"Spring Cleaning"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

(Note: Some Violent Content)

(Takes place two weeks after the events of “Karma”)

 

05.28.05

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Spring Cleaning”

 

The automatic entrance doors to the armory wooshed opened, admitting Lieutenant j.g. Mical and Lt. Commander JoNs to the area. A crowd of about thirty – comprising members of the first, second and third Amory shifts – had gathered for the informal meeting. It was time to complete Operation Spring Cleaning.

 

The Andorian officer took a guard position to JoNs’s immediate right, and the feline security commander addressed the gathered crowd, her purred voice carrying within the large area of the weapons bay.

 

“Armory Chief Grace Hatama, as you all know, succumbed to plasma discharge induced injures one month ago. Many of you have inquired as to her replacement...”

 

Right on cue, Conrad Zimm walked into the armory with an easy confidence. Instead of sporting the raven black vest and second lieutenant bars of the marines, he now wore security gold and the rank insignia of a full lieutenant.

 

“…I present Lieutenant Conrad Zimm, call sign Silencer, formerly of the marine battalion. Mister Zimm will be joining us as our new Armory Chief, and he brings an extensive knowledge of weapons, armor, and general ballistic ordnance. I expect the same respect that was shown to Hatama to be shown to Lieutenant Zimm.”

 

A few moments passed before the murmured conversations began to dissolve into something more. As expected it was one small group of dissenters, both male and female, led by Petty Officers Esteban and Greyhawk; JoNs had already given the two men a chance - it was time to further deal with her two enlisted officers. She spared a quick glance at Mical, who was merely watching the proceedings with a hawk-like detachment. It was apparent that she held no loyalty for her two former co-conspirators.

 

The group merely shouted out statements such as ‘a marine’, ‘outsiders’, and ‘departmental cohesion’. After a short while, things quieted down with most of the armory crew moving off to the sides, and the dissenter group facing off with Zimm, Mical and JoNs.

 

A slow, wolfish smile marred Zimms handsome features, casting him in a predatory light. “Oh….Master Chief Keltex!”

 

“Oh yes! Lieutenant Zimm!”

 

The opposition, and the general crowd, spun in the direction of the new voice; the silver haired Klingon had taken up a position atop one of the empty torpedo racks, and now sighted down the scope of a sniper rifle.

 

Zimm continued, “It would seem that a few officers and crew are not open to my new appointment as the armory chief.”

 

The Klingon guard continued the farce. “Oh my goodness – whatever will we do?”

 

The rifle that Keltex wielded never wavered, and Zimm noted that the ones that had been aligning with Greyhawk and Esteban were now melting into the crowd proper.

 

Kansas leaned toward Mical, speaking out of the side of her mouth. “The gents are enjoying this way too much.”

 

Mical responded quietly. ‘If they ever leave the service for acting, they’ll starve.”

 

Esteban angrily whirled back around and spoke up. “…this is targ######…”

 

With practiced ease and possibly a bit of greased lightning thrown in, Kansas drew her sawed off plasma shotgun from its leg holster and fired. The retort of the weapon echoed loudly and caused some of the crowd to instinctively duck.

 

The plasma blast hit Greyhawk – who had been standing next to Esteban and still faced in the direction of the Master Chief – square in the back. The man flew a good six to eight feet before landing in a dazed heap.

 

The Caitian security chief began a slow stalk toward Esteban, who had gone white as Ketracel. She leveled the weapon at him. “Petty Officer, you are getting on my nerves with your rabble rousing…”

 

She heard Mical hurriedly explaining to the bridge to ‘just ignore the weapons discharge’ that the internal ships sensors had registered

 

“…I just nailed your buddy with C-grade plasma stun rounds. He’ll live, he’ll be sore as hell tomorrow, but he will live. I suggest you take notes, comprende chico?” The Caitian employed some of the man’s native language that she had picked up on in order to further mess with him.

 

“Yes sir!”

 

JoNs turned and began walking back to where Mical and Zimm stood, but then suddenly whirled and fired again – the second blast impacted with Esteban's left shoulder, and the man flew backwards in a twirl before landing face down and hard on the decking.

 

Lieutenant Mical merely sighed as she again contacted the bridge using her wrist communicator.

 

“Bridge…please ignore that discharge as well…”

Edited May 28, 2007 by Kansas_Jones