A Sense of Subtlety

[C.T. Caine 0]

"What, no more than a slap on the wrist?"

 

"If you insist on belaboring the point, Farragut, it will come out of your hide. You heard me the first time."

 

Ensign James Farragut was trying very hard not to laugh. "Just making sure I understand the situation..." he said lazily, tipping his chair back and putting his booted feet up on the edge of the mess-hall table at which he was seated with C.T. Caine and a few other trusted members of the ISS Agincourt's security department.

 

Caine had departed a few hours earlier with Colonel Harper and the Cait XO, and everyone currently sitting around the table had expected to hear a satisfying story hopefully involving an agonizer when the half-Vulcan CSEC returned. JoNs, after all, had mucked up a large portion of a recent operation on Corianis. The smirk on Caine's face as she had exited the mess had said that she clearly expected this particular debt to be paid in full by the end of their little command meeting.

 

She had returned with a scowl on her face that would have frozen a phaser beam in its tracks. A silence had fallen around the table and a lot of looks had been exchanged -- the age-old unspoken question of a department whose chief was out for blood. Which of us gets to ask what happened?

 

In the end the job had fallen to David Decatur, not that the over-muscled pup of a crewman ever had any qualms about speaking up to Caine if it would bring her attention onto him for a little while. From there the story had come out that Harper had not only dismissed the whole affair but chastised Caine in the process, tacitly siding with the Caitian against the Vulcan-Human.

 

That had gotten some ears perking around the table. Many of the officers didn't seem to know what to say, or if they did, were afraid to speak up for fear of calling down Caine's pent-up frustration onto the easy targets which they presented. Farragut, for his part, was casually getting the facts, and his easy manner was drawing some aggravated looks from the other officers. As the current second-ranked in the department, and one of the few who almost matched Caine in age, Farragut could get away with a lot that the peons couldn't, and he used it to his advantage.

 

"I mean...I'm just waiting to hear the next phase of the story," he continued with a smirk, picking up the glass of whiskey on the table next to him and taking a sip. "I'm sure our esteemed chief didn't let that go quietly. Tell me, can the Cait still walk?"

 

Caine shot him an icy look, and Decatur snarled, "Shut up, Jimmbo."

 

Farragut smiled. "You mean she left the office without a mark? That's even more interesting."

 

"You might want to close your mouth before I jam a pistol barrel in it," Caine said coolly, her hand drifting sideways to the hilt of the weapon at her hip.

 

"Hey...I've got no love for the Cait," Farragut said, raising his hands in an expression of mock-surrender. "Far as I'm concerned, you get a xeno in command and you're asking for trouble, and she's an obnoxious one as they go, 'spects us to babysit her on a tense mission. Neh. I'm just intrigued, L'tenant. Because if you haven't done anything yet, it means there's something in the future, and I just want to make sure I buy my tickets early."

 

There was a short silence in which Caine's hand slowly relaxed at her holster. "I don't know yet," she said, and her expression took on a calculating air. "The Colonel made it clear I was to avoid bothering her with my concerns...but I have connections far beyond her authority. I would imagine there is much to be found out -- and much to reveal -- about Commander JoNs that she would prefer remain hidden."

 

"So complicated. Why not just stick a knife up her--"

 

"Mr. Farragut, it is too bad your looks don't match your brains. These sorts of things require a sense of subtlety or else they're not worth the effort. Besides, if the Colonel has a soft spot in her heart for the kitten, then were I found with her blood on my hands, Harper could easily make my life unnecessarily difficult. It's simple in the short-term, yes. In the long-term...I have better things to do with my time."

 

Farragut tipped his glass back cheerfully into his mouth, draining the last of the contents. "Don't pretend, L'tenant, that you wouldn't be pleased as punch if she ended up dead in a ditch, because we all know better."

 

Caine shrugged. "I don't pretend any such thing. Nor do I pretend that you wouldn't perhaps be pleased if the same were to befall me. I am hardly the first person to desire the downfall of a superior, nor, I hope, will I be the last. But I will not impale my career upon the sword of my vengeance. I will wait...if I must. As I must. And sooner or later...she will be struck."

 

Decatur narrowed his eyes slightly and shot a look between the ensign and the lieutenant. A slightly calculating look for a moment flickered in to replace his usual dumb-brute blinking, but he said nothing, apparently finding a rare moment of restraint or perhaps simply cowed by the cold tone of the conversation.

 

After allowing his chief the proper bit of dramatic silence to end her speech, Farragut filled in the empty space in the conversation. "So in the meantime, business as usual?"

 

"Business as usual. But keep an eye on her people. If she is stupid enough to make a move in the open, I want to be ready."

 

"Understood."