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Kansas_Jones

"Battle Apparition"

This log is Left Ear having a Dox Maturin moment. ;-)

 

06.29.07

USS Excalibur

"Battle Apparition"

 

Left Ear JoNs stalked down the corridor as she took a pull on the little inhaler that the sickbay attendant had issued to her. The female technician had assured the feline officer that she would be fine in a couple hours, and the minor lung damage caused by the TAC console explosion would dissipate and the discomfort would go away.

 

Whatever sweetie – you didn’t inhale a lungful of super heated smoke, plastic and generally vaporized console circuitry. Doug, Left Ear and Segami had all been caught in the explosion. Chief Segami was down for the count, and she still wasn’t sure of the extent of Doug’s injuries. The only one from the line team who was not walking wounded was Ensign Victria, and the female hunter was currently detached on shipboard patrol duties.

 

A fierce grin exposed her fangs; she pitied any boarding party foolish enough to tangle with the Al Ucardian.

 

The tawny furred junior lieutenant entered the main security offices, securing the little re-breather device on her waistband as she walked. She knew she should grab some food or sleep before her next shift at tactical, but any food would not sit very well, and she wanted to avoid exhaustion induced night mares for right now. She located an open desk console, offering quick smiles and receiving some sympathetic smiles in return - she had changed out of her smoky and singed uniform, but her right paw still bore a healing gel bandage for some burns.

 

The damage control teams were still repairing the bridge TAC console, but in the meantime, JoNs could do the programming prep work here in the offices for her assigned duty – the grav mines. She would be able to download her configurations on a Data Padd and then transfer everything to the console once it was back up and running…and then it could be blown up again. Yippee.

 

A paw flew across the desk console, entering the necessary command coding to access the gravitic mine program sequences. They showed green across the board – forty percent reserves, and twenty percent already queued up. The lieutenant entered the necessary specs to reconfigure the grav mine primary and secondary deployment sequences to hot key functions; half of the mines would be immediately detonated upon target impact, and the remaining fifty percent would function on delayed timers, blowing up whatever happened to be in the way. JoNs was planning on switching between the ballistic sets depending on the situation, and she already knew that chain reacting ten or so of the delayed fire mines could be very devastating to a combatant ship.

 

The delicious smell of cinnamon wafted into her sensitive nostrils and her leonine head snapped up to locate the source. A young security ensign was removing his beverage from the nearby replicator. Maybe some caffeine would help. Wearily, she stood and walked over.

 

The Terran male, about mid twenties, offered her a small smile. “Sir. Seems to be a busy shift today…”

 

“Aye that it is, Ensign….?”

 

“Singh Morrison. Security, obviously. I usually work the third shift, but I’m covering for someone today.”

 

That probably explains why she didn’t recognize him – she wasn’t one hundred percent familiar with the third shifters yet. A total lapse on her part and one to be remedied in the future.

 

“Nice to meet you Morrison.” To the computer, she said. “Half Raktajino, half Terran chocolate. Hot.” The device obediently shimmered the beverage into existence.

 

“Ah – the good stuff indeed sir.” He took a sip of his own beverage.

 

The man had an easy, open way about him for someone only a few summers younger then she was. Left Ear offered him a fanged smile and her tail swished once. “Yes it is. And you can call me Left Ear.”

 

Morrison smiled. “You’re a Pilot?”

 

“A long while ago, and now I really don’t get much time to do any flying in an official capacity. But the name stays, as you can see.” She pointed to the missing left ear tip.

 

“…Be thankful you didn’t lose the tip of your pinky…”

 

The deadpan delivery gave JoNs a bout of the giggles, and her chuckled purring sounded in the offices.

 

He deftly changed the subject. “Things got pretty tough on the bridge?” His eyes held curiosity.

 

JoNs sipped her hot drink, contemplating an answer. He had all the signs of “Ensign Johnny Charger” syndrome. Rush into the action, wanting bridge duty or away team duty because that was where all the action was, or shoot first and ask questions later. Once you got injured, this adventurous spirit was knocked out of you; that had at least been the Cait’s experience. And the truth be told, now that her cousin Mrrett was getting older, the younger girl seemed to be a lot like Left Ear had been…and that scared the elder feline a bit.

 

“….it is not something I really care to repeat.”

 

Morrison nodded, almost knowingly. “Our defense systems are great, but they can’t stop all of the incoming volleys. And no matter how quick you are with the weapons response, something always gets through…”

 

“…Thanks Lieutenant, I won’t keep you any longer...”

 

“It was nice speaking with you Singh.”

 

And with a quick nod, he was gone. JoNs was thankful for the brief interruption, but something about the encounter nagged at her.

 

She finished the remainder of her hot chocolate and coffee, and the last vestiges of warmth were soothing going down her throat. She returned to her console just as an older Bajoran female entered the office. The dark skinned woman nodded at her furred counterpart. “Lieutenant.”

 

“Chief Sathin. Excuse me – do you know of an Ensign Morrison?”

 

The Bajoran petty officer started for a second at the question, her earring moving slightly. “Aye sir. He was killed in action over six months ago – before your time.”

 

That was just before I signed on. “….what? He was killed?”

 

“Yes ma’am. There was a tactical explosion on the bridge, during a skirmish with Orion Syndicate cargo runners. He was manning the console during the encounter. Shrapnel sliced into his brain, and he was killed before he hit the decking…”

 

“…did you see him sir?”

 

The Caitian’s silence served as her answer.

 

Sathin offered her a knowing look. “The rumors can be rampant, and usually surface when the ship sees action. Many claimed to have seen Morrison; others swear there is no such thing as a ghost. Some say he appears as a healthy man, others claim they saw the dead version, eyes glazed milky white, shrapnel imbedded in his head, blood flowing down his face. There are also a number of mystical or religious beliefs that surface from time to time – Morrison appears as a guardian, or he is trapped between worlds, or he is a harbinger of coming death…mainly your own. It really depends on your own personal beliefs.”

 

A cold pit had formed in Left Ear’s stomach, replacing the pleasant warmth from the warm beverage she had consumed. “Thank you for the heads up Petty Offcer.” Her voice came out a bit shaky.

 

The Bajoran female offered a sympathetic smile. “Good luck sir.” And then she proceeded on her way.

 

Less then a minute later, the medicinal rebreather found itself hurtling down the waste reclamation chute.

 

The medicinal dosage must have been way too much. That was it.

Edited by Kansas_Jones

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Careful JoNs, crazy is contagious! Any more of this and Corizon's going to have to give us some shoreleave ::hint,hint:: Nice log!

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I agree. Nice log. :)

I love good ghost stories, though crazy hallucinations aren't too bad either. ::coughDoxcough::

I think we should bring back Morrison more often to follow Left Ear around. :)

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