Head to Head ((JoNs/Caine))

[C.T. Caine 0]

Caine maneuvered the shuttle into landing position just outside the border of Corianis's violence-plagued capital city and at once caught sight of the golden-furred Caitian XO of the Agincourt standing on the hard-packed dirt of the colony world. For a moment, Caine was tempted to reverse thrusters and climb back skyward; the idea of a patrol flyover in cramped quarters with the Cait was more than the half-Vulcan, even in her most generous moments, would have been capable of qualifying as a "good time." Orders were orders, of course, but Caine could think of much better uses for her time. Jabbing needles under her fingernails, for instance.

 

Hell, she could have been better occupied doing the work on the surface which JoNs had for whatever reason chosen to take over instead -- and blown with a flair for the dramatic. Nearly an entire squad of Caine's people had been thrown into unnecessary jeopardy in order to protect the Cait after she had wandered off the mission specs in the middle of a combat zone. Elegantly idiotic, Commander. I commend you on your sense of style.

 

As the autopilot took over, Caine let her hand rest gently on the phaser pistol hanging off her hip. Perhaps there is a certain benefit to getting the Cait into enclosed quarters for a short period of time. She shook her head slightly. No. Orders were orders, and at any rate, Caine had no intention of pulling anything so...unsubtle -- not yet. Her hand moved from the pistol to the control console, tapping the hatch at the rear of the shuttle open to allow JoNs inside.

 

Commander Kansas 'Will' JoNs had been standing off to one side of the landing zone, waiting for Lieutenant C.T. Caine to set the recon shuttle down on solid ground before she began her approach to the vehicle. Her bodyguard, Lieutenant Mical, had gone off duty for the cycle shift, and JoNs saw no need to employ another personal guard during upcoming patrol run; the felinoid had confidence that Mister Caine would not try anything quote, unquote, stupid.

 

Orders and required procedures aside, the Caitian senior officer wasn't exactly thrilled about sharing a patrol run with 'Junior' Caine; the half-Vulcan security chief was subtly prickly at best, and obsessed with protocol and procedures at her worst. To be stuck on a small enclosed shuttle cockpit for a couple of hours with her was not something the feline was overly thrilled about however.

 

Regardless, JoNs was required as XO to do regular patrol flyovers of the planet as the rioting situation was brought under control, and Caine had been next up on the duty roster as pilot.

 

The shuttle patrol stint gave Kansas an opportunity however, and it was something that she was prepared to use and exploit to her advantage: nose about, and found out what exactly Caine knew. The felinoid first officer had initially deviated from an established patrol pattern to satisfy her own curiosity. Oh, her curiosity had been satisfied all right, right smack into a group of local reprobates waiting to spring an ambush on the 'Court security patrols.

 

So, yes, JoNs had deflected a possible attack on Caine and her patrol squad, but the fact still remained that the Cat still wanted to get a sense of where the half Vulcan stood on the logistics of the incident so to speak, and if she suspected that the initial deviation was linked to possible illegal activities on the part of JoNs.

 

Will swiftly and surely made her way up the rear boarding hatch, her long uniform coat flapping and billowing and catching the air as she moved through it; she had chosen to wear the not often used coat due to the sandy and dusty wind that occasionally ripped trough the surface of the Corianis colony world. The black coloring of the coat matched the coloring of her uniform trousers, and her sleeveless red command tunic offered a contrasting color tone. Her weapons utility belt and holster was worn low on one hip, and her paw rested lightly on her usual weapon: a scaled down plasma shot gun modified for hand weapon use.

 

Kansas would never, ever, be full of herself enough to strike a pose or demand attention, it just wasn't in her nature to be a command diva and probably never would be. She had come very, very close to that sort of cocky-ness just after taking on the posting as the 'Courts First Officer, and the ships commanding officer had just about knocked JoNs clear into the next sector as a result; the Caitian officer had no desire to ever repeat that sort of situation ever again.

 

But, her comfortable outward bearing combined with the uniform and weapons spoke volumes to anyone who knew what to look for or how to read the signs: bad ass feline Imperial officer incoming, boo yah.

 

The leonine feline easily and efficiently moved the short distance through the shuttle towards the co-pilots chair and console set within the cockpit section along side Caine's main piloting controls. "What's our status Lieutenant Caine? Any change in the population patterns since the last patrol run by third shift?" A curious ear flipped back, and the green slit cat eyes that she fixed on the Vulcan officer were alert, intelligent, and decidedly feral.

 

"Change in patterns?" Caine responded coolly, not looking away from her console as she heard the XO's voice behind her. "Well, they are certainly taking pains to ensure that their population is decreasing with every change of shift. Beyond that...the situation remains more or less the same." Tapping the controls again, she let the hatch slide shut with a firm thunk, then reengaged the thrusters, lifting the shuttle cleanly from the ground. Caine was not a pilot by trade, but she knew how to move without wasted movement, and that applied to vehicles as well as herself. "Take a seat...Commander."

 

JoNs merely made a purred grunt in agreement at the junior officer's assessment and followed through on the suggestion to take a seat; the feline easily slipped into the co-pilots chair and with a practiced eye checked out the various status consoles that showed the progress of the shuttles systems.

 

While also not a pilot by trade, Kansas had grown up on a Caitian clan ship and had watched over the Helm any number of times; at the academy, she had taken enough courses to quality as a shuttle and backup starfighter pilot. She was comfortable enough in a cockpit that it showed in her own movements.

 

The felinoid had served with a good many officers and enlisted in her time. Some were full on rules and regs, some were aggressive, others were disciplinarians or consummate professionals, still others had a sort of slow and easy command style.

 

She spared a glance over at Caine, who could at times revert into the 'stiff necked' sort of line officer. Nothing wrong with that really, as the Vulcan was definitely confident within the administration of her department, but being stiff necked did have the potential to hamstring an otherwise promising career.

 

Well now, the best way to deal with a stiff necked officer was sometimes the direct approach. Shake 'em up a bit and get them out of their comfort zone.

 

The ships XO glanced over to the older female security chief. "So, Lieutenant Caine. I deviated from the ground patrol course you and your squad had been completing the other day and I had been observing. I had a lead on a possible business contact located in the nearby market sector, and proceeded to investigate to get a visual read. What I actually found though was a skulking group of Corianis miners prime for an ambush that was most definitely going to be directed at your security teams, I commed your team -- you may recall that as my rather excited 'move your rear ends' message -- and it was deflected due to the interference of your patrol. Isn't that an interesting story?"

 

Felines, of all species, could either be very sneaky and stealthy, or all up in your face when they wanted something; JoNs as a Caitian feline was no exception. A half smirk was plastered across her muzzle, but it wasn't unkind, just mischievous. The deviation from orders and patrol route would drive the Vulcan woman nuts, let alone the little tidbit about the ambush. Nuts.

 

Caine's jaw tightened as JoNs burst out with a line of blunt, smirking rhetoric. It was an obvious attempt at tactical debate; take the enemy's points from them by addressing them yourself before they can. Clearly the Cait felt herself in the right because her lack of discipline unworthy of a first-year imperial cadet had perhaps unwittingly given them a slight tactical advantage. Caine knew better. Such an action could just as easily have gotten them all killed, and the simple fact that it had worked this time was entirely irrelevant. And, of course, there was the simple fact that it was the Cait doing the talking -- she had given Caine and her team a hell of a mess to clean up and hadn't even had the decency to take a shot in the gut to make it worth everyone's while.

 

No...she was not in the right, and her complacent attempt to shove the event in Caine's face was infuriating. She wanted to make Caine angry, wanted to drive a reaction out of her, leading eventually to a submission to JoNs's tactical authority. Caine had no intention of giving her anything of the sort. So she kept her face completely still, the cold tone designed to exasperate the impulsive Caitian commander. "Indeed. Fascinating."

 

Kansas busied herself checking the backup thruster control programs as well as the status console of the proximity sensors per standard shuttle operating procedures. An ear flipped back, but she maintained her focus on the update programs as they scrolled across her co-pilot's screen while she spoke to Caine.

 

"You know, I've found that our line of work in both Security and the line officer capacity is not, and never has been, an exact science. One tactical engagement will never play out in the way that you think the engagement will, nor will it match a past skirmish exactly point for point. But, I defer to your field knowledge as you've been serving longer then I have … have all your field skirmishes gone exactly according to plan Caine? Aldebaran II aside, because we're both well aware that Aldebaran did not go according to your plans … as you keep randomly and subtley reminding me even though I had nothing to do with the actual engagement, other then through my genetic blood ties."

 

You defer to my knowledge...of course...Caine thought sardonically. She was not stupid; JoNs would no more defer to Caine's experience than Caine would defer to her authority. The dig at the Aldebaran incident was simply an attempt to add insult to injury, and she ignored it pointedly, but as for the first bit...

 

"Nothing of course goes exactly as planned," she responded icily. "But generally the random variable is expected to come from the other side of the equation. I do not enjoy having to guess my own team's movements while trying to predict the enemy's at the same time."

 

"Well, I believe you just put forth the primary job description of a patrol scout point man. I'm a felinoid -- I need to scout out my area, see what's going on. My methods haven't changed much since I moved up in my assignment rank. I'm sure I could have stayed with your team, and then the miners would have worked around behind us." JoNs's tone was matter of fact. "But then again, the insurrectionists were and are not professionals, so that might not have happened. We'll never know."

 

Caine said nothing. This was a waste of energy, time, and attention. JoNs was too stubborn to believe she might possibly be in the wrong, and Caine was not going to give her the satisfaction of watching her CSEC butt heads with her fruitlessly. At any rate that wasn't the aspect of this that Caine had a feeling was important. The Cait had made one slip in her earlier blithe description of the incident in question -- she had mentioned that her departure from the situation involved a business deal, and there was no way in which that could be twisted to seem relevant to their mission, however how hard she might try. No matter...Caine could pursue that lead on her own time, perhaps determine what information was to be found on business dealings in that area of the city, and submit her own report to Harper. No need to continue this game. So she simply let her lips twitch in an unruffled smirk and looked away, not even giving the Cait the satisfaction of a response, focusing in on the console in front of her.

 

Kansas didn't claim to know what Caines personal methods as an Intelligence agent were like. If she had survived this long in the business, then she must be good or the agency would have cut her loose years ago. And, again, based on the half-Vulcan woman's general day to day running of the Agincourt Security division, the woman was competent.

 

Competency didn't make up for the attitude problem though, and Caine had a big one shadowing her. She made the Irish grudge look positively dull by comparison with that icy cold Vulcan side combined with her Human ire. It was possible that, dislike for JoNs aside, the Lieutenant's stiff backed outlook regarding protocol and procedures was why she wasn't spearheading her own Intel faction by now. Protocol and procedure was all well and good, but thinking outside the box could be worked into that equation, and successfully, as well.

 

JoNs let the obvious conversational snub go for now. There would be an opportunity for any sort of retribution later if Caine were to slip and try the rudeness in public.

 

The shuttle had reached the altitude necessary to do a patrol flyover, and the sleek vessel leveled out under the piloting and co-piloting ministrations of the fiery feline and the ice cold Vulcan. The on board sensors were scanning in three hundred and sixty degrees, and the tracking programs were on full; if any funny business was going on, the shuttle patrol crew would be notified.

 

Corianis was a pretty planet, with mountains and trees and grasslands set across varying sectors on the typical class M world. Granted, the administration guiding the dilithium mining wasn't exactly subtle, and within say one hundred years, the portions of the planet that contained the highest concentration of dilithium would no doubt be reduced to rubble thanks to the strip mining operations favored by the production company.

 

JoNs glanced at a secondary cockpit tracker console when an alert warning blip had sounded in the blue tooth wireless and communications device set in her ear. "Ah, sh*t." The leonine Cait snorted out her delicate light brown nose and pointed a wide golden paw out the forward observation window. "Riot in progress, sensors showing about fifty body heat signatures or so, warehouse district. Let's break out the sleepy time grenade bombs, do a flyover, and drop a few, shall we Lieutenant?"

 

Caine glanced in the direction the Cait was indicating and spotted a rising plume of smoke out of a sector of a city block. Ah, good...time to really go to work. The smile twitched at her lips again but her voice was still cool and businesslike. "Coming about, bearing zero-eight-zero...time to intercept...forty-five seconds. Prepare to release the grenades."

 

"Grenades in the launch tubes, two and three, internal gas release cycle prepped and running, mark. You do the honors Mister Caine. Let's clear the riot area."

 

Caine's expression grew somewhat more focused as a targeting scanner interface popped up in the pilot's console. Heat signatures representing the numerous clashing biosigns all along the block registered in bright red over a blue background, overlayed with the system status of the grenade launchers. "Targets locked," she muttered, her fingers doing a practiced dance over the keypad and releasing the clamps on the grenades. A few seconds later, the moving red dots began to slow, then stop, their signatures weakening as the sleeping gas did its work. "Grenades away," she murmured, for a moment forgetting her conflict with the Commander next to her in the cold satisfaction of a job completed successfully. "Send in the cleanup crew."

Edited August 1, 2009 by C.T. Caine