"Of course I wanted him dead," Gina Nolan said, standing in front of Captain Alex Bashir, half-naked. She put on her top.
"Don't, uh, zip it up all the way," he said, staring at her. "Tell me more about my predecessor. You were pregnant by him."
"He was a bore. He was into ... plants," she spat out the last word.
"That's not what I'm into."
"I know," she said, adjusting her top so that it hung off her shoulders and showed off maximal cleavage.
There was a Communications chime. "It's for you," said Captain Bashir, "something about your brat. You need to keep her in line better. I don't have infinite patience for children."
"Oh, huh, I'll take care of it," she said, "yanno, the Breen. I'm not a fan of them, but they did me a favor."
"Me, too," he said, "for they," he got up and grabbed her ass, then kissed her roughly, "got him out of the way. Now hurry back. I got new lingerie for you and I wanna see it on before it hits the floor."
She sauntered away, hips shimmying, and all he could think of was that she had no brains for ship work of any sort. She had been a historian when they had met, at a victory celebration for crushing the Breen and committing genocide on that pitiful, almost faceless species. Who the hell needs brains for ship work with an ass like that?
=/\=
It was a Klingon, holding her squirming daughter up by the back of the child's outfit, which was a rough approximation of her mother's clothes. Four-year-olds are not sexy -- at least, not to anyone with any modicum of normalcy -- but the ISS Molotov required that everyone, even the kids, be in some sort of uniform. But it seemed the height of a pedophile's fantasies to give a kindergartener a midriff-baring uni.
"It was found in the aft Jeffries tube," he said, then put Gabby down, "I believe some wires were rerouted. I don't have time for this."
"I see," Gina said, "you know you're not supposed to do that," she said to Gabrielle directly.
"Y-yes. We were playing and it was a scavenger hunt. I was supposed to get a red wire."
"If you had taken out a red wire, you'd've blown up this deck," said the Klingon. He then looked Gina up and down and addressed her, "See to it that the brat stays with the other human spawn. I have other things to do than deal with such things."
"Go and play with the others, but no more scavenger hunts," Gina said to Gabby. She swatted the child on the rump, but not too hard, and the little girl scampered away.
"You are too soft on her," said the Klingon.
"I don't recall eliciting your opinion on my child-rearing skills."
"You're not around enough to discipline her. You just spend time on your back," he said.
She looked him over. Slight for a Klingon, but muscled and angry. Could be interesting. "Oh, not just on my back. Sometimes I'm on all fours," she said, "and sometimes," she stuck her index finger in her mouth and sucked on it a little, "I'm on my knees."
"I'm sure," the Klingon said. He seemed to be fighting for composure, and swallowed hard.
"Do you have a name?"
"Kittris."
"Well, Kit," she said, leaning forward so as to really amp up the cleavage, "if Gabby gets into things again, ping my personal Communicator. Use channel 919."
"Bypass Captain Bashir?" he asked. That didn't seem right. He could be disciplined rather severely for that.
"It's just, you'll get me lot ... faster," she smiled at him seductively, and turned to walk away. "Remember -- 919. And I'll come," she paused for a second, "running."
"919." He stared at her as she slithered away. You can get away with having a brat on board the Molotov if you've got an ass like that.
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Smash Your Dominion {Star Trek Mirror Universe (MU) Fan Fiction}
FanfictionGina Nolan's story, in the Star Trek Mirror Universe, an alternate to Hold Your Dominion. Rated for language and situations. A Deep Space Nine fanfiction.