Ryder-Presit System

[Kansas 0]

Note: this Plot Log takes place during the four hour Time Between Sims.

 

= = = =

 

The USS Agincourt was currently en route to the planetary system known as Ryder-Presit, and it would be a few hours before the exploratory warship arrived in system. In the meantime, her crew and officers were familiarizing themselves with the digital mapping data that had been received from the USS Torin Kerr, and attempting to prepare for any sort of surprises that the Ryder system night have in store for the officers and crew.

 

Kansas had completed her shift on the bridge, but had retired to her office in the Marine NNC prior to making her deck by deck rounds; the Caitian feline had wanted to get a good look

 

There really wasn’t much to go on, tactically. Exact locations of this ranch or that settlement was all well and good, but what the ‘Court officers really needed was detailed background information on the system they were warping out to.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel JoNs, this is the bridge.”

 

She tapped at the communications badge pinned on the left chest side of her uniform, activating the device as well as the internal wireless sensors imbedded throughout her office. “This is JoNs. Go ahead Ensign.”

 

“Incoming communication for you.”

 

The Cait frowned. “From who?”

 

“The USS Torin Kerr’s executive officer: Commander Sarritt Ssib'Ley. He wants to follow up with you regarding the Ryder-Presit mapping information that was sent over to us earlier.”

 

Both of her ears stood upright and at attention. Ssib'Ley? She had heard the name once or twice as a Human surname, but there was no mistaking the pronunciation of the double S: this particular version stood for a tribal name. A Kzinti-Caitian tribe name to be exact, from the northeastern clans that had been overrun and blended (which was a nice way of saying the females had been raped as a consequence of the wartime savagery) into the Kzinti clans during the earliest fighting of the Feline Clan Wars.

 

A few of the Caitian clans and tribes had been wiped out during the Kzin-Cait wars, the bloodlines lost forever. Other tribes, such as Kansas’s, had interbred with their Kzin conquerors. You could never tell by looking at Kansas -- who was a prime example of the classic leonine look of the Caitian -- that the JoNs family ancestors had been forcibly bred into the Kzinti genetic bloodline. Certain tiger-Kzin bloodlines had mixed with the leonine-Cait bloodlines, and on down the generations had caused darker fur patterns and more pantherian felines such as her older cousin, Left Ear JoNs.

 

The fact remained that the wars had happened a long time ago. That was then, this was now. Times change.

 

“Isn’t Hawkins listed as the first officer for the Kerr Ensign?”

 

“Yes sir, according to that informational packet that was squirted over the ship to ship wireless along with the maps of the Ryder system.”

 

“Alright, guess the Kerr had some sort of changeover in command staff.”

 

Hell, Hawkins might have been lost at the Battle of Earth like so many other officers…

 

“Put the commander through here to my office channel.”

 

Within seconds, a felinoid male appeared on her private console viewer. He was tigrean, his genetics going more towards Kzinti then Caitian, but it was obvious that either his grandparents or great grandparents had been a combination of Kzin and Cait; he lacked the typical striping one would expect on a tiger. His fur was a rich chocolate brown color. He was older then Kansas, say about ten standard seasons.

 

The Kzinti-Cait male favored her quietly for a moment, before taking the customary lead as the one who contacted her. “Lieutenant Colonel JoNs. I bring good fortune and good will as a representative of the Ssib'Ley family, tribe Scatter Claw, and Clan Scatter Tooth.

 

Wow. It had been a long time since she encountered the formality of the inter-tribal greetings, Caitian or Kzinti.

 

“Commander Ssib'Ley.” Kansas respectfully inclined her head, and then responded in kind to the formal declaration. “I accept your good fortune and good will, and offer you swift protection of the Great Hunter-Warrior in turn. May the winds be always at your back.”

 

“And the incoming arrows deflected by a swift updraft.” A big smile spread across the male feline’s snoot, exposing his fangs. “You know your historical customs.”

 

“If I didn’t know how to at least respond in the proper manner to the warrior greeting, my Elder Guardian would not be thrilled with my conduct, Commander Ssib'Ley. Tribe Honor-Scar isn’t so much into the religous connotation of the tribal practices any longer, but most of us in the family are still familiar with the customs from the historical standpoint.”

 

“The Elder Guardian practice isn’t as common as it once was -- Kzinti beliefs or Caitian beliefs aside. I have a Guardian myself though. Big, nasty old Cat by the name of Scarba.”

 

“Is he single? Sounds like the perfect date for my Left Ear.”

 

Ssib'Ley trilled with a purred growling laughter. “Perhaps someday, if an opportunity presents itself, we shall introduce them.”

 

“Hey, fine with me as long as I’m out of paw cuff range.” Kansas offered a playful wink to her fellow officer.

 

The male commander laughed, his purring growl both comforting and menacing at the same time…if you weren’t another feline. It didn’t bother Kansas in the least.

 

He then cocked his head to one side and flipped an ear back; the gesture was standard feline for let us start this off the record meeting, and the lieutenant colonel picked up on the invitation easily since his body language was so like her own.

 

Kansas chose her next words carefully, not really caring to reveal the more sordid details of her civilian merchant service to a complete stranger, fellow felinoid or not. “When I was a younger, I served with a civilian crew; we frequented the system quite a bit -- specifically, Ryder Minor. At the time, the inter-planetary system was gritty. The colonists on all of the six planets had the same sort of mentality, that frontier “we’ll do it our way” stubbornness. The orbital docks and scrap yards had the best equipment and parts -- stolen or otherwise -- and you and your crew never went anywhere on the planets, either the cities or outlying ranches or settlements, if you weren’t armed…all that still hold true Commander Ssib'Ley?”

 

Sarritt raised an eye whisker, but made no further comment on the fact that his fellow XO had halfway admitted to dealing regularly with the denizens of Ryder at one time. It was none of his business.

 

Although, he’d love to ask what ship she was on at the time…and did the Slipstream have any dealings with the crew? Maybe we crossed paths and didn’t even realize it.

 

Instead of letting on that the small omission of her past interested him, he kept to business. “Aye Lieutenant Colonel, I’d very much agree that Ryder-Presit is still one of those,” the tiger waggled his paws in the air in a quotation pattern, “systems. Very rough and tumble, set on just this side of seedy and flea bitten…literally flea bitten, and I’ll get to that in a minute. The R-P sectors are far enough removed from any of the galactic governments that no one really bothers with the local planetary governments and law enforcement, such as they are. The six planets pretty much keep to themselves and within system allowing their marshals and galactic cops to handle the law bringing. The local farmers, ranchers, merchants and travelers still have the same ‘screw you’ mentality, as the Humans say. Although, sometimes it’s the people, not the area; there are plenty of good and decent families that live and work throughout the system and are on the level.”

 

JoNs flipped a golden ear back and quirked a whisker. “How’s the so called criminal element? Or maybe I should say, what criminal element is currently the most dangerous? Anyone or anything in particular we need to be on the lookout for?”

 

Sarritt’s ears flattened a bit before he responded. “Everything. If it moves, it can kill you. Ketracel Meth is a prime commodity in the quadrants, and the drug runners will just as soon kill you as look at you. Weapons smuggling and prostitution are the other two big businesses, with kidnapping and extortion rounding out the whole reprobate lot. The Orion Cartel has a pretty good hold on the general down and dirty business in the system, but they have competition from Klingon and Rihan mercenaries, as well as the Ferengi pirates that know the scrap yards inside and out. Andorian mercs and Breen have also been spotted as well; it’s a real motley collection in R-P these days Lieutenant Colonel…the Soltan attacks really unbalanced the sectors, and the Fleet is just on this edge of losing control of the outer colonial sectors…I don’t care what the news feeds are saying otherwise.”

 

JoNs took quick notes on Sarritt’s oral report via a wireless data slate and a light pen; she herself would make a verbal report to Colonel Harper on the Ryder-Presit information that Commander Ssib'Ley was passing along, and then she type a follow up digital report to send out to the department chiefs, squad leaders, and senior enlisted officers.

 

Sarritt flipped a rounded dark brown ear back. “May I inquire as to the nature of your mission into the Ryder system Lieutenant Colonel?”

 

“You may inquire, but I’m not authorized to tell you. I can tell you that we’re investigating some stolen property for an interested party.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Kansas kept right on track with the conversation. “What can you tell me about crew preparation Commander? Anything in particular myself and my commanding officer should be aware off?”

 

“Flea drops, Colonel.”

 

“Pardon me Commander?”

 

“Regarding what I said earlier? Make sure you’re up on your parasite prevention methods. Sand fleas inhabit several of the planets that cater to ranching, which is about seventy percent of the six.”

 

“Oh…that sounds lovely.”

 

“And the real fun part is they are about the size of an Earth squirrel.” Ssib'Ley smirked for a moment before continuing with the tactical assessment. “Besides the local insect life, you have the mercenary and pirate clans; if any of them are stupid enough to try and board the Agincourt, then they deserve what they get.”

 

Sarritt tapped a claw on the surface of his desktop, and the tapping sound carried clearly over the audio portion of the wireless communications feed. “With all of that said, there is always one or two factions that are willing to try to pull it off, so watch your backs and your intake vents, because that’s where they like to lock their grappling hooks and tractor beams.”

 

“Who’s the nastiest?”

 

“The Orion’s and the Klingons share first place equally. The Ferengi factions are like rabid jackals that move in for the kill; they get a hold on your hide and don’t let go. The Andorian mercs are cold blooded -- no pun intended, considering they come from an ice ball of a world -- so and so’s. The Breen pirates? Sneaky. Never know what their angle is..."

 

“The planets?”

 

“Your security and marine squads will earn their service stripes and their pay grade with recon or protection operations. Medical can deal with the sand fleas as well as the standard inoculations for colony life -- make sure you have hypos in fair supply, because there are quite a few critters planet side that want nothing more then to sting Starfleeters. Your science department can enjoy studying the frontier personality type, and your engineering techs can figure out -- our science department got some good readings as well -- on how to keep the energy fissures from the Ryder-Presit nebula from playing havoc with the sensors and equipment. In addition, because of the gravitational pull of the nebula, seasonal ion storms pop up on all the six worlds. The storms are short and fast, but no use of transporters during the bad weather.”

 

“Oh…this system sounds like a lovely vacation spot.”

 

“I don’t envy you. Once the relief efforts for Earth got underway, and the Torin Kerr was discharged from orbital patrol duty, we were dispatched to that godforsaken system on a mapping mission. The tedium was broken up by two mercenary attacks, and a bar brawl that involved our entire security, marine, pilot, and engineering departments taking on the patrons from two of the bars on one of the space stations in orbit above Presit Prime…don’t ask. But, P-R is the logical place to search to find items that have already been stolen…if you and your crew move quick enough.”

 

JoNs nodded once and smiled over the wireless visual feed. “Understood and thank you Commander. Your maps were detailed and precise, but we can sure use the verbal tactical information you just gave me as well.”

 

Kansas sensed that their conversation was winding down, and she oddly enough did not want the conversation to end; she felt a peculiar gnawing sensation in her gut area, which she identified as a combination of homesickness, combined with an attraction for this male feline. Both of the sensations were disconcerting, yet her usually enjoyment and curiosity for the moment was ever present as well.

 

Still, she maintained her composure, and kept the conversation towards light professionalism as it had been for the past few minutes. “Well, Commander Sibley, I thank you for your time. My commanding officer will be pleased with this new bit of information. It was nice meeting you. Maybe one day, we can do so in person…”

 

Sarritt merely smiled, cocked his head to one side, and pointed a claw towards Kansas; he liked that idea, indeed, and his professional manner had been replaced by a rakish quality. “I’ll be sure to see you later, Ms. Colonel Cait. Commander Sib'Ley out.”

 

Before Kansas could comment on the comment, the Kzin-tiger had cut the audio/visual wireless connection. The lieutenant colonel ended up staring at the symbol of the Federation Starfleet standby plastered across the visual monitor for a few seconds before her logical brain caught up with her momentary bout of ‘Happy Kitty’.

 

…Did he just flirt with me? And I liked it…Oh dear…

 

= = = =

 

Author's Note: the "Ryder-Presit" system, the "USS Torin Kerr" and "Sibley" appear courtesy of the Confederation of Valor novels by Tanya Huff.