by James Warner
“Of course, Captain. You have a little bruising but there is no serious damage. You’ll be good as new in a few days. And you are not pregnant.”
Thank the gods for that! I was due for a refresher of my annual contraceptive injection. She said there was no vaginal bruising but I sure was sore, in both ways.
“Can you tell what was used on me?” I asked, curious about how I had been fooled.
“Other than a horse between your legs? Well it’s a very new and sophisticated drug. It only takes a drop or two in an alcoholic beverage and it’s tasteless. Oh that fellow, or his accomplices, knew what they were doing all right,” she said.
“That guy is toast. I thought. “I hope he hadn’t survived the fall.” If he had, I was sure he wouldn’t escape the NCIS crew for long.
I returned to my apartment and made some bacon and eggs from the food synthesizer. “I’m going to be more careful with strange men in strange bars and never get so drunk that someone could pass me such an embarrassingly juvenile thing as a date rape drug. How humiliating!” I resolved.
After a shower I relaxed in my easy chair. I felt much better and was glad the body out front had been removed while I was away. I straightened the bed up and noticed that security had removed his and my clothing, apparently already bagging it from last night’s assault. I was ready to get on with my life.
“Sassy, what’s the weather like on the Changas Range?” I asked my ship.
“Sunny, twenty degrees C and the powder is thick,” she answered immediately. She knew I liked skiing second only to space archeology – and polite, sexy men.
All right, so I behaved stupidly. I’m anything but a prude, but I prefer to choose my men, not wake up with a stranger. I decided to go skiing and blow the cobwebs from my head – right after reporting in to Commandant Harry. I dressed in my day uniform and called to make an appointment. I needed to talk to someone, someone who would listen calmly and let me talk out how I felt.
I called HQ where it was business as usual. Scoutships came and went and it was a rare day when the Commandant didn’t have an interview with some Captain or other. I made my appointment for the late morning time slot and began to gather my skiing gear and clothing. I packed it all in a duffle, decided to rent skis at the resort and went in my convertible to see the Boss. “How are you feeling, Captain?” Harry said after greeting me and sitting back in his large old leather chair (which smelled fantastic) behind his immense, antique wooden desk. He had a solid silver model of one of the first Scoutship designs on a mahogany base prominently taking up one corner of the expansive desktop. It shared the desk with an extremely old antique brass and green glass shade reading lamp that was probably worth a small fortune and various stacks of papers – yes actual papers made from wood pulp – spread across half the desk in front of him.
“Frankly I’m feeling a little down right now. First there was the funeral, and then I was raped last night and finally probably killed the son of a bitch that did it this morning. I think Bob’s death hit me harder than I expected.”
Squarely in front of him was a folder, about an inch thick, of mission reports from my previous exploits, also written on paper of all things! It was his admiration of things antique that I most liked about him. And this passion of his for paper files kept a nice secretary working who otherwise might have to find some other less savory employment on this frontier world. He tapped the papers, looking at me with hooded eyes. I changed my tack.
“I guess I’m fine sir, really. Thank you for making all the arrangements for, for Bob.”
“No trouble, no trouble at all. I hear the skiing is superb on the slopes this week. I presume we can find you there if anything comes up?”
“Yes sir.” I felt a tear forming in my green eye that I quickly brushed away.
“Is there anything you want to say off the record, Caryn?” he asked, giving me the opening I needed. We spent the next hour discussing dead crewmates, women being drugged and how I handled myself.
“The reports from NCIS are a little sketchy. It seems the guy you walloped has a criminal record. Too bad he recovered. Anyway, how do you feel? Will you be ready to resume your duties?”
“I think so sir.”
“This is off the record. Just call me Harry, Caryn.”
“Will there be a mark against me, Harry?”
“Hardly! If it were up to me I’d give you a bonus for the way you handled the guy. But no, nothing will be in your record.” He seemed to actually be proud of me for what I did and how I did it this morning.
“Thanks, Harry. I appreciate being able to talk to you.”
“My pleasure, Caryn. You can always come to me if things are getting you down. I know what a tough job you have. Now go skiing. Wish I could join you.”
I felt much, much better being able to air it all out to him and I gradually came up the emotional scale and smiled at him at the end of our talk.
“All right then. You have been cleared in the matter of the death of your previous First Mate. Your ship’s testimony at the board hearing yesterday evening was key. Also you have been cleared in the matter of this morning’s little kafuffle. Unfortunately the man escaped on the way between the hospital and the brig, so be on the lookout. Your funds are deposited and you have a few weeks of paid vacation while the Silver Hornet is modified for your next First Mate.”
“Modified, sir? In what way?” I asked, suspicious of any changes to Sassy that weren’t my idea. Very rarely were any modifications done to Sassy that I hadn’t initiated myself. You might say I was possessive of my best friend.
“Top secret. Can’t discuss it now. Come back in three weeks, Captain.”
I knew when I was being dismissed. But as Harry looked down at his desk, I could see a very slight smile on what was usually his falsely stern visage. Top secret indeed! I saluted and left for my required vacation. “Three weeks of skiing? What a treat!” I thought.
As the Commandant and Sassy had indicated, the weather and snow at the Changes resort on the Changes Range were perfect. I drove up to the parking lot which had been cleared of snow. There was a three-day surface layer of light powder over a thick firm base on the runs and the current temperature was just right for hard exercise. I spent my first week easing my body into a routine, sweating all the alcohol and ship rations out of my blood. By the third week I was skiing almost nonstop, punishing my body to force it back into top condition. I knew a flabby drunk wouldn’t survive one month in my line of work. I was too tired every night to hit the bar or socialize with the playboys and snow bunnies. Slowly my mood began to lift and after a few weeks of hard exercise I was more like my usual playful, cheerful self.
I did happen to see the man who had “seduced” me, but when he saw me he beat a hasty retreat to the men’s room before I had a chance to catch him and I never saw him again. But just in case, I notified security where he went.
When my leave was up I was in shape, alert and ready to rocket into space. But I was intensely curious about how Sassy had been “modified” and why it was so “secret”. Besides, I wanted to see what the lottery, otherwise known as Scientific Programmed Adaptability, had picked for me as a new First Mate. Judging by the last offering, they had programmed the computer with fortune cookies. Of course my previous First Mate and I had gotten on all right, but how does a twenty-nine year old ravishing beauty get sexually interested in a forty year old father figure? “Fat chance.” I thought.
I was hoping for a romantic affair for the next year with a young stud captive in my ship. It had happened once before, when I think the computerized personnel selection system had made a mistake, assigning a recent, deliciously handsome graduate of the Academy to me. I don’t know how much ancient alien archeology he learned, but he had one hell of a biology lesson and didn’t get himself killed.
But this time things would be different than my last mission. In a moment of lucidity on the way back to base I had bribed a programmer on Earth to ensure the age q
ualification would be more in my line.
I stepped back into the Commandant’s office, feeling refreshed and alive.
“Hi Harry. What ya got lined up for me this trip?” Harry had been a former Scoutship captain himself before he “retired” from active exploration. We had a very congenial relationship on and off duty. He openly smiled at my healthy glow and improved attitude.
“You’ve got a new navigation and weapons control system. The finishing tune up was completed and your new First Mate moved in to familiarize himself with the layout.” Harry’s eyes sparkled and he wore that same mischievous smile as he handed me my launch orders.
We eyed each other for a moment. I tried to discern any clue as to the identity of my future shipmate, but I was watching a stone face, wearing a perpetual smile. I would never play poker with Harry.
It would have been a breach of etiquette for me to ask more, so I bid my leave and went off to the port.
It was warm out and I was enjoying the sunshine on my body in a light cream flowered dress with spaghetti straps. I wore sunglasses with my convertible’s top down. I suppose I looked more like a snow bunny than a Scoutship Captain. I would miss skiing and weather. You can’t really program the “climate control” of a space ship for moonlight or rainstorms. The infrequent stops on habitable planets during the next eleven months would be small compensation for the claustrophobic walls of our tiny starship.
I was musing about the chances of finding an M-1 planet when I came up to the gate on the edge of the shimmering spaceport.
“Your pass, miss?” the young guard asked in a slightly too polite voice. He was tall, dark and handsome like nearly all Admiralty sailors and about 19 years old. His freshly laundered and pressed uniform could not hide his muscles and his young masculine face was inspiring with the slightest hint of virile whiskers. Oh well. He’d be taken for sure before I returned.
“Here you are” I replied, handing him my ID with my best smile. I knew what a dull tour guard duty could be in a place like this. This guy deserved the best. (No modesty in my soul!)
As he went inside the white plascrete shack to check my ID with the port computer I gazed across the heat-soaked concrete plain. There were few ships out there and I could easily spot mine. Through the shimmering air currents the slightly bloated needle of the Silver Hornet had what looked like the entire maintenance force of the port clustered around it. There were a few devices, the purpose of which I couldn’t guess at a distance, which were still active; but I could see that the major work had been done.
I searched the apron with practiced eye, looking for some other fellow traveler to invite aboard my ship for the pre-launch festivities. But the other ships were sterile spires waiting to sew the threads of humanity’s web of knowledge another day. Besides, they were mostly military craft – frigates and pleasure yachts for idle rich high-ranking officers on their thrice-annual leave, or lumbering freighters with robotically programmed flight sequences. I had no particular interest in those types.
My gaze went to the guard as he faced the security console, obviously taking longer than necessary. When at last he returned he had a faraway sad look in his brown eyes. I suppose he had hoped I was just arrived, not about to depart. I could hardly blame him. Besides, we Scout Captains had a reputation for being crazy loners. I don’t think that was justly deserved at all.
I smiled again unabashedly.
“Captain, we’ve been glad to service your ship. Please come to Hamarabus again.” Then more personally as he bent toward my car and a better view of my chest, “Uh, I’d be pleased to show you the sights…”
“Thank you,” I stole a quick glance at his ID badge “Mr. Carns. I would be delighted to have your assistance. Please leave your name and number with port reception.” He obviously hadn’t looked to see what my job was. I strongly doubted he would still be unattached when I came back a few years planet time from now.
I shook out my blonde hair and smiled again as I drove through the gate. I was allowed a large amount of personal gear on board. Rather than load down with cloths or electronic toys I always took my hovercar. You’d be surprised how convenient a hovercar is when you don’t feel like exploring on foot. Besides, the space I save by leaving the standard-issue all-terrain tank out I fill with weapons. Not the usual cargo of an exploration ship, but after having been attacked on my first jump by another less trusting co-habitant of the galaxy, I decided discretion was definitely the better part of valor, so to speak. And the Hornet’s weapons are very discreet. Just like me. Ha!
As I drove up to the ship the activity slowly came to a standstill. I’m based at this port and most of the maintenance crew I know by first names.
“Hi Paul, hi Tony. Hi Phyllis, Bob, Arton, Steve.
What’s up?”
“Hello Cap” said Steve. “Got a little surprise in store for you. Your new First Mate brought a really elaborate electronic setup with him and he wouldn’t
let us install or even touch it!”
It was kind of them not to mention the old First Mate whom they had had to remove from the species preservation tank and then clean up the mess.
“What’s he like?” I asked in a hushed tone to Phyllis. She put her finger to her lips and drew it across. They always played this game with me when I got a new Mate. I grimaced in feigned disgust and looked the ground crew over.
“Well if no one’s going to let the cat out of the bag I’ll have to open it myself.” With that I walked the plank over the firepit and into the ship. They loaded my convertible into Sassy’s cargo bay next to the landing shuttle with a huge crane.
Inside, the ship was bright with a yellow-white light. It was a duplicate of Earth’s sunshine and the ceiling and walls of the main corridor were shaded from dark purple to light blue to simulate an atmosphere. I had chosen the colors and visiting dignitaries often remarked how it made them feel at home. I was glad to see the paint had been retouched.
There were a few more people that I didn’t recognize inside in the main corridor tidying up bits of discarded paper, cello, plastic and drink cans from the brown softly resilient flooring. I went right to my quarters, sat down in the office chair and contemplated my reflection in the mirror above the polished aluminum dressing table.
After a few minutes I decided. “It’s no good putting it off.” I was always nervous when a new First Mate comes aboard. He always knows he’s going to be imprisoned by a young sexually ripe captain. Some men are bashful about the forced year together. But I rarely got complaints. “Why do I always feel nervous” I fluffed my hair in the currently popular style and proceeded to put on a new face with the cosmetics I kept safe in the top drawer.
The cosmetic enhancement program complete I walked to the small white closet and surveyed my thin wardrobe for something suitable. We had at least eight hours until launch and half of that free time. At last I decided on a soft light blue dress, showing lots of back and hiding the entire front. Perfect for a first encounter. I’d visually have the last word, no matter what, but wouldn’t scare him off on first sight – “At least as long as he didn’t sneak up behind me!” I thought with a smile.
Then I lightly dabbed on a scent that reminded me of Earth in springtime. You could never be sure of pleasing a man at the first meeting as they have more finicky noses than a cat. But I could at least please myself, which would help the environment, somewhat.
A last glance in the mirror and I stopped. It never ceased to amaze me the transfiguration which occurred somewhere between a flight suit and a party dress in that reflection. I sometimes think a little gnome changes the picture while my back is turned. It seems this six foot tall blonde lady with one blue and one green eye who I gaze at there never really exists in the physical universe.
I walked out purposefully, on the hunt. My game was near and I was prepared to do battle. The ultimate end could not really be in doubt. I had never lost a skirmish in the battle of the sexes when I forayed out fully armed. I had the c
ertainty of the experienced huntress, years of blood on my claws from unsuspecting (or maybe expectant?) prey.
“Good luck, Captain my Captain.” Sassy said as I left my cabin. She had become my best friend and though we didn’t often chitchat, she was a good conversationalist in my darker moments.
I wandered the central hall of my ship, looking for the new First Mate’s cabin; searching all the likely areas. I could see I would have to do a reorientation for this part of the ship, as the side corridors and doorways were different than a month ago.
I finally came upon an alien corridor that I knew was the den of my game. After several unmarked hatches I was about to give up and call him on the intercom when I spotted the small sign:
Mephistopheles
First Mate
“Not too original a name, but it had a nice ring to it,” I thought. I quietly knocked on the door. A deep, male-sounding voice boomed out “Come; come in
Captain. It’s unlocked.”
I took a deep breath and stepped in. I was facing the starboard wall, which was covered from deck to ceiling with a darkened Plexiglas sheet behind which were rows and rows of computer bank filling a third of the room, all activated and obviously doing something! Then I turned, my back to the slowly sighing door.