“A Little Time Off, Part 2”

[Kansas 0]

01.05.08

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“A Little Time Off, Part 2”

 

The Imperial fleet ship ISS Agincourt had put in at Deep Space Seven for some long over due shore leave, and most of the crew was taking advantage of the opportunity. Spirits were high, the booze flowed freely, and the main promenade was packed with shoppers. Although, two officers of the ‘Court found themselves at a bar set off of the main promenade thoroughfare. The establishment was not seedy, but it also could not be considered a high end type of establishment either. The bar was decorated heavily with the industrial and neon type of look, not exactly out of date, but beginning to show its age.

 

“Silencer” Zimm knocked back his shot glass, downing all the contents in one gulp. “You’re letting your pride get in the way, again. You know what sort of trouble you’ve gotten into in the past because of that.”

 

“Kansas” JoNs glanced at him, taking a sip of her own drink. “I got clocked – twice – by one of those rebels, so yeah, I’m a bit prideful. And it doesn’t matter if they were here in this bar or not. These joints are like an open comm network, especially when located on a main star base layover spot like Deep Seven. Information travels, and if they were here on the base within the last six months, or on another in the network, we might be able to find something out.”

 

Zimm snorted. “You know my particular thoughts on Prell and Kassem. They showed up at the medical conference, caused some havoc, and then disappeared. So what? Leave them be.”

 

The gold Caitian shot her companion a sour look, her tail lashing.

 

“Look, Kansas,” the human sighed, “They’re rebels. You know what that type of life can be like; it’s much more unstable then the mercenary life that we grew up with, by comparison. It’s all a bunch of ‘fight the Imperials, recruit ‘em young’ – that type of crap. Then, once they’ve been sent up against an organization that is vastly bigger and with a few hundred years of practice at running things, you have a rebel officer dead by the age of thirty, and the cycle starts all over again. If Prell and Kassem were smart, they would have stayed on the Agincourt, gathering what Intel they could. They didn’t, and blew the opportunity when they bolted like little rabbits going after that golden carrot. Let ‘em go – they aren’t worth it.”

 

“You know, if you’re going to complain the whole time,” Kansas let loose with a frustrated sigh,”….you know, you didn’t have to come here with me Conrad, dear.”

 

“Oh, I have a perfect alibi – you knocked me over the head and forced me against my will to accompany you on shore leave. I am totally here against my will.”

 

The dead pan delivery and joke had the desired effect and JoNs laughed out loud, her mood lightening considerably. “Okay, okay – we’ll stay here for another hour or so, see if any of the information feelers I put out turn up anything, and then go hunt up some real fun? Sound good?”

 

Zimm grinned at her. “That’s a deal.”

 

The two lovers clinked glasses and continued conversing quietly amongst themselves, knocking back drink after drink and enjoying the atmosphere of the bar. After nearly the full hour had passed, a young Bajoran teen approached the table and seated himself quietly across from the two Imperial officers, slightly out of breathe and regarding the two of them cautiously. He carefully placed the data Padd he had been given down on the neon-lit table.

 

JoNs flipped an ear back as she looked at the little information runner that she had temporarily hired for the night “Well, what have you got for us kid? And I told you to relax – we won’t hurt you.”

 

The Bajoran, who had given his name as Berix, pushed his unruly blond locks out of his eyes and then spoke. “I got some information for you. Showed those two pictures around, and your two friends were seen here about six months ago, but haven’t been seen here since.”

 

Zimm looked thoughtful. “So, they could pass through here every six months or so, depending on where an assignment takes them. Regardless, it’s not as if they are frequent visitors.”

 

Kansas nodded, and then reached into her inner jacket pocket, pulling out a pawful of credit sticks, placing them on the table for the teen to take. “At least we can say for sure that this sector isn’t a hot spot, at least not yet. There you go Berix, you earned ‘em.”

 

“Thanks!”

 

“Oh, and don’t spend it all on stupid stuff; buy your mother and father something good.”

 

The teens jaw went slack in astonishment, and suspicion flashed briefly in his eyes once he had regained his composure. “How’d you know I still have both parents?” He gathered up the credits and placed them in a pouch on his belt. It was a sad fact, but true – the kids that worked these stations typically came from single parent homes, with the other parent killed in the line of duty, or by pirates or some such.

 

The feline grinned, and it was a genuine one. “Because your clothes are semi clean and your hair is cut – mothers are known for that. And, you called me ‘miss’ several times tonight – that is a courtesy usually taught by a father.”

 

Zimm pointed to the youths hands. “Oh, and don’t forget his fingernails are pretty clean. That’s a biggie tell tale.”

 

JoNs cocked her head playfully to one side, looking at the boy. “And Berix, you seemed to be pretty comfortable dealing with us as an info courier; I myself did it whenever my family ship put in on a station for re-supply or repairs, to make extra credits. You run with a mercenary ship?”

 

At the mention of ‘family ship’, Berix had relaxed fully, a grin spreading across his features. “Aye! I spent the last five years on a mercenary ship. Mother and father wanted to branch out on our own, so we have a small supply store here on the station now…”

 

At that moment, a big meaty fist slammed down on the table, causing the lavender colored neon lighting under the surface to wink out for a second and then back on. “I want my money back Caitian!”

 

There is truly a jackass in every bar in the known universe. JoNs nodded for the kid to make himself scarce, which Berix did, quietly and swiftly. She noted that Zimm had shifted his position a bit, and she could tell that he had his small hideaway pistol drawn and hidden under the table. Kansas then turned her attention on the irate Klingon, keeping her paws flat on the tabletop. “Look, I told you friend, if you can’t stand to lose money at cards, then don’t play.”

 

“You had too good a run there near the end! Do not lie to me!” The Klingon’s alcohol glazed eyes also held a certain amount of determination in them. It was true that she had cheated at the game a bit, during the last hand…but he didn’t have the proof, and had been such an easy mark that she couldn’t pass the opportunity up.

 

Then he let loose with a belch, and Kansas’s ears flattened in annoyance. The Caitian feline was many things, and had many faults – impulsive, moody, wild, greedy – but she had been raised with manners. Silencer as well looked at bit perturbed at the display, and glared. “There’s no call for that. We’re all adults here.”

 

Two of his buddies had now arrived to offer back up assistance, dressed in civilian trader garb just like their leader. Three against two? That was just peachy. The big Klingon leader, whose name was Korang and who had undoubtedly gotten himself into a drunken pout over his botched game, glared at her. “Silence! Caitian whelp! Give me my money before I take it out of your hide!”

 

Kansas, who was feeling the effects of her own alcohol intake, was becoming annoyed. Once, just once, she’d like to see a Vulcan go alcohol induced irate. Just once! Why does it always seem to be a Klingon! “Thank you, but no, I am quite attached to my hide. Frag off.”

 

Korang suddenly moved, roaring and grabbing Zimm around the neck while the Imperial officer’s hidden disruptor pistol went off, striking the third Klingon in the upper leg, and during this whole process, the second Klingon companion fired at Kansas as she leapt through the air at him. The beam sizzled by her neck and took off a chunk of her fur, eliciting a pained yelped snarl as she landed on him.

 

It was bedlam. Indeed. Customers near the fracas just causally moved out of the way as if this sort of thing happened all the time. Then again, it probably did. Fists flew, eyes were blackened, and feline fangs punctured quit a few arms and legs. The blood was flowing, literally, and battle lust had come to the fore. Kansas grappled with the second Klingon until he landed a lucky shot, causing her to yowl in pain and fall back into one of the neon tables. Zimm had gotten Korang off him with a strike to the temple, but JoNs was having difficulty with her larger Klingon opponent. Zimm fired a short burst, rendering the Klingon unconscious.

 

Korang then smacked Conrad for a loop, and the big security officer went down; Kansas as well had now been set on by the other companion who had recovered from the disruptor burst to the leg. The gold feline did a roundhouse kick, but the man blocked it and threw her off balance.

The two Agincourt security officers, for all their training, were outnumbered and their energy was fading fast.

 

Zimm backed away from Korang, who was brandishing an evil looking blade. “Kansas, let’s go! Pattern Beta!”

 

The Klingons were not expecting a retreat run, and bellowed at being cheated out of their battle victory as both Silencer and Kansas leapt on, over and around tables or startled patrons to make it to the exit. Both of the Imperial security officers dashed out of the exit….and right into the waiting gun sights of the star base authorities. Oh, Joy.

 

**********

Less then thirty minutes later, both Lieutenant Zimm and Lieutenant Commander JoNs found themselves in the main office of Deep Space 7 Security, being charged on one count of aggravated assault and disturbing the peace, and to make matters worse, the station security personally thought it was a hoot that they had bagged two upstanding Imperial battleship personnel.

 

“Well, this is a surprise, indeed.” Lieutenant Commander Sivor eyed his two prisoners with a low key, smug expression. “I know all of your official information is contained on your identification cards,” he indicated the two orange hued plasticards containing a picture and encoded thumbprint set on the desktop surface behind him, “but I prefer to go about some cases the old fashioned way, so to speak. And why don’t we begin with you, seeing as you are the ranking officer, hmm, Miss JoNs?”

 

“I already told you, Commander Sivor, that we were not the only ones involved in that little fracas. Three Klingon merchant traders were also involved.” Her tone came out haughty.

 

Cold brown eyes lit on the Caitian, and then he drew back his hand to backhand the feline. The force of the blow nearly lifted her out of her seat and most certainly opened a fresh wound to her lip. These local base cops could really be a pain in the rear end, especially if they got uppity.

 

“There’s no call for that!” Zimm was at the other end of the holding area, and his outburst earned the human a punch in the gut.

 

“Conrad! Don’t give them a reason!”

 

Sorlac calmly picked up a Padd and stylus pen from the nearby desk, holding them at the ready. “Now then, let’s try this again. Reason for coming to Deep Space 7?”

 

JoNs spat out a wad of saliva and blood into a handkerchief she had withdrawn from a pocket and answered. “Shoreleave, a little time off.”

 

“Current assignment.”

 

“ISS Agincourt ICC-81762.”

 

“Name and rank” The Vulcan smirked a bit at that. “It is so nice when we have an officer above the rank of senior grade lieutenant visit. Although, most of you are not stupid enough to engage in a brawl.”

 

The feline hissed, and then answered. “Lieutenant Commander JoNs.”

 

A small smirk quirked at the corner of Sorlacs mouth, and he seemed to find the next question amusing for obvious reasons. “Sex.”

 

“All the time.” A pause. “Oh, I’m sorry. You were referring to…”

 

SMACK! The Vulcan base security officer backhanded his Caitian starship officer counterpart soundly, and the blow did unseat her this time; Kansas ended up on the decking, gasping as she tried to re-orient herself. Zimm struggled against the two guards that held him, but he wisely remained silent. Sorlac regarded the two errant starship officers with disdain before turning to his second in command, a trim and pert human woman who looked very efficient. “Have them both pay the usual fines, and then contact their ship, tell them to come get them, and have them beamed off the station.”

 

JoNs wavered in and out of lucidity, but one thought came through loud and clear. Just a little time off. Sure. My next shore leave? Hot chocolate and a good holo-novel. Now that’s a party.

Edited January 6, 2008 by Kansas