Twin Paradox_Book Two

by Purple Hazel

  Not surprisingly they cautiously gathered behind him as he gushed ecstatically over the details. Keenly aware of his prior tendencies for crazy mood swings, when he turned to face them, they almost shrieked back in fear that he would suddenly turn on them and launch into another tantrum. Only this time, and to their great relief, he stunned his audience with a bright smile on his face as he warmly reached out to shake their hands and thanked them sincerely...for all their hard work.

  “I am so very pleased...and so very proud of all of you. Grazie mille!” Then he shocked them even further. “You know what? I should go congratulate them in person...right now, shouldn’t I?” he said, referring to the folks down at the marine lab.

  The staff at the time didn’t know just how to react. They didn’t argue about it, though. No, far from it, especially when he returned a few hours later and told them, “You people have been working so hard. How about you take the rest of day off, eh? Please...go have some fun. I can handle things here just fine. I’ll see you all tomorrow, no?”

  They merely nodded and smiled cautiously. Indeed, Luigi had either flipped his lid or had somehow found some new joy in his life. But whatever the cause, they were more than happy to accommodate him. He even playfully shooed them off, urging them to take a “well-earned day of rest”, as he put it. And from that day forward he got nicer and nicer; more patient with them each and every day. They could hardly believe the change.

  No one could really. He’d visit work sites, driven around by his now regular escort “Ensign Ariel”. Rarely got out of the vehicle, too. Sometimes he would, though, and walk up to surprised irrigation line workers or construction teams with hands clasped behind his back. They’d report to him and salute, which he’d politely return, then patiently listen to them. He’d hear what they had to say, then practically blow their minds by complimenting their efforts. He’d address everyone listening in, too.

  “Sí. Buon lavoro,” he’d say in Italian. “Grazie signore e signori...tutti voi. You’re doing a fine job.” After that, he’d wave goodbye and hop back into Rover Five with B.J. and they’d drive away, leaving everyone in stunned silence. This was clearly the amazing effect B.J. was having on him and the colonists slowly began to realize it.

  Of course, it was the fabulous lovemaking that was doing this for him, no question of that; and B.J. bore up to his constant demands on her body like a trooper. But it was the process of buildup to the “big moment” during each sexual encounter that was quite taxing for poor B.J. Turned out, Luigi’s idea of “foreplay” was rather twisted at best...

  This was her first experience with a real, bona-fide fetishist. In other words, a person who adapted some normally non-sexual object, body part or bizarre attraction, to achieve sexual stimulation. And in the case of Luigi, the fetishes were just as unnerving sometimes as they were titillating. Frankly the guy didn’t seem to know just what he wanted until he wanted it—then he wanted nothing but that and she’d have to make it happen for him.

  Not that he wasn’t an excellent lover, once he’d gotten all lathered up for it that is. No, there was no problem there! Reality was however, he had a yearning for different things to be done prior to the hot sex that made their sessions all the more, well, perverted.

  Some were weird—the things he’d have her do for him—and some were downright silly! She certainly had fun, no question of that, and he occasionally came up with exciting techniques, scenarios, positions, and kinky twists to their sexual encounters that drove her practically insane—sometimes from orgasmic fury and on some occasions from giggling half to death!

  His first big kink that he introduced her to involved deriving erotic pleasure from soiling her hair and body prior to intercourse. He’d start by having her disrobe while he turned up the heat inside their “jiffy pop” field tent to the maximum interior temperature of 29 ̊C. Then he’d muss up her hair, smear surface dust from her pressure suit all over her naked body and face, then behold her sweaty, mud-streaked form lustfully. It was quite unsettling initially!

  However, from there things degenerated even further. Sometimes he was specifically turned on by her feet; and he’d spend half an hour or so caressing them—moving up her sweaty legs to her crotch before burrowing his face between them and sending her into shrills of panicky squeals and laughter. He’d then drive her to orgasm with his lips and tongue.

  He especially loved her natural odors, it turned out as well. Loved having her get hot and sweaty inside the tent. Sometimes preferred it when she didn’t shave her legs, crotch or armpits for weeks at a time. Other times he loved having her scrubbed up nice and clean, then he’d produce an old-fashioned marking pen and draw designs on her bare flesh, covering her with erotic body art (or even profane messages in Italian) before being overcome with unbridled lust.

  He also took to tickling her with various implements designed to cause unnerving sensations when applied to sensitive areas like bottoms of feet, ribcage, inner thighs, under the arms, or sometimes even her exposed anus. He’d then make it more exciting by securing her wrists and ankles with plastic zip-ties, only to torment her endlessly before finally succumbing to his urges and mounting her aggressively.

  Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to enjoy her feminine aromas. When that was on the menu for the day he’d spend most of a session sniffing her—under her arms, between her legs, or spread open her bottom to get a good long whiff of her backside. She never knew what he’d have up his sleeve!

  Yet through it all her private thoughts repeatedly turned to Steinhart Stehter and his intensely powerful lovemaking. Given the choice, she’d always gravitated to guys who did it like he did. Sure, this was all fun and games and she fully appreciated the effort. Luigi was quite a busy boy down there between her thighs whenever he’d get fully aroused; and she certainly appreciated that. Told him so, too. And as far as he could ever tell, she was having a splendid time from his perverse antics!

  Little could he have realized, whenever he mounted her, panting and snarling like a madman, grabbing her breasts as he shuddered in release, she was secretly fantasizing about her big German captain and the things he liked doing to her.

  Meanwhile the expected backlash that both B.J. and Steinhart had anticipated—from crewmembers detecting the affair she was having with Commander Cadorna—never materialized. This had always been a big concern of theirs; but her clandestine liaisons with the colony commander didn’t seem to raise the ire of her colleagues. Comments would be made, sure, and people would weigh in with their opinions from time to time, but when confronted directly, B.J. easily deflected their occasional barbs.

  “So…how is he?” a female crewmember might ask her flippantly, and B.J. with her usual brashness would simply retort, “Great! He is an Italian after all, isn’t he? That’s what they’re known for.” That would usually shut them right down.

  But B.J. wasn’t all that concerned with the scuttlebutt. Didn’t bother trying to convince anyone or sway anyone. She could see how he’d transformed and knew he had turned over a new leaf. Angry Commander Cadorna had become pleasant Luigi, and soon everyone else would see it. Given a little time, she knew he’d win them over. She spent hours and hours with him every day. He practically couldn’t live without her it seemed, continually bolstering his confidence and even lightly admonishing him on occasion whenever he’d start getting sideways about something or someone.

  “Now, there’s other ways you could see this situation, if you think about it,” she’d say to him privately, and he’d inevitably relent—as though his own mother was politely scolding him to be more understanding. She’d gently remind him that people were doing all they could and under daunting circumstances at that.

  “You know they’re trying their best,” she’d tell him, “Pay them a compliment instead and make polite suggestions. Then leave it up to them to do the right thing for the success of the colony. You’ll see.” He’d recompose himself and in many cases do exactly as she recommended, to both the
delight and amazement of his subordinates. People started to like him. He even began to like himself.

  Thus, he spent most of every duty shift in Rover Five with B.J.; and when they’d knock off work to slip away for some bizarre sex—after showers and chow of course—she’d review the day with him, let him vent, let him rant and rave, then patiently await his inevitable admission that things were running smoothly, nevertheless.

  “Ma so che hai ragione, la mia ragazza. I know they’re trying their best,” he’d say, smiling warmly. “Maybe I just go back later and check up on their progress, eh?” To this B.J. would usually add, “Sure! We can go back there tomorrow and see how they’re doing, if you want. Or...we could just leave ’em alone for a few days and then go see how they’re comin’ along. How about that, Luigi? They’re pretty smart people after all. They’ll probably figure somethin’ out.”

  Her calming and soothing input was usually plenty to put him at ease, and save her fellow crewmates from further interruptions. And that’s all it was really—an interruption and nothing more whenever they’d visit work sites. No, they didn’t need “command control” anymore. They needed focused effort without any further delays to complete their projects—and while they were at it, a little less stress.

  That being said, there were more than a few skeptics among them. Some still wondered as to B.J.’s motives. “Look at that shit...seriously?” commented one of the American gals one day working on the irrigation pipeline, “I mean what the fuck does she do all day—drive around with that creep?” Her colleagues working nearby soon weighed in.

  “Absolyutno. Drives him ’round to supervise our projects,” commented another woman, a scientist from Russia. “I have friend on the command bridge at B-lander. Says they are together constantly.” Then their team leader, a Chinese lady who had once been a soil engineer back on Earth, overheard the conversation and interjected, “Hey...as long as she keep him in car—I don’t care what she do wit eem. We nearly finish…”

  * * * *

  And sure enough, within a couple months, the major projects were finished and Santa Maria’s Return Team, along with help from the Away Team and the remaining fifty colonists, were fitting out the mother ship for takeoff.

  The massive solar agricultural center was completed. It was about the size of a city convention center and rose high above the dry seabed floor, gleaming in the sunlight. Now roofed over and sealed up tight, with fabricated walls attached to towering beams planted deep into the soil, and a sophisticated irrigation system to hydrate their crops, it could be closed-up tight for workers to tend to their newly planted gardens in heated comfort. A pleasant inside atmosphere was also created to complement oxygen given off by growing plants. This would eventually allow the colonists to breathe real air.

  Because of this, colonists could now work safely inside without having to wear helmets. They continued to use their pressure suits though—because their boots alleviated at least some of the effects of “B’s” oppressive gravity. Much like Megaball uniforms back on Earth, their boots contained a system which activated an electronic field beneath their feet when they walked. It did nothing for lifting objects or operating gardening tools however. These tasks they still had to manage with elbow grease, grit, and determination. Nevertheless, no one minded being turned into part-time farmers after all they’d been through. It was rather enjoyable in fact! Morale improved measurably.

  Meanwhile, water was now being sent down from the surrounding hills where engineers had rigged piping to draw snow melt down into the dry seabed where the farms were located. Water was treated to remove toxicity that might be harmful to humans, and seedlings brought from Earth were already starting to germinate in soil fertilized by treated human “biosolids”.

  What’s more, because of Kapteyn B’s orbit around its sun, one particular advantage was that plants would benefit from perpetual sunlight. This would greatly enhance crop yields year-round, scientists boasted—especially in a contained environment such as the new agricultural center. Also, engineers and biologists working down by the ocean had finished their tests and worked up blueprints for a food processing plant which might tap the ocean’s seemingly bountiful resources. This processing plant would eventually harvest the sea’s abundant marine life and produce packaged “ocean wafers”, they predicted. A vast network of such processing plants was also envisioned, dotting the coast for hundreds of kilometers in either direction. The possibilities were practically endless.

  For example, sea vegetables, they proposed, could eventually be gathered using marine plants that could someday be grown and provide elements and trace minerals essential for the human diet. This was exciting news indeed, for these trace minerals and elements would act as magnets in the blood to bind other nutrients, making them ideal for a healthy human diet. Wild Nori and soups made with Wakame, just for one example, could go a long way toward fulfilling requirements for a growing human population back on Earth. Someday this might serve humanity in paving the way for this “Super Planet” to feed the world, once completely up and running that is. All they really needed now were the materials to build it—and a way to ship it back to Earth.

  In the final days, the crew assembled the components for a gigantic laser which would store up solar power from the sunlight of “B” and eventually fire a beam of light into the sky activating Santa Maria’s Star Shot mechanism. This laser beam would connect with the mother ship’s mirrored panels after it achieved orbit. Then it would be sent hurtling back toward Earth at nearly the speed of light.

  But best of all, the Santa Maria would finally be able to launch its all-important message pod back to Earth notifying Space Programme that the colony had been established. They could also send back to Earth a request for the resupply ship everyone was expecting had been built by now. Chances were good that it had been finished years prior and was simply awaiting notification that a launch should be attempted…

  * * * *

  Therefore, on the big day of the mother ship’s departure, the entire crew assembled in the now empty cargo bay of the Santa Maria. All wore dress uniforms and stood in formation, with senior officers placed at the front of their original units and separated according to their new functions for the return voyage. The Away Team was more numerous of course. Numbering one hundred, standing in formation like a company of battle-hardened troops, they now had less than a “day” or two before they’d be put into stasis; and after quite a few field promotions were given out, the entire crew were dismissed.

  B.J. was one of those promoted that day as a matter of fact. Lieutenant Junior Grade! And when she was chosen, Captain Stehter stared out at the crew and colonists gauging their reaction. Amazingly enough, she received a hearty round of applause! Seemed she still had lots of fans—besides the colony commander, of course. Steinhart wondered if she would be received that way. But it was Tommy Berwick’s decision not his. It was his own idea to promote her, after all.

  In fact, Captain Berwick had met with him privately a few weeks earlier and discussed his choices for promotions. Her name came up at one point and at first Captain Stehter had winced in reaction to him mentioning her “special role in serving the needs of the crew and command staff of the B-lander,” as he put it. That said, Tommy Berwick was quick to point out that if it hadn’t been for her, “well, only God could ever know where we might be now.”

  “She really came through for us, Captain,” gushed Berwick. “I can only imagine how things might’ve gone if she hadn’t taken one for the team the way she did.” Steinhart knew what he was referring to and bristled at the thought. Tried pushing it from his mind. Tried desperately to compose himself and avoid thinking of her sleeping with another man. But he responded professionally as always.

  “Keine Frage, dass,” he replied in German, “She really put the crew first, and that I must agree warrants recognition Captain. I think that’s a fine choice promoting her. No question in my mind she deserves it.”

  Sensing his di
scomfort however, Tommy Berwick then added rather indelicately, “Right. And that’s commendable. But uh, between you and me and the bedpost, if you’ll pardon the expression, I have no bloody idea what’s going to happen to all those colonists once she’s gone with us up in space. I fear our little Italian fellow might revert to his nasty old self in her absence, don’t you think?”

  Steinhart could only chuckle at his colleague’s sly humor. “Bedpost?” He knew of course that Tommy had seen the two together numerous times and likely had full knowledge of their previous affair. Captain Berwick had ignored it, of course, just like he always did with matters that posed no threat to crew morale. But now it seemed Tommy Berwick couldn’t resist ribbing his fellow captain about it.

  Captain Stehter didn’t mind, really. He’d be getting her back now and it simply wouldn’t matter anymore. They’d be on that ship for years together as it travelled back to Earth. Luigi Cadorna would be left empty-handed, with no companion to comfort him through the trying years ahead while he and the other colonists awaited the relief ship. That said, whether Cadorna continued to behave or not was no longer their concern, was it now? Tommy Berwick seemed to feel the same way.

  “But I guess we shan’t worry about that after we blast-off,” continued Captain Berwick. “I sure won’t be giving it much thought, will I now? Won’t be giving much thought to just about anything.” he added complacently, with that air of English arrogance they were so well known for. He was right, of course. He’d be frozen inside a cryogenic container for the balance of the voyage home.