"Dead Women Sparring: A Shared Suicide"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

12.6.06

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

"Dead Women Sparring: A Shared Suicide"

 

Written by: Petty Officer Second Class Condacin and Lieutenant Senior Grade JoNs.

 

Slinking down the corridor in that natural way that all felines have, Lt. JoNs arrived at the gym for some off duty workout time. With so many unknown factors looming in this new section of space the Agincourt had been forced to explore, she had really been making the effort to stay calm and not get all worked up per the XO's orders. Palming open the doors, she walked into the main gym, her hind feet making no noise on the flooring.

 

Off in the far corner, the punching bag was getting a vigorous beating from a brunette Xenexian science officer. Not noticing the arrival of the feline, she continued on, muttering occasionally.

 

Moving quietly and offering a nod to those few crewmembers she passed, JoNs wandered over to a sparring mat adjacent to the area that Odile was currently occupying. She stopped, gripping the strap of the blue and silver duffle bag, and observed the Xenexian as she went at the punching bag. With a smile, the Caitian spoke to Odile's back. "You know, that’s one heck of an assault and battery."

 

Whirling around suddenly, she whipped her hands out, almost smacking JoNs as she turned. Breathing raggedly, she sighed. "It's called training, Lieutenant," Tabby, she added in her mind.

 

Taking an effortless step back, Kansas kept her smile despite almost being walloped one. "And here I thought I was the only one being a bit high strung lately." She nodded in the general direction of the punching bag. "You're going at that thing pretty hard." She let her gym bag drop to the mat.

 

"Training," Condacin repeated, shrugging. "What bringeth fair Caitian to such lowly depths as to train in a gymnasium? I'm surprised there aren't jungle holodeck simulations that would better suit you."

 

Kansas waved a paw in dismissal and spoke. "Oh, I already did that earlier this week." She paused. "Wait. That was you being your usual sarcastic type self wasn't it? Regardless, I do suggest Marine Jungle Recon, level six. It really gives you a run for the credits." The Caitian allowed herself a luxurious stretch, reaching her paws upward. "I am here for the same. Training."

 

“That's nice. I'm glad that even ferocious carnivores need to train once in awhile, too. I'd feel inadequate otherwise." Reaching for a canteen of water, she took a long swig, savoring the water for a long moment before speaking again. "So what sort of planning is on the Lieutenant’s agenda today?"

 

The Ferocious Carnivore gave the Knife Worshiping Xenexian a tired look. "You know, it’s not as if I go chasing down prey and what not. That was sooooo a millenium ago. As for my agenda? Workout, duties, not get shot at, file reports, the usual. And yourself?" She flicked her gaze toward Condacin’s peace tied knife, her attention drawn to it. "You're never without that are you?"

 

Leveling her with a steady, neutral look, she shook her head. "Never." Shrugging slightly, she sighed. "The scientific works. Studying strange, fascinating life signs, that sort of thing."

 

JoNs's mien became a bit more serious, but her curiosity was too strong to ignore. "May I?" The officer indicated the enlisted woman's weapon by extending a paw.

 

She nodded without reply, slowly reaching for the blade before stopping herself. "It's supposed to remain peace-tied. Colonel's orders."

 

"That is definitely an important order." The Caitians tone came out respectful in deference to the issuer. "However, my curiosity is in overdrive. And, it is a simple request of a security officer trained in weapons. I am inspecting the blade quality?" JoNs winked. She made a gentle 'gimme' motion with the proffered paw.

 

"In that case," she replied, reaching to unlatch the dagger, "perhaps it would be wise for such an evaluation to occur."

 

With a grateful nod, Kansas accepted the blade. She gently held it between her paws, inspecting the blade and the detail work on the hilt. "This is beautiful craftsmanship, very sleek with an adequate balance. And there is a story behind it I am sure." With no warning, she spun around to get some momentum, flinging the blade past Condacin and at the punching bag. "I take it back. Superb balance, maybe leaning a bit toward the left.” The blade had sunk deeply into the fabric.

 

Odile didn't smile. "A story indeed. And yes, it does tend towards the left. But," she shrugged, "you learn to compensate very quickly. I'd imagine that it's one of the highest classes of daggers created on its world."

 

The Caitian flipped an ear back in astonishment. Her manner became serious, instincts aware that this conversation was heading into an off limits topic not usually discussed by Odile. "On its world? The blade is not of Xenex? I was under the impression that you had been paired with your weapon for a long time. The fuss you had made regarding carrying it, the resulting order made to peace tie the knife, thus allowing you to keep the blade. It is a somewhat unusual dispensation, at least from a security point of view."

 

"No," Odile replied, colder than she'd intended, pulling the dagger from its temporary sheath in the punching bag. "It is not Xenexian. And I have indeed been in possession of this particular instrument for quite a long time." She held the knife, staring at it as if both were far in the past; far from the Gamma Quadrant.

 

JoNs stood quietly, allowing only a mild purr to break the silence as a gentle encouragement for the sciences officer to continue.

 

Lifting an eyebrow at the sound, Condacin nevertheless resumed her tale. "It is Danteri," she said, quite near hissing the final word. "And it possesses the damnable spirit of that race." She snarled quietly, placing it back in the sheath at her hip. "I've had it since I was seventeen years old, when I removed it from the corpse of the Danteri I killed," she said, as calmly as she may have if she were discussing dinner arrangements.

 

The security officer continued the conversation respectfully, but with an edge to the questions that bespoke of many hours of investigative training and fieldwork. "Well, if it was straight murder, you would not be standing here speaking with me right now, being of minor age or not at the time. What were the circumstances of said killing?"

 

Condacin shrugged. "Maybe I shouldn't be here. Xenexian laws are different from the Federation's, particularly in regard to Danteri. He killed my mother, and it was within honor to do the same to him. I have no regrets about killing him." She paused, considering whether to make an addendum. "I suppose that I do have a few minor regrets, foremost of which being that it wasn't a considerably slower kill. But then again, it came objectionably close to being Odile who died, and not a Danteri bastard. I should just be grateful that my goal was accomplished," she noted coolly.

 

At that, an ear flipped back, but the Caitian’s reaction was not what one might expect. "And it does not bother you to have a constant reminder of your mother’s death strapped to your hip, almost a ghost of her former existence?"

 

"She was avenged," the Xenexian said assuredly. "There are codes and ethics that go along with care for weaponry of fallen nemeses. As well as the fact that I doubted I would ever again find something of as fine a quality as this. I was right." Her voice softened slightly. "And there are times when I wonder what spirits might be associated with it. Idle superstition, I am certain. But I'd rather not simply abandon it."

 

"No. I can understand. Memories surrounding an object can be a strong and valuable guide at times. I myself possess a Klingon blade, won from an opponent during a bar fight. I was very young, full of juice...at least a bit more then I am now." A small sheepish smile lit the feline’s features regarding that omission. "I keep the blade as a reminder that you can never tell how things will work out. And, I as well would rather not abandon the blade.”

 

Condacin smiled, an expression with genuine sentiment backing it. "I think we might understand each other better than I'd first thought, Kitty," she said, rapping her index finger against her blade's hilt. "Better indeed. Though I could never imagine having fur. Nor would I want to. That much I'll leave at not understanding."

 

An ear flicked back again. "When was the last time you had a good workout with that blade of yours. And that’s Lieutenant Kitty to you." A full fanged, yet happy smile was leveled at Condacin.

 

"It was..." She paused, smirking. "Quite awhile ago. However, I don't believe that would fully qualify under the 'inspection' clause of its sad peace-tied captivity."

 

"No, not quite, but it would seem your curiosity is about as peaked as mine. And, I have my own sharp weapons, so that would make us even." Eight claws slid from their sheaths, and the Caitian wiggled her paws. "I have a feeling you have as much control with your blade as I do with my claws. I haven't had a good one on one match since I left Cait. Oh, people, get a grip..." several crew members working out had sidled away from the pair and their conversation. The Caitian turned her attention back to the petty officer. "My gods, it’s as if they think we are going to go into a sloppy brawl and smash into one of the plasteel barriers or something of that nature."

 

"Only a human -- or perhaps a Caitian -- would be so clumsy." Odile's smile brightened even a little more, though her eyes narrowed at the sight of the claws. "Starfleet should require its housecats be declawed before entering the service. I'm sure there's a litter-training caveat already in there -- declawing wouldn't take much more." The smile shrank to a coy little smirk.

 

Kansas had begun circling Odile on the mat, unconsciously sizing up her “prey”. She stopped and choked down a guffaw at those particular comments. "I will have you know that I and my fellow brethren do not make it a habit of attacking the furniture. And as for the litter box, I really do need to leave that one go. So many comments, so little time.” She had been exposed to the cat jokes for years; after a fashion, it was second nature to go along with the good natured ribbing, provided the person was not being overly nasty. Then, she usually gave them what for.

 

"So, petty officer, to the business at hand of some cultural exchange. As they say in one of my favorite restored human westerns,” Kansas resumed her circling and made a “come on” gesture with her paws as she started bounced lightly from foot to foot. “…I'm your Huckleberry."

 

"An exchange of culture. That works." She made a few swipes at the cat, hitting air; had she had a tail, it would have been swishing in that friskily-happy offensive motion.

 

JoNs backed up, avoiding the swishing knife as her reflexes kicked in. Her claws swiped at Condacin, timing perfectly in between the knife swipes. Both woman were in an almost dance like state, a deadly dance, controlled through years of individual practice.

 

Odile liked to circle around her 'quarry' before moving in, an unexpected movement here and there to keep them treading nimbly. She darted side to side, dealing blows in between the eight sharp little weapons Kansas carried around.

 

JoNs did a backward flip away from Condacin, landing on her hind paws, tail swishing excitedly. "You are good. But I did get you." The Caitian pointed to a small slice in the fabric, located on the Xenexian’s left shoulder.

 

A slight incline of the head. "As are you. But then again, I only have one blade. You have eight times that number." She smirked, taking a few steps back in mild retreat.

 

JoNs chuckled and bantered right back. "But yours is longer. And...what the..." A small slice was visible just above the Caitians ankle. "How did you....down there....excellent."

 

"Oh, I must have done it without thinking." She considered for a moment. "No blood drawn -- that's a good thing." Frowning slightly, she rested her free hand on her hip. "You know," she said slowly, "Harper would kill us if she heard about this. You know that, right, Kitty?"

 

Signaling that she was standing down, the security officer approached the sciences officer. Glancing around the now empty gym, Kansas saw that everyone had discovered duties "elsewhere" when the impromptu sparring match had exploded. Would word get to Harper? It was hard to make that call. Some gossip traveled like wildfire through the corridors, while other topics quickly died.

 

"I know. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. In the meantime, I want to thank you. You honor me with the exchange of culture. I don't normally use my claws in this manner, and I know the same can be said for your blade." The Caitian nodded respectfully.

 

"I appreciate the opportunity to share it with someone who understands the value and place of Tradition," Odile said, nodding as well. "We really must do this again sometime, assuming that we aren't banned from being on the same section of the ship together ever again."

 

JoNs paused, her thoughts flitting to the recent meeting between herself, Harper, and Mr. Mat. "Banning? No, that is too obvious and too easy."

 

"I suppose so." She turned, reaching for her drink again. "Jellyfish is most creative, after all."

 

The Caitian looked confused. "Pardon? Jelly fish?

 

An instant look of innocence. "Jellyfish. Spineless earth creature. A 'medusa' is a kind of jellyfish." She watched Kansas for her reaction, raising both eyebrows.

 

The security chief’s jaw dropped. Her tail went limp, coming to rest with a dull thump on the blue mat. Both of her ears flipped back in disbelief. She had put two and two, or rather, Harper’s given call sign and Odile’s stated reinterpretation of said call sign, together. She regained her composure and curiously cocked her head to one side, eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

"And you’re not crippled?”

Edited December 7, 2006 by Kansas_Jones

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

Elsewhere...

 

Just as Harper was sitting down to a very late supper or a very early breakfast (depending on how you wanted to look at it; either way she should have been sleeping), she caught a few words from a conversation at the next table.

 

"...crashing through the plasteel barriers."

 

Oh, no, Harper thought, not more damage to the ship...

 

"It wasn't that bad," piped up a gold-uniformed crewman. "But the fur was really flying. After Lt. JoNs threw her dagger into the punching bag, they just went at it like they were out for blood!"

 

Slowly realization filtered into the colonel's mind. JoNs and Condacin...

 

With a soft, profound groan, she put her head in her hands. There are two of them...

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Elsewhere...

 

Slowly realization filtered into the colonel's mind. JoNs and Condacin...

 

With a soft, profound groan, she put her head in her hands. There are two of them...

 

LOL!

 

Just wait until Lieutenant Tabby and Xenexian Warrior Woman have their first shore leave adventure together....

[Travis Kroells 0]

We can have Amnesiac Jamie strolling behind them walking up to everyone going "Are you my mommy?"

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

We can have Amnesiac Jamie strolling behind them walking up to everyone going "Are you my mommy?"

 

In a word, "No."