"Mutiny Rising"

[Kansas 0]

04.14.09

SS Excalibur NCC-2004 C

“Mutiny Rising”

 

It was about midway through the secondary shift cycle, and the smell of cooking pasta wafted through the quarters shared by the Caitian felines Kansas and Left Ear JoNs.

 

The younger golden furred leonine Cait (just because one was an up and coming pirate didn’t mean that they couldn’t learn how to cook as well) was preparing a simple meal within the small kitchen area while the older and brown furred panther-like feline sat on the sofa set within the small living area of the quarters. Any pirate ship, any where across the known galaxy was always looking for one or two cooks, and so it was a secondary skill as a must that could be well used.

 

Left Ear held a data Padd in one strong paw, and kept scrolling between this report and that report, various updates from a couple of the lower decks departments, injury reports from the ship to ship skirmish with the cargo hauler, personnel issues (well, at least the problem or downright stupid officers who hadn’t been stabbed yet and totally removed from the equation) and supply manifests from the recent haul from the colony raid. The felinoid read and re-read the text data stored on the flat device, the information being filed away someplace in the expanse of her mind, but her concentration and thoughts weren’t fully honed in on the supply reports and updates, and kept she kept re-thinking the jumbled events of the day.

 

Why do the engineering supply numbers seem off from the last time? And why the issue with the food stores? I can’t imagine that the cooks are using all that grain in one shot …

 

“Left Ear.”

 

But the concerns about food resources and supplies were minor compared to the confrontation that Corizon and JoNs had shared on the bridge.

 

He’s pushing too hard. Getting too bold, showing his pirate colors with this big fancy warship. That next mission might be our last, or the mission after that. Should I move on him now, later, or just let sleeping dogs lie? This isn’t want I signed on for. I was better off with the independent jobs. Now, we’re at the beck and call of faceless green blood employers, risking our necks for their fraggin’ rebellious cause. Corizon loves all this, loves that notoriety. And it may kill him – and us – just yet

 

“Yo, Left Ear!”

 

The Dameon warrior didn’t need to tangle with that freighter, put the crew and the ship out there like that. That so called easy target almost ripped us a new one with that weaponry of theirs. Three Defiant class warships had picked up the scent and zoomed in to support the cargo hauler, and we were lucky that the warships didn’t get a full vector lock on us before we got out of the general vicinity of the attack.

 

“Leftyyyyy … “

 

There were easier ways, more logical ways, to go about putting our stamp on the sector and getting the attention of this so called friend stationed at the Imperial star base that Corizon had his beady little yellow eye on. We should case the perimeter of the sector, drop false chatter on the wideband wireless, maybe send a few teams out at the local watering holes to drop some information … there were always alternate options besides going right for the throat.

 

“MVess Vacer JoNs! Come in JoNs!”

 

Should I go for the takeover? Now would be the perfect time. In between engagements, the ships stores full, most of the crew unsuspecting. Taking the ship or bolting with some supplies on a couple of the Runnies, either plan would work.

 

“Oh my gods, hey look, there is a hole in the bulkhead. I think we’re venting atmosphere? Oh look, how ever will we survive? Save me.”

 

The four years that’d she’d been traveling with Corizon had gone well, and they’d been through a few successful campaigns, Left Ear couldn’t deny that. But now she had her own ambitions, her own source of contacts, and possible contracts that she could tap into and grab some prime grade jobs … the Ex Oh wasn’t any green bloods lap cat to be called upon to do their dirty work … and that brought her back to the original issue: why in the hell would Corizon willingly head towards an Imperial base that might not even on the target list of our green blood clients?

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

The entire coup operation, no matter if the mutineers took the ship or went off on their own, would be risky. But, there were times where one had to move on, and was this moment the right time?

A paw shook her shoulder, and Left Ear was brought out of her thoughts rather jarringly.

 

“MVess! Yo, what’s up? You’re, like, really distracted tonight.”

 

The speaker and shaker was sixteen year old Kansas JoNs, midshipman with the Excalibur Security department and cousin to the somewhat distracted ships Executive Officer. The younger feline knelt down on the carpeted decking next to the elder JoNs and gently placed her two gawky paws on the commander’s knee. The youngster didn’t say anything, just cocked her head to one side and winged an ear back in silent question to her cousin.

 

And can I afford to take such a risk with the Kitten’s life?

 

Left Ear didn’t speak right away, and she instead placed the Padd down on the coffee table set in front of the overstuffed couch. Once her paws were free, she drew the younger and smaller JoNs into a hug and kissed her on the top of the head, keeping her in the embrace.

 

“Things might start moving very, very fast Kitten.”

 

“Like, how fast?”

 

“I’m thinking of breaking away from Corizon.”

 

Kansas adjusted herself within her cousins strong embrace so she could pin her gaze on her Guardian; the athletic yet gawky youngster held equal parts fear, excitement and caution within her facial expression, but with an effort she kept them all in check.

 

“ … you always told me that a mutiny was a real good way to get shot in the butt, strung up, or real dead.”

 

‘Aye, and that hasn’t changed. It’s a dirty business, but then again so is what we do for this living.”

 

 

The younger JoNs tore her own inquisitive and light green eyes away from Left Ear and fixated on a spot on the bulkhead just past Left Ears head; she got a look in her eyes that the older panther Cait had only seen once or twice, but it bespoke of an inner cunning that Kansas hadn’t fully tapped into yet to develop and exploit.

 

‘How many ya got?”

 

“Ninety confirmed across all the departments, twenty more who may or may not be along for the ride, but can offer some sort of support – for a price. Weapons are stashed. Supplies are stashed. If a full mutiny isn’t advisable, we go for the alternate and grab two of the Runabouts and take off for parts unknown, striking out on our own with the crew who sided with us. The alternate plan’ll probably be easier to launch on an away mission or some such.”

 

Now, the youngster’s eyes latched back onto Left Ear, and her facial expression went feral and mischievous, two combined traits that would either serve her well or get her into continued trouble, depending on how she would exploit them in her later career. Her grin showcased her mouth full of sharp little fangs.

 

“Keltex is in on this, right? ‘Cause without him, you got no chance Lefty.”

 

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Left Ear chuckled. “Yeah, that old Klingon razor beast is my main point man. If, and when, I give the signal to move out and this all hits the oscillating device, the Master Chief’ll get the astro ball rolling and then come for you, and I told him our safe word. If this all goes down, you stick to him like a Tiberian bat on a humanoids neck, you hear me Kitten?”

 

Alternately, Kansas went a bit more serious with her next statement. “Whatever you decide Left Ear, I’m with you, okay? But, you always tell me not to do anything stupid. So, don’t do anything stupid until you’re sure you really need to? Just because the Captain’s a complete and total arsehole doesn’t mean you need to automatically knock him or her off, right? You always told me that too.”

 

Despite all the concerns that she had on her mind, Left Ear cracked up, letting loose with the rare laughter and mock saluting her younger charge. “Yes, sir, Midshipman JoNs, sir!”

 

Kansas playfully swatted at her Guardian with a paw, mimicking the behavior of the common domesticated cat perfectly. “C’mon Commander JoNs, let’s eat. I’m starving and the food’s getting cold!”