"Spot Checker"

[Kansas 0]

Note: this solo recon log is set sometime after the first shuttle joy ride/planetary recon run of the command team mentioned during the 03.25.09 sim chat.

 

03.28.09

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Spot Checker”

 

The Soltan attack on the Earth had changed a lot of things, and those changes were continuing outward across the sectors in a ripple effect: Re-deployment orders, supplies being brought in, more galactic perimeter patrols, assistance from unlikely sources and governments.

 

And these response mobilizations only scratched the service. It was a massive re-building process.

 

What remained of the Federation Starfleet shouldered a good bit of the aftermath reaction, what with thousands and thousands of surviving marine, security, and medical personnel - both active, retired, and reserves - mustering up to help and continue the internal damage control on the Earth. And externally, the ships of the Fleet were re-routed on varying patrol routes or transport runs or what have you, making sure that both the inner and outer defensive perimeters were well protected and maintained.

 

And, there were personnel changes as well: senior officers might suddenly find themselves as the new captain or commander of a small patrol fleet, and junior officers might suddenly find themselves punted into a command position with much more authority and responsibility, to say nothing of departmental re-structuring and recruiting. One department in particular that was experiencing a re-vamp in direct correlation to the recent and unprovoked attack, to use a convenient example, was the Starfleet Starfighter Corps.

 

The Fighter Corps had always been involved within the Starfleet, almost from the time of the inception of the larger organization; but for the most part, the program was necessary but not exactly a priority and the fighter craft were usually stationed at military star bases or military colony settlements in the ass end of nowhere, for defensive purposes. It wasn’t until these later years and in particular the Dominion War, that the Starfighter Corp was tapped so the organizations true potential as a whole could be used and exploited.

 

During the War, a massive mobilization took place, and along with the expansion of the marine program, the fighter program soon followed. Starships were retrofitted to accommodate a fighter wing, and the cadet recruitment process ramped up as well. Not that the academy recruiters needed to look very far, mind you; any family that had any sort of legacy of service to the Starfleet was guaranteed to have one or two pilots floating around in the gene pool.

 

The JoNs’s were one such family, and it was at times hard to keep up with the JoNs’s, especially if you tried to track what family member served where in the service and in what department. It was easier to just say that they were all over the ‘fleet and be done with it.

 

Currently, the youngest adult member of the JoNs family, and the eldest of this generation of the family’s children, found herself zooming through the upper atmosphere of the Class M planet that the Agincourt had been ordered to check out and map for the purposes of a colony re-settlement. It was a nice change of pace for the entire crew, and all the departments were giving one hundred and ten percent with the mapping and surveying mission.

 

The golden furred Caitian feline flicked one of the inset panels set flush into the main control console of the Type-9 shuttle she piloted and took another data scan of the planetary ground surface; the resulting visual image complete with tactical mapping graph was then immediately transmitted back to the ships main bridge to be disseminated among the various departments who were spearheading the prep work for the new colony site.

 

Commander Kansas ‘Will’ JoNs banked the shuttle over a section of the planet that sported frozen tundra, and though the unmarred and pure white scenery was beautiful in its own right, it was a fair bet that the colony settlers would not be settling this icy part of the planet. Exploratory expeditions would definitely be doable, sure, but the frozen waste was not intended for colonization or adaption.

 

JoNs banked in the opposite direction and took a different course, running parallel along the ice shelves that dropped off and fed into the arctic waters. Try as she might to maintain a professional decorum as ships Ex Oh, it was a losing battle.

 

For lack of a better term, she was having a really good time doing the shuttle survey recon missions.

 

Indomitable spirit? You betcha. Incorrigable? Totally. Boo Yah.

 

The first recon run that the command team had done had gone phenomenally, and Kansas hadn’t been quite willing to leave that adrenaline rush go. Sure, she could have ordered one of the regular shuttle pilots or Helm jocks to have a go at the secondary run, but why not exercise some command authority and do it yourself?

 

If the feline officer was really honest with herself though, she’d have to admit that the piloting was appealing to her; she had always dabbled in piloting, growing up with her older cousins, who always had some sort of hover hopper around the ranch on Cait, and then later during her officer training she had further dabbled as a starfighter pilot, carrying on the family legacy so to speak.

 

But, this appeal also seemed to be going into a deeper enjoyment of escape then she had ever intended, but it had also sparked a desire to maybe do a bit more for her career, and in the process, contribute to the Fleet wide mobilizations that were going on.

 

The Earth attacks had also changed quite a few personal outlooks, including Kansas’s. And the feline had been seriously considering changing her career specialization.

 

The expansion of the fighter corps meant that they needed experienced officers, and there were probably available roster positions popping up all over the Fleet. JoNs had even gone so far as to pull her piloting reserve records, and they had shown that she only needed about sixty training hours to be reactivated as an active pilot.

 

She had had the necessary stick jock training at the academy and on her first couple of training assignments. Piloting could be found in the bloodline too: Grand Elder M’Virran, and Cousins M'Vess, Srrett, and Jagrissa had all served or were still serving in the field.

 

Kansas just felt that she needed to be doing something more.

 

Granted, if she jumped ship (literally) to go back into piloting, she’d be leaving her position as the Agincourt’s Ex Oh, as well as her current rank of Commander behind. She’d be transferred either to a troop transport carrier, a first threat response ship, or an outpost, and would probably be moved back down to Lieutenant Commander. Eventually, she’d re-gain the rank of Commander, and probably during the whole process be fast tracked to Captain or some such.

 

That was the tradeoff: the demotion and loss of an executive officer spot versus taking part in the re-structuring of the Fighter Corps, and being thrust into an up and coming career from a completely different command angle.

 

But, there were many doubts brewing within her mind as well. Lateral career moves could either go very very good or very very bad.

 

And really, why would she want to make such a foolhardy move? She had the rank, had the position, liked her work, and served on one of the premier exploratory warships in the Fleet line.

 

Was the leonine feline tempting fate? It was true that she had been unsettled all the way around, from both the attack on the Alpha quadrant as well as her appointment to the position of ships Ex Oh. The adjustment period would continue to take a bit of getting used to.

 

But, unsettled feelings aside, her instincts rarely failed her … should she listen and make the career change?

 

The shuttle’s internal proximity sensors blipped with a warning signal just as a brumal wind suddenly lashed out and bit the shuttle, knocking the craft and jarring it a bit off the set course.

 

With a mild yowl of surprise, Kansas quickly entered some vector commands which kicked in the aft drag vents and enabled the shuttle to launch into a fishtail swing that ultimately rode out the pocket of turbulence that had jarred the vehicle.

 

Oh-kay? Not that she was superstitious, but was that wind lash supposed to be some sort of sign to her? Stop dwelling on with might have been or could have been or will be? Be content as you are?

 

JoNs shook her head, and spoke out loud to nothing and no one in particular. “More recon graphics, Right.” She then tapped a big paw at the communications badge fastened to the upper left chest area of her deep red uniform tunic jacket, and contacted the main bridge of the ship.

 

“Agincourt, this is Will checking in for operational flight update. I’m heading into the last vector of this secondary shuttle run. One or two more spot checks, and I should be back home in another thirty.”

 

Home? Yeah, the ‘Court was her home.