a mussed and disheveled state, as if they had been caught in another activity and hurried to dress. JoNs swore vehemently as she landed hard and rolled before coming to a stop.

 

Gazing down at the two miscreants, the colonel said flatly, "Lieutenant Commander JoNs. Second Lieutenant Zimm." She paused expectantly, then lifted a brow. "Well? Attention!"

 

Zimm, his marine training automatically kicking in, leaped up and adopted a rigid at attention stance. "Sir! Yes sir!"

 

JoNs was a bit slower, dragging herself up into a formal parade rest with a feline calm. "Sir."

 

"You are both aware why you are here." Harper didn't wait for an answer to the statement. "I confess to disappointment. One expects one's officers to plot, but I, for one, expect to see it done with some style."

 

An ear flipped back - JoNs's not Zimm's - but no comment was forthcoming.

 

Which was just as well, given that they were at attention and hadn't been asked a question yet. Harper focused her attention on Zimm. "So, you want to depart our ranks, Mr. Zimm. Even going so far, it would seem, as to make such arrangements behind my back. Did you think it would spare you, if an admiral commanded it?"

 

The tall man's eyes flickered to JoNs, as he answered the question. "Ma'am! It would seem as if I miscalculated, Ma'am!"

 

The Caitian merely raised a silent whisker in a "no kidding" gesture.

 

"Then it's a good thing you're not leaving us for science, isn't it?" She paced slowly towards the man, stepping just close enough to get in his space without having to look up at him too obviously. "Once a Marine, Mr. Zimm," she said softly, "always a Marine. Not just pretty words." Turning her back on him pointedly, she walked away again, continuing, "If you want to leave, there is only one way out. Tactical Sergeant!"

 

Saunders stepped out of the locker room, saluting crisply. "Colonel!"

 

Harper flicked a glance over her shoulder at Saunders. "Bring out the platoon."

 

"Aye, Colonel!" He vanished back into the locker room, returning quickly with a group of men and women. Some of them looked grim; others were wearing smirks or gleeful grins.

 

Conrad merely closed his eyes, mentally preparing for what he knew would be coming. JoNs's gaze flickered quickly around the room, from Zimm to Harper to the platoon members, attempting to understand what was happening.

 

Reaching her bodyguards, Harper turned to face her two wayward officers. "Davlin, Norales," she said to the guards. "Take charge of the commander." They nodded and swiftly approached the Caitian, taking her by the arms. Harper's attention was already elsewhere, on the platoon that was now forming a double line leading to the door.

 

Saunders approached Zimm. "Will you take your place, or do I drag you?" he asked softly, motioning to the end of the human corridor.

 

The second lieutenant merely nodded with respect to Saunders, and proudly walked over to what would be the starting point of his 'run'.

 

The lieutenant commander, firmly ensconced with Davlin and Norales, gasped a bit as realization finally dawned; oh my gods, it’s a warrior run. Breaking her silence she spoke. "Colonel!"

 

Zimm's gaze darted to the Caitian. "Mrrett!" He barked out her given name, but Kansas ignored him, her stark gaze focused on Harper.

 

"Commander, this is a Marine affair," Harper said coldly. "You are here to observe only, and you will be silent."

 

JoNs snarled. "Like hell I will be veken silent Ma'am! This is wrong! Zimm is a twenty year veteran of your marine force; he deserves better then a common beating!"

 

She strained against the colonels personal guards. "Yes, Zimm and I planned, and it was a joint decision that my security department would benefit from his skills - there is nothing wrong with a lateral career move. Yes, he and I did engage in some unlawful maneuvering! But, the actual launching of the plan was my doing, not his - I take the responsibility." Her growl echoed within the NNC. "I was the one who made the choice to use non sanctioned channels."

 

Harper nodded once. "And we will have words about those channels later, Commander, be certain of that. This, however, is about loyalty." Her eyes bored into the Caitian's. "Loyalty, and responsibility, and discipline. The lieutenant understands this, I think. Mr. Zimm?" Her gaze never left JoNs.

 

Zimm’s strong voice filled the NNC. "Yes ma'am, I do understand. The Lieutenant Commander will understand what we speak of in time, I am sure of it."

 

The feline officers gaze latched onto Zimm in a 'what in the hell does that mean' look.

 

"Very good." Charlotte looked away from Kansas at last, toward the corridor of marines and Zimm standing at one end. "I see no reason to prolong the inevitable," she said, and then her voice took on a more formal note. "Marines, Conrad Zimm has chosen to leave our ranks for a position in Security. He will have to earn it." She looked at Zimm. "No weapons or armor are allowed. Otherwise, there is only one rule: walk out the door."

 

Zimm looked right at his soon to be former commander, one way or the other. "Ma'am." He gave Harper a nod of respect.

 

She nodded back. "Begin," she said simply.

 

Conrad adopted a ready stance, eyeing the prize in the distance - the doorway. It represented both a beginning and an end, yet he was prepared to accept any changes. He bolted, entering the double line of soldiers.

 

The moment he stepped forward, the pair nearest him struck out with fists and feet. Then the next pair, and the next. No one was pulling any punches; time after time they struck solid, aimed for vulnerable soft tissue and joints with trained accuracy. A two-fisted blow to the back of his head made his ears ring; an elbow in his gut briefly staggered him.

 

A feline snarl reverberated off the bulkheads as Kansas watched the brutal rite of passage, straining against the personal guards that held her; Zimm had made it about halfway through the Warrior Run.

 

Harper watched silently, her hands folded behind her and her face impassive. Zimm was a stubborn bastard; she'd give him that. He plowed on doggedly through the wall of blows, his hands up to defend himself as much as possible. Now and then he even managed to land a punch in return. But at ten-to-one odds, he had few options but to take it and stumble on.

 

Fine, if she couldn't help him, she was going with the passive cheering section option. JoNs hollered out, her purred voice a snarl. "Nice shot! Give them all some Hell Zimm!"

 

Davlin cuffed her, and Norales tightened her grip on the Caitian's arm. "Shut up, goldshirt," she hissed.

 

Across the room the second lieutenant had nearly reached the door. The final pair of marines were before him, and evidently not inclined to make his final steps easy. The crack of bone was clearly audible even at that distance.

 

Conrad Zimm fell, unconscious from the pain, from the line of the gauntlet and into the beckoning corridor beyond. His dead weight and momentum caused his body to slide a few inches before coming to a complete stop halfway into the corridor.

 

There was silence. After a moment, Harper relaxed her formal stance. "Take him to sickbay," she ordered quietly. Four of the marines leaped to obey, lifting Zimm gently onto an antigrav stretched someone produced. "Platoon dismissed," the colonel added, just as quietly.

 

The silence was stark, almost surreal after what had transpired. The feline security chief merely watched as the platoon dispersed and the former Marine turned Security officer was taken out of the area.

 

When they were alone again, the colonel turned to JoNs. "Some time ago, Commander," she began, her voice soft as snow and just as cold, "I attempted to give you a glimpse into the nature of Marine discipline. It seems that lesson failed to take. Now someone else has paid the price for your misapprehension. I sincerely hope you have learned this time. I do not repeat a lesson more than once."

 

So as not to make the guards jumpy, the lieutenant commander slowly turned to face her commanding officer, eyes glistening. "You didn't have to single him out in that manner - I was just as culpable." The tone of her purred voice came out low and tired.

 

"You aren't one of us," Harper replied, tone oddly gentle. "And now, neither is he. So, Commander," her voice turned brisk, "you have yourself a new security officer. I'm sure he'll be a credit to you. Now about the back channels you used to get him..."

 

JoNs did not respond immediately; her ears flipped back in annoyance, her eyes showed a feline wariness, and her expression read clearly as 'oh dear'. Oh, whatever. "If I had asked you to have him transferred, the request would have been dismissed. I took steps to ensure that I got the best officer the marines had to offer into my department." It’s all about entrenching your defenses...

 

"You're so certain of that?" Harper answered mildly. "I don't appreciate poaching, Commander, but I'm hardly blind to the realities of your current situation. I might very well have been persuaded to task Zimm to your department." Face and voice hardened. "But we won't know, will we? Because you went not only over my head, but around my superiors as well. Do you know how that reflects on me?"

 

The feline relaxed her posture and motioned for the guards to release her; they did so. Her gaze fixated down on the cold gray decking as she spoke. "I've had to fight for everything I have, claw my way through the ranks, and during this years long process, one gets used to doing everything a certain way."

 

"I'm not unsympathetic," the colonel returned. "But I refuse to let you advance your position at my expense. I can be your patron or your enemy, JoNs, but not both by turns."

 

The fleet lieutenant commander brought herself out of her thoughts, looking at her marine commander. "For what it is worth ma'am, I miscalculated and this will not happen again, this subterfuge. You have my word."

 

"I should hope not," Harper snapped. "I didn't think I was putting an idiot in charge of Security." With a visible effort she restrained her temper. "As much as I would like to send you down to the Booth, JoNs, doing so would only spread the story of your little plot, and I can't have that."

 

".....perhaps I've suffered enough? No? I didn't think so."

 

"I don't appreciate your flippancy."

 

"Yes sir."

 

Now it came down to it, Harper hesitated over the Caitian's punishment. The Booth, as she'd said, was far too public. But it was unthinkable to let her go unscathed, especially when she could still stand there being pert. Harper's eyes drifted to the agonizer pinned - askew, she noted - to the commander's uniform. Blunt, crude tool that it was, how effective could it be? Something else... something more fitting, more properly parallel...

 

Inspiration struck. "Perhaps I'll take a page from your own book, Commander. Certain rumors have reached me about how you ensured your second bodyguard's loyalties."

 

"What....Sir...I...Oh hell..." Kansas blanched, and her ears flattened in fear. "...Sir. Yes. I did....have a disciplinary issue to attend to regarding my second guard...the rumors are true...” she began to back away from the marine.

 

"Then it seems fitting." Harper motioned, and Davlin stepped up to catch the Caitian again. "A word of advice, Commander? Never dish out anything you can't take yourself."

 

JoNs managed to get a grip on herself, even though her knees felt weak and she wanted to throw up; she refused to become a blubbering fool. The felinoid steeled herself, and faced Harper head on with bravado just shy of shaky confidence. "Yes sir. But I think you'll agree with me when I say that Karma can sometimes blow antimatter."

 

"So it does, Commander. So it does."