"Interference"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Note: I iz on ur ground team, cauzin mayhemz

Please note: some mature content

 

12.21.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Interference”

Lieutenant Commander M’rrett “Kansas” JoNs entered query after query into the computer console, each attempt met with a monotone ‘invalid password’. The feline security chief growled in frustration.

 

Senior Grade Lieutenant Conrad “Silencer” Zimm glanced up from where he was checking over some of the confiscated weapons, and sighed softly to himself, complimenting the cat’s outburst with his own human sound of frustration. It truly had been a long few months. The human male stopped what he was doing and jumped up onto a waist high cargo container, sitting on the container and watching his lover as she worked. “Problems I gather?”

 

The Agincourt had been actively tracking a rebel insurgent group, and kept smacking into dead ends at every opportunity that seemed to present itself. This latest planetary raid had indeed been a cluster frag, with the security portion of the sweep teams encountering booby traps at one of the two abandoned colony bases that the rebels had used before bugging out. Bloodstains smeared across one wall and the floor of the control area attested to the problems that had been encountered by the Wolf squad when they had first stormed the secondary building. Zimm and JoNs were providing the clean up detail for the secondary base, going over the computer systems and weapons left behind by the hastily departed insurgents to see if there was any valid information to be gleaned. The abandoned planetary base – which had originally been used years ago by the leaders of a failed colony expedition – was of an older colonial design and the equipment was at least fifty years old.

 

Kansas silently walked over to where Zimm had perched himself and placed her paws on his strong shoulders as he simultaneously placed his hands on the feline’s hips. The felinoids tail lashed angrily. “That should be correctly phrased as more problems. These computers, even if there is anything information wise still intact, are fragged six ways from sundown. It’s beyond my skill level to hack ‘em. We’ll need to get engineering on it, much as I hate sharing any spoils with the grease monkeys. I’ll contact the Ops watch leader and have them send a team….”

 

Zimm placed a surprisingly gently hand on her upper chest, causing her to stop in mid sentence. “Not just yet.” With that simple statement, he began to undo her weapons belt, waist sash and uniform trousers with both hands. The man truly gave new meaning to the term “multi tasking”.

 

A pause. “…is this really the appropriate time?”

 

“You know our motto: any time is a good time.”

 

In reality, the two lovers had not had the luxury of an engagement into the more carnal pleasures in over four months. Both officers worked a full duty shift for the security department, with that shift often spilling over into the second and even the third shift. And JoNs, with her double duty as security chief and second offer, worked even crazier hours at times.

 

The utility belt was carefully placed on the floor next to Conrad, while the sash and trousers fell to the floor. Zimms hands explored the feline’s waist, kneading and rubbing. Kansas removed his vest from ease of practice, working her own paws over his shoulders.

 

“Commander JoNs, this is the Agincourt, please respon….”

 

A verbal command - heavy with feline snarling - was directed to the basic functions of the base that were still controlled by the computer, namely the utility functions and such. The entranceway to the control center obediently whooshed open at the command, followed by her wrist communicator flying out into the corridor and impacting against the far wall. Zimms own communicator followed shortly thereafter, just to be on the safe side. The entrance door again whooshed close, giving the two Imperial officers some privacy.

 

Zimm tossed her now removed uniform top up and away over his head, and the two of them shared a kiss, tongues probing deeply, and then they each drew apart. Kansas pulled Zimm up from his seat and shortly thereafter, the human found himself divested of his weapons, trousers, underwear, and boots in rather short order. Clothing was thrown haphazardly this way and that, landing on whatever surface presented itself.

 

Both feline and human were one with one another as the ecstasy beared down and the shared pleasure was enjoyed…

 

**********

The security officers eyed each other as they re-dressed, their expressions sly, satisfied and perhaps a bit tired. Zimm, now fully dressed, walked out into the corridor to retrieve the tossed communicators while JoNs was figuring out how to get her uniform top down from where it had been thrown - dangling from one of the rows of lighting fixtures on the ceiling.

 

How in the name of…did it get up there? It figures. “Godsdang you and that throwing arm Conrad…” Kansas jumped up onto a cargo container and then leapt at the lighting fixture.

 

Zimm re-entered the control room and got an eyeful of the feline hanging onto the fixture by one paw and swiping at the uniform top where it clung with the other paw. The gold wrap top finally fluttered to the decking.

 

“Dammit! Commander JoNs report!” The pissed off voice of the executive officer of the ‘Court could be heard filtering out from JoNs’s wrist comm., still held by Zimm; the lieutenant had already snapped his own device back around his wrist. Back on solid ground and shrugging back into her uniform top, Kansas calmly took the offered communicator from him, speaking into it as if nothing at all had happened within the past half hour, intentionally being evasive and launching right into a report to the marine executive officer.

 

“JoNs here, standby for report sir. We apparently encountered some comm interference here in the control room of the secondary target – these computers are ancient, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they emit some kind of short range blocking code. An engineering team is needed…”