Wear My Soulful Concerns (by JoNs & Gage)

[Gage Silver 0]

Ring the bell, Gage thought as he shivered. No more water, sand, pain -- geez, it's cold. Dry clothes, warm bed, lots of sleep. Want to sleep for a long, long time... Ring the damn bell.

 

A twitch in his leg woke Gage and his head abruptly lifted. The door controls glowed brightly at him as he took in the dark room. Swinging his legs over over the edge of his rack, he sat up and lowly groaned from the persistent throbbing of his head.

 

That was the third time muscle twitching had woken him up in a single hour. He hadn’t caught enough sleep over the last few days; the physiological side-effects and stress were catching up. He was gonna catch hell if the doc ever found out. But trying to catch a minimum of four hours before his next watch or at least sleeping off his migraine wasn’t going anywhere right now. He was wide-awake again; insomnia -- that old, accommodating buddy -- had invited itself to tea. Go bug Java.

 

Gage wearily rubbed his face with his hand, working back to his stiff neck. No point in mindlessly sitting on his rack for the few hours he had between watches. I’ll walk it off.

 

He opened the door to the small, shared compartment and grimaced at the brighter lights in the passageway. Shielding hand to his eyes, he hesitated in the hatchway. But the dreary idea of fighting a staring contest with sleeplessness in the dark pushed him forward, in spite of the lighting that was intensifying the pain his head. Dropping his hand, he steeled his expression and exited, smiling to the first crewman he passed.

 

Gage nearly missed catching the familiar face that crossed the junction ahead of him. “Commander!” he called after JoNs, picking up his pace to round the corner and catch her.

 

The felinoid paused, flipping an ear back. Turning gracefully, she regarded the Human with bright green eyes.

 

Commander K. Vacer JoNs had familiarized herself with the the service jackets of the crewmembers who had been assigned to the Imperious for the Outer Rim mission, and mentally pulled up a profile: Silver, Gage. Ensign. SPECOPS background, among other training. Undercover code name of ‘Buck’.

 

“Yes?”

 

Gage didn’t waste much time as he caught up. “SOP question: if we couldn’t recover the Flemming, why didn’t we destroy it?”

 

She readjusted the digi-slate she carried, placing it under one arm. “Calestorm’s orders.”

 

If the Caitian officer had any issue with the orders, she didn’t let on; her leonine features were passive. Though she cocked her head to one side and asked, “Problems?”

 

Gage shrugged dismissively. “Nope. But I heard Shalin went missing.”

 

Now her tail switched, moving back and forth jerkily. “Well, I see word has spread through the ships complement at warp ten. Though as I recall the captain used a more...descriptive term.” JoNs wrinkled her nose, “Something involving news spreading...like excrement through an Earth fowl?”

 

Gage smirked. The Cait shook her head, not so much dismissively, but definitely amused. Then, she sobered.

 

“Yes, Mister Buck,” JoNs used Silver’s assignment code name, even though the internal EC equipment had been running full tilt since the mission was launched, “Death Wish has gone missing. Do you have a personal reason for inquiring on the matter?” She waved a paw slightly, indicating a maintenance alcove set off the main passageway. Gage took the hint and moved.

 

Clad in mercenary fatigues, the feline looked the same as any other member of the SPECOPS/Border Patrol blended crew. Her mannerism was predatory, yet controlled - just like her SEAL-trained command style. And JoNs’s style was so far away from Calestorm’s ‘by the seat of her pants’ methods it wasn’t even funny.

 

The fact that Silver was a SPECOPS man was the only reason JoNs was mellowing from her normal spit and polish. She waved a paw slightly to punctuate her words, her claws unsheathing. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here Silver, and yes this is off the record - SOP should be to blow the shuttle. But, I’ll back the captain’s play.” Her purred tone was sure and clipped.

 

The cat stole a quick glance around to make sure that she and Gage were still alone. Her tail started to swish with more of an aggravated pattern.

 

Gage shrugged casually. “No personal reason and I ain’t questioning the skipper. Just hard to miss a missing Helmsman and if I could guess where he went---well---” He shrugged again, leaving the thought unfinished.

 

“...you have a theory Silver?”

 

“It ain’t obvious? He’s a bleeding heart; probably went alone to get that shuttle and help his XO. What I ain’t following is how we got so many officers that don’t wanna play with the team.”

 

The felonoid snarled slightly, with a purr to take the edge off. “Well, key word there is team. This mission is a combined SPEC and BP, but I don’t need to tell you that. I’d say overall, things are working out as well as can be expected. This is an Outer Rim mission....and I can’t say its going exactly according to plan, but what do you expect when we’re in the middle of pirate central?”

 

“With that said? I might not like it, but if Death Wish is, ah, ‘creatively’ backing up a team mate then so be it. As for Commander Green? Well, I’m sure she has her reasons as well,” which included a kidnapped lover, but JoNs wasn’t about to discuss that as it wasn’t her business, “only thing I know for sure is she attacked the captain.”

 

Gage grinned stupidly, gesturing as he spoke. "No plan survives first contact. Only wish I’d got the memo on the soloing,” he remarked, feeling sore over being left behind. “Best ‘team’ I’ve been on yet.”

 

The cat purred a bit, the sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh. “Word of advice there Silver - hopefully, no one else goes ‘unassigned absence’, because Calestorm is getting to the point where she’s going to scrap the mission and just go all headhunter on the missing crew.”

 

The normally stoic feline was cracking a joke, but there was very real warning in her eyes.

 

Gage half-laughed a noise that sounded more incredulous than humored. “The headhunter doesn’t have to worry about me,” he said. “But, speaking of, how d’we detain the objective if we aren’t to approach 'er?”

 

“That’s the captains lookout.” Vacer’s tone betrayed nothing. “We handle the Kris guards, and Evac any Maze captives.”

 

“Right, team,” Gage mused cynically, snapping a finger and tisking. “We’re the can-can line to the James---Jane Bond acts.”

 

JoNs smiled, baring fangs in the process. “Mister Silver, if you’d like to discuss the team aspects - or lack thereof, in your opinion - of this crew with Calestorm, be my guest. I’d recommend wearing battle armor, but that’s just me. I’ve always found that Border Patrol - and the captain from my own encounters with her - can be rather creative when it comes to mission parameters.”

 

Gage smirked. “I might after debrief,” he candidly admitted, knowing it would reveal a lot about his personal thoughts.

 

An ear flipped back in speculation. “Brave man.”

 

“Well, y’know what they say about brave men.”

 

“Do I want to know, Ensign?”

 

“You brave enough to know?” Gage quipped.

 

“....are you brave enough to deal with Calestorm?” JoNs countered, evading the original question and growling a little.

 

“Too afraid to run away,” Gage quickly replied, half joking.

 

“You keep questioning the crew and her decisions, then you will be on her radar.”

 

Gage’s expression darkened a bit. “I know when to set personal conflicts aside; not my problem if she can’t,” he said, obviously new to Calestrom’s command.

 

Commander JoNs’s tail went completely dead, and the appendage thumped to the deck. Her felinoid face betrayed no emotions...and that was probably a bad thing. Oh my dear gods...she couldn’t stop it from coming out...she was in acting XO mode...

 

A low growl reverberated in the corridor. Her neck fur rose, as did her tail fur. “Mister Silver, since you are so determined to be honest, allow me to be as well. I understand your concerns. I may not completely agree with her...exhuberant command style myself, but I assure you, the captain will handle everything - and,” she hissed slightly, “everyone, assuming they don’t get themselves vasstava killed that is - once our primary directive is discharged.” Her purred vocal tone had gone very flat.

 

Gage was quiet for just a moment. “A’ight,” he replied, showing full acceptance of what JoNs said. He shrugged, admitting: “Might all grow on me, if I give ‘em a chance.”

 

The term ‘grow on me like fungus’ flitted through JoNs mind, but she stamped down on the sarcastic remark. The commander nodded, gradually calming her outward showing of annoyance.

 

“Mister Silver. Leave the concern over this crew to myself and her. Maintain your assigned posting, keep your Human rear end out of the line of fire if at all possible, and wait on Captain Calestorm’s final signal.”

 

“Hooyah,” Gage answered emphatically.

 

“Hooyah, Mister.”

 

And with that, JoNs continued on her way, predatory background evident in her walk.