Ships, Pips, and Rips
Posted on Thu Aug 6th, 2026 @ 8:07am by Lieutenant Kate Kono
468 words; about a 2 minute read
So I tried to run the numbers on my kill count the other day… Full analytical breakdown, the whole thing, and the universe just laughed at me.
Inconclusive.
Starfleet wants me in counseling, which, respectfully, no. I know exactly why the body count is what it is and I stand by the math. Mostly I just feel annoyed? Like, cosmically annoyed. I'm genuinely a pretty upbeat person. This is not my default setting.
Current situational inventory: one Romulan senator who has me on a personal to-do list, a small constellation of Section 31 families sending me subspace messages I will never, ever open because what am I supposed to say, ‘your kid was kind of the worst?’ …and a reputation in the intelligence community that is, let's say, aggressively regional.
The USS Washington or bust, basically.
Security's always been my backup plan. Easy lateral, good people, zero political fallout. Honestly I would have already put in for the transfer if the Duras thing hadn't happened. Ben could run the department in his sleep and AJ would be so good at it that it's almost annoying. Neither of them have a flaming Romulan senator problem.
But the Duras mission reminded me why I'm still doing this. Suddenly I'm back, fully, obnoxiously back… Basically daring Section 31 to try something. Go ahead. I have survived worse and I have opinions about it.
But I'm pretty sure Section 31 is going to leave me alone, which, honestly, huge relief. I'm probably shadowbanned and totally blackballed from anything intelligence-related in Starfleet after all of this, which is fine, I did not exactly cover myself in glory. I have my suspicions that Shran has been doing some serious behind-the-scenes quarterbacking for me that I will literally never know the full extent of, because that is just the kind of guy he is. A genuinely good man. A genuinely good man with antennae. Both of them.
So HQ is probably like, literally fuming right now because my command staff went ahead and promoted me to Lieutenant, which, honestly? Iconic of them. This does mean I will probably be collecting my pension before I see another pip. Two years between my last two promotions, so I'm doing the numbers here and I'm going to be like thirty. Thirty! In space! With a Lieutenant's pips! I can’t even!
Not that it even matters because statistically speaking I am going to be vaporized, Romulan-kidnapped, Terminator-shot, dinosaur-eaten, Nazi-dissected, or dragon-flambed on the next away mission before anyone at HQ even finds my file again.
Anyway. The real reason I make it back alive every time is because I have the most amazing boyfriend and the funniest Husky in the entire quadrant waiting for me, and I am simply not going to let a dragon be the reason I miss dinner.
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