Senior Officer Part Three

[Kansas_Jones 0]

08.24.07

ISS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Senior Officer – Part 3”

 

Lieutenant Scott Holt sighed and ran a hand through his jet black hair. Third shift on tactical generally blew antimatter. The chronometer showed that he had another thirty minutes until the alpha shift started.

 

He ran yet another sensor program - which would yield the same results as the last time, a whole bunch of nothing - and began the prep work to place the TAC board on standby for the shift changeover.

 

Everything changed a few months ago. Departmental command of security had shifted to the furball, and then to add insult to injury, she gets promoted to lieutenant commander. Who was she sleeping with? That was the only logical explanation for the Caitian felines rise in the ranks. Aliens rarely had any kind of ambition, it was a known fact. Why should JoNs be any different?

 

********************

“You can not be serious. You will not be going. “

 

“The matter is not open for discussion Master Chief.”

 

Junior grade Lieutenant Mical leaned against the bulkhead in JoNs’s quarters, crossed her arms over her chest and settled in for another round of Keltex vs. JoNs. It drove Keltex half nuts whenever JoNs went off on one of her ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ excursions.

 

The Andorian woman’s gaze wandered over the felinoid chiefs’ private quarters. It was actually quite cozy – a few holovids of who she assumed were JoNs’s family, various Caitian artifacts and statues, and a model ship of an old style cargo hauler was proudly displayed on a shelf. A small collection of actual hardback books sat on a shelf over in the small office area. Mical wandered over to the collection to investigate, careful to keep track of Keltex and JoNs; if knives or phaser shots flew, she was prepared to duck. Duck first, ask questions later, call medical. Oh, and clean up any blood.

 

The books, though used, were well kept. The six book set was entitled “The Pirate Knights of Skymos”, a fiction series popular during the turn of the century across many species and ages. “Pirates – figures she would be interested in that.” The lieutenant carefully replaced the novel she had been flipping through.

 

“That is enough Master Chief! You are over stepping your boundaries, and my patience grows thin!” There was a growled undercurrent of warning in the felines voice now.

 

“My boundaries are what keep you alive!”

 

The verbal sparring match had spilled over into the small office / sleeping area, so Mical moved into the living area. She looked at the racks of weapons set on a wall display – phaser rifles, hand weapons, bladed weapons – the collection was small, but eclectic.

 

Oddly enough, there was no sign of Lieutenant Zimm ever having graced the area. The human and feline kept their love life with one another discreet, she would give them both that. Another interesting thing of note was that the feline lieutenant commander did not seem to match her neat and tidy quarters. Make no mistake, like her domesticated cousins, the Caitian’s hygiene was fastidiously clean, but she was also a bit on the…scruffy looking…side. It was the perfect outward showing for her feral nature, Mical mused.

 

The debate abruptly stopped, and Mical turned her attention back to JoNs and Keltex; the elder Klingon was glaring at nothing in particular, arms crossed over his barrel chest. Commander JoNs stood at the desk making last minute notations on the console screen with a light pen. The only outward indication of the heated discussion was the slight flare to the golden felines tail.

 

The Andorian lieutenant entered the breach of silence. ‘Oh good, you’re both done.” She received two sour looks in response.

 

“For whatever its worth, as the other half of the body guarding team, I also feel as if you are taking an unnecessary risk…” JoNs opened her muzzle to level a growl at Mical, and Keltex smiled at the blue skinned woman, “…but I also understand the command prerogative.” The Klingon’s smile disappeared and JoNs smirked slightly, nodding her thanks at Mical.

 

The feline lieutenant commander finished at the console and then moved silently over to the weapons display. She began removing the weapons she currently wore, replacing them with new armaments for the upcoming ‘mission’. She paused at her custom made bullwhip; the feline hadn’t used the weapon since…well, since Colonel Harper had used it on her. Karma still sucked antimatter.

 

She made her decision, removing the whip from its display hanger and clipping it to her weapons belt; both of her bodyguards had that ‘eyebrows up’ expression. The feline shrugged. “A weapon is a weapon. Like a tool, if you don’t employ it regularly, you get rusty with it. I need some practice.”

 

“So, you are planning to use it?”

 

The Caitian chief looked at Keltex. “Honestly, that depends solely on Holt.”

 

“….in other words, she means yes.”

 

Conrad Zimm emerged from the shadows of the sleeping area; Kansas grinned mischievously as Mical and Keltex whirled around, both guards automatically reaching for their phasers.

 

Mical leveled a scathing look at Zimm. “Is that how you got the Silencer call sign I gather? Skulking around?”

 

The human marine turned security officer crossed the short distance and stood by JoNs, his hand slipping around her to back rest on her hip. “Hey, it’s not my fault y’all didn’t check the entire quarters.” He winked, attempting to take the edge off the situation. Keltex answered with a snort.

 

JoNs put her paw up in the air, forestalling any bickering. “Okay, let’s move onto business.” She shared a kiss with Zimm, and he whispered “happy hunting” to her. All four of the security officers exited the private quarters; Mical took the point guard, Keltex fell back to take the rear guard, with the Caitian chief in between the two of them. Zimm took off in the opposite direction, heading for the Armory alpha shift.

 

The plan was now in motion.

 

********************

Lieutenant Holt was exchanging pleasantries with Vulcan Ensign T’Selt, his alpha relief, when JoNs stalked onto the bridge. He managed to keep the frown from his features. The furball coming to the bridge wasn’t a surprise in itself; she was the senior officer after all. But, what a stupid cat. She should be on a leash.

 

What was a surprise was when she suddenly swooped down on Holt like a bird of prey. She latched a paw around his one arm and pointed a phaser right at his chest. “Walk with me into the Obs lounge. Now.” The feline gave him a general shove in the direction of the room and pointed the phaser at his back. Mical and Keltex took up positions equidistant on the bridge, ensuring that there would be no outside interference.

 

A shared nod with T’Selt confirmed that the Vulcan female would temporarily dampen the internal sensors in case a phaser should…accidentally discharge within the next few minutes.

 

JoNs gave Holt a general shove into the lounge area. “Computer, lock the Obs Lounge down. JoNs Beta Lirpa Mark 2.” The entrance locked and the comm panel next to the doorway glowed red a moment later. The area was typically used to show off the star field and welcome any sort of dignitary to the ship with a small reception. The feline was merely re-interpreting the usage of the space for another kind of meet and greet.

 

Both security officers circled one another for a minute, and Kansas savored the moment as she stalked her prey. Holt represented the last loose end of her departmental consolidation; it was time to tie up that string…or string Holt up, whichever you prefer.

 

She started speaking without preamble. “I know how you feel about me Lieutenant. I am your boss and until I’m removed or carried out, you will deal with the situation as I see fit.”

 

Holt’s hand, which had been resting on the butt of his phaser, drew the weapon. She had been itching to attack the man, and the Caitians whip snaked through the air to connect with his left thigh; she pulled, and Holt went down flat on his back, the phaser flying across the room with a metallic thump.

 

He managed to right himself, scrabbling at his knife sheath, only to have another lash catch him; he threw his arms up to protect his head.

 

*******************

Ensign Bailey, the alpha helm officer, just sat there and stared at the observation lounge doors. A snarl, yelp, or cuss word would occasionally filter out from the closed area. He looked at the officer manning operations; she looked at him, and then they both became very interested in their console boards.

 

********************

Holt heaved the potted plant at JoNs; the feline easily sidestepped and the plant impacted with the large observation window, shattering the pot.

 

Assault with a deadly plant? Okay, that is a new one…

 

JoNs ran and vaulted off one of the chairs set in the seating area, leaving clawed furrows in the upholstery, and aimed herself in mid air at the now backpedaling Holt….

 

********************

The bridge operations officer glanced at over at the observation door as another ominous thump and yelp sounded.

 

She looked back down at her board, and fervently wished for something that she didn’t normally wish for – the appearance of a shark colonel. Either the raven haired bad ass command vibes one, or the pointy eared mind runner one; both sharks would be a welcome sight on the bridge right about now. The marines were many things, but the two senior sharks tended to breed order in their wake.

 

********************

“….submit. I submit to your authority!...”

 

Lieutenant Holt was flat on his back with Lieutenant Commander JoNs on top of him. Her right claws were splayed at his neck, her left paw up in the air ready to do secondary damage as well.

 

“Good. No more dissention. No more off handed comments in the departmental meetings. Next time, no matter how small the infractions, I will shoot, and I have no qualms about it being in your back. Remember that. You are now dismissed.”

 

With that, the feline moved off of Holt, backing across the now slightly compromised observation lounge to retrieve her whip.

 

********************

The doors from the lounge to the bridge whooshed open to admit a battered Holt, with JoNs trailing close behind him. Both Mical and Keltex kept their phasers trained on the security lieutenant until he exited the bridge. The bridge personnel, both alpha shift and a few bloodthirsty types that had remained from the third shift, all stared at the Caitian senior officer. She did her ‘who me’ innocent feline look before a mischievous leer lightened her leonine features.

 

“Sorry for the unscheduled mayhem. Mister Holt was late getting a report to me. Regulations must be followed and all that….”