Space Relations Pt. 02

Date: January 6

Location: Lindbergh Spaceport, San Diego, California

This was it! Washington thought excitedly. The day he'd been waiting for!

He recalled how enthused he'd been the previous night, when he'd gotten the call that the Space Relations would be arriving at approximately one o' clock the next day. He called up every single one of his brand new crewmembers and had spoken with most of them directly, while leaving voice mail messages for the couple that were still traveling to San Diego. He'd hardly been able to sleep last night!

And that morning, he'd been so eager and jumpy as he'd laid out his uniform down on his bed, which he'd just recently had cleaned and pressed. His form-fitting gray long-sleeve shirt, with the official SCS insignia over the left breast, his slightly looser black slacks, and his short leather boots were all beckoning for him to put them on. With great expectations, Washington hurried into the bathroom to shower and shave.

Once Washington was thoroughly clean, and splashed over with one of the trendiest colognes on the market, he donned his uniform and started practicing his walk before his full-length mirror. He looked sharp, he thought. He looked good. He looked like a real starship commander!

Brimming with both hope and zeal, Washington made tracks from his rented room at the academy. He drove over to the downtown spaceport and the long-term parking garage, even though he still had several hours before his starship arrived.

Washington had been to the spaceport before, on a number of times, to gaze at the starship arrivals and departures. As he strutted down the familiar halls of the Space Corps wing, he bumped into quite a few people he knew from the academy. Once these acquaintances noted the air of confidence Washington exuded, and the sharp snap in his step, these people stepped over to him and asked how he fared. He proudly told them about his new commission and received many congratulations and wishes for good luck.

At the spaceport cafeteria, Washington purchased a quick combo of fried chicken strips and fries, and an extra large soda, diet. Afterward the lieutenant carried his meal into the indoor patio that overlooked the landing field. He hardly paid attention to any of the other people eating or drinking coffee in the vicinity, as his focus was completely taken up by the sight of the dozens of starships waiting their turn to launch. Soon, he knew, The Ship, His Ship, would be arriving.

About a minute later, a big and burly lesbian of a woman, with short-cropped hair tinted with purple edges, several tattoos on her brawny shoulders and arms, and big D cup titties, stepped over beside his table. The woman's name was Margo Muldren. She was slated to be the starship's cook. Margo had an extra large backpack hoisted over one shoulder, which she allowed to drop heavily on the carpeted floor.

"Lieutenant." She nodded.

"Hello, Margo." Washington greeted, now noting the dark purple lipstick the woman wore, which perfectly matched the edges of her hair. She was a butch Goth chick, as you might be guessing by now. "I thought I'd be the earliest one of my team here, but I guess I was wrong. Please, have a seat."

Margo took a seat across from him. As soon as her oversized butt hit the chair, she reached over and slid Washington's little cardboard tray to the middle of the table.

As Washington watched, Margo started helping herself to his fries. If there was one thing the lieutenant hated, it was when somebody started messing with his food. He tried to convey his irritation with his glare.

By way of an explanation, Margo said, "My girlfriend kicked me out of her house last night, after I told her it might be my last night on this planet. I ended up spending the night in the back of somebody's pick-up, in the parking lot here."

She casually reached over and plucked out another handful of fries from the small basket. After just two scoops, Washington saw that almost half of his fries were gone.

This infuriated him to no end. "Bitch, why don't you go and buy your own?"

Margo merely gazed at him and kept chewing.

"How about this, then?" Washington threatened. "If you take one more of my fries, I am going to jump over this table, and I am going to fuck you right here in front of everybody. That'll teach you to take a black man's fries!"

Margo kept munching. "Just make sure I don't reach my backpack."

"Why?"

"I have a strap-on dildo in there." She admitted, and winked at him. "If you fuck me here in front of everybody, I'd feel obligated to return the favor."

Washington suddenly found himself wondering if you could manhandle the powerful looking Amazon, as he watched her reach over and grab yet another handful of his fries.

"I didn't want those fries, anyway." He finally stated.

"Look, I'll make you a fresh batch once we're on the ship." Margo said. This was probably as close to an apology as Washington thought he'd be getting. "And good ones, too. Not this over-oiled and over-salted garbage. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon when my girlfriend kicked me out. On top of that, she kept all my cash and tore up my currency card."

"Oh." Washington's anger lessened considerably. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Shit happens." Margo shrugged.

"Listen. If you're still hungry, I'll lend you my currency card."

"If you lend me your currency card, I'll give you a blowjob later. Captain."

Washington was about to refuse out of politeness, when he realized exactly what the big woman had offered. Instead of keeping up his gentlemanly ruse, he nodded and said, "That... That sounds like a pretty good deal. Just bring me back another basket of fries, will you?"

As soon as he'd set his card down on the table, Margo snatched it up. A moment later, she was leaving the table and taking wide strides toward the cafeteria line.

Washington was still staring at the woman's big, beefy buttocks, when he spotted another familiar face entering the patio.

"Mary!" He called out, standing up and waving the obviously nervous woman over.

Mary was wearing a red Space Corps shirt, similar in style to the lieutenant's, as well as Space Corps issued black slacks and boots. As she walked over, she had her arms anxiously crossed over her chest. When she took a seat, she positioned her body very close to Washington's, as if she were hiding her petite but curvy shape from public view behind the black man's much larger frame.

"I got so used to dealing exclusively with small children." The agitated woman admitted. "They're so easy to block out and so different from adults. In this place, it feels as if everybody is screaming at the top of their lungs."

The unusual predicament wasn't one the captain had foreseen. "Maybe we should go somewhere quieter, if that will help?"

"You don't have to do that for me." Mary replied. "You can stay here. I'll just go and wait outside..."

"Yeah, baby!" The voice of yet another crewmember bounded across the patio.

Both Mary and Washington, and several others present, turned to watch the Hispanic man confidently strut through the patio.

Brazenly, Cruz pointed at one of the more attractive women present. "Hold on to your blouse, baby, because right after I say hello to my lieutenant, that thing is coming off!" He walked on until he stood next to Washington's table. That's when he took in the gorgeous blonde sitting behind the man. He did a double-take. "And who is this ravishing dish?"

"Ramiro De La Cruz, meet Mary Wattakunt." Washington introduced them. "She will be joining our crew as a science officer, the same as you. She is also a telepathist."

"A telepathist?" Cruz asked. "Really?" He leaned forward to get a better look at her. "Tell me what I'm thinking, baby?"

Within a few seconds, Mary's eyes widened and her cheeks blushed. She quickly turned toward Washington. "Can you put me in charge of him?"

Cruz stepped around the lieutenant and held out the crook of his arm. "Let's take a walk, baby. Maybe we can get this other woman to join us, and we can have ourselves a nice little threesome before we lift off."

Much to Washington's surprise, Mary scrambled over to join Cruz. The two of them walked off together, just like that. Whatever else his voyages were going to be like, Washington mused, they sure as hell weren't going to be boring.

About forty-five minutes past the appointed time, the SCS Space Relations could finally be seen hovering over the spaceport. As it started touching down, the excited members of the crew rushed out to meet it.

"It reminds me of a giant, silver shoe." Cruz commented, as he walked along with the others, all of them at a brisk and expectant pace.

"It's an old, F-U class ship." A newly arrived crewmember, the engineer Brad Cummings informed the lot of them. He was chubby, with big cheeks and an unshaven face. His greasy fingers always seemed to have a hamburger or a bag of chips in them. "Ships like this one were originally designed for use in short, training jaunts by students. The command center is up front, as you can see, and a centered hallway connects it to two separate classrooms. Living quarters are on the top half. If the ship is set up with two beds per sleeping quarter, it can easily accommodate up to fourteen people."

Washington didn't really care what the craft looked like, as long as he could sit in the command chair and direct the damned thing into space. He was the first person to reach the airlock door, and he enthusiastically greeted the two transport pilots as they stepped out. As part of the formalities involved transferring control of the vessel, a few forms were passed around and signed. Right after this, the pilots took the crew on a quick tour.

All was laid out as engineer Cummings had described, except for the remodeled two classrooms. One had been converted into a casual dining area, but still managed to look official enough for use as a conference room. A modest, open kitchen area was situated on its far end. The second classroom had been redesigned into two parts: a larger, open lounge with several couches and an entertainment center, and an exercise nook near the hatch with a couple of multi-station workout machines.

Washington was nearly drooling with anticipation when the pilots finally exited. He directed his crew to follow him to the command center, where he finally took his rightful place in the captain's chair.

He could fly the ship, he knew, and so could Cummings. He was still waiting on a couple of other personnel who were also capable of doing so, but they hadn't yet arrived. "What do you guys think? Should we take this bird out for a practice run or what?"

Cummings finished off the last of his burger. After hastily wiping his hands on his pants, he quickly made his way over to the navigation chair, which stood to the captain's far right hand side. "I'm ready when you are!"

Since the command center was the sturdiest part of the ship, where the crew could flee if there was any type of emergency or outbreak in the rest of the vessel, several additional seats were available. Cruz took one of these. Even though Mary had plenty of options as well, she chose to sit on his lap. Margo merely leaned against the back wall and crossed her arms.

"Let's get her started up, Cummings." Washington announced. Excitedly, he started activating the monitors to the various cameras mounted around the outside of the ship.

"We are on." Cummings stated a few minutes later. "The spaceport has already cleared us to fly."

A hand lever on the captain's armrest served as the steering control. As Washington pulled up on it slightly, he could feel the ship start to lift off the ground.

I'm doing it! He thought. I'm really doing it!

"Air traffic is clear to the north." Cummings announced.

The lieutenant slowly turned the lever, adjusting the ship to the correct orientation. "Here we go, ladies and gentlemen."

He shifted the lever forward, and suddenly, the entire universe was at the black man's fingertips.

Date: Voyage Day 2

Location: Between Jupiter and Saturn

Captain Tyrone Boom-Boom Washington was the happiest man in the universe. He was sitting in the captain's chair, and it wasn't a simulated one this time. No, it was a real captain's chair and he was in command of a real starship. And the starship's name was the SCS Space Relations. Formerly a training vessel, the Space Relations had been converted into a bona fide starship. The lieutenant was flying through space now, with a more or less competent crew. Well, that's what he hoped for, anyway.

The captain glanced around the command center, or the hub, as it was now being referred to. He took a moment to observe the various people under his supervision. In keeping with standard Space Corps protocol, they were all referred to as Ensigns, as opposed to calling every person by their official title, while the lieutenant simply went by Captain. Since Washington wasn't a slave to such formalities, he'd taken to simply calling his crew by their last names, and in some cases even by their first names.

Over on his right, was the heavyweight Cummings, who was currently stuffing his face with an extra large subway sandwich, courtesy of Chef Muldren. (The captain reminded himself to ask about that blowjob she'd promised him back at the spaceport.) Cummings had earned his spot at the navigator's chair, as he'd already proven himself very competent at that station.

Directly in front of the captain's chair and to his right, sat the Systems Analyst. This was a cute but quiet brunette named Willow Smith. The woman was lean and savvy, and responsible for maintaining the integrity of the hundreds of electrical systems found aboard the ship. Her shirt of choice was the standard issue top in yellow.

To the captain's forward left, sat Bjorn Brukenfooken. He was a big, blonde, clean-shaven Combat Tactician who looked every bit like a Norse Viking, while wearing a tight blue Space Corps shirt. In the case that the vessel bumped into anything unfriendly to humans, it was Brukenfooken's job to make sure that they would put up a good defense, and if at all possible, to return a similar response to whatever hostilities were being aimed in their direction.

The only real concern Washington had was that in each and every case, every single member of his crew, including the captain himself, had in some way pissed off someone in authority in Space Corps. Unfortunately, the three people sitting around him now were still mysteries that needed to be unraveled. Washingon hadn't had the chance to delve too deeply into their pasts because they'd been scattered all across the state and the captain had been pressed for time when he'd asked them to join up. He hoped these hasty decisions would not come back to haunt him later.

The wide, double doors to the hub slid open. His two Science Ensigns, Cruz and Wattakunt, came striding in.

"Wattakunt." Cruz sounded as if he was teasing the pretty blonde.

"Stop it." Mary glanced back at him.

"What-a-kunt." Cruz repeated.

"I said stop it." Mary made a face at him.

"What a cunt!" Cruz called out.

"Stop it!" The blonde finally spun around to face him. "You're turning me on!"

It was at this point that Washington cleared his throat to put a stop to their shenanigans. "May I ask what brings the two of you into my command center?"

Mary looked back at Cruz, who nodded and replied. "Well, captain, since we don't really have anything to actually do at the moment, mostly because we haven't run into any real aliens yet, and since we don't have a ship's doctor on hand, Mary and myself have decided to make ourselves useful in another way. We would like to conduct complete physicals on each member of the crew. Mary would like to start with Mr. Bruck and Fuck."

The big Viking turned back to glare at the ensign. "It's Brukenfooken!"

"What he said." Cruz pointed. "Him."

"But we all recently passed very thorough physical examinations back on Earth." Washington reminded the two. "We had to, in order to be cleared for duty in space."

"We know that, captain." Cruz confirmed. "But this isn't what you'd call a regular physical. It's more of a sexual performance and stamina evaluation. It's been proven that such testing results in a higher libido, lower overall stress levels, and a generally more positive work output."

"I'm a little bit confused." The captain wondered, since Mary seemed quite eager to get her hands on the hunky blonde Combat Tech. "I thought that the two of you were, how can I put it, an item together? You and Mary?"

"Oh, we are." Cruz smiled. "But we've both agreed to be in an open relationship. This way we'll avoid any jealousies and friction that might ensue if either one of us becomes attracted to someone else. This is bound to happen in a starship this size. That's freedom, baby."

"Oh, yeah!" Mary nodded vigorously.

"I see." Washington replied, although he really didn't. He turned his chair around to face the front again. "Mr. Brukenfooken, what say you to a sex physical?"

"No, thank you, captain." The Viking shook his head. "I'll pass."

"Hey, I'll go!" Cummings nearly jumped out of his chair. He tripped over his own feet a second later and sent the remainder of his sub sandwich flying all the way across the room. Cummings scampered back to his feet. "I'll clean that up when I get back."

"Mary, let's work on your communication skills." Cruz suggested. "Remember, you're dealing with adults now and not young children."

Mary nodded, after which she stretched out her hand and gave Cummings a beckoning finger. "Come hither, big boy."

"Very good, Mary." Cruz praised. "I actually felt some of your residual energy inside my head that time."

The three soon left the command center.

Captain Washington and his two remaining ensigns stared at the two double doors well after they'd closed. Slowly, the three returned their attention to their less than spectacular duties.

The captain began to wonder why his big, strapping Combat Tech had refused to go along with his two crazy Science Ensigns. Especially Mary, who seemed very eager to get her paws on him. By any man's standards, and even a gay one, Mary was a hot piece of pie. In fact, the captain started to wish that he'd been the one asked to partake in the sex exam.

"Ensign Smith?" The captain asked.

"Yes, captain?"

"What is our estimated time of arrival with the Starship Neptune?"

It must be explained here that since the Space Relations was such a tiny ship, its hydrogen fusion engines were only a small fraction of the size of a larger starship's. As a result, the ship would have to expend a tremendous amount of energy, and waste a vast amount of time, in trying to reach the furthest ends of the universe on its own. It was not uncommon for smaller ships to attach themselves to and ride piggyback on larger ones, when their destinations were roughly in the same direction.

"Approximately four hours, captain."

"Thank you, Ensign Smith."

The three sat in silence for the next few minutes.

"You know what this place needs?" Brukenfooken asked, glumly.

Washington was starting to think that his ship was as boring as a mausoleum. Anything that would help liven up the mood would be appreciated. "And what may that be, Ensign Brukenfooken?"

"Music."

"That's a good idea." The captain nodded. "What type of music did you have in mind?"

"Techno." Brukenfooken nodded. "Techno is always good."

Washington had a sudden image pop into his head. It was of an old twentieth century meme known as the Techno Viking. Here was Brukenfooken, who looked very similar to that guy, and asking for Techno music, to boot. The captain suddenly felt like laughing. He covered his mouth with both hands, but when the laughter threatened to spill out in spite of his efforts, he had no choice but to run over to the sliding doors and leave the command center.