"Interlude"

[Kansas 0]

Note: This log takes place during the 12 hour TBS, while the ship is docked at the space station for repairs.

 

04.02.10

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“Interlude”

 

Lt. Colonel Kansas JoNs waited patiently in the processing line at the Agincourt air lock; in just a few minutes, she’d be free and clear to pursue some much needed shore leave. She was surrounded by fellow crewmembers, both commissioned and non-commissioned officers, and no matter what rank or position each of them held on board the ship, the tone of the voices was all the same: excitement at a few hours shore leave.

 

The golden furred felinoid wore a pair of dark charcoal slacks, a blouse and a faux brown leather jacket. She wore nothing that revealed she was a senior officer serving on board the USS Agincourt. No off duty mission jacket, no camo BDU’s, no nothing. The lieutenant colonel was all about the incognito today.

 

And nothing was going to get her back on the ship short of an attack on the station by rabid fanged vampiric tribbles intent on taking over the universe by procreation.

 

The station security personnel were on patrol at the airlock docking pylons and access points, checking ID’s and performing ocular scans on everyone debarking from their respective ships onto the station. Starfleet had upped the security protocols at the various frontier and outer colony stations since the Soltan attack on the Earth. The ongoing security preparations seemed excessive with regard to Fleet crews who were just interested in having a good time on their day or days off, but in the long run, the procedures would prevent any sort of security breach from taking hold at one of these Federation outposts.

 

These were uncertain times, and certain measures had to be taken in the interest of overall safety.

 

Soon, JoNs had been scanned and her ID card had been checked, and she was released into the interior of the station. Her nostrils flared as she became accustomed from the recycled air of the ship to the recycled air of the station. It was early afternoon, and the corridors and access ways were already fairly crowded with various travelers and permanent station residents going about their business or leave.

 

A small vacation offered a chance to recharge and refresh, and while not exactly overwhelmed or beleaguered with her duties and work, the Agincourt executive officer was constantly on the go normally.

 

It felt good to be free from any responsibilities, if only for the next few hours.

 

The Cait spent most of the afternoon shopping along the main promenade. While not a shopper by nature, when she had the opportunity for a shore leave, and the station or planetary site had a decent enough offering of retail stores within the environment, she made an effort to check out the shopping districts. As the afternoon began to drift into the early evening hours, the Caitian dropped off the few purchases that she had made in her quarters and disembarked the ship for a second time to meet up with her dinner date.

 

Using the station map markers located at the various bulkhead mounted consoles scattered across the station as well as her personal PADD tracking system, Kansas navigated her way to The Spotted LeMatya, a bistro located on the second level of the space station’s main promenade decks.

 

JoNs visually scanned the outer patio of the restaurant, and spotted Commander Sarritt Ssib’Ley waving a paw at her; the big tiger-like feline had commandeered small table with two chairs in an outdoor garden patio setting that was meant to copy any number of bistro restaurant layouts across the worlds, and the area offered a great view of the surrounding promenade gardens. The bistro was owned and operated by a Romulan couple, but the offerings were standard galactic restaurant fare, suitable to any number of species or races that would happen to patronize a station based establishment.

 

A lot of space traffic passed through the space station on a daily, weekly and monthly basis. Starfleet ships, civilian cargo haulers and merchant vessels, merchant marine ships, independent military contractor crews, and even the occasional Klingon or Romulan crew would dock and make use of the station facilities. Ships and crews of all shapes and sized could be found on shore leave or business at any time of the day or night, and the station never slept. The USS Torin Kerr, a Defiant class vessel and the ship that Ssib’Ley served on, was one such Starfleet vessel that was temporarily docked at the station to refuel, re-supply, and allow the crew to spend a few days on shore leave.

 

The lieutenant colonel and the commander had officially met over the ship to ship wireless a couple of weeks ago, when the Agincourt had been preparing to move out on a search and find mission and Ssib’Ley had briefed his fellow executive officer on the Ryder-Presit system since he and his ship had done extensive patrols within the sector. It was nice to get the chance to meet the fellow felinoid in person, and their respective missions and fate had worked in favor for the reunion of sorts.

 

Kansas responded to his wave with a paw wave of her own and then began to thread her way through the outer tables and chairs, stepping lightly and with confidence on her padded hind paws, her claws clicking on the fake stone cobbled pathway. When she had reached him, the Caitian and the Kzinti-Caitian felines clasped forearms in a classic warrior greeting. Like her, Commander Ssib’Ley had worn nondescript civilian clothing perfect for an evening out -- not too casual, not to dressy. The tigrean Kzinti-Caits rich brown fur was set off nicely by a camel colored jacket of a Vulcan styled cut.

 

Kansas admitted it -- the guy looked hot. Paws down, no contest. H-hot.

 

Drinks and an appetizer were ordered, and the two feline officers proceeded to enjoy themselves immensely for the remainder of the evening.

 

The two commiserated on the quirks of their respective crews, such as a CMO who had the technical ability to hack into the internal viewers, and senior non commissioned demolitions expert who was deathly afraid of bugs, and a junior lieutenant who came back from every shore leave sporting a new tattoo, to name but a few. And then there were the disciplinary offender stories, repeat and one time offenders alike. The conversation also covered the general day to day tasks as well, such as crew rotational rosters and such.

 

It was nice to vent to an officer on the same level, executive officer to executive officer. Colonel Harper was a great CO and mentor, but she was a superior officer to Kansas all the same. It helped when you could talk to your own breed, and in this case that description was very literal.

 

Sarritt took a sip of his drink. “How’re you doing with the transition to the second in command?”

 

“I really can’t complain. I’ve had both good and bad experiences as the Exec.” Kansas chuckled a little before continuing, “…when I first took the posting, one of the engineers did the whole challenge to authority thing, you know, to see how I’d react? Made a comment about a litter box, that sort of thing….”

 

“Oh yeah! Same thing happened to me about six years ago, right after I took on the position of second officer. One of the junior bridge officers made a crack about installing a scratching post.”

 

“How’d you handle it?”

 

“Scrubbing the injection manifold. Tooth brush. You?”

 

“Running laps. Thirty around the main track; the grease monkey hasn’t made a litter comment since.”

 

Sarritt shrugged his broad shoulders, his tiger-like features contorting into a good natured smirk while he snorted out a purr. “Hey, at times we have to do what we have to do. I can’t really prove it, but I bet those sorts of comments wouldn’t have been made to say, a newly installed Human executive officer? Otherwise, it’s usually just a classic case of a subordinate officer just trying to test the boundaries.”

 

Kansas moved onto another topic, smoothly transitioning the conversation. “Another ongoing issue falls in the disciplinary category. Soldier I used to work alongside with at the same ranking, and now, I’m a direct superior. Now, they have a habit of directly questioning my orders by way of sporting an attitude -- and the attitude is the driving force -- you know, that sort of thing? Good field soldier otherwise, hell of a sniper. It’s just a very, ah…”

 

“An awkward position and situation to be in?”

 

Kansas merely raised her drink glass in acknowledgement. “I’ll manage though.”

 

Sarritt liked her. He had gathered from their conversations that she led with her heart when her head should’ve been in control instead. But, the tactics were there. It usually all came down to the thin line of difference between stupid and capable, and JoNs landed more on this side of capable. Kansas liked him. Sarritt was a bit cool when it came to command and tactics, and he stayed on the straight and narrow. It wasn’t a bad command outlook to operate with, and he was capable.

 

She cocked her head to once side, her expression curious. “Tell me about the Streaker Ssib’Ley call sign.”

 

“I got tagged with it during my early flight days, when my specialty was still as a shuttle and fighter pilot and before I decided on the transfer over to the full command track. I ran across the landing bay on a dare, not a stitch of clothing on. Well, actually…I was wearing a flight helmet. But anyway, the CAG about had kittens, and was just not a happy person that day. I kept telling her that a feline can’t really be naked, because we have fur, you know? She didn’t buy it, started ranting about me being a streaker, and of course the other pilots picked up on it, and the name stuck.”

 

Kansas laughed and gave him a paws up in approval. “Hey, look on the bright side, it could have been much worse.”

 

He pointed his fork at her. “Okay, your turn – what’s the story with the Will JoNs?”

 

Kansas winked at her dinner companion playfully. “Well, nothing as fancy as running naked across the shuttle bay or anything like that, although I will keep that in mind if only to cause a distraction in case my ship is ever boarded by hostiles who have short attention spans. A former XO tagged me with the call sign. They kept repeating ‘damn willful cat’ enough, and eventually it got shortened to Will.” Kansas cocked an ear back and smiled, showing her fangs. “I’m not willful, I’m just really direct.”

 

Now it was Sarritt’s turn to laugh. “Right. You just keep telling yourself that Ms. JoNs.”

 

The meal and the conversation continued through to the early and mid hours of the evening. Kansas ordered a shrimp dish, while Sarritt chose a chicken entrée. Several drink rounds were ordered and consumed, and more time passed. Eventually, the other patrons called it a night, and the two felinoids closed out the restaurant along with an Andorian couple. The evening meal led to a night club; the club was loud and bright with gaudy neon all over the place, and after spending a good bit of the later evening hours checking out the musical acts that the club offered (most of which were actually good), the felines retired themselves to a private room in order to pursue certain other activities.

 

****

 

Hours later, Kansas stood leaning against the side bulkhead of the large and open picture window located in the bed room of the rented room, which overlooked a section of the outer docking pylons and the deck where the work bees and maintenance shuttles were stored; the room was on the cheaper side. If the two Caits had wanted to spend a bit more credits, they could have snagged one of the temporary flats that overlooked the interior deck with a much better view of the promenade gardens below.

 

Since both of the officers never really planned to continually gaze out the window when they could be doing other, much more fun things…yes, the cheaper room with the view of the maintenance shuttle deck had definitely won out.

 

JoNs was naked and in all her golden furred glory with her athletic leonine physique outlined against the lighting from the outer deck. The privacy opaque setting of the window insured that she wasn’t flashing anyone outside though, thank goodness for small favors and no civil complaints to the security offices.

 

Sarritt walked up behind the female Cait, and his own movements mirrored hers: Cat like and graceful, yet powerful and dangerous. Placing one paw on her shoulder, he let his free paw rest flat on the white fur of her belly, gently rubbing in circles and eliciting a pleasurable purring sound from Kansas. She in turn pressed back, melding her body with his; her tail curled tightly around his knee and lower calf.

 

He inhaled deeply into her fur, taking in her scent. “I say we both run naked across the main promenade garden deck.”

 

“Right. You go do that and freak out the local security patrols, and I’ll wait here for you.”

 

The Kzinti-Cait male feline chuckled lightly, and his deep purred voice was husky. “How much longer do you have on board the station?”

 

“I have a couple more hours’ station side. I need to report back to the ‘Court by twenty two hundred or so, just to check in on things and make sure no one needs to be bailed out of the local brig.” She nuzzled the brown fur of his neck with her nose, and then changed her position in order to turn around to face him, gently placing her paws on his chest in the process. “If nothing hit the oscillating device in the meantime, I can grab a few more hours leave time.”

 

Both of his paws now worked her upper back and lower back, kneading and rubbing the furred and pliant flesh in deep massaging motions. Kansas hooked her big paws behind his neck and kissed him deeply; Sarritt returned the kiss, and then the two felinoids were much more interested in certain other activities.

 

Catching some more sleep and eating breakfast were overrated, indeed…