Exchange

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

CDR Left Ear JoNs, per her usual, had arrived three minutes prior to the intended meeting time with CPT Chirakis. For the next two, the feline waited and allowed thoughts to roil, mainly in recall of the Midway conversation.

 

Captain Chirakis looked at JoNs somewhat curiously, then asked in a casual tone, “Commander... Captain Calestorm pulled you out of our meeting.” Not a question.

 

JoNs flipped an ear back and responded with a “Yes Sir.”

 

“What exactly did you discuss?”

 

“…Am I in error Sir?”

 

Chirakis fixed the felinoid in her gaze, as though judging the Caitian's response. After a visual check of those at nearby tables, she pressed her lips and gave a cursory nod. “Perhaps this is best discussed in my office. One hour.”

 

JoNs couldn’t tell from the discussion with her CO if she’d been in error; the talk with Calestorm had certainly seemed innocent enough and Left Ear certainly wasn’t going to make any life decisions based off of one interaction with a cowgirl of a captain.

 

Chirakis was one of the few people that the Caitian was not able to read very well, and when she did make any displeasure known, it was usually very subtle or too late. Very well, come what may....she chimed for admittance to the office.

 

“Come.”

 

Entering the office, she adopted a parade rest. “Commander JoNs, reporting as ordered Captain.”

 

A slow turn brought Captain Chirakis’ gaze to hers, where it rested for a long minute, as though she were thinking.

 

Years of work in security caused JoNs to automatically gauge the look; she assumed for the moment that she would not be EVAing to scrub space particles off the station with a toothbrush. Still, there was something...unsettled in Chirakis’ gaze. Whether unsettled at JoNs, the conversation with Calestorm, or something entirely different was unknown at the moment.

 

“Commander. Please...” the captain finally rounded her desk, a gentle wave of one gloved hand indicating a chair while she relaxed against the desk’s rounded polycarbonite edge.

 

The felinoid did as instructed, settling down. “Captain, not to be bold, but I’d like to know if...this is...an official meeting?”

 

“Official? Yes. And no,” she said, casually crossing her arms. “Official to me. Unofficial to the investigation that has begun because of our contact with Comanche Creek.”

 

An ear flip indicated Left Ear’s puzzlement. “It’s been less then a week and Fleet Command has already deployed an investigation? Wonderful. Why can’t they be that quick when there’s an emergency or request of some sort?”

 

The captain gave a dark chuckle. “Most probably because the temporal containment branch of whatever department in whatever jurisdiction it is, is idle most of the time, and they grasp at whatever inkling of time travel comes their way. Like starved vultures to a fresh carcass?” She studied the ceiling a moment. “Of course, that comment will not leave this room, Commander.”

 

“Vultures? Where?” The dark furred panther purred with a rare show of amusement.

 

Chirakis’ smile faded as she resumed the role of superior officer. Her tone became formal and explicit, and the feline officer appreciated the direct tact.

 

“Commander JoNs, I have been informed that an investigation has been launched into the appearance of the USS Comanche Creek in our time period and the effect it might have on our timeline, their own timeline, and whatever timeline they might consider relevant or... want to invent.” She waved a dismissive hand. “All personnel who had any contact whatsoever with that crew will be questioned, so know you are not the only one.

 

“Now,” she pushed off from the desk and rounded it to settle comfortably in her chair, “this is not an inquisition, Commander. It’s merely a few questions to... give me a ‘heads-up,’ as the Terrans say. If there is anything you recall that could be deemed ‘contamination of the timeline’ I would like to know now.” Though her body remained relaxed, her eyes flashed with intent, just enough to get the point across.

 

Left Ear purred and waved a paw gently to emphasize her words. “Captain Chirakis, I’m fairly certain there’s no contaminates, real or imagined. The talk was more of a personal one between myself and Marshal Calestorm.” The Cait purposely inserted the title, and offered a small smile.

 

Chirakis’ hand called for more information, a gentle circling motion. She had obviously missed the joke, so the commander moved on.

 

“She’d originally approached me regarding my...attitude, during the ceremony to welcome you.” The officer glanced down at her paws, folded in her lap, and then returned an apologetic gaze to Chirakis.

 

“I have no patience for the Starfleet era that Captain Calestorm and her crew supposedly hail from. I find the Starfleet of that era to be nothing more then cowboy diplomacy. I wasn’t very subtle, and she obviously felt the need to inquire. That is what initially started the conversation.” JoNs paused, tail a bit excitable. “Captain Chirakis, I apologize; I could have been less opinionated towards our travelers, Captain Calestorm in particular. I allowed my emotions to project.

 

“The Captain then asked me if I was any relation to a ‘K. Vacer JoNs’, an officer with whom she works. I inquired about a young Caitian I spotted among the hanger deck crew, by the name of ‘Honor-Scar’; the Vacer name is a family tradition, and we do have a direct relation with the Honor-Scars. I suspect there’s a chance I’m related to the two of them. We talked about family ties and bloodlines, with Calestorm sharing some of her ancestral background as well.”

 

There was a comfortable pause, long enough to indicate the comments were complete before the captain spoke. “Family ties and bloodlines, then,” she mused, “all of which vary from timeline to timeline, and most probably will not hold weight in any investigation.” She seemed to be thinking aloud, sorting things out in her own mind. Still, there was an air of restraint, something missing?

 

“Sir...is there a problem?”

 

“Did... Captain Calestorm come close to you at all? Close enough to either add or remove anything?”

 

“No Ma’am, I’m sure of it. No covert moves were made by either myself or her...are you concerned that she would have done something on purpose?”

 

“Only a question, Commander, but a very important one. There have been instances in the past when items have been exchanged knowingly or unknowingly. If found or detected, they are confiscated and tested for authenticity and dating. Those of value were assumed to be bribes, given in exchange for information on the future. Those of little value were placed in a museum. In both cases, the bearer faced court martial, the end result of which was not pretty. So... you can see the reason for my asking.”

 

“I understand. I can imagine that exchanging an object not of your own time with another can be compelling. Court Martial seems a high price, for a simple exchange.”

 

With that, she stood, signaling the end of the ‘interview’. “If you recall anything else that might have ‘tainted the timeline’ you will bring it to my attention, Commander?” Again, not a question.

 

JoNs stood, mirroring the movement. “Yes Captain.”

 

“Very well. Dismissed.”

=/\=

 

Kirel eyed the Caitian security officer until the doors to the control tower closed behind her. Turning back to the observation window, she sighed, reached into her tunic pocket and retrieved a silver Challenge Coin. The classic Delta Shield and wings of Starfleet Naval Fighter Command - Honor, Courage, Commitment adorned both sides, intricately stamped, expertly enameled.She gave it the once-over, studied it for several minutes, then slipped it back into the pocket.

 

“Clear skies, Captain,” she whispered, raising her gaze to the stars. “May we never meet again.”

Edited January 26, 2012 by LeftEar JoNs