Promise Jen she'll get to use her big guns soon

Jen left the bridge for the weapon's nest atop the Velvet Hammer seeming more than a little pissed off. That's the nature of a good weapon's officer: she always wants to use her weapons. Being told you're going to tuck tail and run doesn't leave much room for the fireworks nor much room for satisfaction. You decide you'd better smooth things over with her before you dock with Omicron-69 and as you climb the ladder up to the weapon's nest you have a fleeting thought about some satisfaction.

Jen is pissed, that's for sure. The thud of her fists reverberates through the weapon's nest. Surrounded by blinking consoles and targeting screens and the hammock-like chairs of the firing saddles you make your way towards the sound. Jen has hung a heavy punching bag from a ceiling mount and she's pounding her cloth-wrapped fists into the side. Silhouetted by the glowing lights you can see a mist of sweat exploding from her bulging muscles with each collision of flesh on canvas.

You watch her for a moment, admiring the incredible power of her body, the way her shorts cleave into the crack of her shapely ass, and yes, the way her breasts move and bounce with each cannon-shot of her rippling arm muscles. Her hair is short and manly, brown in color, but with her face framed by two long locks dyed purple.

"Jen," you say and she punches the bag one last time. "I wanted to say I was sorry."

"For what?" she asks and punches again.

"For not letting you use your toys," you say. "It's my fault. I rigged this ship for speed. If I'd rigged it for firepower you could have blasted him into the void."

"The ship is the ship," she says and slams another fist into the bag. She turns and begins untaping her hands, not making eye contact.

"Well, I just wanted to say I was sorry," you say and nod to her. "You do good work."

"That's it?" She starts walking towards you, a bit aggressively.

"What do you mean?" you ask, taking a step back.

"You didn't come up here for something more?" Jen grabs you by the wrist. She steps closer. You can smell the musk of her sweat.

"What are you doing?" you demand as she steps so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body. You can see sweat trickling from her cheek and dripping down into her cleavage.

"I'm doing exactly what you wanted," she says and smashes her lips against yours. The kiss only lasts a second. She gazes down into your eyes. You can taste the sweat from her upper lip. "I'm going to fuck the hell out of you."