An Interesting Night: Part I (Some Mature Content)

[C.T. Caine 0]

It was change of shift on the ISS Agincourt, and second shift officers were preparing to log out for the day while the third shift relief officers were just coming on duty. It promised to be a quiet late evening on the imperial warship.

 

Or did it?

 

There were other activities taking place in a few quarters scattered across the decks that could be a bit…noisy. And, there were also sinister thoughts on the rise as well, for death was both literally and figuratively stalking the corridors this night. Or, as the case happened to be, above the corridors.

 

For his bulk, Crewman David Decatur had the capacity to move fairly quietly when he felt like it, and at the moment, he certainly did, because it would be his neck if he didn't. The Agincourt's duct system was surprisingly roomy, but its metallic walls and floor took the impact of careless movement with all the silence of a marching band in full voice, and so the broadshouldered crewman moved with incongruously delicate care as he traveled through the ceiling of the command quarters deck. He had to move fast, however. He didn't know how long it would be before Commander JoNs recalled her personal guards. Decatur had been watching the outside of her quarters for several days now, and this was the first time that he had seen the Andorian and Zaldan dismissed from their posts; his time was short but the window of opportunity was there, and he meant to take it.

 

He had been listening carefully to his chief's talk with Jimmbo Farragut, and he knew well enough by now how to read Caine's behavior. He knew what the half-Vulcan wanted, and that the necessity of waiting was imposed upon her. Decatur could remedy that. The weight of the knife in his boot, knocking against his ankle, reminded him of his purpose with every movement. Caine would not have to wait for JoNs's death. Decatur would save her the trouble.

 

He reached the vent which he knew to lead to the Commander's quarters and pulled a small multitool from the inside pocket of his jacket, sliding it under the edge and prying upwards with gentle pressure until it popped free. A grin of anticipation grew on his face. The room below was dark; no chance of detection before he struck, and when he succeeded...Caine would reward him.

 

Pulling the knife from his boot, he let himself drop with a soft thud onto the carpeting of the room. The vent led into a small alcove, and carefully he edged himself out into the main room, still buried in shadows, and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

 

Immediately he realized that he and the Commander were not the only ones in the room and he froze, watching with horrified fascination at the scene that was unfolding there, shadows against shadow.

 

The silence of the night watch was broken by low moans that indicated that the occupants of these particular quarters were in the throes of passion. Inter-mingled sounds of low yowls and purred growls with the moaned vocalizations further indicated the identities of the lovers: Commander Kansas JoNs, ships Executive Officer, and Lieutenant Commander Sarritt Sivarro, Chief Helm and Shuttle Pilot.

 

Uniform clothing was scattered throughout the entire bedroom area, although most of the garments and equipment had ended up on the floor in semi-neat piles where their respective owner had let the articles of clothing drop, or on top of a piece of furniture or thrown across a chair or part of the bed: uniform tunics, trousers, weapons belts, waist sashes -- it was quite the scene of organized chaos There was no indication of a shared meal table in the outer area of the quarters’ dining area, and it was obvious the pair had been in a hurry to strip and get to the business at hand, bypassing any sort of romance or foreplay leading up to the love making.

 

This was sometimes the way that things turned out, especially when you had two Imperial officers trying to make a relationship work …or at least, trying to make a go of sex, as in this case. Shift duties, departmental concerns, training, and the day to day grind that a career military candidate had to deal with often interfered with any sort of normal social life that a couple might expect to have. When the first shift blurred into the second shift, with the second shift blurring into the third, well, there might only be time for a romp in a bedroom unit minus all the typical romantic hoo rah leading up to the jaunt.

 

In this particular case, Commander JoNs and Lieutenant Commander Sivarro had apparently managed to wrangle a sexual rendezvous in between the second and third shift changeovers. The two felinoids had discreetly made their way to JoNs’s private quarters in order to link up for the night.

 

JoNs gave a contented purr-moan and then she and Sarritt shared a muzzle to muzzle kiss as both of the felinoids slipped further and further into the passion of the moment. After the act was completed and both of thier desires had been satiated,Sivarro disengaged and flopped down on the bed next to JoNs, the two felinoids panting and sweating a bit under their fur from the session. The golden furred leonine Cait immediately began to drift off into a half sleep, as the after euphoria chemicals coursing through her body from the love making shunted her towards a deeper sleep.

 

Decatur, who had not moved during the whole business except for the rise and fall of his chest in shallow, disgusted breathing, now allowed himself to relax slightly in the merciful relative silence, and it occurred to him to wonder how the hell he was going to get out of this. He had not anticipated finding two Caits in the room at once, and it complicated things -- should he knife them both? Sivarro was of no real concern to him, but he was a xeno anyway...he wouldn't be any loss.

 

Thus emboldened by his own thoughts, Decatur pushed himself fully from the alcove, his bare feet padding gently against the carpet. Keeping to the wall, he circled the bed, his eyes on the XO, and shifted the knife to settle its steel handle more firmly against his palm, set his feet, eyed the shape of her naked body half-under the sheet, aimed for the ribcage, raised the knife--

 

The contented sighs of felinoid pleasure and purring gave way to an urgent and quickly shouted, “Kansas!” from Sarritt as the male Kzinti tiger finally caught sight of the intruder and a sinister glint of something sharp catching the dim lighting of the bedroom. His tone brought his bed partner fully back into reality, and JoNs’s attention snapped to frantically look about the darkened bedroom area.

 

She managed to get one outraged hiss out of her muzzle before the assailant struck like greased lightning. Decatur, panicked by the sudden noise, cried out and backpedaled half a step, then slashed wildly, forgetting any sort of careful aim and burying the blade in JoNs's shoulder.

 

The golden furred Caitian yelped in pain and for a few seconds couldn’t see past the red haze of pain that slotted across her immediate vision. But, her training managed to kick in and JoNs was up and off the bed in seconds, also backpedaling and getting away from the general reach of the crewman intruder. Blood oozed from the shoulder wound, and it promised to be a deep cut.

 

Decatur snarled furiously, brandishing the knife in front of him, then leapt over the bed at her, angling himself towards JoNs and away from the other Cait, throwing his weight forward behind the stroke. Kansas tried a text book move in order to distract the younger officer, but only ended up getting some more discomfort and pain as another slash swished across her collar bone area and then across her right forearm when she attempted to pull back and protect herself from the swishing blade; Decatur was so hyped up on both fear and adrenaline that he continued to slash wildly and repeatedly at anything in front of him.

 

Finally gaining purchase on the sweat-slicked fur of his adversary, the muscular Human youngster then grabbed the much smaller Kansas about the neck and slammed the blade full on down into the meat of her right thigh; the blade ended up being buried halfway down the blade in the flesh.

 

JoNs couldn’t help but to scream; Decatur recoiled, releasing her, startled at the yowling tone, and the feline XO fell like a pole axed bovine to the decking. She clutched one paw at her wounded thigh and her free paw grabbed at the hilt of the weapon as she made contact with the flooring. She knew that she shouldn’t pull the knife out, as it would cause more damage exiting as well, but she damn well knew that she couldn’t fight with the blade impaled in her leg.

 

Bleeding from several wounds at this point, the naked felinoid senior officer painfully threw herself across the room and over the bed, scrabbling towards her utility belt where she had laid it across the seat of the room’s only plush chair. Her paws swiped at the sawed off plasma gun weapon that she usually employed, leaving blood smears on the chair and the belt. The focus of her adrenaline enabled her to bypass the pain and focus on the problem at hand – namely, blowing the intruder away.

 

The senior officers’ quarters were a bit bigger then the typical crew quarters, and there was room for three full grown adults to romp about in frenzied combat. Lt. Commander Sivarro grabbed the nearest available weapon, and hurled a table lamp at Decatur, who had scrambled away from JoNs and only now realized that his knife was embedded in his adversary and had traveled away with her. "Son of a--" His muttered oath was cut off as the lamp winged off his forehead and crashed explosively against the wall behind him, stunning him slightly and giving Saritt time to bolt straight at the junior officer, intending to try and take him down in a tackle.

 

The impact took Decatur in the midsection and he hit the deck with a grunt, skidding painfully over shards of the destroyed lamp which lacerated the flesh of his back. Lights flashed behind his eyes as his head struck the plating. "Get the hell off me, kitten," he barked at the weight holding him down, trying to imitate Caine's dismissive bluntness, false bravado covering a sudden surge of terror.

 

A voice cut through the commotion, and while it was most definitely not the dismissive bluntness of Caine, it was the voice of a very angered female cat. “Commander! Clear line of sight!”

 

The order was directed at Sarritt, indicating in battlefield jargon that the Lieutenant Commander should move his ass out of the line of fire. The brown furred Kzinti male quickly complied, leaping off of the younger Human male.

 

JoNs pointed her now un-holstered and cocked plasma gun point blank at Decatur, her grip and aim on the weapon not wavering despite her blood soaked fur and injuries.

 

“Please...move. I dare you.”