Darn Will-ful Cat

[Kansas 0]

Note: this log takes place just after the 11.18.09 Sim.

 

11.18.09

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Darn Will-ful Cat”

 

A lot of things and events could happen in a period of thirty six hours: some good, some bad, and some events that you truly never saw coming. And she had truly not seen this one coming. Blindsided. Out of the Blue. Someday you’re the clear dura-plasti shuttlecraft windshield, and other days you’re the Tiger Mosquito. The whole situation was definitely a splat factor within these last thirty six hours.

 

Seething didn’t even begin to describe the state of mind of Comman…Lieutenant Colonel Kansas ‘Will” JoNs. The feline officer was downright snarked off at the current state of Marine based transfer and ranking affairs that she found herself in. And through no fault of her own, thank you very much.

 

For the last hour or so, Kansas had retired to and been holed up in her private office on the NNC Marine Command deck, with the entry door closed and the picture window that exposed the main deck area of the NNC set to dark opaque as well in order to give her a bit of privacy as she attended to her personal matters.

 

Kansas had already spoken to (read: needed a shoulder to rant on) Colonel Harper, who had of course been made aware of and been copied in on her first officers internal dual transfer to Battalion Exec and accompanying Lieutenant Colonel rank. Despite her normal reaction of sympathy, Harper had still responded to her officer in the only logical Medusian way possible -- “Every single officer who serves in this Fleet is a soldier to a capacity or extent, and we go where we are needed and ordered”.

 

Which was senior colonel code speak for: Yes, I’m totally sympathetic towards your current situation Kansas, but you need to calm down and get a grip before I boot you one.

 

Colonel Harper code talk translation skills. I haz dem. Level two clearance.

 

JoNs wasn’t normally the complainer type. And the hallmark of any good officer, squid, shark, geek, medico, or grease monkey alike was to adapt and move forward no matter what a situation threw at you. The golden furred Cait understood this outlook on life, but all the same she was still damned well going to ask some pertinent questions regarding her current situation.

 

Anyway, back to the current crises at hand: her lateral department transfer orders from Naval commander to Marine lieutenant colonel had come directly from General Kerrin Tor, Office of Starfleet Personnel Transfers, Subsection: Soltan Response Task Force/Joint Marine and Security and Pilot Readiness. For the last hour, the feline command…lieutenant colonel had been attempting to track down this general responsible for her new rank and branch assignment, via the subspace wireless network in order to have some ‘words’ with her distant superior officer across the parsecs.

 

And that ratfink, paper pushing, desk flying, so and so had been avoiding her, she was sure of it! Okay okay, in all fairness, the desk flying and paper pushing descriptions might have been a bit nasty and over the edge…but JoNs was still ticked off to no end. If you were going to screw up someone’s career or job plans, then at least be available by pager communicator badge, or something.

 

General Kerrin Tor was a forty year veteran of the Federation Marine service, and had come up the Starfleet ranks the hard way. In other words, she had scraped her way through many a foxhole and ground engagements across dozens of planets over the years before being kicked upstairs into administrative duties for the Marine branch of the Starfleet. Kansas had perused the personnel file of said mofo ratfink, and honestly, she had come to respect the woman through the sheer digital leakage of power coming through the service jacket transcript that showcased the now senior administrative ground pounders service time. Didn’t mean Will was particularly fond of the woman though, battlefield decorations and campaign ribbons aside.

 

The Bajoran woman currently held the rank of Brigadier General, and aside from a few recent special ops engagements that she had overseen personally, she had not been rotated into direct battle for well over ten years. However, JoNs would be credits to navy beans that Kerrin could still do the dance of the ground pounder and show the current Devil Dog generation a thing or three or four about their chosen profession.

 

The wireless signal confirmed that an answering signal had finally been picked up at the San Fran personnel offices, or at least connected by some office yeoman, and shortly thereafter the image of a light skinned Bajoran female popped into existence on JoNs’s computer monitor.

 

She was a woman who had strong though lean features, almost Vulcan like in her appearance if not for the typical crinkle of skin at the bridge of the nose. Her light brown hair, worn in a regulation style one length cut that ended just below her chin line, had begun to go silver. Mentally, Kansas immediately took in the physical features of the gropo administrator within a flat count of five seconds.

 

Like most -- but not all -- Bajorans who followed the religion of her species, one ear lobe sported a plain silver earring that was interconnected to a cartilage cuff attachment. Kerrin offered a guarded though warm smile, and launched into the business at hand without so much as a hello. Her eyes, which were a light brown were bright and alert, but also showed cunning in their depths and a military shrewdness from a lifetime of service.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel JoNs. I admit that I’ve been expecting your call since your personal orders were shunted out in the digital packet.”

 

With an effort, the golden furred leonine Cait ignored the general weirdness of hearing that foreign rank precede her last name, and the surname had grown quite attached to the ‘Commander’ designation thank you very much. “Damn right you’ve been expecting my call. With all due respect General Kerrin, What gives you the right to go messing with my career options?”

 

This Cat was direct. Then again her personnel file did state as much. “This does,” Kerrin pointed a slender finger at the general pay grade insignia cluster affixed to her uniform collar, “as well as my appointment to the Office of Personnel post Soltan attack. This Fleet needs to be ready in the future for any more attacks, surprise or not, and it’s now my job and my departments job to make sure all of our best personnel and ships are maneuvered into positions better able to fortify our battalions and fleets.”

 

“Is this Marine rank and departmental assignment temporary or permanent?” Although, JoNs had a feeling that the point was probably moot as the rank and departmental specialty transfer had already gone through as official.

 

“Temporary with regard to the current Rihan border mission that the Agincourt has embarked on; to be frank, the Fleet brass wants two Marines in charge of the Agincourt for right now. Permanent depends on the general outcome as well as the continued threat of the Soltan. Listen to me JoNs: either way and no matter the service branch rank, you are a capable officer and you wouldn’t be the XO on one of the lead line ships if you had your head up your ass.”

 

So, I’m the latest in some sort of recruiting and reconfiguring experiment. Joy. The compliment fell on deaf ears, as the fiery Cait was way too hot under the collar to read anything else into the statement other then sure fire annoyance on her part. “Excuse me, General, but I came up through the ranks as a Security officer, and my training and operational MO has always been Naval. An officer can’t just laterally jump departments let alone a rank and specialty!”

 

“Untrue. Trans departmental and rank changes can be rare but are not unheard of, and the event has happened in certain instances since the inception of the Starfleet. If you’re the type of officer I think you are, you’ve already accessed my own profile to see who it is you are dealing with. You obviously read that I started in the non commissioned Naval ranks, then opted for line officer training and transferred over into the commissioned Marine ranks. I started at the rank of First El Tee and then worked my way through the tiers of service options.”

 

With an effort, Kansas managed to not interrupt the woman, waiting until she was done with that particular litany on the inner workings of the Fleet and Marine ranking structures. “Be that as it may Ma’am, I do not like having my career toyed with.” The golden furred feline’s ears were so flat against her head that she looked like she didn’t have any ears in the first place. “In other words, based on your little recruitment spiel, I’m fine as long as I don’t screw up on this Rihan mission with regard to this nice little colonel experiment.”

 

“It has not been toyed with Lieutenant Colonel. You may have started out as a Naval squid, Lord help us, but you’ve had the Marine basic training and have served alongside any number of both commissioned and non commissioned ground pounder officers, learning by example. You also agreed to serve in whatever capacity and go where needed when you signed on that dotted line those years ago JoNs.”

 

“Does this have anything to do with a little known Reserve Activation Clause, General Kerrin? I’m asking because there seem to be a few peculiar instances throughout the ‘Fleet history where the clause seems to be invoked during times like this, such as a threat to Earth or Federation borders. Granted…we have the Soltan instead of V’Ger this time around…” JoNs trailed off, her tone direct and her eyes hard.

 

“And history can and will repeat itself Lieutenant Colonel, and you know your Federation history.”

 

Ever since the Soltan attack on the Earth, the Starfleet and embarked on a protective military grade mobilization that in some ways almost dwarfed the Dominion War scramble of the 2380’s. Personnel and ships were moved, bunkers were erected, and all bets were off.

 

“…what exactly are we mobilizing for here Ma’am?”

 

“The Soltan.” Kerrins lips twitched a bit in anger and her tone was slightly sarcastic though very well schooled; she was not used to having her statements or orders questioned, least of all by an inquisitive Cait.

 

Now JoNs’s muzzle twitched in annoyance and she spoke with a mild reproof at the other females tone. “Thank you Sir, because I’m not up on my latest Intel on public enemy one. So, if you’ve taken a career security squid and made them a marine lieutenant colonel and battalion exec, what’s next? Take a few gropos and put ‘em in charge of flight ops for a planetary base?”

 

“Actually, yes. The simple fact Lieutenant Colonel is we need to mobilize wherever necessary to meet the continued threat of the Soltans, personnel transfers included.”

 

“…what are my options. Sir.” JoNs was still respectful, but the sir was tacked on as an afterthought and her tone was still very blunt.

 

The general matched the tone syllable for syllable. “Not many. Your commanding officer, Harper, has garnered much respect and a reputation among the Fleet with her dual posting as battalion commander and ships commander, and making the dual assignments work and work well. Since the marine naval command arrangement has worked so well for the Agincourt, it would seem the commanding admiralty and generals want to keep the situation as is -- therefore, welcome to your Marine life JoNs.”

 

Tor paused for a second before continuing the explanation. “You’ve been exposed to the continuing example of Colonel Harper who has served as your executive officer and now as ships commanding officer, and worked side by side with her during that period as well as working directly with her in the commanding officer capacity when you yourself took over your current XO posting assignment. I’d say you are more then capable of taking on this new assignment, and again, you wouldn’t have been considered in the first place if my office didn’t feel that you would not be able to tow the line.”

 

“It’s just that, this is all so unorthodox General, surely you must understand that?”

 

“Unorthodox? Then surely you are in good company JoNs with your new designation, for your file does not show you to be an orthodox officer; you have the ability to think outside the box and that is exactly the sort of skill that we will benefit from in these current times.” Kerrin’s eyes took on a shrewd cast as she continued speaking, “I am aware that you have a call sign of Will, therefore reaffirming the fact that you do have exposure to the Marine culture. Most call signs seem to make absolutely no sense to outsiders, but the meaning is always plain….care to share?”

 

Baleful Caitian green eyes met shrewd Bajoran brown eyes. “It’s short for Damn Willful Cat. Former Ex Oh christened me with the call sign.”

 

“And there you have it. Marine culture, Lieutenant Colonel. Not many experience it or have the on the job training as you have. It is an option that we will use and exploit within our defensive mobilizations.”

 

“Permission to speak freely General?”

 

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” A lopsided smirk accompanied the statement.

 

The smirk was met with a silently bared lip, exposing one front fang. “With all my due respect, this entire situation and conversation is one of the biggest loads of bullsh*t I’ve ever heard in my life, General Kerrin.”

 

The senior marine officer had been patient with the younger line officer, but that particular comment and in particular the tone in which it had been delivered had just wiped out any patience that Kerrin had been employing for the duration of the conversation. “You are treading dangerously close to going on report Lieutenant Colonel.”

 

“You go right ahead and do that General if you so desire. It won’t be the first report my Cee Oh has gotten on me, it probably won’t be the last, and at least I’m trying to be honest in my dealings with regard to this current mess you’ve landed me in.” Kansas placed an emphasis on the honest and the my and the you’ve.

 

Irate cat is irate.

 

Kerrin prepped to verbally fire back, and a flush crept up her neck; but Will offered a purred growl, effectively and simultaneously hiding the displeased vocalization in her next statement and smoothly interrupting the general. Tor was not at all used to being cut off by a subordinate, but the veiled snarl and predatory shine to the eyes brought her up short and her tactical mind kicked in with a message: Pick your battles with this one, General.

 

The feline Cait’s light green colored eyes had taken on a dangerous glint. “Good day to you General, thank you for your time, and I will follow my current departmental orders and ranking position to the letter. Oo Rah.” JoNs said the Oo Rah with a flat inflection that could cut tri-duranium hull plating.

 

With a quick jab of her paw to the inset keyboard on the desktop and with no further warning, Will disconnected her connection of the two way visual wireless feed, blanking her desktop viewer screen. It took her about five minutes to calm down, gather herself, and replay the conversation in the memory recall centers of her brain. Her common sense eventually popped to the forefront of her mental musings as well, and she wiped a paw across her leonine face tiredly.

 

“Aw Hell. I just hung up on a line officer…”

 

Damn Willful Cat. Indeed.