"Ex Post Facto"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Note: this log is a sequel the events depicted in the “Cocksure Cat” log, released 03.29.07.

 

09.09.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Ex Post Facto”

 

“Frag. Compensate!” JoNs's normally purred voice snarled within the confines of the shuttle Hexen. She stumbled up to the cockpit, her normally sure footing thrown off by the tilting vehicle. The proximity alarms were going off, and the warning lights strobed a constant red.

 

“No response, I’m getting no response at all.” The young Terran ops officer at the helm turned to glance at the feline, his expression one of worry.

 

The day had started out well. The Agincourt was flying the colors over some little backwater planet that needed to be reminded who the boss was, and Kansas and her pilot escort were returning to the ship after the feline security chief had checked on her various teams patrolling the main capital city. It had promised to be such a milk run, that she hadn’t even brought along a bodyguard. Then again, that was probably a good thing one of two guards was not here, what with the shuttle plummeting like a rock and all.

 

“What about the thrusters? Can you power them down at all?!”

 

“Negative! I’m completely blocked out from the systems containing the landing programs! Hell, I’m locked out of everything!”

 

The Caitian senior officer fell into the navigator seat, frantically checking the console board. “Oh damn…oh damn…”

 

“Sir! Impact. Shortly. Landscape.” The man – Sandoval, that was his name. His rank was a junior grade lieutenant. Hey, if she was going to die with someone, the feline would rather know a name and rank – recited this warning rather calmly, considering that they were both rather fragged.

 

Kansas stared out the front view port of the shuttle. “Oh dear.”

 

The landscape could be considered rugged, possibly pretty. That is, if the Hexen wasn’t heading right for it.

 

The shuttlecraft hit, and then bounced back up into the air. The dampeners could only account for so much protection for the occupants of the shuttle, and JoNs slammed face first into the console while Sandoval collided with the bulkhead. The shuttle hit again, jostling the two officers again. The momentum was slowing by degrees.

 

A third hit; Sandoval flew backwards this time down the center aisle, while Kansas flew sideways into the boarding hatch.

 

On the fourth hit, the ops officer heard something crack in his right arm followed by white hot pain. The feline security officer was rammed into the decking, dislodging a fang in a spray of blood.

 

The momentum of the vehicle finally slowed enough, and the fifth hit could be considered a love tap, if one could ignore the bruised officers and various blood spots now forming on the impact points around the shuttle interior.

 

“…Hexen. Come in Hexen. You have left your recorded flight path. Commander JoNs please respond…”

 

The feline was lying face down, and had somehow bounced back up into the general cockpit area.

 

“…come in Hexen. Lieutenant Sandoval, please respond…”

 

Sandoval had a broken arm, but had managed to drag himself into a sitting position; his right eye had begun to swell as well. He gingerly tapped at his comm badge. “Agincourt, this is Hexen, Lieutenant Sandoval responding. We had an accident. Stand by.” He cut the comm line. “Commander JoNs. Sound off.” Imperial training kicked in, and the junior officer easily fell into emergency protocols despite his pain.

 

The feline rolled over onto her side and proceeded to hawk out a nice wad of saliva and spit; her bottom left incisor fang had dislodged, and rested on the deck. She answered the junior officer. “JoNs, alive but not necessarily well.” She tapped at her comm badge. “Agincourt, this is Commander JoNs. The shuttle is down. We are alive, but injured. No, we will not attempt repairs. Send a damn tow. JoNs out.”

 

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

 

An hour later, the Hexen had been towed back to the Agincourt by the shuttle Styx. Investigative repairs had begun, and Sandoval had been sent off to medical. JoNs however, had remained behind; in her mind, the failure of systems resulting in the accident was treading dangerously close to areas of sabotage. Not that JoNs or Sandoval were very interesting targets, mind you – she wasn’t that full of herself. Regardless, in her mind, it was now a minor matter for security, and she constituted the security presence.

 

The feline had blood coating her lower lip and chin, as well as down the right side of her face from a nasty gash on her temple. The blood definitely added to the whole ‘scary feline, you will fear me’ thing, and none of the engineers were questioning her presence. Although, Master Chief Keltex kept winging her one of those ‘get your butt to sickbay’ looks; she studiously ignored him.

 

During her fifth ‘you will not pass out from blood loss’ conversation with herself, one of the engineering techs popped his head out of the shuttle entry way. “Sir! We have something.”

 

Kansas moved from where she had been leaning against the hull of the shuttle and entered the interior, the Master Chief right behind her. The gold feline looked at the lead technician expectantly. “Well?”

 

The female engineer smiled a bit. “The shuttle systems were corrupted, that’s why you diverged from your navigational vector plan, and ultimately kissed the dirt…” Kansas winced, “…uh, apologies sir.”

 

Keltex jumped into the conversation. “What caused this corruption Crewman?”

 

“Oddly enough, a civilian root program. We’ll know a little more once we perform a full diagnostic, but basically, the civilian program – whatever it was used for, however it got in the systems in the first place – got imbedded within our shuttle systems and caused the havoc. It just so happened the cascade effect was triggered during the run to the planet and back. And it could have happened anytime, or not at all. It is an easy fix…despite the rough time you and Sandoval had.”

 

JoNs’s ears had gone flat; the gesture would be mistaken for anger, but in reality, the Caitian was scared out of her ever loving mind. The unsanctioned personnel reconfiguring she had done with Robairs transfer…the civilian bypass program she had used…corruption…oh my gods…I almost killed myself and another crewmember ex post facto…”Is there any evidence of sabotage?” Her voice came out rough.

 

The engineer backed up a pace. “Uh…no sir. But then again, we’re more concerned with the cause of the problem, not the why.”

 

JoNs cut her off. “I want everyone off scene now. This has now become a security matter.”

 

“Sir? Lieutenant Colonel Day is expecting a preliminary report…”

 

“Fine. After I complete my section of the investigation, then you can file the preliminary report…”

 

“Sir, regulations…”

 

Kansas hissed at her. The engineer and her team exited the shuttle quickly. Thank the gods, as the Caitian security chief really didn’t have the strength left to smack anyone today.

 

Her pressure really spiked at that point, and as the wave of dizziness engulfed her, the feline leaned back against the bulkhead; Keltex placed a big hand on her shoulder to steady her. The big Klingon observed the shorter feline quietly for a moment before speaking. “You know something of this?”

 

JoNs didn’t answer his query directly. “Mister Keltex. I need you to go to my quarters. Desk, bottom left drawer, a beat up leather tool pouch. Bring me the following computer splice and defrag items…”

 

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

 

Less then forty five minutes later, the displaced engineering team had been readmitted to the vehicle and were happily (well, one or two dirty looks were still being directed at the Caitian) doing their grease monkey act.

 

Kansas sat on the small boarding ramp leading into the shuttle; the blood had long since caked on her golden fur, and she looked a weary sight. Keltex was *this close* to just up and grabbing at her and throwing her over his shoulder to carry her to the medical bay. He did no such thing…but he could not seem to escape the desire…as if he had done it before and it had worked quite well…it was going to happen. Someday. Stubborn feline.

 

The ever patient silver haired Klingon guard cleared his throat. “Sir, you need medical attention…”

 

JoNs – again – ignored the suggestion. She merely held up her bloodied and dislodged fang. “I am going to have this cleaned and made into a necklace Master Chief. Ask around on the ship; there has to be someone with a hobby in jewelry making.”

 

Keltex regarded his employer askance. “Commander? Your own tooth? Typically, necklaces are made from a hunting kill, or a kill on the battlefield. Why would you wish to immortalize a shuttle crash that knocked out your tooth?”

 

“As yet another reminder to me that all of my personal actions can and will have an equal and opposite reaction.”

Edited September 9, 2007 by Kansas_Jones