"Her Softer Side"

[Kansas 0]

Note: this log directly follows the events showcased in the "Grim Reaper" log.

 

02.18.09

ISS Agincourt NCC-81762

"Her Softer Side"

 

Written By: Colonel C.E. Harper and Commander Kansas JoNs

 

Personal guards Norales and Davlin halted in front of their employer’s quarters, their feline charge in tow. Kansas had actually thanked the two guards for allowing her the extra time to tend to a few things before finalizing the escort to the ships commanding officer. She really didn't care if they thought less of her for the compliment, and she had offered it out of respect.

 

Davlin buzzed the door chime as he exchanged a nod with the soldier assigned to corridor patrol.

 

"Come," Harper called from the desk, not looking up. She knew who to expect.

 

The golden Caitian murmured a general word of thanks to the two guards in parting as she entered the private quarters. She did not announce herself, and her gaze again abruptly fixated on the rotating planet visible from the large window of the marine commander's quarters. The planet had become a fixation for her, mired down in her memories of the planetary engagement that had gone to Hell so quickly.

 

Harper turned her head to look at the Caitian. "I grant it's a spectacular view," she said quietly, her tone deceptively calm, "but I didn't send for you so that you could gawp like a tourist."

 

JoNs muttered 'veken sheysha haltash' under her breath, which the universal translator device that both women had embedded under their skin translated from the Old Caitian tongue into 'fragging hell hole' of Terran standard. The feline officer then turned to her sponsor.

 

"Colonel Harper, Commander JoNs reporting as ordered. I thank you for allowing me the extra time prior to reporting to you directly in order to tend to a few matters."

 

"You're welcome." She laid down the stylus she'd been using to sign orders with a taut click against the glass surface of the desk. "I'll hear your report now, Commander. What the hell happened down there?"

 

Kansas went into full senior officer decorum mode, pulling herself up to her full height, all five foot three inches of it, and clasped her paws behind her back as she fell into a relaxed parade rest proper to a verbal report. However, the feline’s very expressive ears drooped as she answered the query directed at her.

 

"Colonel. Rihannsu insurgents jumped the security patrols. After the chief of security was taken out, I assumed full combat command and the away team squads were driven back to the main village square..." Her purred voice wavered and she stopped, her gaze going distant again as she worked to get her emotions under control.

 

The Caitian cleared her throat and then continued. "I made that call, and the decision was my total responsibility. Colonel, if we had retreated from what had became the front line of the engagement, your marines would have had to walk into a ready made ambush, and then retake the front line. I sent two of the Security teams away per your direct orders but remained behind, asking for volunteers from the third squad to hold the line until the arrival of the marine teams."

 

Harper leaned back in her chair, regarding the felinoid officer coolly. "There were other options," she pointed out. "A full englobement. Wide dispersion weaponry. Ship's phasers."

 

“Yes sir, and those options would all be a wise tactical course. However, that would run the risk of clipping innocents in the crossfire raining down, if it were to be unleashed against the planetary surfaces. Not every one of those Rihans down in that village is an insurgent Sponsor, and the survivors can still provide us with any Intel on the movements of the guilty parties." A tail swish.

 

"Hmmph." The colonel looked unconvinced. "And you felt that was your call to make."

 

The ears still remained depressingly drooped, but the tail was becoming more and more animated as Harper kept the questions incoming at full speed.

 

"Yes sir. I'm the XO and was the senior field operative planet side."

 

"The latter role, you feel, overrules my decisions from ship-side?" Her face and voice were carefully neutral.

 

The tail had started to do a steady twitch/thump on the carpet as JoNs mulled that one over. This was why she never joined the debate team at the Academy.

 

“Sir, I would never countermand you. I took stock of the planetary skirmish situation and proceeded as I saw fit, that's all."

 

The lingering anguish broke through the spit and polish protocol, and Kansas snapped a big golden paw through the air in sad frustration, her voice lost somewhere between a growl and a choke. "My Master Chief is dead! Fifteen minutes. It was a difference of fifteen minutes for this damn show the colors operation we were sent here to oversee to turn bad!"

 

"It's usually five." Harper favored her first officer with a long, measuring look, her lips pressed into a thin line, then rose and crossed to her replicator. "Tea. Two glasses."

 

"I disobeyed that order Colonel - despite popular opinion - not from a sense of death wish, but based on what was happening in real time. If the security teams had pulled out when the order came down, the Marine backup teams would have walked right into a trap. I wanted to hold that area ....and that decision cost us."

 

It cost me the feline added silently.

 

Harper handed her one of the mugs, leaning against her desk to sip her own. "You weren't getting out of that mess without losing any," she pointed out. "The question now is whether you were reckless with Empire assets."

 

"Assets? Not to come across as a bitch Ma'am, but this is not exactly the safest of professions as a lead warship of the Imperial Fleet. Both our assets and asses are put on the line quite regularly." The feline took the offered mug holding the warm liquid gently in one wide paw, carefully holding the cup as she spoke.

 

The colonel took a careful sip of tea to cover an inappropriate smile at that line. "Yes, they are, Commander. Which is precisely why we occasionally call retreats to protect them. The illogic of waste does not apply merely to subject worlds, after all."

 

"If any quarter was given in the form of my teams breaking off that run and gun skirmish to allow for a full retreat, it would have allowed those insurgents to regroup, and that would have meant the Marines walking into an unpleasant surprise. I understand they are your Devil Dogs Medusa, but they are not invincible - those men and women would have been lost as well, perhaps many more."

 

"Mm." She shook her head. "Which, of course, brings us right back to where we began -- the relative value of collateral damage."

 

After taking a quick sip of her own tea, the feline commander again unfolded herself up to her full height (oh yeah, all of five foot three. Fear the feline) and looked Harper right in the eyes. "Sir, In my professional opinion, whether or not my actions were completely right or completely wrong, and that's for the geek tactical historians to decide, I can say without a doubt our collateral damage could have been much worse today if a wide phaser band bombardment was unleashed on the planet, or the remaining Security team did not stay behind to render assistance for the incoming backup teams."

 

Harper set the tea down on her desk. "I for one don't value Rihan slaves as much as Starfleet personnel."

 

"Nor do I value the Rihans over our own personnel Colonel, but we can't hope to debate over both the established and unestablished tactical factors involved in one lone slave planet ... " JoNs took a sip of her tea as her gaze found its way out the port window again and her mind wandered. She started coughing mildly when she swigged the liquid down the wrong pipe as an errant thought lanced into her mind. Her gaze then abruptly latched onto Harper.

 

"Yes?" the colonel asked expectantly.

 

If the situation and discussion weren't so dire, the look of full comprehension on the cats face might have been comical. She kept her gaze on the ships commanding officer, and carefully set her own mug down - after moving away from Medusa in two short steps, mind - on the nearby coffee table, and then ventured the general comment of, “... you are so going to kick my ass aren't you?"

 

"Well," she replied mildly, "not literally. Probably."

 

In a knee jerk reaction of protocol, JoNs again adopted a relaxed parade rest, but the feline officer did not keep her gaze on the colonel. Her gaze again shot out to the gods forsaken planet that had been a harbinger of disaster for the entire day. "I am trained to make a decision, that’s what I do as the first officer. I understand that the chain of command must be maintained, but if you take action against me in such a manner, this will cost me points in the eyes of the junior crew and line officers." The felines tone came out tight but with respect for her sponsor.

 

"True." The colonel nodded. "Fortunately for you, there's rather a long-standing tradition in the 'Fleet allowing for command-level discipline to be handled privately. More or less."

 

Kansas flared, literally and figuratively; it was not an emotion from unkindness, just frustration over the long day. Her gaze fixated again on her mentor. "And you'll follow that tradition of course, as you always do." It was a rhetorical statement.

 

"Well, I certainly don't want to encourage you to defy orders." She picked up her tea again, sipped quietly. "Of course, it's sometimes necessary."

 

" .... just be prepared for any consequences, eh? Responsibility does not get any easier, and instead the decisions become harder, the further you go on the command track." The felinoid officer’s voice rang out with confidence, but the underlying tone held regret over the day’s losses and resignation over the fallout that was yet to come; there was so much to consider on a day to day command basis, let alone the responsibility factor of a senior officer.

 

"Exactly." She sipped the tea again. "Like what to do with your senior officer who disobeyed your direct orders, even when she's just lost her chief bodyguard and - dare I say - other mentor? Purely hypothetically, of course."

 

The leonine feline rubbed at her temples with her big paws, her half drunken tea cooling and long forgotten on the surface of the low coffee table. She relaxed marginally, taking a cue from Medusa's body language, and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her backside against the side arm of the nearby overstuffed dark leather chair.

 

“Yes ma'am. And your intention regarding that is, hypothetically?"

 

"I haven't decided yet," she replied. "I confess my softer side would say you've been punished enough." She inhaled the fragrant steam drifting from her mug. "Of course, there are those who would say I don't have a softer side..."

 

Kansas raised a whisker. "If you didn't have a softer streak, I'd be kissing space right now."

 

"Oh, no, Commander," Harper replied with a perfectly straight face. "You'd have asphyxiated and frozen years ago."

 

" ... no Booth. If I'm subjected to that, I won't be in any shape for the second shift. I'd also like to extend an invitation to you Medusa, if you'd like to attend a little service that's being planned for the Master Chief's memorial."

 

"I'd be honored," she answered quietly. "And no Booth. Too public."

 

Harper really had a thing about public versus not public and the use of the Booth ... why did she hate the device so much? Not that the cat was complaining ...maybe if circumstances ever permitted, JoNs would one day get the low down on why she was so private for most matters and interactions with her officers, and chose that method freely. It was a good method; JoNs would have to employ that privacy option more and more during her interactions with the crew.

 

The executive officer stayed put, still leaning against the big overstuffed chair with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, and regarded her commanding officer and mentor silently. Her ears were all perked up and at full forward attention, but her inquisitive green eyes showed some worry that could not quite be shaken off.

 

Ships discipline could at times be a really contrived game of chess: you never knew what Pawn, Knight or Bishop was going to get whacked.

 

Harper let the silence stretch for a few moments, finishing her tea. She set the empty mug back on the desk. "Fortunately there are other options which can be administered in private... right here, for instance."

 

JoNs waved her paw in a swift and silent motion of ‘get it over with’ at the left area of her crimson red uniform wrap top where the Agonizer was fastened. The device, which functioned as a uniform pin showcasing the symbol of the Empire - an Imperial sword bisecting a planet - was far from a decoration. The pin served a secondary purpose as a portable disciplinary device worn by all officers of the Fleet ... even the executive officers.

 

Harper nodded at her approvingly, and stepped forward, lifting her hand toward the badge.

 

Despite having the raven haired, bad ass, no nonsense and tough marine commander of the ISS Agincourt whooshing down on her to deliver an example of the aforementioned ships discipline, Kansas maintained her bracing position leaning on the chair. The only outward showing of her discomfit were her ears going flat and her usually pleasant purred voice coming out in a low growl of "Oh Hell ... "