Concerned Cat (is Concerned)

[Kansas_Jones 0]

USS Washington Crossing

Maintaining position outside the Gygax Barrier

19:00 Hours

 

Concerned Cat is concerned.

 

“...moving forward, we’ll literally be moving forward. The ‘Creek will patrol this space graveyard, move further into the interior, see if we can find some answers. It’s a pretty big area to cover, obviously. You maintain the outside picket line, and I trust your judgment on handling the perimeter area along the Barrier proper.

 

If you do not hear from us in four days, you are not to enter the Gygax Barrier. Is that clear, Commander? If we don’t return, you are to pull out with the Washington Crossing in the interim and report the situation to Rear Admiral Coyote to await further instructions.”

 

Good luck and Godspeed, Taboo Cat. Crash out.”

 

Despite the unknowns of the situation, Commander K. Vacer JoNs flicked an ear back in amusement at the use of call signs. Old habits die hard and Calestorm was a blooded pilot; JoNs understood that from a command perspective. The felinoid was still a SEAL at heart, despite taking command of the USS Washington Crossing.

 

She tapped a paw at her inset console keyboard, automatically filing the recorded message within an encrypted folder. The image of the middle-aged captain flicked off the screen, replaced by the silver Starfleet Delta Shield symbol.

 

The golden furred Caitian remained seated in her desk chair and turned to the shuttle pilot at parade rest in front of the desk. “Good work on traversing the Barrier and delivering the message. Have the Luttrell’s systems thoroughly checked in case the trip had any adverse effects. Thank you, dismissed. Send Lieutenant Commander Grace in on your way out.”

 

:”Aye, Commander.” The shuttle pilot gave a quick salute and then exited the office without another comment. Grace, a tall and attractive Human woman with blond hair cut in a crew cut, entered a few moments later and JoNs offered her a seat with a silent wave of a paw.

 

“As we discussed earlier before the Barrier got all,” JoNs flicked a paw, “reactive, Captain Calestorm is going further into the interior expanse. We’re to remain here, patrolling the outer side of the Barrier. Opinion?”

 

Grace snorted gently through her nose. “Typical. She’s such a cowgirl.”

 

JoNs’s ears didn’t go flat, but her green eyes were sharp. “I meant our assigned orders. And, that’s Captain Calestorm to you, Lieutenant Commander. Remember that.”

 

The 2^nd XO was a good officer and had been promoted through the ranks quickly; very capable as a SEAL* with an expert certification in EOD*, of that there was no question. She was young enough, obviously, that she needed to work on the diplomacy skills within the command ranks. Grace still had that ‘holier than though’ attitude that some of the more rambunctious specialists sported as they were filtered into the FTR* Program. JoNs herself had been guilty of it as well, once upon a time.

 

The younger female rolled with the verbal mishap and forged ahead. If you’re going to dive in, might as well go all the way. “Yes, Sir, apologies. I suggest dropping warning buoys at intervals along the outer expanse as we maintain our section of the patrol.”

 

“See to it. Dismissed.”

 

With a decisive nod of confirmation, the second officer removed herself from the seat and made tracks for the entry way.

 

“Grace?”

 

“Commander?” The junior officer stopped and turned.

 

Now, the felinoid officer’s ears went flat. “We are FTR Border Patrol. Remember that, or you can see yourself to the airlock the next time we make port.”

 

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*Notes: One paragraph, three acronyms. Score!

SEAL – Sea, Aero & Land Teams, Starfleet Naval

EOD – Explosive Ordnance Disposal

FTR – First Threat Response, Starfleet Border Patrol