"Loose Ends"

[Kansas 0]

Note: this log directly follows the events showcased in the “Grim Reaper” and “Her Softer Side” logs. The Zaldan species information appears courtesy of the Star Trek: The Role Playing Game Starfleet Operations Manual, (Decipher 2003)

 

02.21.09

ISS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Loose Ends”

 

Fifteen Hundred Hours

Ships Standard Time

Senior Officer Crew Quarters Deck

 

“Why didn’t you stay with her? Or at least maintain some distance while keeping an eye on Kansas and the guards?”

 

Lieutenant junior grade Mical spread her arms in the universal gesture for the indication of ‘duh, what color is the sky on your planet?’, and then answered the question directed at her by Lieutenant senior grade Conrad Zimm. “Zimm, the crew would notice a blue skinned woman skulking about the corridors keeping an eye on a large feline, you think?”

 

The senior el tee and former marine turned armory chief decided to ignore the comment, let alone the tone of voice from a junior officer, and instead huffed a derogatory sound out of his nose. He resumed his pacing about the length of the large felines private quarters.

 

“You could have hedged with Harper.”

 

“Uh, no. When the Boss Lady comms me and tells me to allow her guards to escort JoNs for a while, who do you think I’m going to listen to?”

 

“Your direct employer. The Master Chief would have balked.”

 

“According to the Wolf squad, Keltex and his brains are currently scattered all over several outbuildings at ground zero.” The blue skinned Andorian females tone came out low, quiet and with a marginal amount of sadness. “Do you think she miscalculated during the skirmish?”

 

Zimm was a good soldier who had participated in all kinds of hard contact battles and skirmishes, and had witnessed first hand the tactics employed by competent and lousy field commanders; his response was prompt and honest. He stopped pacing, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the mesh divider screen that separated the living area from the small dining alcove and kitchen.

 

“No, and if that was the case we would have heard about the airlock flush by now Mical. JoNs may be a seat of her pants field commander, but she isn’t and has never been foolhardy. She makes it a point to bring most of her people back in one piece. Now, with that said, I’d bet twenty credits that she’ll catch hell for holding the front line as long as she did … a couple of the guys from communications told me that she countermanded a direct order to fall back with all the teams.”

 

“ … so she did screw up? If she had pulled out, Keltex might still be alive.”

 

A dangerous look flitted across Conrad’s blue eyes then, and he fixed the Andorian guard with a grim expression. “Be careful of the words you choose little one. I was down there, and so were you. Those Romulan snipers were all over the place, and we were almost pinned down completely; I’m surprised more of our people didn’t get fragged or shot in the back. If that front line collapsed, the odds would have been even worse. JoNs did what she thought was right, and every hard contact situation has the potential to go good, bad, or ugly or anywhere in between. I’d say that this one was in the neutral area.”

 

Mical got up from where she had been sitting on one of the dining area chairs and walked over to admire a set of Caitian daggers mounted on the nearby bulkhead wall. “… the word from the lower decks claims that the jarhead squads on the relief forces were pleased with the unsanctioned assistance … I take it that JoNs won’t need to be on the lookout for any reprisals from the marines.”

 

While both the Andorian body guard and the human armory officer were concerned about the feline, the simple fact of the matter was that they also had to watch out for themselves; if something were to happen to Kansas, then the positions and small measure of prestige that that Zimm and Mical enjoyed as her retainers would be called into question.

 

Zimm nodded. “For the most part, she enjoys some measure of respect among the marines. I’d … “

 

The entry way to the quarters whooshed opened and the topic of the conversation appeared.

 

Commander Kansas JoNs stepped through confidently from the corridor into the sanctuary of her quarters. Thank the gods that it had been a short trip down the corridor that ran the length of the senior officers’ quarters, and the billets of the CO and XO were very close to one another, because she would not have been able to fake her ‘XO confident strut’ for any longer period of time.

 

Once the entrance doorway whooshed close again, JoNs slumped back against the bulkhead and covered her face with her paws; her head was pounding and her extremities were still tingling with the after effects of the Agonizer … overall she had gotten off very lightly.

 

Senior Grade Lieutenant Zimm rushed for the small refrigerator unit located in the small and utilitarian kitchen and pulled out a cold freeze stimulant hypo, while Lieutenant Mical went straight for JoNs and took most of the feline’s weight to assist her over to the chair that she had just vacated in the dining alcove.

 

JoNs took note of the fact that her now senior bodyguard had rushed to her aid while her lover went for the stim pack, and found it amusing; one would think that the two of them would have logically switched their courses of action … whoa whoa, Agonizer relapse, mind wandering, focus on the prep work at hand.

 

“No stimulants Conrad; I don’t want to crash halfway through the second shift – I have bridge duty. Get me juice or something ... maybe some food.”

 

And to Mical, she thanked the Lieutenant her for the assistance.

 

In a short amount of time, Kansas had drunk down some energy juice and eaten a small portion of tuna fish; the vitamins from the drink and the protein from the fish would help in the long run to restore some of her energy that had been sucked from her when the punishment devices electrical charges had hit her system.

 

“What’s our sit rep with regard to the departments involved in the planet side skirmishing?” JoNs carefully spoke around the food in her mouth, making a conscience effort to abide by some measure of table manners.

 

Mical piped up first, per her body guarding duties and as JoNs’s primary contact within the Security department. “Rumor has it that both Crewman Talos and Crewman Chapman were both a pain in the ass, so there is no love lost over their passing. Security is fine. Lieutenant Comander Cain has already stepped and taken over for the interim period with the death of Lieutenant Commander Logan. He already told me that he expects a visit from you soon.”

 

JoNs couldn’t help but smile a bit at that news; as the executive officer, she often met with officers in person to inform them of a rank or departmental promotion instead of handling everything by text mail. It would seem the line officers were starting to anticipate her administrative habits … this would have to be remedied soon with a change in her current routines.

 

“And the enlisted security ranks?”

 

“The enlisted squads are of course reacting accordingly to Keltex’s death, but the general consensus is that he was a proud warrior, so of course there is sadness, but most of them are content with recounting his past accomplishments and battles. Overall, the line officers and enlisted officers are buzzing about the marginal victory planet side.”

 

“What about your department Conrad?”

 

“A few of the Armory lads got dinged up planet side, but nothing life threatening. My department is fine Mrrett. No worries there.”

 

The golden furred feline turned her attention back to the blue skinned Andorian Lieutenant. “I want you to grab a new transfer, Petty Officer Zalano, and inform him he has a meeting here in my quarters at twenty one hundred hours.”

 

“Understood Commander, and I know who he is. I’ll comm him immediately and then I can accompany you to the bridge … I don’t mind pulling a double shift what with … “The Andorian security officer and bodyguard, normally so sure of herself, abruptly shut up.

 

Kansas nodded her understanding, but an unreadable emotion flickered across her green eyes and then it was gone. Mical would have to keep for another few. It would be best to handle her one on one.

 

“Alright. I need to head to the bridge for my shift.”

 

Within a few minutes, Kansas had gathered herself and the two women exited the quarters, leaving Zimm to his own devices as he was off duty.

 

The feline senior officer and her Andorian escort walked down the corridor towards the nearest turbo lift access shaft; the area was empty, and so as they came to within sight of the turbo lift, the shorter feline reached out to take hold of the taller Micals arm, halting the junior officer and bringing her closer so they would be able to speak in normal conversational tones. She did not want to talk to Mical on the bridge where wandering attention spans would pick up on the conversation, and she had also not wanted to have the conversation with her errant junior officer in front of Conrad; the man may be her lover, but he didn’t necessarily have to know everything at all times.

 

“You and I were separated due to the battlefield conditions, but I understand that the colonel communicated with you and told you to lay low and allow her bodyguards to escort me to her once I beamed back up and hit the deck plates?”

 

“Yes Commander.”

 

“ … so if I’m understanding you correctly, as well as the initial parameters of the original order, nothing was specifically said about you having to completely leave your guarding duties? Yet, you used the wording of a simple order to your own advantage, removed yourself from the situation, and commed me with a claim that you were completely ordered away from me, in order to cover your ass?”

 

The bruxism that she placed on the ending words in the statement showcased the cat’s fangs as well as her extreme displeasure with her bodyguard. Mical glanced away from the mildly irate feline, her gaze fixating at a point just over the shorter female’s head.

 

JoNs knew she had her. “That’s what I thought. You should have stayed with your XO. Period.”

 

“It’s nice to know where your loyalties lay Lieutenant Mical, or rather how easily they can be dissuaded. Now, get your cobalt blue ass in that turbo lift before I boot it and I hope for your sake that you are able to escort me to the bridge without getting distracted. Move!”

 

Twenty Hundred Hours

Ships Standard Time

Enlisted Crew Quarters Deck

 

The second shift had long been done, and thankfully there hadn’t been any situation more pressing then watching over the newer junior officers that had taken over for the beta shift. The ship was still in an orbital vector over the planet, and other then some pre-launch prep work for an upcoming colony patrol mission to check into reports in the intra news net that Ferengi and Breen rebels had been buzzing the cargo lanes, it had been an easy shift.

 

Currently, Kansas JoNs sat on a desk chair within the semi darkened quarters of the recently deceased Master Chief Keltex, preparing to view his last will and testament recording, per his wishes to her.

 

The golden furred felinoid wore black sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt that sported the ‘ISS Agincourt’ ship service patch over the left breast. A half drunken whiskey glass of Romulan Ale rested next to her right paw on the desktop surface, and the bright blue liquid caught the low light that spread across the quarters. A bright orange data spike containing the recorded information was held tightly in her other paw.

 

Caitians and alchohol did not mix well, and she would indeed be hurting tomorrow with the combined effects of the alcohol, the general fatigue of battle, and the encounter with the Agonizer.

 

Still, at least she would be alive to feel something.

 

Taking one massive swig to finish off the potent brew, JoNs slammed the glass back done onto the desktop decisively and slipped the spike in the USB access port for the private computer and verbally ordered the computer over the integrated wireless for all of the ships computer systems to play the recording that Keltex had left with her.

 

Within seconds, the grisly and silver haired image of the craggy fore-headed Klingon warrior appeared on the flat screened computer monitor inset on the desk. Keltex was well into his late sixties, but hale and hearty and quite fast despite his age and bulk. Like his personality in life, his recorded last will and testament personality was forward, bold, to the point, and with the touch of humor that had always set his deep gray eyes twinkling.

 

He began his speech without preamble.

 

“Commander Kitten. I assume that if you are listening to this wretched recording, then I have left this universe and have set sail on the Barge of the Dead bound for the glory of the Eternal Hunt. I have no doubt that I was felled doing what I loved – fighting in battle, and by your side no doubt.

 

And, I trust that if I was not felled in battle, and instead was stabbed in the back by some cowardly and inbred wretch, that you will avenge my death. I would recommend the airlock or perhaps detainment inside a sealed room with many angry Torathian wasps … moving on now …”

 

“My family of Lokan has long since been deceased or scattered to the four winds as we all sought out our own battle glory, so therefore, I leave the following items to you, Zimm, and Mical; for all intents and purposes, you three became my adoptive family.”

 

Kansas poured herself another shot of the ale from a silver toned flask container.

 

“To Mister Zimm, I leave that long brown leather coat of mine that he always admired. Tell him to wear it in good health. To Ms. Mical, I leave that fire gem necklace that I procured many, many moons ago during a particularly boisterous shore leave. It will offset her blue skin quite nicely. And to you Kitten, I leave my Batleth sword, and a steel and leather interweave baldric that belonged to my grandmother; wear and use these items in battle proudly.

 

“I also have fifty thousand credits in an off sector and untraceable account with the New Mars Credit Union. The access code is ******** Tor-Qi **********.”

 

Kansas spit out a mouthful of the ale in shock.

 

“ … I had been keeping the credits for a rainy day, and it would seem that this would indeed be a rainy day. Use them well Kitten.”

 

“And finally, my Mrrett. Do not second guess your decisions, and always trust your battle instincts. It is true that your instincts can be twitchy at best, and feral at worse, but it is rare to see anyone with such an unrefined and raw battle edge as yourself. Use what I taught you freely and always with honor, and you will do well.”

 

And with no further pomp or circumstance, the recording finished and the computer view screen went blank.

 

JoNs put her face in her paws and sobbed softly, finally allowing herself to grieve and cry over the mentor and friend who had been felled in battle.

 

Twenty One Hundred Hours

Ships Standard Time

Senior Officer Crew Quarters Deck

 

Locating and retaining a bodyguard was like interviewing candidates for an administrative position in an office: you got some really good candidates, and you got candidates that were not worth the time of day.

 

And then, there were the ones that truly were in a class by themselves.

 

Petty Officer third class Zalano, of the water planet Zaldan, stood at attention, and Kansas sat on her desk chair and regarded the humanoid calmly over the modest steel gray colored workspace desk that was located in her private quarters. She still wore her black workout attire, and even though she looked exhausted, she was alert for the late hour meeting.

 

The fact was that she needed a bodyguard, and she had liked what she saw in Zalano during the ground engagement on the planet. Tough, kept his head in the game, watched her ass (figuratively, not literally, mind you) when the excrement had really impacted with the oscillating device, and was a damn good shot as well. He was young, built like a tank, and kept his hair in a short cut; like most of his species, the ice water world dweller sported webbed hands and most likely the webbed feet as well.

 

In other words, JoNs was determined to snatch the new transfer up before any of the other department heads or line officers or what have you grabbed him for their own body guarding uses, had given him the once over, and liked what she had seen. The executive officer usually got the pick of the litter - right behind the commanding officer of course- so to speak when it came to contracting a guard, so the felinoid was just exercising a privilege of her rank.

 

He was young and a bit brash … well then again so was she, but … whoa whoa, off topic again … but overall he’d be a fine addition to JoNs’s immediate crew.

 

 

“So, that’s the deal Zalano. You’ll have better food, better accommodations, and access to certain privileges as my guard. Lieutenant Mical, “ Kansas indicated the Andorian guard standing at parade rest just behind and to Zalanos left with a wave of her paw, “will be taking over the first shift guarding duties. I need someone for the second shift. Interested?”

 

“And the third shift?”

 

“… is my own damn concern and usually handled by Lieutenant Zimm, and you do not need to know anymore than that. Interested?”

 

“I’d be taking on a pretty crappy job. What’s the pay rate? And I might as well have a target on my back, what with taking on an assignment as the XO’s second shift guard.”

 

The Zaldan people as a whole were brutally honest, even more so then the Klingons. But, you never had to worry about dishonesty from them, an important factor when picking one as your new personal guard.

 

“Better quarters, better food, and a slight supplement to your current pay grade. And depending on my off duty activities, if I need some extra help with a project or what have you, there may be some extra credits in line for you as well. Just note that you are replacing a good man, and I expect you to perform to my standards.”

 

He smiled, his white teeth showing brilliantly against this light toned skin. “I accept. And you don’t have to worry about me blathering on about how wonderful this opportunity is. Waste of air.”

 

Brutally honest, totally, and definitely not a species as a whole to go into the Diplomacy Corps. The fallout alone from failed negotiations would be a cluster frag.

“Good. You may report for your new duties at oh sixteen hundred tomorrow. Dismissed Petty Officer ... Second Class … Zalano. Enjoy the new promo.”

 

Soon, Lieutenant Mical and a pleased Petty Officer Zalano had vacated the private quarters, leaving Lieutenant Zimm and Commander JoNs alone with one another. Zimm moved out from the shadows that he had been partially obscured by while observing the changeover of the guarding duties and over to Kansas. JoNs stayed seated in her leather desk chair and he moved to stand behind her and started to knead her shoulders with his strong hands.

 

“You moved pretty fast in these last few hours what with filling the void that the Chief left and getting that young Zaldan on the team. That’s not a rebuke, mind you.”

 

“No insult taken. If you don’t move fast and get your tactical game on quickly in this Imperial fleet … “

 

“You end up dead.”

 

Both Kansas and Conrad smiled and glanced at one another before finishing the statement in unison. “Keltex Rule Number Fifteen.”

 

I'd take precision any day over power; as far as being tactical you know you have to see what's going on in there and also understand that for every punch that you or your opponent throws there's always a counter shot or two which you have to be ready to fire or defend. – Alexis Arguello