Topic: Cleopatra #3  (Read 15025 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Cleopatra #3
« on: September 04, 2012, 03:53:34 pm »
Here's the 3rd and, as yet, final installment of the Cleopatra 'series'. I lost my thrill for writing the Abramsverse pretty quickly (it only took 3 months to write #1- #3) and switched to other projects. Now that I'm using these as 'backstory' for my current TOS series, I'm more interested in them. Guess I like the original setting better?

But, anyway, this story does tie up some items I've dangled since #1. And it's kinda adolescent. This is meant as much to be comedy as it is serious, which is true of most of my crap. Enjoy.

Oh, if you haven't yet, you might wanna read the last of #2...



Book Three

Chapter One


“The entire compartment seeps atmosphere.” Lieutenant Jave Bornet was saying slightly before stepping back out of the comm officer’s way. He glared after the running figure as she circled around the bend in the corridor. Why the hell was the comm officer running through the ship instead of on a perfectly good treadmill in the gym?

He recovered and went on.

“I haven’t been able to pin down the source of the leak. Electro-analysis can’t pin it down. There was a torpedo impact just one section above, and I think it’s fractured the welds along the hull panel seams.”

Captain Sharp’s arms were crossed. He wasn’t so much looking at the compartment hatch before them or the machinery beside it as he was the path Ensign Lania had just retreated down. Lost in thought, as always.

“How much air does it really bleed?”

“Seventeen PSI per hour. Not so much the equipment can’t handle the loss, but it does tax our life support more than its worth.”

“Then shut it down and seal off the compartment. Astrophysics only has five part-time people in the department. They can operate out of the Astrometrics lab when they have work.”

The chief engineer nodded, crossing his own furry arms.

“Alright. With a couple of my boys, they can probably have their equipment moved by 1230 hours today. Then I’ll lock her down tight.”

The captain glanced up as the deck’s turbolift hatch opened for Lieutenant Commander Ellyson. The ship’s XO bore a data pad and stylus and had the look of business about her.

“Is there—“ Both Sharp and Bornet had to part suddenly as Ensign Lania blasted through. The sweat covered Vulcan bolted past the exec so fast that she nearly dove for the bulkhead for cover.

Sharp’s eyebrow shot up in Vulcanian style.

“Was there anything else, Engineer?”

The Tellarite obviously wanted to burst into violent commentary about the communications officer’s behavior. Sharp’s countenance told him not to.

“Uh…no, Captain.”

“Thank you, Chief. That’ll be all.”

Bornet made for the lift Ellyson had just exited, nodding to the XO as he passed. Susan paid him little mind. She still didn’t like him. The Commander halted before her skipper.

“Notice anything odd about our comm officer lately, Number One?” Sharp queried.

Susan smiled a little sadly. She handed over the report in her hand.

“Other than the early morning runs that have made her late for duty three times in the last two weeks or the blank stares she gives to women…or the hungry glares reserved for male crewmen?”

“I hadn’t noticed the last two.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Both officers pressed against the bulkhead at the thundering sound of the ensign’s latest approach. She bolted by as before, never glancing at them. Her scant clothing was stained dark with perspiration.

“I have to admit I’ve never seen a Vulcan wear so little.”

“That message from Starfleet might explain a bit of the problem, sir.”

The XO had that sad smile on again. Sharp lifted the report and read it quickly. Lania passed by once more.

“Alright,” when he’d finished, the CO had a similar expression in his eyes. The missive had explained a lot. “Take her off the active duty roster. Put Mister Fujiwara on comm till further notice. Have navigation plot a course for Vulcan. Best speed possible. I’ll want you with me when we speak to the ensign.”

Ellyson’s eyes followed the communications officer as she blasted by them yet again. “What about her?”

Sharp shrugged.

“Let her run herself out. Have Doctor Goodnight check on her in a few minutes.”





Ensign Davenport sat down on the bed opposite of his friend’s and watched him work the complex tools in his hands.

“So, Lieutenant… Just what is that?”

“Junk.”

Ronald shared a glance at the Mienieni sitting beside him. The mop-like Ensign Mianar shrugged her little yellow tendril and kept watching.

“Is that going to be the final outcome for this experiment in wiring and servos?”

Lieutenant Ford sat up straight. He’d been hunched over in the floor of his and Mianar’s cabin, off and on, for three hours today. His eyes throbbed and his back felt like seizing.

“Hope not.”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

Ford took the mess of machinery and straightened out the wiring. The machine had from, though undefined. He set the device up to stand on its legs.

“It’s gonna be a robot.”

Ron frowned dubiously.

“A robot?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you building…a robot?”

Ford shrugged.

“Cause I can.”

“You know there’s legal limits to what you can do with a robot aboard a starship…right?”

“I ain’t buildin’ it to tote a laser, Ron. Hell, the damn thing’s only gonna be three and a half foot tall!”

“Then why are you building it?”

Another shrug.

“Bornet was throwin’ out all that old servo control equipment from the bins on E Deck. Thought I could put it to use and make us a robot.”

“For what?”

“Target practice if nothin’ else.”

Ron bent down and rummaged through some of the wiring. The thing sure wasn’t pretty. “What are you going to do for a program?”

“I downloaded a file for a kid’s project robot from the Mattel site. That ought’a do it.”

A beep issued from the desktop computer. Ford glanced up with a start and instantly lit up. He burst forth and claimed the room’s single chair, keying on the comm.

A woman’s face appeared on the computer’s screen. The icon showed it to be a recording, part of the ship’s daily subspace mail.

“Just thought I’d shoot you a line,” the lady said. She appeared to be older than either Chevy or Ronald. 45 or older. The look on Ford’s face didn’t say family when he looked at her. Her hair was blonde, with very little gray, pulled back into a tight tail. “It’s been lonely at night here without you. I almost got used to you spending the evenings with me while you were in orbit. Let me know when your ship is due back through here. I’ll be sure to wear—“

Ford halted the recording.

Davenport hid a smile.

“Well! That must be the lady from Roanal!”

“Omi-noo!” Mianar agreed.

“I think Mister Ford’s been schooled!”

“Oni-looon?”

“Cause she’s older than him. Back where we’re from, that’s what you’d call a milf.”

“Oo-na?”

“It means Mother I’d Like—“

“Mia can look that up on her own!” Ford interjected quickly. “We’ve already corrupted her poor mind enough, what with you bringing porn and such into our sanctified living space!”

“Speaking of which, would you mind if I have my magazine back?” Ron asked, his own lazy smirk battling with Ford’s own sarcastic look. “You’ve only had it a month.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Lieutenant_Q

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 1669
  • Gender: Male
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #1 on: September 04, 2012, 04:11:55 pm »
heheh... Or a Cougar.

So, you've slid the story completely back into the Prime Universe.  And Lania's in the throes of Pon Farr.

By all rights the Cleo needs to be scrapped, but I'll bet that Starfleet has no intention of doing that just yet.  Adds to her character though, beat-up, worn down, and just waiting for the bailing wire holding her together to snap.  Where's the Duct tape when you need it?  ;)
"Your mighty GDI forces have been emasculated, and you yourself are a killer of children.  Now of course it's not true.  But the world only believes what the media tells them to believe.  And I tell the media what to believe, its really quite simple." - Kane (Joe Kucan) Command & Conquer Tiberium Dawn (1995)

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #2 on: September 10, 2012, 01:31:29 pm »
Hey guv, like the into you got here. Made it feel... homely for lack of a better term. And Some potential plot lines to start of with.

Sorta it: what a wrong with the Abrams verse? It isn't that different right?
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Lieutenant_Q

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 1669
  • Gender: Male
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #3 on: September 10, 2012, 11:12:59 pm »
Well... if you've got Vulcan crewmen its a BIG difference.  Also while the Constitution isn't much bigger, she's more advanced for some reason than the previous version of it.  Somehow, Technology is further along in the Abrahmsverse than in the Prime Universe.  We'll find out more about the difference next year when they release the next movie.
"Your mighty GDI forces have been emasculated, and you yourself are a killer of children.  Now of course it's not true.  But the world only believes what the media tells them to believe.  And I tell the media what to believe, its really quite simple." - Kane (Joe Kucan) Command & Conquer Tiberium Dawn (1995)

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #4 on: September 11, 2012, 08:41:43 pm »
  Also while the Constitution isn't much bigger, she's more advanced for some reason than the previous version of it.


Depends on which version of it you go with...


http://www.ex-astris-scientia.org/articles/new_enterprise_comment.htm

http://www.ex-astris-scientia.org/articles/new_enterprise/monsterprise.jpg

The rant on ex astris is entertaining...sorta.

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #5 on: September 11, 2012, 11:54:03 pm »
Half naked sexually charged Vulcan chicks!  Yes!

Oh wait, did you want me to comment on the rest?
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #6 on: September 18, 2012, 09:12:39 pm »

Chapter Two





Ensign Lania was now in uniform. She wasn’t altogether comfortable. She sat across the briefing room table from Captain Sharp and the ship’s executive officer. Her hands were folded neatly before her, the picture of a calmness she could not force on herself.

“Might I ask the purpose of this meeting, sirs?” She inquired of them. Her voice quavered and she hated it.

The captain slid her a data pad.

“We’ve been ordered to deliver you to Vulcan as soon as possible, Ensign.”

“For what purpose?”

“Three weeks ago, the Vulcan Medical Association sent a request, via Starfleet, for your most up to date medical records. We did so.”

Lania blinked. As communications officer, she should have noticed something like that being among the messages sent out. It was entirely possible, given her current state, that she had not.

“Last week, that same authority requested the chief medical officer’s opinion of your medical condition and state of mind. Today, we received the order on that pad.”

Lania remained silent. Her breath rate was elevated. A very astute observer might have called her agitated. She was quite livid, in fact.
 
“We’ve been informed that you are undergoing a condition known to your people as pon farr.”

“I was not aware that Starfleet was so versed in the intimate topics of Vulcan…biology.”

Commander Ellyson spoke up.

“You are undergoing pon farr, aren’t you? You’ve known for some time?”

Lania’s glare was one of ice.

“I am experiencing an early on-set, yes. Likely brought on by stress.”

“Personal stress, Ensign?”

“Likely stemming from our recent conflicts and…personal reasons.”

Sharp cleared his throat.

“I see. Then, since we have been ordered to divert to Vulcan, I take it this condition is treatable?”

Lania’s expression was subtly different when she looked back to the captain. He was a virile male, muscular and fit. Her eyes burned. Her lips pursed slightly. She almost smiled.

“Oh, it’s treatable, Captain.”

The captain blinked. Few things made him do so.

“I see. Until we arrive at the colony sight, you are on suspended duty. You may fill your free time however you wish, but if you feel yourself becoming…volatile at any time, you are to return to your cabin or go to sickbay.”

“I don’t have a disease, Captain.”

“I understand that, Ensign. But from what little I’ve read on the nature of this pon farr, I think it best you not be in a position where you might be taken advantage of or…be compelled to take advantage of…situations.”

Lania did smile then. It was a slight thing, thin and sardonic. It didn’t last long.

“As you wish, Captain. I will seek the solitude of my cabin. However, you might wish to note that my cabin mate…is male.”

“Ensign Rivers is being relocated to a new cabin. You’ll have your room to yourself.”





Commander Ellyson shadowed the Captain as both headed for the turbolift. The ship about them all but trembled with exertion as she tried to maintain her current warp velocity.

“Was it just me, or was the ensign a bit…freaky back there?”

Sharp waited till both were in the lift car, then keyed for the bridge.

“I take it this mating drive of theirs affects every part of their mind. It makes the males primal, violent and short-tempered. The females…”

“Desperately horny and sarcastic?”

“Something like that. At any rate, we have our orders.”

“To take her home so she can be…”

“Treated?”

“f*cked?”

Sharp’s brows rose as he eyed his exec disapprovingly.

“What else do you think they have in mind?”

“I was trying not to give it much thought.”

“Well, I don’t like thinking about it. And if she’s known for more than a month, what do you suppose stopped her from requesting a trip home to deal with it?”

The lift hatch hissed open. The bridge was moving in its own manner of quiet, practiced efficiency. Stars zipped past on the main viewer. Sharp headed for the conn.

“Whatever her reason for not reporting her condition,” he replied quietly, “She had her chance to object to the trip home just now. And no one has offered any alternate solutions. So we’re going to follow our orders.”

“It still sounds…icky to me, Captain.”

With her parting shot fired, Susan headed for her console. Sharp eased into his command chair, receiving the waiting report pad from his vigilant yeoman.
“En route for Vulcan. Speed remains stable at warp 4.5.” Ford reported from the helm.

“Steady as she goes.”

The captain couldn’t help but agree with his XO’s misgivings about their trip. Taking their comm officer home to be ‘treated’ for a ‘condition’ that turned her into a mating machine once every seven years was less than conventional. Jonathan did not have a great deal of experience with Vulcans. There were less than a handful of them in Starfleet, and he’d only served with one, Lania herself.
 
A sudden shudder underfoot snapped the captain out of his preoccupation. A trill of alarms sounded from the engineering console.

“Report!”

“Arrhythmic oscillations from the warp drive, sir.” Said the engineering rating.

“Cause?”

“I’m getting a spike in coil temps. Starboard nacelle.”

This news had Sharp out of his chair. He halted behind the engineer. The coils were 20% above their designed heat tolerance. Sadly, they often operated nearly 5% above on the average day. But the uneven heating had changed how the coils processed drive plasma. The output of the starboard engine no longer matched that of the portside unit. The ship was out of balance, and according to the new readings that were scrolling across the blue-hued station visuals…it was only getting worse.

Sharp triggered the intercom.

“Engineering. Mister Bornet, report.”

“I see it, Captain. It’s all that crystalline bonding material. Every time we push the engines, new fractures crack open. I fix that by pouring in more bonding agent. That agent seals the fissures but increases plasma friction inside the crystalline matrixes of the coils. The problem can only get worse, not better.”

“That’s sounds like a reason, Engineer. How about a solution.”

“Go slower.”

“That’s not a good option. We’re the slowest starship in the fleet as it is.”

“Actually, that’s the Acheron, but she’s an ore transport. For now, though, Captain, going slower is my only advice. You’re edging closer and closer to warp drive shut down as it is.”

“Understood.” The Captain reluctantly turned to his piloting team. “Mister Ford, reduce to warp three.”

Ford just gave a nod, tapped in the commands. The ever-present drone of the drive softened. The uneven vibrations smoothed out. The navigator monitored the situation.

“Speed now warp factor three and holding. Warp field stable.”

“Coil temperatures leveling off, Captain.” Added the engineering spec.

The captain returned his attention to the comm, then decided better of an open conversation that everyone on the bridge would overhear. He keyed the system off and bore toward the turbolift.

“Number One, you have the conn. Steady as she goes.”

“Aye, sir.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #7 on: September 21, 2012, 10:01:14 am »
That's quite the delay, I suppose the f*ck option becomes more viable ;) But I wonder about the personal reasons for the stress our Vulcan experiences...
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #8 on: September 25, 2012, 08:23:37 pm »
Oh, this one was definitely driven by adolescent humor. Kind of a what if situation stemming from 'Amok Time' and the ENT episode where T'pol had early onset of Pon Far. Definitely not a serious story, done in the same vain as this Youtube video:

Star Trek + Nine Inch Nails = Closer


--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #9 on: September 26, 2012, 07:20:46 am »
I cant actually look at that now, as I'm in the office, but that song does NOT match normal Star Trek! Will I want to unsee it after I watched?
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #10 on: October 04, 2012, 08:01:34 pm »
Me again, guys. More story...ok...no more jeers please  :D

Chapter Three





The turbolift deposited the ship’s commander in the midst of the main engine room. The intermix chamber rumbled along, accompanied by the roar and grate of the generator turbines and EPS converters they fed. Several of Bornet’s men were donning radiation suits. Two, including Bornet himself, were in hazardous environment suits.

Body armor…

Not a good sign.

“Mister Bornet, a word.”

The round bodied Tellarite nodded and waddled in his armor over to the captain.

“Aye?”

“You’re heading into the nacelles?”

“To see what the current problem looks like, yes.”

“Is that really wise, given the ‘current problem’ and the general condition of those nacelles?”

“No, Captain, it isn’t.” The gruff alien responded. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“I figure you’ll take it whether I offer it or not, Lieutenant. Speak your mind.”

“Captain, these problems are just going to get worse. But Starfleet, in its grand wisdom, deemed it necessary to send us back out into space in this flying death trap. She’s old, and not just past her prime. We did everything possible back in space dock to revamp the old girl. Battle repairs, weapons upgrades and some fancy new consoles. But Fleet didn’t give me the go-ahead to transplant newer nacelles on her, and they won’t grant us the yard time for me to go scavenge newer coils.

“We’ve asked all we really can out of these old coils, sir. They’re nearly done. And when they go, no more warp drive. We’ll be damned lucky if they don’t take us with them. I’m going to do what I can to make sure that when they do go, it’s as quietly as possible, and hopefully it won’t be when they’re really needed. Like, during an evacuation or a tactical situation.

“Since, as I noted, Fleet has willed us to keep this ship operational for a bit longer, and since you’ve also noted that we are the slowest ship in the fleet, I’m going to try and improve our performance. But there’s going to be a time when the best I can do won’t cut it any more.”

“I understand, Engineer. Our current problem remains. We have a patient to deliver, and warp three isn’t going to cut it. I need options.”


“I know. I’m going to check the coils visually and take my readings. If there’s something I can do, I will. But fair warning, you might want to look for a another solution.”

The chief engineer had just covered nearly everything that had been on the captain’s mind. At the very least, his questions were answered. He nodded his understanding.

“How long can we keep her going?”

The Tellarite shook his head and hefted his armored helmet.

“That remains to be seen, Captain.”






“Coils temperatures…now at 2.3% over nominal in starboard warp pod.” Mister Ford was telling his partner in a low voice. Mister Davenport nodded. His sensors showed the same. “And 2.7% in the port pod.”

“Why the hell aren’t we in a repair yard with this thing?”

“Fleet needs the ships on the frontier.” Chevis replied. “The Klingons have us tied up near the Neutral Zone.”

“I heard about all that. But is our fleet so badly undermanned that we have to field this ship in its current condition?”

“The Constitutions aren’t rolling off the assembly line nearly as fast as they were expected. We’ve only got twelve of ‘em.”.

“You think if they decommission this ship soon, we might be assigned to one of those?”

“I doubt it. We ain’t kissed near enough brass ass for that to happen.”

A loud tapping along the corner of their wrap-around console drew the two men’s conversation to a close as the XO passed quietly by. She tapped the station’s edge with a sharp fingernail till she elicited an apologetic glance from Ford.

The men’s voices were starting to garner unneeded attention from the bridge officers. Everyone had plenty of doubts about this ship. They didn’t need ‘brass ass’ comments on top of that.

“Current ETA to Vulcan?”

“Four days, twelve hours, forty-seven minutes, Commander. At present speed.” Replied Davenport.

The navigator’s eyes met his XO’s, then faltered, falling to her bosom, then ducked back to his board. Ellyson blinked when she noticed. Was he turning just a bit red?

Lonely, perhaps?

The commander continued her circuit around the bridge and ended up at the command chair. More than four days till the colony. That figure troubled her. Ensign Lania’s condition was a possibly fatal one. Could she afford the delay?

“Mister Fujiwara,” she called to the man currently manning comms. “Update the current listing of Starfleet vessels within range of us and Vulcan. Also include any available information on their current missions.”

“Aye, sir.”

They might have to hand off their charge to someone else’s care. She wasn’t about to consider sending the ensign alone, though, especially aboard any civilian ship. She thought about her candidates for a possible escort.

The scent of smoke made her whirl the command chair about. A thin gray cloud was building about the foot of the engineering console.

“Engineer! Secure your station!”

The rating was quick to jump out of his seat and sent his companion in the secondary seat bolting as well. Both dropped to a knee, warily watching the smoke twist and curl.

What the hell else could go wrong?





The day had worn on. Its end found Captain and XO sitting at the head of the table in the officer’s ward, the remnants of small meals finished before them. The rest of the senior staff were either in their racks or on late duty.

“Doctor Goodnight agrees that Lania doesn’t need to wait more than two days to receive…her treatment.” Ellyson was saying, drink still in hand.

“I stopped by to check on the ensign this afternoon.” Jon said. “I’m not doing so again without female escort.”

Susan blinked, a blatant smile shining.

“That bad?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I work out.”

“That might have been the problem to begin with, Captain.”

The CO frowned.
“We probably shouldn’t be making light of the situation.”

“Hr-mm. No, sir.”

“And I agree with the Doctor.”

Ellyson had read Mister Fujiwara’s report. The information she’d requested hadn’t solved any of their problems. “Problem is, none of the faster ships in the area can drop what they’re doing, head out to us and make it to Vulcan any faster than we can get there by ourselves.”

“We do have one option.”

The commander’s face went blank as she strained to think of something she’d missed.

“Do we?”

“Shuttle 8.”

“The warp courier? It’s a two man craft!”

“It has the speed to get her there in less than two days and the fuel to get the pilot there and back.”

Silence filled the room while both considered the idea.

“And what brave soul do we stick in there with her?”

“Our options are myself, Ford and Davenport.”

Ellyson made a musing face.

“Male pilots? You have two female pilots rated for that ship and long distance flights. I’m one of them.”

Sharp cleared his throat.

“As you just noted, it is a long-distance flight. And things can go wrong.”

“Um-hmm.”

“And if that something should go wrong…a…female pilot will be useless to the ensign.”

Susan fought the urge to waltz down several obvious and open avenues of unbecoming jocularity. “So…a male pilot…would be like a final…failsafe.”

Jon Sharp was very uncomfortable with his own idea. He cleared his throat again of the imaginary frog in it.

“Something like that, Number One. And for obvious reasons, I’m electing to remove myself from the candidate’s list.”

“Leaving Ford and Davenport.”

“Indeed.”

“Lucky boys.”

“Not so much. She’s going to be unconscious for the duration of the trip, unless there is a problem.”

“Are we going to brief them on what’s expected of them, because I really want to be in on that one.”

“No. Their orders will be to convey her to her people and return to the ship. If there is a problem, the ensign will wake up…and I figure nature will take its course from there.”

Ellyson had to smile.

“Good plan, Captain.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

Sharp’s expression was not one of gratitude.

“I’ll leave the final pilot selection up to you, Number One.”





“So I am being taken home by shuttle?”

Ensign Lania’s nature had become sultry. Her tiny undershirt covered next to nothing, clung to her. Sweat poured from her. It was unclear if she’d been exercising or if it was simply another sign of her condition.

Sharp felt quite uncomfortable standing before her. As though he were being sized up for consumption. In a way, he was. The ensign pressed in close, leaning from the frame of her hatch, arms held high to better show off her chest.

Commander Ellyson stood behind the captain. Her amusement had morphed into concern. This was just unnatural. Lania simply wasn’t in control of herself.
Lania ignored her. Her eyes were only for the male before her. They were aflame with lust.

“So…who’s my pilot?” Her hand dropped, finger trailing over the captain’s muscular chest. “You?”

“Afraid not, Ensign.”

Complete and utter disgust washed over her angular features.

“Not her!”

“Not the Commander, either. We’ve selected Ensign Davenport. He’s readying the shuttle now.”

Lania smiled devilishly. It was like looking at someone bewitched with a totally new personality. “Mmm, lucky boy. Are you sure he’ll have the stamina? He is only human.”

Sharp smirked.

“He’ll do fine.”

“Did he volunteer? Or have you even told him what he’s in for? We may not make it to Vulcan.”

The ensign was licking her lips, her smile touching her eyes. It was like waving bloody meat before a wolf, or promising it unwary prey. Sharp stepped in just then, pushing close enough to force Lania to step back or fall. She made sure to not give way too much. Her bosom pressed into the taller human. Her hands caressed the frame of his shoulders.

“Of course…I don’t have to leave the ship…”

The hiss of the hypo-spray at her abdomen made her leap away from him like she’d been stung. She wiped her slim fingers across the sweaty mid-riff where he’d injected her, then glared up with hateful accusation.

“f*cker!”

Even drugged, she moved like a bolt. Her kick shot straight in on Sharp, and he had only enough time to bring up his forearms to protect his head. Had he not, she’d have snapped his neck. As it was, the impact threw him back out the hatchway and into the waiting XO’s arms.

Jon dropped his guard low enough to see. Lania was coming on, staggering and teetering now. The level of sedative had been enough to drop two human men. Damn Vulcans and their low blood pressure.

She made it just past her cabin’s threshold, and came to a rest in a heap at the open hatch.

Lieutenant Fujiwara, five meters down the corridor, holstered his phaser with a smirk. “At least you didn’t need my services.”

“For a minute, Captain, I feared for your virtue.” Ellyson joked.

“So did I.” He knelt to heft the tiny comm officer’s form into his arms. “Grab her some clean clothes and her boots. Meet me in sickbay. I’ll have Goodnight give her a once over before we ship her out.”

“You sure you don’t want to warn Mister Davenport about what he’s getting into?”

“No I don’t, XO. He’ll be fine so long as he keeps her sedated. And truthfully, I don’t want to send her out with anyone who would actually volunteer to go.”

“I get your drift.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #11 on: October 08, 2012, 12:35:15 pm »
Ya' know, I'm not so sure once she got to the point where she's trying to kick people's heads off, I wouldn't just give her her choice of volunteers.

Hell, let her make her own list and ask 'em if they're up to it.
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #12 on: October 08, 2012, 01:02:14 pm »
I wonder as well, would it be that bad for her to screw a willing man? It's the 24st century. Though it might be considered rape from her side, as she is not capable of making her own decisions now. But it's more logical than all this.... imho.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #13 on: October 08, 2012, 05:11:39 pm »
Ya' know, I'm not so sure once she got to the point where she's trying to kick people's heads off, I wouldn't just give her her choice of volunteers.

Hell, let her make her own list and ask 'em if they're up to it.

You would. I would. Grim would.

Sharp wouldn't. He has uppity superiors to answer to, and he's a lil' up-tight himself.

Hell, get right down to it, Ellyson would prolly also do as we would, but it's not her decision.

Lania would be all for it, but no one's asking her.

Are we actually enjoying this, tho?

--me

And where's Andy?
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #14 on: October 08, 2012, 08:22:50 pm »
Yes, enjoying it very much, actually.
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #15 on: October 09, 2012, 12:46:39 am »
Agreed, i'm still enjoying it!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #16 on: October 18, 2012, 06:06:44 pm »
Ya' know, I'm not so sure once she got to the point where she's trying to kick people's heads off, I wouldn't just give her her choice of volunteers.

Hell, let her make her own list and ask 'em if they're up to it.

Gives me ideas for doing some alternates scenes after the fact.

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #17 on: October 18, 2012, 06:18:03 pm »

Chapter Four





Ensign Davenport dropped off the access ladder aft of the courier craft. The auxiliary ship was rather large for a shuttle. Two large, modern nacelles were held aloft on wings stretching up from a boxy engine section. Within that unmanned portion, a small warp reactor provided the vessel’s power and its amazing speed. Compared to this drive section, the cockpit pod was tiny, just enough room for two.

The sole hatch stood open. In the starboard seat, his passenger slumbered restively. She was wearing a tight fitting, one-piece exercise suit and was sweating profusely. Ron and never smelled a Vulcan’s sweat before. He wondered if he’d learn to hate it in the next day or two.

Captain Sharp handed the pilot a small black kit.

“These are her sedatives, Ensign. One every twelve hours. Remember, what she has isn’t communicable, but she has to be treated on Vulcan. She has to get there in under two days. You’ll have plenty of time.”

Ron popped open the kit in his hands.

“There’s only four phials here, Skipper. What do I do if there’s a problem?”

There was a hint of dark amusement in the Captain’s eyes.

“If the trip takes longer than 48 hours, you’ll allow Miss Lania to awaken and…follow her instructions.”

Ron nodded. Simple enough. He felt like they were leaving something out, though. “Alright, Captain.”

“Godspeed, Ensign.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

The captain left, rubbing his forearms and looking tired. The navigator watched him go for a second, then hefted his travel case from the deck.

He had packed a change of clothes for the trip, but knew his only chance for a change would be at destination. The shuttle’s less than private toilet alcove would not be enough room for a man his size to change. In fact, he was quite glad his copilot was going to be out for the whole trip.

With his clothes, he’d packed some digital chips packed with books and movies. He also had what he knew he’d need most to survive up to 48 hours one way…

A full gallon of coffee.

Used sparingly, it would last him the entire trip there.

Another hatch clanging drew his eye across the bay. Mister Ford was entering the compartment, clad in his hazard suit. Ron waved to the helmsman, grinning, and clambered unceremoniously into the shuttlecraft. Again, he was glad Lania was dead to the world.

Once firmly seated, he clasped the lap portion of the safety belt on and went through the start up routine. Most of it had already been completed, but his partner on the bridge had told him many times: ‘A good pilot is a paranoid pilot.’ He checked everything himself.

Outside, Ford got himself into position at the hanger deck controls. The damn exterior doors were finicky, prone to jamming. Today would likely be no exception.

He manipulated the hanger’s cargo arm to a position where it could give the door a good whack.

Ronald keyed the ship’s comm.

“This is Cleopatra Shuttle Eight. Engines started, all systems are go. Green light for flight.”

“Roger, Shuttle Kagura.” Returned Fujiwara’s voice. “You are clear for departure. We are exiting warp speed now.”

There was a thud as the ship decelerated into normal space. Swirling warning lights engaged as the bridge decompressed the bay and attempted to open the flight bay doors. As usual, they jammed.

A good punch from the loading arm rectified the issue. The doors retracted to reveal speckled blackness.

Ron lifted his ship and smoothly edged it out of its parking slot amid the press of other craft and walk platforms. He hovered above the open chasm for a second, waving once more to his buddy, who saluted back in old military style. Ron returned the motion, then dropped the shuttle through the doors.

After weeks of constant confinement within steel corridors and bulkheads, the expanse of black nothing beneath the hull of the imposing ship above was striking. Ron felt as though he had stepped into a vast empty nothing. The knowledge that only a quarter centimeter of transparent aluminum separated him from literally nothing did not allay that feeling.

“Shuttle Kagura, you are clear and free to navigate.”

“Roger that, Cleopatra. I’m setting my course…engaging warp drive.”

“Have a safe trip.”

Ron pushed the throttle forth.





Captain Sharp sat still while the doctor rolled up his tunic sleeves. He’d bled through them, prompting his trip to sickbay. As much as he loathed coming here, he made it a point to lead by example. Any injury had to come here.

The huge, mustachioed medical officer sat in his stool and examined the bruised flesh on each of Sharp’s forearms, pursing his lips as he thought. He turned on a small penlight. The infirmary was darkened, most of the stations unmanned.

“She did that bare foot?”

“She did.”

“Good thing she wasn’t wearing boots, then. Had you injected her by then?”

“I had.”

“Good thing she wasn’t wearing boots.”

The cuts to the captain’s arms were superficial, akin to barking one’s shin. The doctor began spraying on a chemical cleaner.

“So, we sent her off?”

“Yes we did, Doctor.”

“And you think doing that was the right thing to do?”

“We followed our orders—“

“That wasn’t my f*cking question and you know it.”

Sharp glared back.

“What I thought about it was irrelevant.”

“Pretend it wasn’t.”

The doctor switched to a more stringent antibiotic. Sharp winced.

“Are you suggesting a moral dilemma? That I was wrong to send her back to her people so that she could be mated to someone of her species?”

“Certainly not. But since you brought it up...”

“Vulcans are a purely logical people, Doctor. I doubt she would disagree with our actions once she returns to her senses.”

Goodnight began to lay on the final layer of synthetic skin, painting it on like thin latex.

“Then why did she run away from her already arranged betrothal to take an assignment aboard the ship assigned furthest from her people. She had to have known this was coming. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clear, but it was obvious she didn’t want to f*ck that guy.”

Sharp glared some more.

Goodnight shrugged, playing innocent.

“Hey, I did some checking. She’s been betrothed to some guy in the Vulcan Science Ministry. Low standing member, but successful enough. It was apparently up in the air about whether she was staying in Starfleet when he pushed the issue of their marriage, and she just up and decided to come with us.”

“She broke the betrothal?”

“She did. Guy apparently raised some hell about it. In a Vulcan-like manner, of course.”

With the wounds treated, the doctor paused to blow on the newly bonding flesh to help it dry. Sharp turned his glare to the cluttered medical bulkhead.

“You think she…” He didn’t know what to think.

“Like you, Jon, I’m not sure what to think. But she didn’t want that jerk. I just hope that ain’t who they push on her when the time comes.”

The captain shot off the bed suddenly. He pushed past the doctor and his rolling stool and headed out into the corridor. Doctor Goodnight watched him go. Starting that conversation probably hadn’t been smart, or healthy for the captain. But it had been chewing on the medical officer for hours. He didn’t know a thing about Vulcan mating rituals, but he didn’t like what he was imagining.

At length, he stood up. He had more calls to make. More inquiries. He wanted some answers. Maybe stirring up the captain would help him get some.





Lieutenant Bornet slid his bulk out of the nacelle access tube and watched as his men did the same as he got out of the way. They’d spent seven hours climbing around on the starboard nacelle’s coils. They were all tired and over-heated.

A tech stepped up to pass a rad-meter over them. It chattered a bit lively, but the tech called out “Safe!”

Commander Ellyson stepped up.

“Well, Engines?”

She’d taken to calling him that, just like the captain. Bornet liked the captain. This ape bothered him. He yanked off his helmet.

“They’ve got more fissures than my pits have hair. I need to seal them, but sealing them will only make the problem worse. We need yard time. New coils.”

“Fleet isn’t going to give us either of those. Especially the yard time.”

“Then we’d best just get used to flying at impulse, XO, because we’re almost to that point!”

Ellyson bristled at his borderline insubordination, but she gritted her teeth and let it slide. She didn’t like him either.

“That isn’t going to fly, Engineer. We need warp speed, and we need to improve what we’ve got now. Can the sealing material be removed?”

“For what! So we can bleed naked plasma through the nacelle housings?”

“How much plasma will we actually vent?”

“Four thousand deci-liters per hour!”

“That’ll burn the nacelles to cinders…”

“Exactly! Didn’t you cover engineering at the Academy?”

“Can’t another, less dense sealer be used to refuse the fissures?”

“Tellarite merchants use a far superior bonding material, but Starfleet doesn’t approve it.”

“Well, they might have to bend in this case. Nothing else on this ship is up to code anyway!”

Bornet smirked, which looked a lot like a grimace as he stared at the human female. “I’d like to see that. If you can get them to let me use Tellarite kelleron rebonder, then I will fix these damn engines.”

Ellyson accepted his challenge with a single nod and left. Jave watched her go down the cramped acess way, ducking beneath plasma conduits and leads all the way. Annoying she could be, but she might also be useful.
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #18 on: October 19, 2012, 02:43:35 am »
Quote
“If the trip takes longer than 48 hours, you’ll allow Miss Lania to awaken and…follow her instructions.”
I lmao-ed when I read this. Nice one m8!

Quote
Outside, Ford got himself into position at the hanger deck controls. The damn exterior doors were finicky, prone to jamming. Today would likely be no exception.

He manipulated the hanger’s cargo arm to a position where it could give the door a good whack.
I just love the little things like this you're injecting into the story, makes the point of having a rundown old ship much more real.

I also liked the MO insight. She has already flirted before with Ford if I recall correctly, but that may also be due to the early stages of Pon Farr. But yes you have to wonder about her motivation. And what the captain is going to do about it: stop the shuttle? (Ron's going to be one happy pilot then ;))

All in all a great update. GIMME MORE!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 161
  • R. Lee Ermy for Prez, 2016!
Re: Cleopatra #3
« Reply #19 on: November 24, 2012, 01:43:36 pm »
Sorry for the delay. MWO took precedence over...well...everything...

If you've enjoyed everything thus far, then you'll like this next Chapter.

Parental Discretion Advised.


Chapter Five





“Kelleron rebonder? I’ve never heard of it.”

“My engineer tells me that it will restore much of our lost warp performance, Admiral.” Sharp told the white-clad man on the other end of his comm channel. Admiral Nakamura was the commander at Starbase 12, the Cleo’s closest port of call.

“It says here that Starfleet Bureau of Design doesn’t support its use. Not durable enough.”

“That can hardly be an issue aboard a ship that Starfleet can’t possibly be considering operating for more than another year.”

“If that, Jon. I’ve read your mission reports and technical updates. The Cleopatra is on her last legs.”

“Then you will approve its use?”

Nakamura narrowed his small eyes. It made him look like the villain in an ancient drama. “I might be able to swing it. But there’s something I’ll want in return.”

Sharp matched the Asian flag officer’s expression.

“And what might that be?”

“Starbase 12 is hosting our annual exhibitions against Starbase 10 this year. And my fighters aren’t nearly up to par. You still box?”

Sharp smiled sardonically.

“I do.”

“You stand in for my number one bruiser, which I can allow since your ship IS under my command, and I’ll see to it your ship gets its…what is it?”

“Kelleron rebonder.”

“Yes, that stuff. Your engineer can have whatever time he needs in the yard. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Admiral.”

The subspace transmitter killed its link and the screen went dark. Commander Ellyson brought the cabin lights back up to normal illumination.

“Did we just whore you out to fight in the ring for engine supplies and yard time?”

“Yes we did, Commander.”

“I love this ship.”

“So do I, Commander. Apparently.”





The hours dragged by for Ensign Davenport with a miserable, eye-stabbing slowness. The  warp field-enlongated, streaking stars shooting past the round canopy viewport made him dizzy. He’d polarized the screen to its maximum level, but he could still sense the effect.

The constant beep and buzz of his ship’s flight instruments were making him a bit mad. He’d turned all of those that possessed volume controls off. But after 18 hours, those few that remained sounded like shouts in the enclosed courier’s cabin.

Ron glanced at his passenger. She tossed and turned spastically. He’d given her the latest injection six hours prior. It hadn’t calmed her much. She periodically moaned, broke out in Vulcan. She gripped the fabric of the seat beneath her. He was pretty sure she’d ripped one of the safety harnesses off. Surely not...

The navigator tried to return his attention to the movie playing on his data pad. He’d forgotten his damn earphones. He was listening to the flick on low volume, adding to his misery. He’d made the mistake of bringing movies he’d seen already. He’d thought revisiting old classics would make him enjoy the trip more. He couldn’t have been more wrong. It only helped him lose focus on the movie and dwell on his boredom.

Ron paused the playback and slung the pad on top of the control console before him. He debated on another slug of coffee. He was going through it too fast. He already knew he wouldn’t have enough to make Vulcan. And it was traveling through him at an alarming pace. He’d already had two desperate battles with the space toilet behind his seat. Peeing was just unnatural in a confined space, unable to stand up…

Damn it, I need caffeine! He decided. The lid of the thermos was off seconds later and rich black brew was in his cup soon after. He took a languorous sip…

And immediately wished he hadn’t as the tiny bits of coffee grind swam across his tongue. He spat the coffee back into the cup, chewed a bit. His mouth was full of grounds!

Still spitting, he cursed and glanced into the thermos. It was impossible to tell, but the whole thing was probably full of ground coffee. The damn filter back in the mess had busted.

Boredom turned to a flash of anger and he poured the brew back into the thermos. He’d have some words for the cook when he got back, by god! Now he had to make the rest of his flight without a sip of coffee. He checked the nav systems.

Twenty-nine point four-six hours till destination.

Great.

Feeling even more ill-disposed, the ensign grabbed his data pad back up and resumed playback. Lania kicked the underpan beneath the console in her sleep. What a trip…
***




It wasn’t the first snap of glass that woke Ensign Davenport.

Nor was it the second.

It wasn’t until the last snap of crinkling glass that the navigator awoke. He blinked back to consciousness, bleary eyed and confused by his surroundings. When recall struck him, so too did the meaning of that sound.

His passenger was awake.

Now, how long did I doze off?, he thought.

The floor was spattered with reddish fluid. Ensign Lania had broken every phial of sedative in the case Captain Sharp had given him. A sudden panic stuck the ensign. He did not know the nature of the comm officer’s mysterious condition, only that she had to have treatment within so many hours.

If we were delayed beyond 48 hours, I was supposed to follow her instructions, Ronald thought, looking at her fully. The Captain didn’t mention sh*t about this!

“Uhmm, you alright, Ensign?”

Lania wasn’t sweating quite as bad as she had been a few hours ago. There were dark circled under her eyes. She looked hungry. The piercing look in her eye, the rapacious pose in her posturing… He felt wary. Scared, more like it. Vulcan’s didn’t act like this. At least, not the one’s he’d met.

With quick movements, the comm officer tapped in a code command, setting the ship’s controls to automatic and killing the console. The entire bank went black. The overhead light died.

Only dim starlight and an emergency beacon lit them.

“Ensign?”

Lania slid closer, a tiny, lurid smile (a SMILE of things!) on her lips.

“I told them it was unlikely we’d make it to Vulcan.”

“What do you mean?”

Her hand slid across his chest. He felt suddenly dirty. Not from the contact. That aroused him more than he cared to admit. It had just been some time since his last shower. She didn’t seem to mind.

“I meant, in a little bit, there isn’t going to be any reason to complete the trip.”

Her voice was breathless, husky.

Davenport was beginning to piece things together.

He wasn’t that dense.

“Oh boy.”

Lania’s smile became more devilish. The slim fitting cat suit was plastered to her by sweat. It clung to her with every slick movement. Her fingers trailed down his abdomen. He stiffened as he mentally listed every bad thing that could happen when he got back from this trip. What the hell was he expected to do?!

“Oh boy!”

Lania was determined to make that decision for him. Her smile became somewhat gentle as she slid over into his lap. Her hands encircled his shoulders.

“I’m familiar with your file. Previously married. No current attachments. Perfect choice really, given the circumstances.”

“I don’t think you were supposed to break your med—“

Her finger halted his lips. Hers were dangerously close to his mouth.

“Sleep isn’t what I want. And…I can feel that isn’t what you want either…”

Her hips gyrated gently in his lap.

Yup, I’m gettin’ lucky, he realized, whether I want to or not…

Her lips pushed into his, hot and needy. He could hardly refuse. Besides, she had the strength to break his damn neck. Had the Captain expected this? Her hands scooped his up and pushed them into her breasts, molding them about her with a squeeze. She pushed into his hands, moaning into his mouth.

‘Follow her instructions’, the Captain had said.

Ron gave in. There wasn’t much else to do. Even if he’d wanted to object, the nearest help was lightyears behind him.

Nature took over and his hands took to exploring her breasts. They were as hot as her breath. She had to be feverish. The thought gave him a momentary pang of guilt. How much was she really in control?

Lania pulled back from him, already looking satisfied but nowhere near satiated. She slowly unzipped the front of her top and pulled the moist fabric back with a little effort. There wasn’t space beneath the little thing for any undergarments. Her breasts giggled in front of him with every tiny motion, but only for a moment before she again shoved his hands on them.

This quickly became the navigator’s most memorable shuttle ride.
***





Lieutenant Fujiwara smirked as he turned his chair about from the communications station. The message had been short and sweet.

“Signal from Shuttle Eight, Captain.”

Sharp glanced back over his shoulder in a stiff motion.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Message states: Returning to ship. Rendezvous coordinates included.”

Sharp nodded, looking back to the stars still standing still on the main viewer. The XO smirked and shook her head at her station.

“Understood, Comm. Carry on.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "