Erratic Nerd Writings

“Kanor?”

Kanor couldn’t hide a broad grin from spreading over his face as he walked through the corridors of the Enterprise.  Cypher’s voice in his ear was a soothing sensation he could feel right down to his toes.

“Hello, Cypher.”

“What happened?  It has been three days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes since I have last heard from you!  I’ve infiltrated the Enterprise’s computer network, and was able to determine you were incapacitated in Sickbay; however I read a report you had regained consciousness as of…”

Kanor’s lips compressed as he passed a couple of crewmen leaving the turbolift.  Both of them seemed to look over at him with bewildered curiosity, which he took some enjoyment in appearing completely oblivious of.  He stepped into the now empty car, and waited to interrupt Cypher’s tirade until the doors had closed.  She seemed…almost panicked.

“Cypher.  I was nearly constantly being observed by someone; if not Marcie or Skid, a nurse, or other medical personnel.  I also did not have access to my gear, and was unaware as to its location.  Believe me, I’ve been wanting to contact you, but was unable to do so until now.  I’m on my way back to my quarters as we speak.”

She was silent a beat before responding, the…excitement in her voice having lowered somewhat.  Calmed.  Her self-creating emotional algorithms seemed to have progressed rapidly during his time in Sickbay; likely due to the improvements he had made to them during the trip out here.

“I have been investigating several plans to set in action in an attempt to rescue you; involving the Hunt, involving the Enterprise’s computer system.  I even created ghost programs in attempts to find out more about the unidentified AI locked away in the Enterprise’s cybervaults.”

The turbolift slowed to a stop, the doors opening onto deck five.  Kanor stepped out into the corridor, and, not seeing anyone else around, murmured a response to Cypher.

“How did THAT go?”

Cypher sounded…frustrated, disappointed.

“In all the differing plans I had come up with so far, the probability you would perish during the rescues attempt was, at best, seventy-three point seven percent.  Conversely, the highest success rate of any of the plans was only thirty-four point two.  None of the results seemed worth putting into effect.”

Drei was heading down the corridor as Kanor came up to his door.  The Communication’s officer was strutting along with his normal swagger, the chain dangling from his left ear making a jangling noise that made Kanor’s jaw clench.  His chin lifted up in Kanor’s direction, though he didn’t say anything as he passed by.  Kanor frowned, idly wondering how the individual in charge of the communications aboard ship could think a lifting of one’s chin was some sort of greeting.  He was fairly certain it was not a Metron greeting of some kind, though admittedly very little was known about them.  Kanor noted the man’s skin tone seemed to have darkened since he had last seen him, closer to Kanor’s own, and that his goatee was now a deep black, versus the green it had been before.  Kanor was, again, confused by the rather inexplicable and swift cosmetic alterations.  He tapped the controls to his quarters and stepped inside, immediately proceeding to ensure his quarters were secure. 

He discovered a new visual-only bug that had been planted outside his door, but nothing else.  Kanor noted while the design and materials used seemed similar to the bugs he had originally removed from his quarters upon setting up shop, the new device was much less sophisticated.  He wondered if the mysterious individual had limited supplies.  Since he felt it safe, now, to continue his conversation with Cypher, he sat down at the desk while he started to disassemble the bug.  He grimaced at a twinge from his ribs as he sat down.

“Well I’m pleased to hear you did not find a high chance of my dying combined with a low chance of success in rescuing me sufficient to put one of your plans in motion.  What about your attempts to find out more about that AI? Despite my previous insistence you stay away from the damn thing, I might add.”

“Given that you were in a dangerous and potentially life-threatening situation, I deemed it acceptable to go against your wishes in my attempts to rescue you.”

Kanor snorted, but didn’t comment further.  He had created her that way, with free will.

“All of the ghost programs were summarily destroyed attempting to break through the multiple layers of security surrounding the AI.  Even those significantly advanced enough to surpass even the most stringent virtual security measures.  In short, I do not believe anything short of a full-on overwhelming and overpowering assault on the security framework surrounding the AI with the entirety of my Being would be successful.”

Kanor paused, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the enormity of what she was saying.

“You mean to tell me even YOU would have to go all-out on this…security system to break through?”

“Without testing the strength of the system even more blatantly than I already have, yes.”

“But you weren’t discovered, you didn’t make your presence known.”

“Negative.  Enterprise personnel detected the anomalies I created in infiltrating their system to access the information about you I required, and the ghost programs I created to test the AI’s security were observed.  However, I am certain all signs of my presence were untraceable, and all connections relating to you were untraceable.  In essence, they detected attacks on their infrastructure, but they were unable to determine the source of these attacks or their purpose, with the exception of the ghost programs attempting to break through the AI’s security.”

“Hopefully they’ll attribute those to the Benders…”  

"Benders...?"

He frowned, tossing the pieces of the bug down on the desk as he leaned back in the chair.

“The Doughnut Aliens.  What would you speculate, based on this new information, about the AI locked away in there?”

Cypher was silent a few moments before responding.

“If I had to, I would speculate the AI contained within is on an approximate level of complexity and computational power as myself.  Thus the failure of the ghost programs to penetrate the security framework, as the security measures would need to be able to withstand attacks from the AI itself.  I am…relatively certain I would be able to break through, though it would be difficult for me.”

“’Relatively’?”

“Eighty-nine point five percent.”

Kanor nodded, mulling that over.

“Doesn’t that seem to indicate the AI within isn’t as…advanced, as strong, as you?”

“Not necessarily.  You have given me the ability to learn and self-improve on the base programming you initially gave me.  Virtual warfare, tactics, and systems were one of the areas I specifically strove to constantly excel and continually develop to the best of my ability to do so.  Essentially, self-defense for my state of life.  In much the same way you are a better fighter than Marcie, and she is a better healer than you; I could simply be capable of breaking through those security measures while the other AI cannot because it is my specialty.”

“And here I always thought your specialty was your charm, Cypher.”

Cypher didn’t respond to the jab, but Kanor found himself enjoying their conversation, at least.  He had missed her.

“Any speculation as to what the purpose of this AI could be?  If it’s so dangerous, why even have it aboard?”

“Impossible to tell.  The only possible thing that seems likely in any fashion is a last line of defense or offense.  There is simply not enough data otherwise to determine further.”

Kanor got to his feet, his lip curling in disgust as different areas of his body protested the movement.  He started to remove his gear, with the intent of taking a shower.  Though the nurses had made sure to keep him cleaned, especially Ensign Clarke, it wasn’t the same.  He was about to have Cypher compile a list of recorded individuals that had approached his door that could have potentially planted the new bug, when she spoke up, instead.  Her tone seemed…softer than usual.

“I was helpless while you were incapacitated.”

“Well I don’t know about that, sounds like you were about to launch some sort of war aboard the Enterprise I doubt the crew would have been able to suppress well.”

“With unacceptable rates of failure, and the termination of my primary goal.”

“Now you said there was seventy-three point…”

“That was only in one scenario.  In all others, the probability you would die during the rescue attempts was one hundred percent.”

Kanor’s eyebrows rose as he started removing his jumpsuit.

“Well then, I’m REALLY glad you decided not to carry out any of those plans.  You know, Cypher, sometimes there AREN’T any situations that don’t lead to failure statistically.  It’s in how we handle those situations, despite the odds, that shape us.  Why, the Federation even has a test…”

“If I had some sort of method of interacting with the physical world and manipulating it, as in a body, the success rates in all of those situations increased exponentially.  In fact, in multiple plans, the likelihood I would have succeeded in retrieving you were a practical certainty.”

Kanor remained silent as he finished disrobing.  Had the temperature been adjusted down while he had been away?

“Being unable to interact with you, and unable to do anything about it, was the single most frustrating experience I have ever had to deal with.”

Kanor headed across his quarters to the lavatory, noting, as he moved, things seemed…off, somehow, though he couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet.  Nothing that was an immediate threat, at least.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to Cypher’s comments without coming across as condescending; so he decided to just be honest and up-front about her observations as a whole.

“Honestly, Cypher, helplessness is probably one of the most difficult things to deal with for anyone.”

“How does one go about ensuring it does not happen to them again?”

“They make a choice.  Get used to feeling helpless and surrendering all control of their lives, or doing whatever they can to minimalize the possibility of feeling helpless by taking control, being pro-active.”

“Minimalize, not remove entirely?”

“No one is all-powerful, Cypher.  Everybody feels helpless sometimes.”

                                                                           *****

Kanor sat the PADD down on the desk as the chimes to his quarters went off, indicating someone requesting entrance.  Marcie wouldn’t have requested, she would have just come in; he wondered who it might be.  He got to his feet and headed over to the clean jumpsuit he had brought with him from the closet after his shower, having neglected to put it on.  The chimes sounded again as he plucked it from the chair and proceeded to climb into it.

“Just a moment!”

He grumbled, wincing as the movements elicited pains throughout his body.  Someone was impatient.  He fastened the jumpsuit from the waist down; he’d get the intruder to scamper off, and then he’d take the blasted thing back off again.  He headed into the entry foyer, slapping the door interface as he growled, his teeth clenched, while the door opened.

“WHAT?!”

Skid was on the other side of the door, a grin spreading over her features as she shifted her weight, her eyes travelling over him rather blatantly.

“Well, ya certainly exude a personable warmth to visitors, doncha, boyo?”

Kanor blinked, surprised to see the curvy redhead standing outside, his expression of annoyance faltering.

“I…wasn’t expecting any visitors.  Aren’t you supposed to be on duty or something…?”

Skid crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and Kanor tried not to let the resultant change in her upper torso distract him too much.  She was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, which seemed to wrap up behind her neck, leaving her shoulders bared as well.  A pair of black pants was separated from her shirt by a thin green belt, which served to accentuate her waist.  The outfit looked comfortable, while still coming across as a bit dressier than normal clothes.  The way her mane of fiery-red hair tumbled freely over her freckled shoulders was riveting.

“I got off duty about an hour ago.  When I heard ye were finally out of that prison known as Sickbay, I thought you might like to accompany me out to dinner.”  She paused, arching an eyebrow.  “Are ye going to invite me in, or are you wanting to show off your chest hair?”

Kanor expression was slack, surprised by both invitations.  Skid had never requested to actually enter his quarters, and he couldn’t remember ever having seen her outside of her typical work jumpsuits, uniform, or workout attire.  That she wanted to go out with him formally for recreational purposes was…unusual, as well.

“I…uh…”  His mouth clamped shut as he stepped back, allowing her entrance into his quarters.  The door hissed shut behind her, and Kanor found himself awkwardly stepping back towards the replicator behind him so Skid could step in further.

“I had not eaten anything for dinner yet, no…”

Skid’s eyes travelled around his quarters curiously as she leaned against the doorframe between the foyer and living area. 

“Gah, you keep it so hot in here…well if that’s yer way of saying you’d like to come along with me, doncha be needin to get ready to leave?  Don’t mind me, go right ahead and change…I’ll just leer…I mean uh, look the other way, ayup.”

Kanor couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse for backing out on Skid’s invitation, and he had to admit getting to see her in that outfit longer was appealing.  He found the smattering of freckles that trailed over the otherwise pale flesh of her shoulder facing him especially arousing.  Besides, he could talk with her about his intent to talk with Munson tomorrow, even find out if any progress had been made on the equipment to protect from the Bender’s telepathy.  He looked down at himself, proceeded to seal his jumpsuit the rest of the way up, his hands then moving to ensure his queue was securely fastened.

“I am ready to depart.”

Skid’s gaze flicked back over at him, her brow furrowing in what seemed like disappointment.

“Are those bloody jumpsuits the only thing ye have to wear?”

“Of course.  They meet societal requirements for clothing, and allow me to do my work unencumbered.  If I need additional armor, it is quite easy to place over these jumpsuits.”

Skid rolled her eyes.

“Naturally.  Of course.”  She sighed, shaking her head.  “I dunno why I bother sometimes…”

“I suppose I should wear my boots.  Just a moment.”

“Boots.  Fookin boots.”  Skid threw her arms up in exasperation.

Kanor frowned, puzzled by her obvious agitation, as he stepped past her to the chair where his ankle boots sat beside.  He sat down and stepped into the right one first.

“I can assure you, they will not take long to put on.”

“No, of course not, that’d be bloody inefficient, now wouldn’t it?”

                                                                           *****

They settled in to a wooden booth; a notched, weathered, and stained wooden table in front of them.  He was against the wall; Skid was on the outside to his left.  The lighting was dim, and rather inconsistent.  Kanor’s brow furrowed as he stared at one of the light sources.  Was that an actual candle?  The kind made of wax?

“This is certainly an…interesting business.”

Skid laughed, clapping him on the left shoulder, her eyes alight with merriment. 

“THIS is a bona fide bar, boyo, not like those sterile places ye find on space stations nowadays.  For this place alone, I love that Kaz finally conceded to put a holodeck on the Lady.”

Kanor’s eyes glanced beneath the table at the floor beneath his feet; he was sure that if not for his ability to see better with less illumination than humans, he wouldn’t have been able to see much past his knees.  What WAS that debris all over down there?

“Funny you should mention ‘sterile’…what is this material on the floor?”

Skid’s grin only served to broaden further.

“It’s called ‘sawdust’.”

“And its purpose…?”

“Why, to soak up blood, piss, vomit, and spilled alcohol, what else?”

Both of Kanor’s eyebrows arched up on his forehead as he studied the mirth on Skid’s features.  He determined she was not joking.

“Well, this is certainly not what I was expecting when you said ‘dinner out’.  You call up this program and come to this place often…?”

“Absofuckinglutely, I love it here.  Sometimes, I think one day I’ll retire and start up a place like this somewhere…a right proper tavern…”

Kanor’s eyes roamed around the “tavern”, soaking the place in.  The structure appeared to be made of wood and stone alone, lit solely by candlelight, and the roaring fire from the rather large fireplace at the far end of the room.  A large, hairy man was messing around with some sort of stringed device in front of the fire as his bulk teetered precariously on a three-legged wooden stool.  Beside him, a tall, willowy woman was seated on another stool, bent over adjusting her footwear.  On the mantle of the fireplace was the head of some beast he didn’t recognize mounted on a polished piece of wood; a trophy of some kind.  While it appeared to be rather small, he had to admit the creature did look ferocious.  The people seated at all the other tables were filling the common room with a din of laughter, conversation, and greetings that they shouted out to each other as they milled about.  It was filling up rapidly; they had secured one of the last tables, but people still seemed to be coming in.  The entire atmosphere seemed to radiate a warmth that went beyond mere temperature.

“It is…interesting.  The ceiling seems to be rather low, and I do not believe we are dressed in the appropriate attire.”

Skid shot him a withering, scathing look.  He didn’t understand the hostility.

“Tell me about it.  Usually, I wear somethin a bit more period-specific, but tonight, I thought…”  She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively.  “As for the ceiling, do you see anyone anywhere even remotely close to your height?  Places like this were not designed for Klingons, ya know.”

Kanor shrugged, looking around as he ran a hand over the uneven surface of the table.

“I suppose.  However, I do believe this IS a place Klingons would likely enjoy very much, with few changes.  I think I like it, I was simply…surprised.”

A warm smile grew over Skid’s features.

“Well, glad te hear it.  We haven’t even gotten to the food yet, either!  Or the entertainment!”

“What’ll it be tonight, Skid?”

A diminutive human woman who seemed nearly as broad as Kanor was tall had lumbered up to the edge of their table.  Kanor’s eyes widened at the massive heaps of flesh that seemed to be spilling out of the woman’s top; what wasn’t exposed seeming to be preoccupied testing the limits of the fabric’s ability to keep her bosom contained.  The woman’s hands moved to rest against each of her wide hips.

“Yer friend sure is a looker, aint he?  Looks like his noggin is all contained in his britches, though.”

Skid’s elbow poked him in the ribs, making him wince and drawing his attention to her as she chuckled heartily.

“He’s just not used to meetin a woman with yer type of charms, Madge.  He’s not half-bad when his blood isn’t goin all to one place, though.”

Madge’s entire body shook with her booming laughter, the curls in her brown hair bouncing.  The effect was mesmerizing.

“And what about when it IS goin all to one place, eh?”

Skid grinned, looking aside at Kanor slyly.

“Well that I haven’t found out just yet…”

Madge pressed a small, coarse hand to the center of her prodigious chest.

“Land-o-live, Skid, you must REALLY like this one!”

Skid laughed herself as she glanced over at Kanor again, clearly amused by his discomfort and loss for words.

“Bring us some ale; plenty of mutton…wouldn’t happen to have any tarts stashed away somewhere, would ya…?”

Madge grinned, leaning forward a bit conspiratorially. 

“Might’n I do…for a special friend and her tree-like companion…back in a shake, darlin.”

Kanor looked at Skid incredulously as Madge made her way over to the long bar across the common room, heading through a doorway that was just behind it. 

“Surely women of that size did not actually exist at the time frame this place seems to indicate, nor would they wear clothes of such…woeful inadequacy.”

Skid leaned back against the wooden booth as she looked at Kanor questioningly.

“Well I’m not THAT old, Mister Kanor, but yeah, Madge’s…appearance is quite in-line with the period.  Tavern owners and their families were often well fed if they were a prosperous place like this; twas an indicator of their success.  And textiles were expensive and hard to replace; ye had to make do with what ya could.  Besides; ya think Madge doesn’t earn extra tips with those chest puppies?  She’s the epitome of ‘bar wench’, which is what I wanted.”

Kanor decided he would have to do some research as to what a “bar wench” was exactly, though he was pretty sure he got the idea.

“Ah, well…I was wondering, now that I am…”

The sound of a high-pitched airy sound rose up over the din in the tavern, drawing Kanor’s attention over in front of the fireplace.  The willowy woman, now standing, was holding a metallic cylinder up to her lips.  She appeared to be blowing through it and using her fingers to adjust the tone emitting from it, her hips slowly swaying along.  The big man beside her started strumming his fingers along the strings of his instrument in accompaniment, and soon after began to sing.  Skid’s hand reached out to squeeze his bicep, a smile lighting up her features. 

“This is one of my favorite things about this place…”

Kanor’s eyebrows arched as he studied the pair, noticing most of the patrons in the tavern had stopped their own conversations and were simply watching the two performers.  The man had a higher voice than Kanor would have expected from such a large frame, but he had to admit it was a pleasant one.  While his performance partner wasn’t particularly attractive-somewhat plain, in Kanor’s opinion-the rhythmic grace she moved in, all while playing the flute-like device, was beautiful and entrancing.  Since he noticed some of the patrons were still talking, albeit with more difficulty, Kanor decided he’d continue with what he was going to say, as well.

“Anyways, I was wondering if we might meet with Muns…”

Skid released his arm as he started speaking again, looking at him as if he had just sprouted horns from his forehead and was threatening to charge.  She hauled off and punched him in the arm.  Hard.

“Dammit, Kanor, I didn’t come here to fookin discuss work!  Bloody hell, man, are ye really that dense?”

Kanor’s mouth clamped shut; his brow furrowing again.  Perhaps now was not a good time, though it seemed to make sense to him.   They usually did nothing but talk about work when they were spending time together.  However, they had also never had dinner together.  In a holodeck.  Outside of uniforms.  Kanor practically felt a synaptic pathway in his brain click into place.  A sheepish look crossed his face as he inclined his head in her direction apologetically.

“I…may get a bit caught up in objectives sometimes, to the point I neglect to notice…enjoyable circumstances.”

Skid gave him a look.  She seemed to have a surprising multitude of those, to varying degrees of intensity.

“’Enjoyable circumstances’?  Really?”

Kanor was saved by the return of Madge, who had somehow managed to bring out more food than it seemed possible she could carry all at once.  First, an impressively large pile of steaming meat was dropped in the middle of their table, on a dish Kanor couldn’t even make out due to everything piled on top of it.  Next was a bowl full of some brownish liquid, a pair of empty plates, and then two huge tankards were clunked down, liquid sloshing over the rims at the impact.

“Mutton.  Ale.  Figgerd ya two would nae want that tart till later.”

Skid scowled over at Kanor.

“Might not even be makin it that far.”

Madge scowled along with the redhead, her gaze shifting to bore into Kanor’s as she pointed a greasy finger at him.

“You be mindin your mouth around meh Skid, Tree-man, or I dun care how big ye are, I’ll throw ye out into the street fastern you can say ‘but Madge’, ye hearin me?”

Kanor did his best to look sufficiently admonished.

“As you so excellently pointed out earlier, I unfortunately sometimes let my mind fall into my pants.  In this case, my ass.  I’d very much like to taste this tart of yours, and leave with Skid, versus…by bar wench.”

Skid snorted, but Kanor caught a trace of a smile tugging at her mouth before she hid it.  Madge frowned; harrumphed, but lowered her hand regardless.

“Smooth talker, ain’t he?  Well, ye best be watchin yerself, Tree-man.  Skid’s family here.  Good lookin and smooth talkin or no, family before charm!”

“Thank you, Madge.  Ye heard the man, though; his head was up his ass.  I suppose I’ll forgive him, even if he’s aimin to taste your tart.”

Madge grinned playfully, but turned to go.  She pointed her index and middle finger at Kanor as she was departing, however, yelling over the music.

“Watch it, Tree-man!”

“I seem to collect nicknames around you left and right.”

“Hmph.  Not my fault you earn em all, Hairy Knuckles.”

She reached out to grab one of the hunks of meat on the platter, her other hand grabbing one of the tankards and passing it over to him.

“Dig in!”

Kanor accepted the tankard, lifting it up to his lips for a taste.  It was…not what he was expecting from something called ale, it almost seemed to be more like flavored water.  He eyed the bowl of dark liquid as he reached out to grab a haunch of meat as well.

“And that is…?”

“Gravy; ya dump it over the meat, and then, once you’re all done, you use that bread there to wipe up the remnants.  It adds flavor, and moisture.”

“The blood isn’t enough…?”

Skid shook her head, talking around a mouthful she had just taken.

“Humans, right?  Cooked, not bloody.”

They continued digging into the food, Skid’s appetite on par with Kanor’s own.  The need for the gravy was readily apparent after his first couple of bites without it; he would have likely choked on the practically charred meat otherwise.  Still, it was a decent meal, and probably as close to food he was accustomed to eating as it could be.  Madge brought out the strange “tart” that had been mentioned at some point, glancing at Kanor suspiciously until Skid must have indicated things were going better.  It was entirely too sweet for his taste, despite the name that indicated it would be otherwise.  Skid seemed to enjoy it, however. 

She sat back with a satisfied sigh, smiling as she looked over at where the performing duo was starting up a third set of music after their latest break.  She reached her hand out for her tankard of ale, which Madge hadn’t ever let get too low before reappearing briefly to replace with another.  They hadn’t said much while they ate, but as Kanor swiped the last of his bread through the gravy on his plate, he felt he should be the first to speak.  His eyes followed Skid’s gaze to the musicians.

“Their songs are rather elegant in their simplicity.”

Skid smiled, nodding.

“Aye, they are.  Just average folk tryin to make a livin.  Doing what they love, and creating beauty for others.”

Kanor’s eyes roamed around the tavern; taking in the clientele, the setting, the atmosphere.

“It seems to fit the entire establishment, really.  Madge wasn’t exaggerating, they’re like family; though I’m assuming people here do not actually share the same direct ancestry.  They just have that bond.”

Skid turned to look at him, her eyes peeking out over the rim of her tankard as she took a long pull of the ale.

“That’s why I like it here.  Honest, average folk.  Sharing a bond, a hearth.  No pretensions, just…carefree relaxin.  Maybe a good ol brawl every once in a while, but nothing serious.”  She paused, her eyes sweeping around the place again.  “Reminds me of home.”

Kanor’s head tilted to one side inquisitively, reaching out to pick up his own tankard.

“Where IS your home?  You said not Earth, but…you’re pretty damn close to human, right?”

Skid belched unapologetically, her eyes centering on her hands as she fiddled with her tankard.

“No where you’ve ever heard of, it’s not on any navigational charts.  My people…we left Earth.  A long, long time ago.”

Kanor frowned, puzzled.

“I wasn’t aware there was any sort of exodus like you speak of in Earth’s history…”

Skid smiled, though it seemed bittersweet.

“Nothing so dramatic as that.  More like we…faded into obscurity.  We were no longer needed there.”

“Yes, but…”

Skid twisted at the waist, reached up to loop a hand behind Kanor’s head, and pulled him down to crush her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss.  Kanor was taken aback at first, but the feel of Skid’s warm, hungry mouth on his was more than pleasant enough to drive any sort of protest far, far away.  Instinctively, he turned his upper body towards her, his right arm reaching up to run his fingers along the left side of her face.  They breathed through their noses, their lips eagerly enjoying the sensation.  Skid’s eyes fluttered open as she drew back, their gazes meeting.

“I didn’t come here to talk about my past, either…I don’t share it lightly…not even that much…”

They were both breathing heavily; a mixture of excitement, and the aftereffects of such a lengthy kiss.  While their mouths had pulled back, their faces were still quite close.

“What DID you come here for, then?”

“You.  Ye get me so worked up, I often don’t even know whether to hit you or grope you.”

“Like the last time you ‘groped’ me and sent me to Sickbay?”

Skid grinned wickedly.

“I’m not used to a man so aggressively trying to bed me so soon after meeting me; besides, Munson is a friend.”

“A ‘friend’, hmm?”

“JUST a friend.”

Kanor let his eyes blatantly sweep down over Skid’s body, grinning as he finally raised them to look back at her.

“You’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever met; I’m not used to a woman making my blood boil as soon as I meet her, either.”

She smirked.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed.

“Haven’t met one before I had cause to say it to.”

He leaned in to take a kiss from her lips this time, his hand sliding down her neck to caress her left shoulder for a few moments; luxuriating in the feel of her skin, the heat that seemed to radiate off of her.  As he ended the kiss and drew back, he let his hand drop even further to cup her left breast, fondling her through the material as he looked into her brilliantly green eyes.  They flared with excitement, her grin widening. She made no attempt to remove it, though he knew her to be quite capable of doing so.

“This booth is excessively cramped…” he murmured.

Not saying a word, she scooted out of the booth, reaching out with her right hand to grab his left arm and pull, not that she needed to.  Skid led the way over to a stairway leading up across the common room, situated just to the left of the bar.  Madge, in the middle of pouring some drinks from a large wooden barrel as she talked to some middle-aged man behind the bar with her, smirked as she saw them head up, though neither of them noticed.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Skid stopped at a small table where a lamp burned brightly.  She grabbed an unlit candle from a small pile, lit it in the flame of the lamp, then started heading down the hallway to the far end, glancing over her shoulder at Kanor as she walked, grinning even further as she saw him blatantly checking out her ass.  A handful of the rooms they passed had closed doors, and Kanor’s sharp ears could even hear sounds of occupants inside them, but they grew scarce the further they proceeded down the hall.  Skid turned into the last room on the right.

Following her through the open door, Kanor saw her lighting a lamp on the nightstand, then placing the candle down in an empty candle holder.  The room was simply furnished; a rather small-looking bed, a nightstand, and a dresser directly across from the door where the empty candle holder sat beside a pitcher and washbasin.  The room’s dimensions were barely greater than Kanor’s height.

“Ye goin to close that door, or are you one of those people into THAT particular kink?”

Kanor grinned, reaching out to close the door behind him as Skid smirked at him from in front of the dresser.

“I’m not; but I think the door being closed is going to be a fairly moot point here in a minute.”

“All talk and oh so little…mmph!”

Kanor had crossed the room and slammed Skid’s body up against the wall before she had a chance to react, his mouth silencing her as his hands began frantically tearing at her clothes.  The dresser beside them rattled, the candle wobbling dangerously, though neither of them paid it any mind.  Skid’s hands anxiously ran over Kanor’s body, unfastening his jumpsuit, exploring the feel of him finally.  Frustrated by the design of the outfit and annoyed by the one piece set-up, she simply started tearing the material; her nails digging into the fabric and simply ripping it off of him.  When Kanor pulled her tunic off, and yanked off the undergarment beneath securing her breasts, she groaned as she felt his mouth close around an already taut and aching nipple.  She could feel his roughness with her already creating bruises on her pale, sensitive flesh, but she didn’t care.  It excited her, fueled her own desire.

Slamming Skid against the wall made pain flare up in Kanor’s body from his barely healed wounds, but he didn’t care.  He needed her.  He would have her, finally; enjoy the exciting strangeness of her pale, pale skin with those enticing freckles sprinkled liberally…all over, he was discovering.  Her nails were scraping his flesh as she simply shredded his jumpsuit to get to him, but he found it exhilarating more than anything else.  She was unlike anyone he had ever met before, and certainly anyone he had ever been with.  As he finally removed the barriers keeping him from those incredible breasts, as his eyes got to feast on the breathtaking, glorious sight, he couldn’t resist dropping his mouth down to enjoy them immediately, his hands already working on that annoying belt.

Skid pushed him away, panting already with need, as she removed the last of his clothing hurriedly.  Her hands greedily roaming over his body, his muscles, his frame as she kissed him lustfully.  She would have this man; enjoy and savor absolutely every single second with him without remorse.  She scrambled to help him in removing the last of her own garments; each of their mouths seeking out the other’s skin, their hands desperate to fondle and grope everywhere they could, all at once.  They fell together onto the bed, the fall not even coming close to interrupting their mad flurry.  When Kanor rolled her onto her back, pinned her arms above her head with finality, she growled throatily as she wrapped her legs around his hips, all but begging him to take what they needed him to.  As his mouth clamped down on her neck, his body finally ramming into her, she threw her head back and cried out her approval.

                                                                           *****

Hours later, the room was a mess, and they had finally utterly exhausted themselves with each other’s bodies.  Kanor hissed as he shifted on his back, the bloody trails Skid’s short, blunt nails had trailed down the length during one of her orgasms making their presence felt.  They had snapped off one of the bedposts, knocked over the lamp on the nightstand and broken it, busted the top of the nightstand itself.  One of Kanor’s elbows had punched a hole through the wall when Skid had thrown him up against it, and the bedsheets were so damp with various fluids they were completely sodden.  His body was a writhing mass of aches and pains, his back was on fire, and his torso throbbed in agony.  Skid, too, seemed like she was hurting in various places; he was surprised to see just how easily she bruised.  Were all human women like that?

He felt so spectacularly drained and satisfied, however.  His chest heaved for breath, even though it hurt with each inhalation.  He felt so tired he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to support himself enough to stand up.  He let his head loll to one side towards Skid, whose face broke out into a wild grin as their gazes met, even though he could tell she was just as exhausted.  She reached up to weakly brush a loose lock of that amazing hair that had become plastered to her forehead and was falling down in front of her eyes.  Weak eyes, but happy.  Ecstatic, even.  Even though both of their bodies were dripping sweat, amongst other things, she crawled closer and sidled up to his side.  He groaned quietly, but shifted his left arm around her body, cradling against his chest.  They lay there like that for a few minutes, before Kanor finally broke the silence.

“What changed?”

“What?”

“Between us.”

“What do ye mean?”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his breath still ragged, though it was evening out.  He trailed his fingertips along the delightful curves of her body.

“You’ve always been flirty, but…distant.  Mostly kept it professional.  Then, I come back from that mission, and you’re visiting me every day in Sickbay.  Asking me out to dinner.  Sharing…private things.  Taking me to bed.”

His fingers stroking along her side rose and fell a few times before she finally answered, her fingers gliding through his dark, thick chest hair.

“A lot of things, I guess.”

When she didn’t elaborate any further for a few moments, Kanor prompted her.

“Such as…?”

“Munson and I know you have some sort of method of travelling; untraceable, unfamiliar to us.”

Kanor tensed up at that, wondering what it could mean.  He was in a bad situation; if this had been some sort of trap…

“Your biosigns are one of the most unique aboard the entire ship; to say nothing of the fact your Klingon ancestry sticks out like a sore thumb.  We’ve both watched you disappear from your quarters only to reappear at your ship, or vice versa.  We can’t explain it, but we’ve both caught it.  Can’t deny it.”

He wondered if Munson had somehow entered the holodeck during their coupling.  They had been so loud, Skid so…distracting, he wouldn’t have noticed.  This was bad.

“Yet ye didn’t leave down there on that planet.  Everyone was overwhelmed, or at least thought they were.  Munson even told me later he was convinced he was about to die.  He thought it was the Borg, he…he was about to start killing the others.  So they wouldn’t be assimilated, so…so they wouldn’t be turned into monsters.”

Kanor’s eyes widened at that.  If he had been convinced the Borg were about to start assimilating them, he…probably would have done the same thing.  Assimilation was a viciously cruel tactic, and not just because of the physical pain.

“Ye went to Marcie’s side, sought to protect her.  Ya went down in the process.”

A pang of guilt hit Kanor at the thought of Marcie.  What would she think about his sleeping with Skid?  Yet…she had specifically stated they were just friends.  Had even stated she was glad he wasn’t trying to get in her pants, as it were. 

“I…still don’t see how that changed…”

Skid tilted her head up to look directly at him, her face solemn.

“I’m not a one-night stand kinda gal.  After what happened down there…ye weren’t just some…brutish bounty hunter thug trying to get some pussy from me.  For all your…quirks, ye weren’t about to just toss my friends to the dogs to save yer own ass.”  She worried her lower lip for a moment before shrugging her freckled shoulders.  “I thought, for the first time, we could maybe be more than just a quick fuck to each other.”

Kanor‘s eyebrows raised at that last one.  He was attracted to Skid, there was no denying that, and not just physically.  A sharp wit, keen mind, a physical prowess to rival his own, an inner strength and confidence.  A heart of passion.  But he had always gotten the impression that attraction wasn’t mutual.

“I…I’ll be honest with you.  I have not done very well with romantic relationships in the past…”

Skid snorted.

“I didn’t say I wanted to proclaim our undying love and devotion to each other on some mountain somewhere or somethin, Youngblood.  Just…ya know…enjoy each other’s company.  Love each other as friends, as people, not…lifemates or anything.”

“Companionship.”

Skid smiled, her hand flattening against his chest.

“Yeah, companionship.  Nothing…serious, but…still meaningful.  Still…sweet.”

Kanor grinned mischievously.

“I’d have to say that was pretty damn sweet…”

Skid laughed, slapping his side playfully before planting her hand against his torso to push herself up.  The action made Kanor’s body tense, however; made him growl as his lips curled up in pain.  Skid’s joviality turned to concern as she looked at him.

“Are you okay…? What’s…?”

“I…I think I may have rebroken my ribs…”