Return of Basement Cat

[Thau'Shir Mrkath 0]

"You let her take what?" Mrkath asked the deck chief. The answer had the Caitian's ears pinned flat to his head and his fangs showing. Five minutes later the deck chief scurried off to his new duties for the week, scrubbing various very large dirty things with a very small brush, while his ears were on fire hot enough to activate the bay's flame sensors.

 

He really wasn't that mad about the fact that Crash had finagled her way into one of the better goshawks, of course she wanted one. She was a good Captain, personable enough, and treated the flight crews well. Pulling out Basement Cat in this instance was because he directed a long time ago as to what fighters he wanted her in and she didn't end up in one of them. The guilty party had to pay the price. In the end, Calestorm would hear of it, know better in the future not to try it again and likely buy the poor man a bottle of brew to make up for having his ears pinned back because of her request.

 

As usual when Crash was out in one of his fighters and he remained on the ship, he went into Flight Ops to keep an eye on her. He greeted the duty officer, waved him back to his post. He was here to monitor, not to take over today. After activating his console and hooking into her fighter's readouts, he watched her fly over Delta Vega, glad she seemed to be behaving herself, but whatever that noise was that she was listening to made him question her sanity. Everything was going fine until, glancing at the systems display for the fighter, he saw the manifold warning.

 

"I knew she'd let it get iced," he muttered. He watched to see if she'd be able to clear it or if he'd have to send someone down to rescue her off the ice; the latter would include hauling her up here to slowly slice her to tiny pieces. He watched her maneuver to clear it, swearing if she didn't kill herself in the process he was going to have a word about atmospheric maneuvers like that over a frozen planet. After she got it taken care of, he made a very definite note on his iComanche and there was definitely no smiley emoticon after it.

 

Thinking she'd perhaps behave herself now, but then he watched her buzz the damned cadets. While he imagined the cadets hooted and hollered at the pass, they always did, he'd already warned his pilots not to do it this time, and while she never got that directive herself, he hoped she'd know better. You never knew with ground like that when the vibrations of a passing fighter could agitate the ice and make flat ground open up into a huge crevasse. The noise the cadets would make if they fell into one of those opening up wouldn't be hooting and hollering. Neither would the noise he'd be making when he got a moment alone with her.

 

"Jackie, get the Chrysomallos ready. Basement cat needs to make a flight run," he called out. Jackie knew the difference between that phrase and "CAG's making a flight run." She left a trail of rubber as she zoomed to comply.