Chapter Four
The humming noise coming from Connie, the ship’s chief science officer, was in sync with the song running through her head. She was completely immersed in her own world and seemingly unaware of the chaos going on around her. She was surrounded by frightened crew members who were floating and kicking like swimmers in a race, fear etched on everyone’s face. But not Connie’s.
To her, life was a big scientific experiment. She had no real friends or lovers; in fact, she had never even had sex before. Her sex was learning and knowledge, her not-too-secret vice, pot. She loved getting high. It took her to another level of understanding, and she made some of her best discoveries and breakthroughs in that elevated state.
Most of the crew shunned her. They thought she wasn’t deserving of the captain’s respect. Many felt she was dimwitted and only appeared competent in her scientific discoveries by blind luck. But the real reason most of the crew shunned her was because she frequently smelled of pot. In fact, the captain often forced her to be bathed by the crew, an unpleasant task that was actually a form of discipline to any crew member needing motivation to follow orders.
It was Connie’s present sense of detachment to the events going on around her that had brought her to the mess hall. The captain’s orders had already gone faint in her ears, and the thought of a sandwich was driving Connie nuts.
Suddenly, without warning, the mess hall’s stainless steel doors flew open and a loud scream split the air. Startled, Connie dropped the jar of peanut butter she was holding and watched it float away, hitting the bulkhead. Again, the crew woman screamed, and this time Connie slapped her across the face. The stunned woman stopped in silence.
“What is it?” asked Connie.
“Come quick, come quick!” wheezed the woman. “She’s bleeding everywhere.”
“Who?”
“A pregnant crewmate,” the woman replied.
The crew woman grabbed Connie’s arm and kicked off, pulling the chief science officer behind her through the stainless steel doors. As they entered the Great Hall that ran the length of the ship, Connie transformed into a 260-pound floating ambulance, torpedoing down the hall and pushing aside crew members like bowling pins. She was foremost a medical genius and she took her job very seriously. An injured crew member took precedence over her just-forgotten peanut butter sandwich.
As she entered Med Bay, Connie surveyed the room. A young teenage girl was lying on a gurney, the medical linens soaked red, and the girl a ghostly ashen color. Connie immediately pushed the two med techs aside and unclipped her medical scanner from her belt. The yellow laser light began dancing in an eighteen-inch-wide swath from the young girl’s head down to her toes. Connie repeated the scan in the opposite direction. She then viewed the scan in her right eye. Connie wore a retinal implant that had a microchip receiver and viewing screen. Her artificial eye looked and functioned as a real one, but was a microcomputer linked to all of Connie’s medical and scientific equipment.
“Scan complete,” said Connie. “Quick, this patient needs an immediate blood transfusion and an emergency abortion. The four-month-old fetus has been crushed from launch, and the mother is bleeding to death internally from a
ruptured placenta.”
Both med techs rapidly followed protocol. The young woman was stripped naked and a pressure pad was placed over the opening to her vagina. One nurse began wiping her down to remove all the blood that covered her body. Another nurse wrapped the girl’s feet, legs, torso, and arms with thin sheets. Almost immediately, like a candle beginning to glow, a warm pink changed the color of her skin to a healthy complexion. The microfilament material contained a single-atom solvent that acted as a carrier that would immediately absorb into the body whatever was embedded into it. In this case, red blood cells, hemoglobin, and cellular ATP were replacing the lost blood. Unlike the old technique of IVs, this procedure had immediate effects.
Suddenly, the young woman’s eyes opened. “Where am I?” she asked faintly.
“You are in Med Bay, dear,” said Connie.
“What happened?”
“All in good time. For now, rest,” Connie said gently.
Chapter Five
The metallic clanking noise of gravity boots against the hull was replaced with a beautiful voice. As the voice got louder, a woman appeared. The closer she got, the more beautiful she was.
She had long dark hair, large brown eyes, perfect eyebrows, and a graceful athletic body to match. Genetically, she had a perfect set of tits and a round Brazilian ass. Even her flashing white teeth were clinically straight. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t perfect was her smile. She had a tight little mouth with subtly deep lines that her makeup almost completely hid. They were there, but easy to miss.
“Leea, what are you up to?” asked a crew woman.
“I’m under Captain’s orders to search the ship for damage control and do a crew tally. Want to come along? I could always use another woman,” Leea said seductively.
The crew woman blushed but shook her head no. All women on board knew Leea was a womanizer and the only confirmed lesbian on board.
Shrugging, Leea said, “Your loss,” and walked away.
A snake tattoo on her upper right arm coiled around her biceps and then again on her rib cage, its head just below her right breast. Its mouth was open and looked like it was about to swallow the breast with its long pointed split tongue flicking the brown nipple. The snake’s body was green in color, and if Leea had a short-sleeved shirt on, it looked like a green band wrapped around her arm. But, if you looked closer in just the right light, the tattoo became as noticeable as a diamond. Every tattooed scale was carefully detailed, making the snake come alive when she moved her body. If she was naked, the snake was ominous in its devouring of the breast. Two bite holes appeared at the top of the areola, blood hanging out in perfect elliptical drops, red and glistening. The tattoo almost could mirror Leea’s thoughts. If Leea was happy, the snake appeared so; if Leea was angry and dark, the snake was also. The special ink reacted with Leea’s changing body chemistry.
Today, Leea was happy. Happy to finally get out of the cafeteria and explore the rest of the ship. If by chance she was asked by a superior why she was not in the mess hall at her usual station, she would just smile and say she had gotten lost. Such an excuse usually worked because she was so beautiful.
Her eyes saw Susanna floating towards her. Giggling like a schoolgirl, she pushed off to meet her. Both women tangled together mid-hall.
“You ran into me on purpose, Leea.”
“Maybe I did.”
“I told you the first day of training that I like men, not women,” replied Susanna in an irritated tone.
“Well, since there are no men on board, I thought you might have changed your mind,” Leea said smugly.
“Leave me alone, thank you very much. I have a daughter to raise.”
With that, Susanna launched down the hall. Leea decided to go the other way. She soon found herself floating in front of Med Bay’s stainless steel doors. As she moved closer, she wondered if her electromagnetic signature would trigger an alarm. She wasn’t supposed to be there.
Hoping not to attract unwanted attention, she looked left and right. No one appeared to be watching, not even the panning security camera mounted above the doors, which at the moment was pointing the other way. Breathing in, she touched the door, and it automatically opened just as the camera came to a stop on the spot where she had just been.
Floating around Med Bay, Leea spied what she had been looking for: the infant pod. Gliding over, she put her feet down, and as she did, she felt the slight pull of her slippers as they held her to the floor. Leaning over, she placed her hand over the clear port and swiped. Instantly, the soft blue light came on, revealing the baby with its comforting glow.
“Ahh, there you are. Hello, Libby,”
cooed Leea in a soft voice. “Are you going to grow up and be a stiff like your mother?”
Peering down at the infant, Leea started to sing. The hypnotic tone would have put any adult into a light trance, but not Libby. The baby woke and began to scream. At that instant something large launched from the darkness and attacked Leea’s face.
The scream that came out of Leea’s mouth was wild, full of pain and fear. She couldn’t see or breathe, and felt like she was being smothered to death. Frantically, she grabbed some hair and pulled with all her might. The result was searing pain as her face was raked with razor-like daggers. Something bit her ear and she felt it tear. Leaping back from the infant pod, she turned and ran as fast as she could, straight into a giant autoclave used to sterilize all the med instruments. Leea hit her head and knocked herself out.
With an attitude of a job well done, the cat released himself and made his way back to the infant pod to look in on Libby. As soon as she saw his large distorted face in the viewing lens, she clapped her hands and giggled. Realizing that his charge was safe, the cat curled up in a yellow ball and soon fell asleep like nothing had happened.
Leea, meanwhile, was hanging upside down from the ceiling’s bulkhead by her magnetic slippers. Without gravity, the blood from her injuries was pooling in globular clumps around the wounds.
Just then, Susanna walked in and saw the unconscious form of Leea hanging from the ceiling.
“What in the hell is going on?” screamed Susanna.
Hearing Susanna’s outburst, Leea stirred. “Someone attacked me. Get help.”
*
“What happened to you, Leea?” asked Connie.
“I don’t know,” replied Leea. “It happened so fast.”
“Hold still, this is the last stitch,” commanded Connie. “There, your ear is done.”
Connie passed her a mirror, and Leea surveyed the damage out of the one eye not covered by a bag of ice. The lobe of her left ear was torn, but neatly sewn together with ten microsutures.
“You really can’t remember anything?” asked Connie.
“No, nothing,” replied Leea with frustration in her voice. “But, I can tell you one thing: the bitch that attacked me will pay.”
Just then the com hissed to life. “All section commanders come to Command immediately for debriefing. Captain’s orders.”
Chapter Six
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Captain Kriss, addressing the section commanders with the title of respect that was now meant for women, too, just as with “sir.” “I assume all of you have done as I have asked?”
The captain’s chair revolved silently on its axis as she looked each section commander in the eye. Everyone nodded in response.
“Good. Now who wants to start first?” asked Captain Kriss.
“I will, sir,” said a short, heavyset woman. “Hi, everyone. I’m Freeta Johnson. Once everyone gets to know me they call me Spuds. I’m the mess hall section commander. We have twelve wonderful ladies under me in my section. So with me that makes lucky number thirteen.” Spuds giggled.
“Why are you giggling?” demanded the captain.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. It’s just my nerves,” she stuttered. “I have never been up to Command before, and I’m just emotional about what happened to Earth.”
“Well, pull it together, Commander,” said Captain Kriss.
“Yes, sir,” she stammered. She wiped a tear from her eye, leaving a black smear in her mascara. Spuds was the second-shortest person on the ship next to Captain Kriss. She had bright red curly hair that stuck out in every direction and was usually covered in flour, with cooking smells coming from the front of her apron. But today she was somewhat presentable, with only some celery and carrot peelings stuck in her hair.
“Okay, Spuds, what’s your stat report on your section?” asked Kriss.
“Well, as I said, there are thirteen of us, all healthy. The section is secure. We did have some eggs break loose and cause a little havoc during launch, but I think we have it all cleaned up.”
“I see,” said the captain.
“Next,” said Smitty.
“Hello, Captain Kriss. My name is Lucy Cook, and I am the garden section commander. I prefer to be called Spice.”
“Why is that?” asked the captain.
“Because back in botanical class, my friends nicknamed me that and it stuck, sir.”
Spice had bright brown eyes with a mess of freckles over her nose. She had slightly curled brown hair and a slender build. Her demeanor suggested she was a confident individual.
“Very well, Spice. Let’s hear your report,” boomed the captain.
“Yes, sir. Well, you will be happy to know that the gardens are completely intact. Several of the trees in the orchard blew over from launch, and a half row of grow lamps exploded. But we did a complete vacuuming of the air to get all particles filtered out. All but one of the trees were saved. The one that didn’t make it was emulsified and has already been used for mulch.”
Emulsification required a giant chipper that was large enough to put a human in. In fact, all interplanetary flights mandated that burials in space use the emulsification process to dispose of the deceased. Nothing was wasted in space.
Complete with growing wheat fields, orchards, and just about all edible plants known to exist on Earth, this section of the ship was a marvel of engineering. Many of the crew would go there to rest and meditate. It was like a little piece of Earth on board.
“Very well, Spice. What is your crew status?” croaked Captain Kriss.
“Well,” Spice said, wrinkling her nose, “we have twenty crew women, including myself.”
“Very well,” said the captain. “Make sure you have enough crew. Without you, the ship starves.”
“Next!” yelled First Mate Smitty.
“Yes, my name is Sophia Menendez.” The captain’s chair spun towards her voice. “And I’m the crew quarters section commander.”
“Yes, I recognize you,” said the captain. “I think you need a nickname as well. What does your crew call you?”
“Just Sophi, sir.”
“Very well. Not very original,” mumbled the Captain.
Sophi was Puerto Rican. She had highlighted brown hair, bright red lipstick, and brown eyes. She spoke with a Spanish accent.
“We have seven ladies, including myself. No injuries. I have no damage to report, sir.”
“Good. Keep it that way,” barked Captain Kriss.
“Captain Kriss, my name is Mercury Simpson. Before anyone names me, I want to be called Merc for short. I’m the engineering section commander. I’m a nuclear physicist and—”
“I know who you are,” interrupted the captain. “Now cut to the chase.”
Merc had jet-black short hair, a slim face, and a dark complexion. She spoke in a soft tone and was precise in her diction. She didn’t sound like a computer but rather someone who had her shit together. She was painfully neat.
“I have seventeen engineers and staff under me. We are stretched thin but managing. The nuclear reactor is functioning perfectly, oxygen generators are flawless, the water generators had a leak that caused some issues but are under control, and the ship’s hull suffered no damage during launch.”
“Anything else to report?” asked the captain.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. We have a stowaway.”
“A what?”
“A stowaway, sir.”
“Now how in the good name of Jesus Christ do we have a stowaway?” bellowed the captain.
“I don’t know, sir. But we can’t catch it.”
“It?” yelled the captain. “Exactly what is it?”
“It’s a cat, sir.”
“Jesus Christ, what is a cat doing on my ship?”
“All I can guess is that the large ship
ping crates secured to the bulkhead were loaded on with forklifts, and that cat was in one,” said Merc.
“Well, catch the little bastard and bring him to me,” grunted the captain. “Dismissed.”
“Next!” yelled Smitty.
“Hello, Captain. My name is Tina P. I. Kelman and I am the medical and scientific research section commander.”
“And what do your section mates call you?” asked Captain Kriss.
“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, sir.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, they used my middle initials and my last name—”
“Out with it. I don’t have all day.”
“Well, it’s ‘Pickle,’ sir.”
“Quite clever,” said the captain. “Okay, now for your damn report.”
Pickle was a slightly built woman with long brown hair and unusually blue eyes. She had perfectly plucked eyebrows and long eyelashes, and wore thick glasses that made her eyes even larger than normal. She looked like a medical type even without a white lab coat on her.
“We have seventeen crew, including myself and Chief Science Officer Connie. The section is safe and secure from launch, but we had one casualty.”
“Who was it?” Captain Kriss asked tenderly. She was rough around the edges, but her crew’s safety was of utmost concern.
“It was a four-month-old fetus, sir.”
“Dammit,” muttered Captain Kriss. “That could have been our male DNA.”
Everyone at the round table exhaled. The gravity of the death was written on everyone’s face like the soot of a coal miner.
“And the mother?” Captain Kriss murmured.
“She is stable and resting,” replied Connie.
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