"Watch Dog"

[Kansas 0]

11.14.07

 

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

 

"Watchdog"

 

 

 

Every department on every ship, outpost, or space station in service to the Starfleet had them.

 

 

They were that one officer, usually a senior rank, sometimes a junior officer, perhaps an enlisted officer.

 

 

The watchdog.

 

 

And for the security contingent stationed on the exploratory warship USS Agincourt, the watchdog was Master Chief Petty Officer Keltex of House Lokan. And he had quite the network established as well.

 

 

The stately elder Klingon appeared in the doorway of the main security offices, his keen brown-gray eyes not missing anything, and searching for Petty Officer Katt. Lieutenant Holt, the officer of the watch, nodded respectfully from the desk that he had set himself up at.

 

 

Marisa spotted the Klingon from her post at the brig receiving desk, and she waved the big male enlisted officer over to her. His long silver hair flowing out as he walked, the enlisted Klingon stopped in front of the receiving desk, looking down at the human woman of Mexican heritage expectantly and with a touch of curiosity.

 

 

"I'm sorry Master Chief about pulling you away from your investigative duties, but we have an issue."

 

 

"What is the problem Marisa?"

 

 

"It's more like a pre-emptive strike. I need your leverage to get the chief to call it a night."

 

 

"Oh?" Keltex raised a surprised eyebrow.

 

 

"I know that she commed you regarding the new suspect in custody that is being investigated…"

 

 

"So you were eavesdropping." A good natured leer exposed his craggy teeth.

 

 

"I'm a former investigative reporter who was gathering Intel. Sue me. Anyway, as I was saying; I know she failed to mention that the prisoner socked her pretty good in the side, and she's favoring it big time. She apparently canceled the rest of her marine training session this cycle, but that's not good enough."

 

 

Keltex raised the eyebrow again. During a training session or a mission op, Marisa Katt was typically the first person to tell someone to suck it up, and didn't deal especially well with weakness, either her own weakness or those around her. Dealing with an injury was just part of the job for her, or as she liked to say, "walk it off and don't be a plebe".

 

 

She raised her hand. "I know what you are thinking. Yes, I am admitting it – the cat isn't walking this one off, not without some help. Comprende?"

 

 

"Why call me in? Medical should probably handle…"

 

 

"Nada. She needs persuasion of the Klingon variety. Plus the fact, she won't bust you to cadet when you do interfere; you can get away with it."

 

 

Keltex had already started to form a tactical plan of action. "… this is true. Aye then – to battle. Mwa ha ha! May I call on you for backup if needed?" His features were alight with an almost suicidal glee.

 

 

A positively feral leer plastered itself across Marisa's features. "Always."

 

 

The Klingon turned his attention to Lieutenant Rico, who was calmly reading over some security reports. "And what of you Holt?"

 

 

Without looking up from his Padd, the commissioned officer answered his enlisted officer counterpart. "Master Chief, I know nothing and see nothing. Unless something explodes, have at it good sir."

 

 

The enlisted Klingon officer walked with confident strides towards the chief of security's office, stopping at the threshold and chiming for entrance.

 

 

"Come!" a purred voice drifted out, and as the entry way door slid aside, the darkened privacy window to the office simultaneously went to clear, showing Kansas sitting at her desk.

 

 

Keltex's nose immediately wrinkled as a smell akin to roses, jasmine and citrus assailed his nostrils. "What in the name of Grethor is that smell? Are you wearing perfume Commander Kitten?"

 

 

The Caitian, still wearing her training fatigues, shot a wry look at him; the Kitten was enough to deal with normally, but the Klingon flat out refused to call her by her demotion rank. It was like trying to reason with a rock. "No, Master Chief, I am not wearing perfume. It is a Caitian therapy gel for cuts and bruises and the like. Now, what brings you here? Any progress as of yet on the bio signature investigation?"

 

 

"Not as of yet, but we are still processing all the possible leads and conjecture and such."

 

 

"Good, keep me posted on the progress. I just completed and sent off a memo, along with forwarding all the other memos submitted regarding the investigation, to the Colonels. Hopefully the preliminary information from our new brig guest leads somewhere."

 

 

"Very well. I assume this means that you will be retiring for the remainder of the night Commander?"

 

 

The golden feline leveled a cool look at her senior enlisted man. "In a little bit, aye."

 

 

Keltex harrumphed; her 'little bits' usually meant about three to four hours. In a flash he had started around the desk to get at Kansas.

 

 

The feline, even though she was hurting, was still faster then the enlisted officer and she darted around the desk, using it as a barrier. Her leonine features were stern. "Stand down Master Chief; you will not pack me around again like so much a sack of grain."

 

 

"Have you been to medical?"

 

 

"No, and I do not intend to go to medical. I have been there too much lately thanks to the ministrations of our marines. If I grace the medical threshold once more, the doctors will start to think I am cornering the market on painkillers or something. I can tough it out Master Chief."

 

 

"Then let me take a look at your side."

 

 

"Like hell I…"

 

 

Keltex moved again, with Kansas matching him; they both ended up in opposite positions, still facing one another over the desk. They remained that way for a good five minutes, neither Klingon nor Caitian giving ground or moving.

 

 

"Commander… do not make me start singing show tunes…"

 

 

"You wouldn't dare…"

 

 

The big Klingon took in a great lungful of air.

 

 

"No! Wait! Fine! Fine – if it'll make you happy, you may check my injury out."

 

 

Angrily, the feline shucked her uniform jacket, exposing the fleet issue tee shirt underneath; the movements caused her to wince.

 

 

The Klingon got hold (gently!) of the kitten finally – and really, getting her to seek medical attention was like getting a recalcitrant domesticated cat to the vet. Was it really true that they were all alike across the species? - and moved her to sit on the edge of the desk. He lifted the shirt, exposing the Cait's side, and indeed, even trough the fur, the skin showed a livid purple, red, and yellow.

 

 

"…a very nasty bruise. Deep."

 

 

"You don't say." Her voice shook as the Klingon deftly probed the area with his fingers. "The initial shot came from Mister Troll – the prisoner aggravated it."

 

 

Keltex harrumphed again, and moved toward the doorway. "Katt – bring a field gel plast from one of the battle kits."

 

 

"I do not want a production made out of this Master Chief."

 

He turned and considered his young commanding officer. He took in her posture, and the many emotions held in check by her predatory personality. Pride. Independence. Stubborn. And one very important factor, an instinct of the feline that had been around since the dawn of time and present in most of the species: an unwillingness to show weakness, and a survival quirk hardwired into the brain to hide any injuries. The master chief had once heard a human comrade state, after the squad had come across an injured wild cat in the forests of Laventa Six, that "cats heal themselves".

 

 

Not this night.

 

 

"Commander, you will let us tend your wound. It is a foolish warrior who enters battle with an infected wound."

 

 

Kansas had no logical rebuttle.

 

 

"This will be between myself, you, and Katt." The Klingon raised his voice. "Mister Holt knows nothing, is that not correct Mister Holt!"

 

 

A strong, and amused, human male voice carried into the office from the outer offices. "Know what about what now?"

 

 

The feline smiled and nodded her agreement.

 

 

**********

It took a few moments, but the two petty officers made short work of their chiefs' injury. Katt re-applied the Caitian gel evenly across Kansas's side, and then Keltex affixed the healing plasti-gel pad, which would adhere to the feline's side and further the healing process.

 

 

The heat from the pad was immediate, and relaxed Kansas enough for the work day and recent excitement to quickly bear down on her. Keltex easily carted the now groggy feline over his shoulder and indeed packed her like so much a sack of grain. Now he would be able to get her to her quarters for some much needed rest.

 

 

Pausing at the entrance to the security offices, the big Klingon turned and regarded his two 'helpers' for the 'mission op', his furred charge in tow "Thank you both, and of course, unless she wants the tale told, this goes no further then these offices and stays within the family."

 

 

The response from Holt and Katt was prompt. "So say we all."

Edited November 14, 2007 by Master Chief Keltex