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LeftEar JoNs

"Never a Dull Moment"

03.19.08

USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Never a Dull Moment”

 

I’Denar, the HaVorante home world.

The office of Cmdr. (retired) Arijella, political liaison to the HaVorante First Response Fleet

“They said that they were working for you. We thought it unimportant…”

 

In the few weeks that the Excalibur had been conducting operations in the HaVorante sector, Commander Left Ear JoNs had built up a good working relationship with former commander Arijella. However, when the feline had been told that Semil had been informed of why exactly the crew was doing out here in the back end of space, she knew her pressure had shot up by the slight ringing in her ears.

 

The feline fleet officer abruptly rose from the chair she had been sitting on and paced over to the large picture window that was the center point of the HaVorante woman’s office; the serene city landscape that could be seen out the window was in sharp contrast to the block of ice that had formed in the Caitian’s belly.

 

Arijella delicately cleared her throat. “I take it that that was the wrong thing to say to this Semil of yours?”

 

JoNs just sighed. “Aye, you could say that Commander. And he is not, nor will he ever be, my Semil. Let’s just say that he is less an ally and more a competitor to the crew of the Excalibur.”

 

The proto-Vortan woman rose from the plush leather chair behind her ornate desk and came to stand beside the brown furred Caitian. “What happens now?”

 

“The Excalibur will continue with her mission, this has not changed. We will continue to search for the Founders, and a way to contact these missing leaders of the Dominion. Now, we just happen to have one more added complication of Semil knowing of our mission.”….and not to mention the Hundred soon being made aware of the disappearance of the Founders, but the feline kept this little tidbit of information to herself.

 

“…you do not care for this man?”

 

“No, I do not care for Semil, or his agendas. He is akin to a Caitian grass snake, slithering on his belly, coming up behind you, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Then, he retreats back into the shadows to watch the poison slowly work its way through your body.”

 

“… no, honestly Commander, please tell me how you really feel.”

 

Arijella’s deadpan delivery of her statement had the desired effect, and the normally dour feline executive officer started to chuckle softly at herself. “… I need to work on my diplomatic skills, can’t you tell?”

 

Arijella merely smiled and walked back over to her desk, and as she moved the subtle pattern interwoven into her black business suit caught the waning afternoon daylight coming in through the window. “That knowledge comes with time. I myself did not start my own diplomacy education until I made the rank and position of second watch officer. I believe this rank is the equivalent to your current rank of executive officer.”

 

JoNs maintained her position at the window, but turned around to face the politician across the distance, paws placed on her hips, her cat shaped hind legs spread wide. Her entire manner indicated a feline readiness to spring on an unsuspecting target. “How are the soldiers encountered by our away team doing?”

 

“Ah, yes – the J’ehm Ha-Dahr, I think you called them? All they wish to do is continue to guard the ruins, and we are more then happy to leave them be to go about their duties.”

 

The military politico let the silence stretch, and then offered a small, knowing smile to the feline. “You still carry yourself like a soldier JoNs. You have more to say. Out with it – what is troubling you now?”

 

The Caitian snorted -- a companionable chuckle rather then one of derision – and pulled a data padd from the back of her trouser waistband. Her nimble hind paws made almost no sound on the carpeting as she walked over to where Arijella was perched on the edge of her desk, and she offered the padd to her. The senior HaVorante politician took the offered data device with a look of pure curiosity on her features.

 

“Several of our pilots were found mortally wounded, with that symbol carved into their chests. I was wondering if you could possibly identify the symbol?”

 

After studying the image on the small screen, Arijella let loose with a very unkind sounding stream of words in her native tongue; the dermal universal translator that Left Ear had embedded under the skin below her ear refused to translate the stream of profanity.

 

Now, it was Left Ear’s turn to smile, her fangs on full display. “You can take the sailor out of the fleet, but the fleet never comes out of the sailor, eh Commander?”

 

Arijella shot the feline executive officer a look that reminded Left Ear of her instructors back at the academy. The gray haired HaVorante woman then quickly bustled around the desk to get to the old style computer monitor and keyboard set on top of the desk; the Caitian officer heard a low hum as a computer terminal was booted up.

 

“I have seen that symbol before, but only in history textbooks from my school days. From what I can remember, it represented some sort of blood cult.”

 

Oh, that’s just fragging peachy. Left Ears tail started to lash, while Arijella calmly connected a USB cable to a port in the data padd. While the HaVorante level of technology and Starfleet technology was slightly different comparison wise, there were enough similarities between the technologies where many things -- such as fleet padds and HaVorante “old style” computers -- were backwards compatible.

 

“… our records are probably sketchy Left Ear, but I can give you what information we do have, as well as a link to a group of beings that may also know more of the cult – the Satarimi.”

 

The brown panther-like feline cocked her head to one side in curiosity. “The…Satarimi? Aye, I am sure my Captain would be very interested in questioning these people.”

 

“I am downloading the information now to this data device of yours.”

 

After a few minutes had passed, the tell tale blip of a successful data transfer pinged across the large office area.

 

“Thank you Commander Arijella.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet Commander JoNs. The Satarimi may or may not have the information you seek about the deaths of your pilots, perhaps even more information on these Founders you seek. The Satarimi were a very powerful empire with a long reach hundreds of years ago, but lately, have fallen into a state of distrust. Sightings of them are sporadic.”

 

“…so, myself, the captain, and our crewmates should be cautious, as we always are.” A paw gently reached out to take the padd with the newly downloaded information.

 

“Indeed. Happy hunting Commander JoNs.”

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He is akin to a Caitian grass snake, slithering on his belly, coming up behind you, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Then, he retreats back into the shadows to watch the poison slowly work its way through your body.”

And just how did you locate my personality profile on MySpace?

 

Now, we just happen to have one more added complication of Semil knowing of our mission.”….and not to mention the Hundred soon being made aware of the disappearance of the Founders, but the feline kept this little tidbit of information to herself.

Yes, I'm hot on your trail now, although I must admit the Hundred have known about the missing Founders for some time. After all, I was the one who told your Federation they were missing in the first place. Of course, Captain Corizon probably kept the source to himself when he leveraged that information against the Dominion and made them help you liberate the wormhole. And you think *I'm* the grass snake...

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And just how did you locate my personality profile on MySpace?

Yes, I'm hot on your trail now, although I must admit the Hundred have known about the missing Founders for some time. After all, I was the one who told your Federation they were missing in the first place. Of course, Captain Corizon probably kept the source to himself when he leveraged that information against the Dominion and made them help you liberate the wormhole. And you think *I'm* the grass snake...

 

I tell ya, that MySpace is a pit of information. And, Mister Semil, you sir are to be watched very closely. ;-)

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