"Young and Old"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Note: this character log is set during the 12 hour TBS, and the Soltan tactical information paragraph is a retread from a past JoNs log: Soltan Weapons and Tactical Information: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=13628

 

08.09.08

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Young and Old”

 

Kansas JoNs waited in a small office anteroom set off the main council chambers, idly toying with a stylus pen between two sharp fore claws. In addition to the main council session, various smaller sessions, consisting of one on one or two on one interviews were being conducted by the council members or various council officers in attendance of the session with the representatives from the Agincourt. The Caitian officer had volunteered to impart the tactical knowledge that her department had gleaned from their exposure to both the Soltan weapons and the few ship to ship encounters. Honestly, while the tactical information was valuable, it was also limited; she really wasn’t expecting the meeting to go on for any sort of extended period.

 

“Lieutenant Commander JoNs.” A tall and slender ranking officer entered through the office’s open doorway, nodding to the council guard on duty outside as he did so. “Commodore Sorov. Starfleet Tactical. I will be conducting our meeting today.” The older Vulcan offered his right hand in the classic human gesture of greeting.

 

The very human gesture enacted by the Vulcan tripped JoNs up, but not to the point where she balked. The younger feline easily fell into the standard greeting practice and grasped his slender and long fingered hand in a large furry paw. “Commodore.”

 

Sorov briskly continued on his way around the desk set in the middle of the room and took his seat, while JoNs reseated herself in one of the two guest chairs set opposite and facing the main chair on the other side of the desk. Her tail tip curled demurely around her lower left leg at the ankle.

 

The commodore perused a data Padd and then fixed the younger cat with his gray eyes. “I see from the biographical updates transmitted from your ships data banks that you are a bit of a disciplinary problem.”

 

Hi there. My name is Mister Subtle Vulcan. JoNs went completely still and flipped an ear back. “Excuse you and pardon me sir?” With an effort she kept her tone neutral, but the growled consonants in her semi annoyed tone were hard to miss.

 

Sorov merely raised an eyebrow at the show of emotion. “It is true that the main fleet communications array and data storage facility have been and are still compromised from the Soltan attack, but eventually the biography upgrades and records from the Agincourt were transmitted over the roving wireless network that is being established among the alpha quadrant ships. I merely took it upon myself to research on the officer I would be meeting with.”

 

“And you feel my personal background is relevant to our meeting Commodore?”

 

“Indeed. The Agincourt and her crew figure prominently in the news feed networks across the quadrants. You and your comrades were lost in space shortly after the ships maiden voyage, dealt with unknown enemies in a sector that is for all intents and purposes is still vastly unexplored, and the Agincourt was present on the literal front lines when the Soltan fleet invaded the quadrant and attacked the Earth. Indeed, you and your crewmates are even more so exposed with your direct dealings with our new foe and concerns. I myself at least, want to know the sort of people and beings that are manning this exploratory warship, and who bring us this necessary tactical information in order to begin to mount a defense against the Soltan.”

 

“That’s all very well and good sir, but this is not a personal inquiry … “

 

Sorov easily interrupted JoNs, his deep and silky voice accustomed to heading meetings and summits and conferences for decades. “Commander, I find it intriguing that one as young as you maintains both the positions of second officer and chief of security. Especially in light of various recorded reprimands for events such as unauthorized access to medical supplies and,” the Vulcan touched the Padd data screen to scroll the information further along, “you were highly active during the Perseus Arm mission. A common brawl in some gods forsaken backwater tavern, remanded to marine basic training for unauthorized counter actions against unspecified orders from your commanders … “ The gray haired Vulcan trailed off and pinned JoNs again with his gray eyes, placing the Padd down with a gentle click on the gleaming silver toned surface of the desk.

 

Kansas had remained stock still during Sorov’s entire spiel against her. The term character assassination came to mind even though all of the content in her biographical profile was of course true. One paw rested casually on the desktop, flat on the surface with no claws out. The only outward showing of her annoyance was that her golden furred tail had flared out, but thankfully she had managed to avoid lashing it about and the appendage was still set below eye level.

 

“ … With all due respect,” you arrogant hiss-taha, “Commodore Sorov, my fleet record is not the concern here. What tactical information I can offer regarding the Soltan is the concern. I would let my record in its entirety speak for itself, but as it seems that you are more interested in the black marks scattered throughout my profile, I won’t waste my breathe trying to convince you. I am very capable at what I do, it just so happens that I at times I employ unorthodox methods. If you really wish to pursue a discussion on these disciplinary,” need a word. Need another description besides frag ups, "transgressions then I do suggest you speak with either one of my commanding officers." And I would love to see one or both of them handle you and put you in your place Commodore. “In the meantime, do we not have other business to attend to?”

 

The golden furred Caitian pointedly picked up one of the two data storage Padds set in a neat line next to her briefcase on her side of the desktop, signaling what she hoped was an end to the current conversation. She held it out to the Commodore who took it without taking his eyes from hers, and Kansas as well refused to look away from him. Finally, Sorov broke the eye contact to peruse the tactical contents contained on the device.

 

“That contains all of the relevant data gathered by my security guards and armory crews during our months in the Perseus Sector. The data has been broken down into both graphic chart sections as well as text. I can paraphrase if you’d like.”

 

Sorov nodded for her to continue.

 

“Weapons wise, my armory teams discovered that the Soltan soldiers use a dual capability hand grade weapon that transforms from a gel-like ball into a weapon molding perfectly to the users hand grip as well as an energy rifle configuration with a special custom grip conducive to Soltan anatomy and physiology that can not be operated by non-Soltans.”

 

Kansas offered a mild purr before continuing. “Tactically, my bridge tactical officers discovered that a morphing weapon causes a subspace vortex used by the Soltan to travel from sector to sector, and this temporarily interferes with our comms and sensors, and will show as a disruption in local subspace. While the vortex weapon is in use, the combatant ship experiences a power increase and no weapons are employed while vortex is in use. Our general speculation was that the vortex weapon uses a large quantity of power to form, maintain and operate. Any of the officers manning the bridge tactical station were given standard orders to try and focus our programs and scanners on the specific period from the communications and sensor interference, the power spike and the weapons dampening, as this cycle may contain an exploitable vulnerability point to the combatant ship. At least, this is and was the working theory.”

 

The meeting length confirmed JoNs’s initial hunch, and only lasting for about twenty standard minutes. The Commodore asked several questions regarding the recorded tactical data, downloaded or recorded any relevant information on his own data storage spike, and the lieutenant commander fielded his questions to the best of her ability and knowledge. She was still annoyed at the man, but she’d be damned if she showed Sorov full on how she felt. There was something to be said in taking the better part of valor and going the high road. At least, this was what she had been taught growing up, and engaging the man in bickering conversation would serve no logical purpose.

 

“Very well Lieutenant Commander. I believe this concludes our meeting. Thank you for coming.”

 

JoNs just nodded. “Commodore.”

 

The feline began to gather up and situate her data reference Padds and briefcase, while Sorov moved on past her towards the entrance way to the office. The gray haired commodore paused just within the doorway and turned again to his younger line officer counterpart. “And JoNs?”

 

Dancing dangerously into what could be considered insubordination, Kansas merely flipped a golden furred ear back in silent response to the question.

 

The Commodore gave the cat what was definitely a gentle smirk, for a Vulcan. “One parting question Lieutenant Commander. How would you have responded to my questioning six months ago?”

 

“I would have either told you to frag off or vaulted over the table at you Commodore.”

 

If anything, the frank statement brought more of a twinkle to the serene Vulcan’s gaze. “Indeed. I find that service tenure and experience has a way of evening out even the most raw and green officers.”

 

Kansas paused for a beat, accepted the veiled compliment graciously, and offered a small smile to the ranking officer. “Marine training also tends to ground an officer as well.”

 

“Indeed. Good day Lieutenant Commander.”

 

“And to you, Commodore.”