The Atlantis Chronicles- The Kordam Party
Page 7
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Hey, Glitter. I know you're just trying to take care of your old man.”
“Sir, I just lost the father that raised me,” Glitter frowned. “I'm going to take goddamn good care of the father that made me.”
“I wish I had a son or daughter like you,” Bowen grumbled as he considered Glitter carefully.
“Well, it is not too late for you to make a few babies,” Glitter chuckled dryly.
“Got to find a girl, first,” Bowen smirked.
“Finding a girl is not your problem, sir,” Glitter grinned, “holding onto said girl is the problem. You ride them and then dump them.”
“You wouldn't understand why, Lieutenant,” Bowen got a pained expression on his face.
Glitter slammed her palms on his desk and leaned in. She teasingly zipped her flight coveralls down very slowly to the nipple level. She afforded Bowen a good view of her cleavage. “Captain,” she focused her eyes directly into his, “your girlfriend was killed in action. I get that. I know you have a problem with committed relationships. Sooner or later, you'll have to get over yourself and take the risk of having a long term relationship.”
“We'll see,” Bowen huffed. Glitter was an attractive woman and he was not immune to her charms.
“If you'll excuse me, sir. I've got to go get ready for a flight.”
“Zip your coverall while you're at it. You are too distracting.”
“You liked looking at my girls,” Glitter teased as she zipped up.
Glitter left the room. When she was gone, Bowen touched the key on his desk terminal's holographic keyboard.
“Commander Landry, report to my ready room,” Bowen barked.
After a few moments, Landry entered. He marched stiffly up to the desk and stood ramrod straight.
“Reporting as ordered, Sir.”
“I don't know what you have Lieutenant Trent assigned to do, because I haven't gotten to the flight roster yet,” Bowen grumbled, “but whatever it is, take her off it. She's going on Red Kite Forty as a supernumerary.”
“May I ask why?”
“She's concerned about her dad's emotional state,” Bowen explained, “and she's going along to pilot the ship...to take a bit of the load off.”
“Understood. I'll correct the flight roster to reflect that change. Anything else, Captain?”
“No,” Bowen said, “carry on.”
“Very good, Sir.”
Executing a crisp about-face, Landry exited the room. Bowen shook his head.
“That man has got to bang his wife more often,” Bowen said to himself.
Glitter approached the docking tube of the Number Seven Entry Bay. She found Whipple standing at the inner end of the docking tube, holding a tablet computer and checking off the names of crew as they went aboard. He looked at her quizzically as she approached.
“Can I help you, Ma'am?” Whipple grunted.
“I'm coming along on this voyage as a supernumerary. The captain's already approved it.”
“Hold on,” Whipple said, “let me check my crew roster....ah, there you are...supernumerary, pilot. Go on aboard, ma'am. I'm afraid you may have to share a bunk with someone.”
“Don't worry about that, Chief. If I have to, I'll sack out on the couch in my dad's quarters.” With that, Glitter marched down the docking tube.
Whipple shook his head. “Ancestors help the skipper then,” Whipple sighed, “having his daughter bunking with him.”
On the shuttle deck, Dr. Parker and his daughter approached Ranger Three where Major Sheek Nim stood, at the base of the boarding ramp talking to First Lieutenant Sara ‘Too Much’ Shimoda and her husband, Captain Koji ‘Odd Job’ Shimoda. As they approached, Parker and his daughter caught just the tail end of the conversation.
“...you've got five minutes,” Nim said, “get it done.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Odd Job and Too Much spoke in unison.
Nim turned to Parker and Tina.
“So you two are our VIP passengers,” Nim noted the two standing nearby. “Major Sheek Nim, Fleet Marine.” She extended a hand.
“Doctor Oliver Parker,” Parker shook Nim's hand, “and this is my daughter, Doctor Tina Parker.”
“A pleasure, Major,” Tina said, shaking Nim's hand.
“So what's this pleasure cruise all about?” Nim asked. “All I got was that we're taking you to Alya Station.”
“We are going to the Galactic Science Institute to pick up some old record files on the Kordam Formation,” Parker considered her question. “I doubt this requires a company of marines.”
“Doctor Parker,” Nim replied candidly. “Captain Bowen assigned Ranger Three to this mission. You, me and my marines. And there isn't a full company, just the pilot and copilot, me, a three marine security detail and a marine cook.”
“What quality of food?” Parker sounded sick.
“Good enough for the marines,” Nim said proudly.
“It'll be fine, Dad,” Tina chuckled softly. “He's a little funny about military food.”
“Well, suck it up and deal with it, Doc,” Nim frowned, “either eat it or get your food from the synthesizer.”
“I've eaten worse than marine food,” Parker growled.
“Hey, be glad we don't have an Incirrata cook aboard,” the female officer joked at the man. “I hear they don't even bother cooking their food.” She patted Parker on the shoulder.
“I think I'm going to be sick,” Parker‘s turned faintly green.
“Fortunately, one of my security marines is a medic,” Nim spoke matter-of-factly. “Now if you eggheads will get aboard, we'll get this beer can into the air. The sooner we get this pleasure cruise underway, the sooner we get this mission done.”
Parker glared at Tina, who shoved him up the boarding ramp. Nim shook her head and then filled her lungs.
“Clear the moorings!” She shouted. “This bird’s taking off!”
Nim turned on her heel and marched up the ramp. As the boarding ramp rose behind her, a gaggle of ground crew rushed over to release the tie-downs and disconnect the fuel and power umbilicals. Moments later, tractor beams latched onto it, moving Ranger Three to a lift pad. The pad raised the craft to the recovery deck. In the cockpit, Too Much and Odd Job worked their controls as they prepared to lift off. Ranger Three rose up off the deck and turned her nose toward space. With a blast of blue-white energy from her engines, she flew off into space. When she was a safe distance from the Atlantis, she vanished into hyperspace, leaving a ripple of energy rings that vanished in seconds.
Aboard Red Kite Forty, Glitter stepped onto the bridge and was met with odd glances from Dan and Charlie.
“What are you doing here?” Dan grimaced at his daughter.
“The captain assigned me to this ship as a supernumerary pilot. Dad, you get to relax, while I fly us to Vandar Station.”
“This is about Catherine. Isn‘t it?” Dan growled.
“Yup,” Glitter quipped. “I convinced the captain to let me come along as moral support.”
“You're scared I'll screw things up because I'm grieving,” Dan’s voice lowered another octave in anger.
“That's right and arguing about it isn't going to change things. So get up and let me fly this beer can.”
“Sure,” Dan allowed his rage to dissipate. He could not stay mad at any of his daughters. Even if he had only recently discovered that Glitter was his. With that, Dan got up and took a seat at the multi-function station opposite Whipple's customary station. Presently, Whipple entered the bridge and took his seat.
“Everyone's aboard and ready to fly,” Whipple reported.
“Where's our passenger?” Dan shook his head ruefully.
“Settling into his stateroom,” Whipple hooted quietly. Time for round two with the whiny scientist.
“Where is Lieutenant Trent bunking?” Dan scowled. He was not going to enjoy this journey anyway.
“I put my stuff in your quarters.”
“Working on it, sir,” Whipple said. “Doctor Tina's stateroom is free.”
“Have her stuff moved there,” Dan snapped.
“Can't I bunk with you?”
“You'd have to sleep on my couch, and I won't have that, when I can get you a proper stateroom.”
“Okay,” Glitter gave in to her father‘s order. He was after all in charge. She put on a headset comlink and keyed her radio, “all hands, prepare for liftoff.”
The docking tube retracted from Red Kite Forty as tractor beams pulled her away from it. The beams positioned her at the end of a runway. With a blast of blue-white energy from her engines, Red Kite Forty took off into the void. When she reached a safe distance from Atlantis, she jumped into hyperspace.
Chapter Four
Bowen stepped onto the bridge of the Atlantis and looked around. Satisfied that all was well, he crossed to the science station. As he did so, Landry called to him.
“Captain, our two science missions are away.”
“Understood,” Bowen nodded. “Our chief scientific investigators will return in a day or two with or without the information we need.” Lieutenant Frelsey Grame pricked up his ears as Bowen finished moving over to the science station. “Mister Grame, how are we doing with the scans of the Kordam Formation?”
“Slowly, sir,” Grame admitted cautiously. He did not want a taste of his captain’s pitched temper he was becoming known for.
“What do we know, so far?” Bowen grumbled softly.
“That the Kordam Formation is sodding big,” Grame complained barely able to contain disgust. “Scanning one planet takes time, but this thing is the equivalent of scanning fifteen planets ranging from a class-3 asteroid to a planet the size of Elnore Prime. And we still can't penetrate to the interior.”
“Why not?” Bowen growled with impatience.
“Difficult to say, we can tell that there is a vast magnetic field that's maintaining an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere around the entire formation.”
“The whole formation has one large cloud of atmosphere, eh?” Bowen mused.
“Yes, Sir,” Grame said, “as impossible as that sounds. It's possible that the magnetic field itself is interfering with our sensors, thus keeping us from scanning the interior.”
“What can you tell about the interior? Anything yet?” Bowen asked politely.
“So far, without being able to penetrate into the interior, we can estimate a vast interior space. Possibly large enough to house a massive shipyard complex.”
“One capable of producing the fleet that invaded Aldebaran?” Bowen frowned.
“Possibly.”
“Recommendations, Science Officer?”
“It might do well to begin recon flights over the formation, sir,” Grame paused with a thoughtful look. “Preferably using our stealth spacecraft.”
“Good thinking,” Bowen nodded.
Bowen crossed to the air boss. “Landry, start scheduling recon flights with the Black Eagles. I want detailed passes of each body.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Oh Captain,” spoke a perky, female voice from the intercom.
“Oh God, when did she get here?” Bowen groaned.
“Who, sir?” Landry asked, ready to give his captain a hard time.
“Carmen Ramirez, investigative journalist, excessively female, and a royal pain in the ass.”
Landry glimpsed at the recent arrivals on his station.
“She just arrived. I take it you are acquainted with her?”
“She was my girlfriend in high school,” Bowen sighed, “we...um...kind of had sex in the back seat of my Dad's car...several times.”
“Typical teenage pranks,” Landry chuckled dryly. “I recall snogging with my girlfriend when I was a schoolboy.”
Bowen touched Landry's intercom key, “Carmen, what a pleasure. What can I do for you?”
“I just came in on the morning shuttle, Darling,” Carmen spoke languidly, her voice dripping with honey. “Could I meet you in your ready room?”
“Sure,” Bowen sounded as if he were volunteering to be stood against a wall and shot.
“Thanks, Pookie. I'll see you in a few minutes...KISSES!” Carmen followed with kissing noises before breaking off the transmission.
“Will there be anything else, Pookie?” Landry joked.
“That will be all, Stud Muffin.”
“HEY,” Landry growled.
“I can't help it if I hear your wife calling you that in public,” Bowen smirked back at his Air Boss. “Anyway, I've got an annoying reporter to speak to.”
“Do try not to make her scream when you bang her, Captain.”
“No promises.”
Bowen made his way to his ready room. He sat down and moments later, Carmen Ramirez and her excessive personality entered the room. Her appearance made it quite clear why Bowen called her excessively female. That she was anatomically female was painfully obvious from her shapely, well endowed figure and her decidedly feminine face. Her bronzed skin and black hair made it obvious that she was Hispanic. Her outfit consisted of a skintight, strapless mini-dress that looked like it was painted on and spike heeled shoes. Her jet black hair was a thick mane that fell down her back in spiral curls and waves and was very much like ‘big hair‘. Her spike heeled shoes gave her a bit of a wiggle in her distinctive walk, and somehow emphasized her black fishnet stockings. Overall, she appeared like a supermodel, particularly in the way she strutted when she walked. She had a small clutch purse in her hand. She sauntered straight across the room and parked her shapely buttocks in Bowen's lap and threw her arms around him, assaulting him with kisses.
“Car...” Bowen mumbled around the kisses, “Carm...Carmen! Carmen, please!”
Bowen managed to push Carmen back to look her in the face. She gazed at him in bewilderment.
“What is it, Darling?” Carmen asked, innocently.
“We broke it off years ago,” Bowen grumbled halfheartedly, he enjoyed female company a lot. This woman was more than a handful and a lot of trouble.
“Yes,” Carmen cooed, “and it was the worst mistake I ever made. If I had just stayed with you, we'd be married and have a dozen kids by now.”
“I thought you never wanted to have kids,” Bowen growled, “especially after you had that abortion.”
“I thought we weren't going to talk about the abortion,” Carmen whined in mock hurt. “I said I'm sorry for killing our baby.”
“You didn't kill our baby. Your family doctor removed the embryo and placed her in stasis for donation to the embryo bank.”
“Really,” Carmen gushed, “what happened to her?”
“She was implanted in the womb of a nice woman and came into the galaxy. She'll be graduating from the Fleet Academy this year. She's been accepted into flight school.”
“So my daughter's grown up and going to follow in her daddy's footsteps. How cute!”
“She's not your daughter or mine,” Bowen frowned. “She became someone else's when she was implanted in another woman's womb.”
“What's her name?” Carmen asked. “I'd like to look her up.”
“I don't think so. She's happy enough without us.”
“You're such a killjoy, Mitchie,” Carmen went back to her tone of mock hurt.
“What are you doing here?” Bowen sighed.
“I'm assigned to this ship as the chief of the shipboard news network,” Carmen cried, sounding almost like she was having an orgasm.
“Terrific,” Bowen was ready to push her off his lap. “I'm telling you now, Carmen, there are areas of the ship that are classified. So keep out of them!”
“Why are you telling me this?” Carmen pouted fetchingly.
“Our last journalism chief went to prison,” Bowen spoke frankly, “because he couldn't keep out of restricted areas.”
“Well pooh,” Carmen grumped and would have st
amped her foot had she been standing.
“I thought you got married, Carmen.”
“I was,” Carmen replied, “but he treated me like poo, so I divorced him. I took him for all he's worth.”
“Well, I'm sure you've got things to do.”
“Oh yes, Mitchie. I've got to get unpacked and arrange things in my stateroom, and then I've got to go shopping for anything I might need to decorate my room. By the way, did you know you have a shopping complex aboard this glorified space station?”
“Quite well aware of it,” Bowen grumbled.
“Well, I should probably let you get back to work. By the way, you wanna get together this evening? We could spend the night making love!”
“I'll meet you for dinner,” Bowen spoke firmly. “Having sex is out of the question!”
“That's what you said in high school,” Carmen cooed, “and we ended up having sex in the back seat of your papa's car. Bye.”
Carmen gave Bowen a deep tongue kiss. She got up and slunk out of the room. Bowen, in spite of himself and his resolve, watched her shapely buttocks as she left the room.
In the Capellan star system, Red Kite Forty burst out of hyperspace with a circular blast of discharged energy. She flew toward Vandar Station, a motley collection of building modules clustered together into a vast conglomerate space station floating at a Lagrange point between fourth and fifth planets of Capella.
On the bridge, Glitter gazed at the station as she piloted the ship toward it. After a moment, Dr. Bowen entered. He walked up behind Glitter and looked out the forward view ports.
“Is it what you expected, Doctor?” Glitter asked.
“Exactly as I remember it.”
“I take it you've been here before?”
“Despite its reputation, Lieutenant,” Ed lectured, “Vandar Station is a lot better a place than people say it is.”
Choosing not to comment, Glitter keyed her radio. “Vandar Control,” she spoke into her headset pickup, “this is Red Kite Four-Zero on approach. Request docking space and vectors to same.”
“Affirmative, Red Kite Four-Zero,” said the synthesized voice of the station's automated traffic control system, “your docking assignment is Sector Thirty-One, Docking Bay Ninty-Four. Approach vectors are being uploaded to your navigation system.”