"The Flip Side" (M)

[Kansas 0]

Note: graphic content (M)

 

12.27.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“The Flip Side”

 

“Dammit Commander! Slow down and let me take the point!”

 

The booming voice of Master Chief Keltex filled the access corridor, but Lt. Commander Kansas JoNs paid her personal guard no mind, as usual; it was an ingrained personality quirk, and the security chief would never send someone where she herself would not go. One day, this would probably get her shot, indeed, but until then she would continue acting as she saw fit.

 

The security breach warning had been triggered in the main offices, and everyone had scrambled to lock down the armory. It could have been an accident, a mutiny attempt, or a systems malfunction. The feline tore into the main armory, claws out, ready for a battle, but the sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. The forward bay of the area looked as if a small war had erupted.

 

Two armory crewman lay dead, their gold uniforms charred, their skin burned and peeling away; the scent of the burned skin and muscle permeated the area, clogging the back of the throat and sticking there. For the most part, the area was locked down, people were performing their duties, albeit a bit harried looking. Her sharp green eyes latched onto a third armory officer – Ensign Rafferty, the first shift second lead. He sported a burned arm and a nasty looking gash above his left eye. “Report. Where’s Lieutenant Zimm?”

 

“Commander. Lieutenant Zimm is over with the prisoner. A scuffle broke out between Wexler, Burne,” the man indicated the charred bodies, “and Midshipman Tam. I was over on the other side, but I heard the shouts, look over here, and Tam’s shoving a dagger in Wex’s back. Burne jumps in, takes on Tam, and then the two of them are going at it. The middy screamed out something like “I’ll move up in rank, you bastard”. During the fight, one of ‘em slams into the control console, and the purge sequence was triggered on the container,” Rafferty now indicated the remaining sections of the blown weapons plasma storage container that had been set against one bulkhead.

 

Internal assassination issues. Dammit. The security department didn't need this kind of attention “Okay, my next logical question – why is the forward armory not floating in space right now?”

 

Rafferty hesitated, and then continued his explanation. “The plasma was already diluted, and the shielding was set at thirty percent. We were going to move it down to engineering for re-integration into whatever systems the gear heads deemed necessary.”

 

JoNs nodded, her mind already working out the tap dance spin she would need to put on her report in order to protect her people. Protocol wise, the container should have had the small safety force field activated in the first place. No matter now, the blood price had already been paid.

 

“Fine. Get your arm seen to Rafferty.”

 

“Ma’am.”

 

The gold feline gently grabbed a handful of Keltex’s collar, pulling the big warrior closer to her so she could whisper her instructions in his ear. “Lockdown the area, no one in or out other then maintenance to clean this mess up and medical techs to get these bodies out of here. Contact medical about the incoming bodies, and tell the bridge ops officer that we have everything under control.”

 

The big Klingon guard nodded and then stepped off a few paces from the general public to a relatively quiet corner to dispatch the relayed orders. JoNs in the meantime had made a bee line to the other small gathering at the opposite side of the forward area, giving addition orders as she went to the somewhat stunned armory staff. She spotted her lover and armory chief Conrad Zimm immediately, and noticed immediately that he had his Fleet issue hand weapon out but it wasn’t pointed at any target, namely Tam. Tam was down on the floor with his back set against a storage crate and his face turned away from JoNs. Her temper flared, and lover or not, she lit into Zimm. “What the hell is going on? Why isn’t the Midshipman bound!”

 

Conrad suddenly moved, his free hand gripping her upper arm. He looked JoNs right in the eye and shook his head slowly from side to side; his steel blue eyes were a bit haunted and told the feline everything she needed to know. The Caitian then realized then that there was no need to arrest Tam, and nodded her understanding. Zimm removed his hand and stepped a few paces back. JoNs then cautiously approached the downed officer, thinking that she knew what to expect from Zimms silent warning; she didn’t.

 

Midshipman Tam was in worse shape then the two dead crewmen, mainly because he was still alive and feeling the pain. The one side of his face was twisted and charred from the plasma; an eye was completely pulped out, the milky white juices running in a rivulet down the exposed cheekbone. One hand had been melted, the fingers no longer discernable. Certain sections of his gold vest and black trousers had been fused with the skin. Blood trickled out of an ear, no doubt from a brain injury, but the one good, clear eye darting this way and that indicated that Tam had some higher functions. He couldn’t form a sentence though, and his breathing was coming in short gasps.

 

“My dear gods…” the armory was as silent as, well, a grave, and as a result the Cait’s emotion charged words could be heard. She didn’t care. There was no reason to question the dying officer. Speculation and the eyewitness accounts would provide the information needed. “Zimm. Disruptor pistol.” Without a word, the man tossed the weapon he held to the feline. JoNs noted the weapon was already set to kill, aimed and then fired a short burst point blank into Tam’s head.

 

“Mister Zimm, your office. Now.” The felines tone came out low and dead. “Mister Keltex. Get the armory shift moving again.” Kansas moved into the shift leads office, her predatory nature on full display in her stiff and angry movements. She placed the disruptor on the office desk, and then leaned with her paws flat against the flat surface. Conrad entered the office area as well, and ordered the computer to place a privacy lockdown on the work area. Once the monotone voice of the computer had announced that the privacy protocols were in place, JoNs spoke to the man but without turning around. “What in the nine hells was that, and did you have any idea regarding?”

 

“I honestly had no idea or warning that…”

 

Kansas suddenly moved, pouncing on Conrad and using her body weight and the surprise attack to get the larger male up against the bulkhead. Her paw slammed down on the agonizer badge pinned to the chest area of his gold uniform vest. She maintained the contact long enough to get one scream out of Zimm, and then backed away from him, her lashing tail at odds with the single tear that rolled down her furred cheek. The two of them had come to an understanding at the beginning of their romantic relationship that sometimes the conditions of their work would override any favoritism: this was one of those conditions, not that the knowledge made the act any easier to perform. “Then you had best make damn sure there are no other developing assassination plots within the armory crews, hadn’t you Lieutenant Zimm?”

 

Zimm merely stayed where he was up against the bulkhead, panting and nodding an affirmative yes to JoNs. She walked around the desk and withdrew two glasses and a bottle of Romulan Ale that had all been hidden in one of the drawers, and poured some into a glass. She walked over to Zimm and offered him the glass; he gave a shaky nod and then accepted the glass of alcohol, downing the contents in one gulp.

 

The feline security chief walked over to the large office window that overlooked the main work floor and looked out, noting with some grim satisfaction that several parties that had been interested at the onset of the scream and therefore turned their attention to the office window, suddenly became rather interested in whatever they had been working on at the appearance of the feline. Her gaze took in everything and nothing at the same time. The clinking of glasses could be heard from somewhere behind her, but she paid the sound no mind.

 

“Twenty one years old, twenty one, that’s it. I have fillings in my fangs older then he was. These kids go through the academy, and enter service on an Imperial ship thinking its all fun and games, one big pirate adventure, an assassination around every corridor, full speed ahead lads to our next big frolicking mission of mayhem and adventure.” Her tone was the bitter tone of a few years hard experience served to the Imperial fleet.

 

“I felt the same way. So did you.” Zimm came up beside the Cait, and handed her a full glass of the blue ale.

 

Kansas downed about one third of the drink before speaking. “You know I had my attitude adjusted six months ago regarding that.”

 

“Aye, as did I, over ten years ago.”

 

The feline took another gulp of her drink, almost draining the glass. “And today, Midshipman Tam got his lesson as well, did he not?” A two man team from medical was now removing the body of the would be assassin.

 

Lieutenant Zimm let a few minutes pass – and another round of the mind numbing ale to set in – before gently asking JoNs a question. “And what of your report regarding this little matter?”

 

She growled, and shook her head. “The matter is somewhat cut and dry. Midshipman Tam made a play for Wexler’s position. The scheme did not go according to plan, and a portion of the armory was compromised in the resulting accidental plasma blast. Other then the parties involved, no fatalities. That is the short version of what my official report will contain.”

 

“….and your unofficial report?”

 

“That report will be in the form of a condolence letter to Mister and Mrs. Tam, letting them know how bravely their son served his duty post to the good ship ISS Agincourt. How he fell in battle during a balls to the wall skirmish to retake a colony outpost as only an Imperial ship of the line can find themselves in during every single mission. How he embodied the hoo hoo rah rah spirit of the Imperial officer and all that sort of nonsense.”

 

Sensing that the feline needed to be alone, Lieutenant Zimm quietly slipped out, leaving the Caitian alone with her thoughts in his office and to finish off the ale in an attempt to quiet her rampaging thoughts with the drink.

 

It was a losing battle, indeed.