"Public Relations"

[Kansas 0]

12.29.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Public Relations”

 

The Terran Empire wasn’t a sort of magical organization. Those that were charged with the upper echelons of command couldn’t just invoke some sort of magic incantation and have ready made officers and crewmembers to staff the many ships and outposts of the Imperial Fleet to protect the interests of the organization.

Recruiting needed to be done to gather the necessary personnel and financial backers were needed to fund this project or that project. In order to attract one or the other, the call needed to go out, and that was accomplished through public relations.

 

**********

ISS Agincourt, First Shift

 

Lieutenant Commander Kansas JoNs had been good. Really good. Matter of fact, she had probably not been this well behaved in forever. See? The instruction was paying off. The feline Imperial officer sat quietly at her desk in her office, scrolling through the schematics showing on her computer workstation and making notations on the upgrade report that had been submitted to her.

 

Then, that little orb flitted past her periphery vision again, and she had to fight the urge to pounce. One week. The press reporter had been on board the ‘Court for one week. And the whole situation had been a freakin’ security nightmare. Apparently, a bigwig at Fleet command had deemed it necessary for a handful of frontline ships to take on a reporter for a short period of time so this representative could witness a real working command ship at its Imperial best. For the past week, per the order of both the commanding officer and executive officer, everything had been spit and polish, all the uniforms neat and tidy, and everything on the up and up.

 

Oh, pardon me while I gag.

 

The orb flitted past again, and Kansas growled in displeasure, earning a gentle “Easy sir” from Lieutenant Mical, on duty just outside the open entranceway to the office.

 

“Oh, come on, just one little pounce? No one has to know. I won’t hurt it. Much.”

 

The silver haired Andorian woman popped her head into the office, regarding her employer with equal parts understanding and exasperation. “Two words: Squirt bottle.”

 

“Three words. Smart ass Lieutenant.”

 

Mical just smirked and resumed her attentive post outside the chief of security’s office, leaving the feline chief to offer a sigh and just glare at the floating thing that had become her nemesis.

 

The reporter assigned to the ship had practically had a heart attack upon being introduced to JoNs. Apparently, a feline holding the rank of security chief and second officer within the Imperial Fleet was a bit of a rarity. Downright odd, even. Therefore, JoNs had been tasked with a small floating automated reporter bot. The little device would follow her around during her duty shift, take still pictures and streaming video, and record this conversation or that conversation. The feline was a bit fuzzy – pun, intended even – on the details, but basically, the footage would then be re-worked and compiled and then shown as one part of the yearly Fleet recruiting drive.

 

JoNs had balked. Day and Harper had threatened. Drama ensued. And then, JoNs relented (read: invoked the better part of valor and retreated) and they all lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, what one failed to realize was that a darty, round orb that moved rather fast and made a buzzing sound and looked like a toy fairly screamed “I am prey! Pounce me oh feline, and embrace the hunt!” There were certain instincts common to all the feline species, and Kansas JoNs was now having a helluva time NOT pouncing the damned floating and darty camera recorder thing.

 

“Okay – that’s it. Patrol rounds.” The Caitian logged out of her work station and quickly left her office, tail swishing. Lieutenant Mical was right at her side as soon as the feline cleared the doorway, and the automated camera was buzzing right along with them.

 

Kansas dropped to all fours once out in the corridor, her profile hunched and sulking. “Well, it could have been worse – at least I wasn’t one of the officers interviewed.”

 

The orb chose that moment to dart right in front of the felines face and snap a picture; JoNs tensed and let loose with a displeased snarl, ready to swipe at the recorder.

 

“Commander! Imperial property!”

 

The warning hollered out by Mical brought JoNs back from the brink, again; her lashing tail expressed the Cait’s outward annoyance and thinning patience.

 

The two officers and their small automated device toured through the main security offices, the brig, then the main armory and Transporter Room 1 and finally the SIF & IDF Generators. It was a standard patrol pattern that any first year newbie could have performed, but JoNs’s orders from her senior shark commanders had been very clear – show the day to day (the sanitized version, that is) life of an Imperial senior officer. The little automated camera device was practically in a tizzy, darting this way and that, snapping pictures and recording various begrudging commentary from JoNs explaining the patrol duties and such. And then, it was one dart too many. The damn thing zoomed past the feline, and was much to close for comfort.

 

Kansas leaped, grabbing at the camera and getting it down on the floor. The hover rotors protested as she balanced herself on all four paws on top of the device, keeping her “prey” confined and on the decking. She grabbed at the stun baton affixed to her belt with a paw, and then gave the camera a little zap to wonk out the short term recording systems.

 

“Oh, my. Oh the great moon of Andor. I can’t be seeing this. I know nothing.” Lieutenant Mical then became highly interested in a mobile workstation set in a recessed panel in the corridor outside the secondary generator as her commanding officer wrestled and hissed at the orb. The Caitian finally got the recalcitrant automated device over to one of the waste chutes and chucked it down the shaft.

 

**********

ISS Agincourt, Second Shift

 

Reporter Simon Renaldo entered the main security offices, a look of confused consternation on his tanned face. His ever present data padd was tightly gripped in one well manicured hand, and his suit of fine silk was impeccable as always.

 

Kansas was sitting at one of the desks in the outer office, leaning back in the chair, hind paws up on the desk, reading a padd. But, she had picked up on the man’s entrance, and without looking up from the report she perused, her one ear flipped back and she called over to him. “Something I can help you with Mister Renaldo?”

 

“Yes. Yes indeed, there is something you can help me with Commander JoNs. I can not find my ARC device.”

 

JoNs focused her attention on the vexed reporter and feigned surprise. “That little camera device? Well, I have not seen it around lately.”

 

“But I assigned it to follow you – it would not have diverged from its primary program coding.”

 

“Well, yes, that may be, but I still haven’t seen it in quite some time. To be honest sir, I assumed you recalled the little camera.”

 

“Well, I most certainly did not. I was not yet done with my information gathering regarding you and your security department Ms. JoNs.”

 

“Well, Mister Renaldo, I assure you that I have no idea on the whereabouts of your automated research camera…”

 

At that point, and with good (or was that bad?) timing, a gods awful buzzing could be heard from the outside corridor. The security office doors whooshed apart, admitting the aforementioned camera device. It was floating off kilter, the normally pristine silver coating charred on one side, somewhat dented, and trailing a bit of vapor. The ARC bumped into a few random things and people, but eventually got back over to its target area – namely JoNs. Renaldo looked on, horrified.

 

Without missing a beat, and trying very hard to keep the laughter from her voice – and being only mildly successful, Kansas spoke to Renaldo. “Oh dear. The ARC must have wandered into the maintenance shafts or some such. Poor little guy.”

 

**********

 

I. Love. Mirror.