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C.T. Caine

Civil Unrest: Part II

Caine turned just in time to see the small feline charging forward and moved to block the blow but slightly too late; JoNs's weight smashed into her, taking her into the air over the bar to land with a crash among the bottles. Her head struck a shelf and light flashed behind her eyes and she yelled in pain, every muscle in her body going on full alert with the impact. Heaving upwards, she flung JoNs's body away from her in the first available direction.

 

Kansas took the rough push awkwardly and landed off to Caine's right. With a snarl, she bolted at the lieutenant again, splaying her claws.

 

Caine had her legs under her by then and she leapt sideways, landing on top of the bar and rolling to put the wooden structure between herself and the angry Caitian. Her blood was roiling in her veins now; all the simmering hatred was boiling over into a taut, controlled battle fever. She would never have another chance like this. Kansas was alone; they were off the record, and the XO's carefully honed guard had slipped to a single woman on her way to being betrayed by the emotions that were fueling her. "What is it you want, Commander?" Caine asked, tauntingly. "Are you hoping for a scratching post? I'm afraid you won't find one here..."

 

JoNs hopped up on top of the bar on all fours, her baleful green eyes fixed on Caine. Despite the natural predatory beauty of her feline species, she was not what one would call a graceful fighter; she tended more towards the style of a brawler. The claws and fangs added weight to her fury, but she was a lightweight – at 130 pounds and 5'3”, she couldn’t pretend to be a superwoman, heritage notwithstanding. No, the battle had to be won quickly. JoNs leapt again, using the bar for leverage as she flew at Caine.

 

Caine allowed herself the luxury of a smirk at the telegraphed leap, and then surged sideways and forward, bringing one arm up in a sucker punch into JoNs's stomach, letting gravity double the impact of the blow. Her fingers stung as her fist collided just below the XO's ribcage and she grunted in pain, letting JoNs's momentum drive her back a few feet.

 

The gut punch stopped JoNs in her tracks and dropped her on her side on the carpeted flooring, wheezing. Her training kicked in shortly, however, and she managed to focus the pain out long enough to roll onto her back and then onto her stomach, lashing out and leg-sweeping Caine as she completed the move.

 

The clawed paw sinking into her calf made Caine yelp with pain and she lost her balance and toppled backwards, hitting the decking with a jolt that knocked the breath from her body. With a sharp gasp, she flailed for purchase with one arm and found a grip on JoNs's shoulder.

 

Immobilize and incapacitate. Her own training engaged and she twisted, pulling Kansas towards her along the carpet and trying to wrestle her into a floor hold. The two women rolled violently; Kansas struggled against the hold, and sank her teeth into Caine's palm.

 

Caine shouted as the sharp feline teeth ripped through the flesh of her hand; wrenching it free with a painful flick of her wrist, she grabbed JoNs's shirt collar and slammed a punch into the xeno woman's nose with all the force in her body, snapping her head back.

 

Blood droplets from nose and mouth flew in an arc, and JoNs stumbled back into a table, sending the dishes clattering across the top.

 

Caine hissed in satisfaction and staggered to her feet, taking the moment's pause to catch her breath and gauge the situation. JoNs was angry, making mistakes, but they were also making a hell of a mess. This needed to end quickly, and with some pain on JoNs's side if possible. "Don't toy with me, Commander. I don't have the time or the patience for it," she said, her voice sharp in the bar which had gone silent, the patrons staring at them, muttering feverishly at the sight of the Vulcan and the xeno coming to blows. "I am trained to be able to do this all night."

 

Slightly winded, Kansas replied, “I am not toying Lieutenant. And I can go all night too. If you had patience, we would not be having this little issue right now. You wanted this to happen, and you let this happen, just like me. If you didn’t, you would have used that vaunted logic to just walk away. You keep claiming superiority...I don’t think so.”

 

"Oh, I don't merely claim it..." was all Caine replied, and with no warning lashed out with a kick that caught JoNs under the ribcage, then grabbed her by the hair at the base of her neck and spun her around, steering the XO's head to knock into the fish tank in the wall of the bar, shattering the glass.

 

Cats had fast reflexes, but so did Vulcans. JoNs had no opportunity to deflect the tactical move and Caine’s strength made it easy to accomplish. JoNs's head made contact with the decorative tank and within seconds multicolored fish were scattered across the soaked carpeting.

 

JoNs slumped the the floor, half-conscious.

 

"Haa-ahhh..." A gasping grunt hissed from Caine's lungs as the impact jarred up her arm. Recoiling as JoNs's weight sagged against her, shoved her shoulder into her opponent's midsection, the tackle connecting with a solitary thunk and slamming them into the plate-glass window to their right which overlooked the lower levels of the bar. The window, decorative stuff never meant for the impact of a furious pair of enemies, shattered with the force of their bodies and Caine felt her momentum carry them out into the open air.

 

They hurtled outward from the upper deck through the protective barrier, completely blowing out the dura-plastisteel, and fell at a rapid pace; several onlookers screamed out in surprise. The two officers landed with a muted splash in one of the decorative lagoons, sending several scantily-clad dance performers hastily clambering out of the way as they hit the water.

 

The stinging chill revived JoNs, and she gasped, inhaling a lungful of water as she broke the surface of the five-foot-deep water pocket, choking and sputtering.

 

Caine's hand closed implacably around her shoulder and spun her around; the Vulcan's nictating eyelids had closed down over her eyes, blocking the water from blurring her vision, and she barely noticed the chill. Nothing else, in fact, mattered -- all of her training was in full force now and only one thing had her attention. Finish the fight. Finish it. Finish her.

 

She slammed her opponent up over the wall of the fountain, leaving JoNs gasping on the stone floor. Clambering out herself with a single powerful push of her arms, she landed on top of the other woman, pressing her to the ground and putting a knee squarely in her stomach. Her free hand went to her boot and came up with the silver hilt of a knife; before she knew it, she had it shoved up against JoNs's furred throat and everything went still. She held it there, staring into JoNs's eyes, the movement of her wrist hanging in the balance.

 

Blood from both of the Agincourt officers dripped in the silence, mixing with the water, running green and red across the stonework. Kansas stayed very still (not that she had a choice, mind you), but she couldn’t resist cracking wise. "Had enough?"

 

Caine's jaw tightened and the flat of the blade pressed down heavily into JoNs's neck till it interfered with her breath. The Cait gurgled as her air passageway became obstructed.

 

"I could kill you," Caine murmured. "Why shouldn't I?" The colonel's instructions notwithstanding, the death of superior officers...happened. It would not really be questioned. Kansas had opened the fighting; for Caine to finish it was acceptable by every law she was aware of. And she would be rid of the kitten forever.

 

But her hand remained still over JoNs's neck, and she let the options slide through her mind like the blood-smeared water behind her. Were the Caitian to die, it would solve problems in the short term, but it would also make JoNs a martyr. She had supporters that Caine could not afford to anger just yet. And having her here, at Caine's mercy, and letting her survive...that was shameful for JoNs as death was not. JoNs would be in her debt, as Caine had once been in hers, to her own impotent fury. It was...fair, in the cold sort of way that Caine liked fairness.

 

Her wrist flicked backwards, folding the knife blade against her wrist, releasing the pressure on JoNs's neck with a jerk.

 

A flicker of surprise appeared in the Cait's eyes for a brief second. Caine had had her, plain as day. Was it a reciprocating gesture, because of JoNs tackling her out of harms way on the Stiletto? Or did the Vulcan have yet another ulterior motive for not slicing and dicing JoNs?

 

Her purred voice came out hoarse not from emotion, but from the damage her throat had taken. “Looks like I’m not the only one who thought better of a decision…”

 

The whine of a weapon charging broke the silence, and Caine felt the barrel of a phaser rifle pressed against the back of her head; a similar barrel became prominent in JoNs's field of vision, pointed directly at her face.

 

A male voiced barked out into the stunned silence. “Alpha Station Security! You will cease your activities immediately!”

 

Caine sighed and turned her head, very slowly, until she could get her feet under her and stand up to push the barrel away. “Starfleet Intelligence,” she answered coolly, eyeing the thuggish station guard with disdain. “Our activities are quite ceased, thank you, and as for the broken window...Commander JoNs will be happy to explain.” Folding her right hand into a fist to quench the blood dripping from it to the stone, she turned and walked away without a backward glance.

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