MSNPC Commodore Kinney - Damage Control (NT)

[Jamie LeBlanc]

((Starfleet Headquarters: Trinity sector - Raskor I))

::Allan Kinney leaned back in his overstuffed office chair, looking out over the majestic beaches of Raskor I. It had been a grueling day of paperwork and he was as exhausted as one could get from sitting in a luxurious office on a planet covered in placid beaches while sipping raktajinos.

Still he had a reason to frown when the reports came across his desk.::

Kinney: ::Muttering quietly to himself:: What is it with that blasted Starbase?

::He sighed. He had, at one time, been stationed on StarBase 118. That was where he got all of his connections. His commanding officer had always turned a blind eye to some of the unsavory elements that nestled in the below of the Starbase, and only those who were willing to profit from it were allowed to know about what went on.

Kinney had always been a subtle player in the masterwork of criminal schemes. He took extremely well laundered payment and in return took tiny steps to ensure his favored players had an advantage.

Chennel was not a favored player. In fact, she wasn't on any list of Kinney's beyond the one that said she belonged in prison or on a morgue slab. And to hear that she was cutting in on Rixx's territory and using his carefully constructed contacts for her own glory was galling.

Chennel, while powerful, had no tact and no foresight. And now she was ripping her fingers into the network Kinney had carefully constructed for Nacien Rixx - and in doing so threatening to expose the whole thing. And that made Allan Kinney feel a little bit sick.

So he was putting a stop to it.::

Kinney: =/\= Kinney to Merek. Are you off duty? =/\=

::There was a pause as the secure connection was established::

Merek: =/\= Yes, Sir. =/\=

Kinney: =/\= Are you alone? =/\=

::Another pause::

Merek: =/\= Yes, Sir. =/\=

Kinney: =/\= Good. =/\= ::He leaned back and steepled his fingers:: =/\= Merek, I want you to cease following any initiatives that come through channel Zeta-5-Epsilon until you receive further notice. =/\=

::There was a strange pause on the other end, followed by a tone of surprise - and relief::

Merek: =/\= Yes, Sir. =/\=

Kinney: =/\= Any questions? =/\=

Merek: =/\= No, Sir. =/\=

::Kinney smiled faintly. He didn't like doing damage control, but in this case it needed to be done. At least Merek was the sort of officer who followed orders blindly. It made Kinney's life easier::

Kinney: =/\= Good. Kinney Out. =/\=

::He leaned back letting the golden rays of the Raskorian sun wash over him, feeling a bit better when his communications panel beeped again.

Priority message from Starfleet command. Kinney raised a brow, opening it and immediately frowning.::

Kinney: Oh, that's the last thing I need. ::He groaned.::

::The message was nicely bordered in the official seal for Starfleet command, endorsing the command staff of StarBase 118 for advancement. Kinney choked.

It was bad enough that this new staff was curious. They kept sticking their noses where they didn't belong. He longed for the days where former staffs had been preoccupied with anomalies and monsters. But this pesky group was continually sniffing around and getting dangerously close. So far the only advantage that Kinney had was culling the ranks and keeping the command staff down. Now Starfleet was taking notice of their deeds.

He swallowed a bitter tinge of bile, wondering how long he could keep this under wraps. With luck he might last it out until after he had his communications network repaired and the Chennel issue wrapped up.

He could hope.::

~*~
tbc
~*~

MSNPC Commodore Allan Kinney
Section Command
Raskor I
Simmed by: Sal Taybrim



"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"

~Julian Beck
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