"Fight Club"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

7.30.06

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Fight Club”

 

JoNs, dressed in black workout shorts and a black tank top emblazoned with the Imperial symbol, stalked down one of the side corridors. She was heading for the gym area, intent on a good workout.

 

Coming from the opposite direction in that same corridor was a certain scientist, in her own civvies of earth-toned brown and loose-fitting black pants. Brushing past the Caitian, she frowned, rolling her eyes. Her patience was tried from a few sharp-mouthed ensigns, and she was in no mood for oversized felines who'd found their way through the ranks more than a little too quickly. "Belong as pets," she muttered, half under her breath.

 

Stopping in mid stride, JoNs caught the remark. She turned and spoke as Quade walked past her. "I agree wholeheartedly...you belong as a pet. Possibly with a little g-string action toward some upper ranking officer that you have mislead as to your capabilities..."

 

Diane smiled as she turned, quelling the little uprising of anger that the smartass housecat ignited. "Oh, but you misunderstand, Lieutenant. I wasn't referring to me -- I was referring to you." Her arms at her sides, she raised her eyebrows. "I think you fit the overall description better than I..."

 

The Caitian paused for a moment, eyed Quade, and then spoke. "I know. That was my version of an involuntary reflex action a la mouth, also known as being a smart ass. But I would like to know - do you have some particular problem with me?"

 

"Other than the fact that a non-Terran... excuse me... not only a non-Terran, but a non-humanoid has somehow managed to con her way through the ranks, when there are worthier humans." She smirked, turning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some training to do, Kitty."

 

Service to the Imperial fleet was not without its constant stresses and hardships. Occasionally, things boiled to the service and one felt the need to open a carafe of whoop ass. "Hey!" Kansas leapt at Quade with a snarl. The science officer turned in time to greet the incoming furball as they both toppled through the doors to the gym area when the sensors reacted to the movement.

 

Crewmembers already in the workout area gazed at the rolling pair and stopped what they were doing or got out of the way.

 

Smacking at the hissy little tactician, Diane managed to find her way to her feet. "As you were," she announced to the crowd. Rubbing her hands together, she cracked her knuckles. "So Kitty can't control that feral nature, eh?"

 

“What are YOU looking at?! You heard the woman, as you were." The hissy tactician turned back to the prissy science nerd. "Feral? Who me? I'm sure it has nothing to do with that whole felinoid thing. And I tend to get cranky when beings question my competency." She adopted a fighting crouch.

 

Doubling her fists, she smirked. "Oh, I generally am the same way when I'm critiqued. Just part of being in the Fleet. We humans are assured that we're the cream of the crop to be aboard. As for an alien... such an assurance is harder to obtain." She swung a fist around towards JoNs almost lazily.

 

Dancing nimbly out of the way, the felinoid grabbed at the woman and brought her right knee up to connect with Quade's midsection as the science officer’s momentum carried her forward. "Then I'll just have to convince you otherwise..." JoNs worked her way around behind the downed woman.

 

“You do that,” she advised, chuckling in spite of how it ached the bruising muscles in her stomach. Swinging around again, she let a stronger, more determined fist connect with the edge of JoNs' mouth. Caught off guard by the quickness of the retaliation, the feline officer ended up flat on her back. Remaining on her back, she pointed upward. "That was good. The impact I give a ten. The form and follow through were a little rough though."

 

"I'm a little out of practice," she admitted. "Not as finely tuned as you goldshirts."In an uncharacteristic move for her dealings with inferior species, she offered Kansas a hand. With a "yowl" of unbridled glee and a crazy smile, Kansas took the proferred hand and then proceeded to pull, falling again onto her back and planting her feet (claws not digging thank you very much) squarely on Quades stomach and smoothly sending her flying.

 

Off-balance, she awkwardly rolled onto one side on her stomach, muttering. "Ungrateful and untrustworthy. I might even say 'catty'. She pushed off onto her feet again, a sharp glare aimed at the Caitian.

 

Kansas responded to the glare by smiling and motioning her paws in a "come on" gesture. "Lieutenant Quade. I'm not getting any younger here." With an equally crazy yell of her own, Quade rushed at the Caitian.

 

The impact of the running tackle carried them both right at the glass plasteel safety barrier for the second floor.

 

A resounding crash sounded as bits and pieces of the shattered barrier rained outward and down as the two officers crashed into it. The dynamic demented dueling duo went airborne, falling from the second floor down into the first floor pool. An ongoing water polo match was rudely interrupted as the two women crashed the party and landed with splashes in the water among the players.

 

Sputtering water, the Caitian called out to the pool inhabitants. ""Pay no attention to the, ahem, landing party. We are just playing through...right Ms. Quade?"

 

Diane screeched, inhaling a lungful of pool water. "Playing! Exactly! Like children, or kittens!"

 

Lieutenant Junior Grade Diane Quade

Assistant Science Officer

 

Lieutenant Senior Grade M.S. “Kansas” JoNs

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security