Voyages Ch. 02

"All stop, prepare the hanger bay for arrival. Pass the word, stand by to receive visitors. Get the Interns in something that resembles a uniform and have them stand by their cabins. Ask Commander Jones if he has time to take tea while he is here, then have the galley go ahead and set ten places in the wardroom and make me proud; get out the Ma'am's(tm) Maraschino marmalade."

"(Boson's whistle) "Valorus, arriving. Standby for inspection. The uniform of the day will be dressed. Watch standers to your duty stations."

Lt. Cmdr. Colton Jones was a prig, plain and simple. Knowing that and using it was an advantage in dealing with, and manipulating, the tall, pressed and starched officer that stepped from the Captain's gig, followed by a scarred Warrant Officer in Spacecam(tm), and a dozen or more enlisted rates in fatigues carrying a multitude of electronic devices.

The cold radiating from the PlasSteel(tm) hanger bay deck must have been murderous. Colton shifted from foot to foot, moving about to keep shoes and thin socks from remaining on it for any time, all the while looking around as a ruse to hide his discomfort in the gleaming space that was clean and shipshape as any in the Royal Navy. His men shivered behind him with the exception of the W.O. who seemed unaffected.

"Welcome aboard, Commander, good to see you again." Harry hid a smile as he, Chyna, and the hanger crew stood warm and toasty in Universal(tm) skin suits hidden under their clothing. Jones shifted uncomfortably, glancing about the spotless room that had been left open to the cold graces of space for the last 18 hours.

"Hello, Harry, hellishly cold in here and what [i]is[/i] that smell?" Harry explained in the most sketchy fashion the events that returned Blynd and Nonny's shit-covered bodies and filthy shuttle back to the ship. Colton stamped on the gleaming deck to warm his feet and said, "Seems fine in here. I think I'll have that tea now."

The inspections team wandered the ship, poking about in an aimless fashion. The corrider behind the galley was swept again and again as dishes of lovely smelling food stuff moved toward the wardroom-stage adjoining the Lido deck.

W.O. Thaycher was one of those men you look twice at, once to see a compact capable specimen of the standard set by the Royal Navy, and then again, at the patina of experience and confidence he wore like his Spacecam(tm) uniform. There was a small pip at the shoulder, no other marking.

He sat, braced, squared, and erect, eyes alive on the table; [i]Damn,[/i] he thought, [i]looks like Boxing Day at Mum's.[/i] Maestro was hissing beside him like a compartment holed by a nano meteor.

"Thaycher, Thaycher." He turned his eyes; this was the first time he had ever seen Maestro in anything but a pair of coveralls. Today he wore a kilt. He wondered if Maestro was being a wise arse.

"What is it, you Fay git? Can't you see I'm going to eat just as soon his nibs begins?" He glanced to where Colton pontificated at the head of the table.

"Give us your cup, Guns." Thaycher looked down at the flask appearing from under the kilt, took a glance up the table that showed no sign of anybody eating anything, lowered his tea below table level and tipped the cup. VacFiber(tm) hissed, a refilled cup returned to the table after a sip.

"Christ, Maestro, what the hell is that?"

"A little something I've been working on down in Engineering." Thaycher took another drink, cleared his throat and remarked,

"It has promise; the second sip's not half as bad as the first. Have ya ever thought of doing a little filtering through something?"

"Such as?"

"Hell Mate, there's a whole wide universe out there, filled with exotic botanicals and no decent whiskey in ten wiper years. Why just below is a planet scarsely inventoried save for fish, fowl and creature. I'd imagine..." They drew close, discussing methodology and discovery of rendering alcohol into something that went down easy. Across the table Chyna and Nonny exchanged a glance and smile.

Press Gang:

Sallybot was serving Colton wearing only a short apron; she poured, putting a breast in close proximinity to his face, a hand ready to squeeze.

"Milk?"

He shook his head no and leaned to the side, catching Harry's attentive gaze, nodded with a vague smile, sipped from the thin bone china cup then spoke from behind it, eyes appraising.

"You are in the unique position of doing His Majesty a service, Harry. A small ship such as yours traveling in say," his eyes shifted to the overhead while his cup made a vague motion, "the Greater Magellanic spiral," he smiled, tasting the words as they sounded, "might find all manner of things to interest the King that one of his own ships of the line could not."

Setting the empty cup aside, he began sampling the fare spread across the table that looked more like tiffin than tea. Halfway down the table, Thaycher looked up and began filling his plate, nodding automatically as Maestro continued to talk.

Harry wondered at exactly what Colton was interested in so far from areas of the Crown's normal space. He made sounds of encouragement and interest waiting for him to make a point.

"Of course," Colton continued, "someone inclined to spend that extra time with eyes wide open would certainly garner the favour of His Majesty and need not concern themselves with paltry nuisances like customs inspections and fuel bills. I'd imagine," he met Harry's eyes again, "his generosity would even go as far as donating some combat suits to be worn in such a," he paused, "[i]unsavoury[/i] neighborhood. We will just need your kind assistance finding them first; they seem to be missing from the planet inventory below."

"What?" Harry blurted, just a little to loudly." The table turned to listen. "You want to send us to the hinderlands for some unspecified spy mission but first you want us to use our recovery specialist to find something you lost?"

"A mission! I'm cocked n locked Toi..." Harry waved her off.

"SALLY play back the Commanders proposal for the Toi."

Mastro spoke up, then Nonny, Blynd, and Chyna in a waterfall of ammendments, questions, protests to the original proposal all a chaotic background to Colton's leisurely disposal of a clotted scone as witnessed by Harry's displeased frown.

Thaycher laughed and bit into another slice of jam sponge, speaking around a full mouth.

"Then there's the matter of a few extra passengers along for the ride, a squad of my best men posing as you hedonist buggers." Harry fired back heatedly.

"The Hoochies complement changes from port to port; why should that concern me? There's plenty of room aboard but no one rides for free, Boyo."

Thaycher's eyes turned hard in a look that had cleared many a bar, started many a fight in his years of service; his mouth held just a hint of amused cocksure anticipation. Harry glared back.

"There, there," Colton began, setting his cup aside carefully, "No need for that. Besides, he'd give you quite a thrashing."

"Don't worry about me, Commander," Harry said, voice returning to normal, "I've got Sallybot to take care of my light work. Sally."

She set down the tea pot and walked seductively to Thaycher, who looked apprehensive as the soft, jijjly sexbot with the industrial rated chassis gathered his face tenderly in her hands and brought temperature controlled lips to his. Colton made impatient noises as Sallybot's heated lips reduced Thaycher's ire to melted lust then red eared embarrassement at the table's laughter.

"If you are quite finished, Mr. Thaycher, we can get on with our business. Harry, I can't renumerate you in e-script at this time due to the nature of this recce, but feel free to avail yourself of base services to repair or replenish within reason."

"What are you not telling me, Commander? Why all this and a 50 day wiper trip across the gulf with your free-loading bully boys?" Colton's face ran a gamut of expressions and at last he sighed.

"We seem to have lost a Princess." Blynd blurted.

"Doy! Is there a reward?"

"Probably on the back end." Maestro mused. "Sounds like a hush job." Colton waited for the commotion to die down, eyes on Harry, then continued.

"I'll have a berth prepared and ready if you'll just follow Valorous to the quay. Just one more thing." An image of the brig and Stubbs, clinging to the bars and yowling silently screened from Colton's communication device. "Tell me, do you have vaccination certificates for this?"

"Stubbs!" Nonny began.

"Stand down Nonny! That's crewman Stubbs, Commander, in the brig for disorderly conduct." Colton looked suspicious but there were so many races scattered in the expanding empire there was a chance he'd missed one.

"Mmmm, well, shall we say deal and get down to the specifics while making port?" Harry sighed, glancing down the table and meeting each Toi's eye to see their willingness to proceed then nodded.

"(bosuns whistle) Underway, all hands secure from inspection station and prepare to dock. Tea is being served in the galley."

A half hour later Harry made a motion with a finger and Sallybot

poured Armagnac into snifters for both of them. Harry spoke quietly in her ear while Colton nosed fine single distilled liquor with appreciation.

SALLY played the agreement quietly for Maestro, Nonny, and Blynd who turned away from food and banter, heads together, making plans for the voyage that could very well further their search for the fabled civilization of Litopia but was most likely going to be a dangerous, long drawn-out pain in the ass. God save the King, and princesses too apparently.

The Front Door:

They were assigned berth one, located just inside the naval station, whether as courtesy or caution totally inconsequential as Interns began a steady uncaring stream down the ship's companion way, past the alert eyes and thumb pads of the marine's at the main gate, decadent questionable entertainment beyond and straight to the base commissary. As they shopped the wide well stocked aisles for sundries and luxuries, duty crewmen presented requisitions for consumables and staples at the rear bulk airlocks and returned full to the Hoochie.

The Back Door:

Harry saw Nonnie and Blynd off with detailed instructions and a frown for crewman Stubbs, saved from any disposition by the unanimous vote to wait and see. He and Chyna watched from the hangar booth as they dropped planetward.

"There goes trouble." Chyna remarked dryly. Harry laughed and added.

"And all the rest of us soon as well. The circus has come to town. Look, here comes the next act." The hanger bay cycled shut behind new arrivals. Goods were moved from the two shuttles, some deeper into the ship, others to a third that Maestro paused beside with a wave to the booth.

"I'm starting my runs now. See you there for breakfast."

"Save some beer for me, Toi M. I'll be down late."

"And get some kind of entertainment organized." Harry did a hoochie shimmy. "I'm partial to strippers, but see if you can do some sort of skit about the battle of Emptied Bowel Swamp. Maybe we can laugh about it now. Just keep them busy."

Maestro waved goodbye and dropped his shuttle deep into the morass of self-powered establishments that had grown haphazardly in the five hundred plus earth years since the original PlanetaryStation(tm) had been ferried from one of the ore planets specializing in the production of such standard turnkey facilities.

So began year one at Portsmouth Prime as a screen displayed 'on station', a chronograph began counting and the Survey Light Squadron, waiting to transfer care of the green orb below, conveyed compliments and congratulations as they accelerated out planet on a new mission.

Maestro's shuttle was empty again and his e-wallet full when he docked at a numbered airlock, walked down-passage to an art-welded PlasSteel(tm) door, then presented his e-notables to a reader that chimed in recognition protocol and began playing an hours of operation message for the receiving bay. Abruptly in mid-word, colors ran like rippling water, swirled, collapsed slowly into an image.

"Oh, it's you." The voice came from a woman's exotic face now looking out of the Peek(tm) beside the door. Her eyes were a soft faded brown, full lips set in a moue that belied the even gaze.

"Cuddles! Is that any greeting for an old slicky boy?" Her brows knit and a small smile flirted briefly about the corners. Remembering her annoyance, she half-turned to fiddle with something unseen.

"Don't you owe me money?" The face was abruptly replaced by an icon. Muzak(tm) began to play, leaving him standing in the narrow PlasSteel(tm) alley where receiving docks lay empty at this late hour and the atmosphere within the door seemed as cold as that outside the airlock.

"Wait, wait, Cuddles! I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye before we left." She was back, features animated and fervent.

"You think I'm tweaked about that? Colton has been in and out of here with his people ever since! Thaycher is here now. I know what he wants; what do you want?" Maestro decided groveling would be the best approach, that and a contrite charm, if he could remember one.

"I want in, Cuddles." His expression indicated multiple interpretations and his long unused aura flickered spasticly just out of normal, unaided sight. She continued to glare, face full screen out of the Peek(tm). The aura died with his hope for mercy without ass kissing. He held up a litre jug of liquid. "I'll buy you a drink and talk some business. I need some wood."

"My, you are getting old; trademark or homeopathic?"

"Surprise me, then I will owe you money," Maestro smiled brightly. "Just open the door; this alley has lost all charm." The slab of metal moved inward and over. She was there, taking a hand to rapidly drag him away like a naughty school boy, further into the near vacant establishment in silence.

The main room reminded one of many truely great bars found throughout English space. It was comfortable, richly appointed in dark wood and leather. Generous booths rose concentrically in tiers, leaving a round floor. All under a dome of Impervious(tm) view plate that gave an unimpeded view of Plymouth Prime; very expensive scenery, here where habitats grew like TheShit(tm) fertilized vegetables.

Maestro eyed the V.I.P. dock and the Naval gig joined to the airlock, inconspicuous next to the looming gem of the planet. His gaze briefly touched on the W.O., bent over the remnants of a very long night. Looking back to the irritated face of his proprietress as she spoke purposefully to a table in the rooms center.

"Thaycher, look who I found scratching around the back door."

He looked over a shoulder to see then shifted his seat for a better view. His amusement was instantaneous, animated and vocal. Laughter washed over the unlikely pair, one diminutive, looking up sheepishly at the tall, svelte woman holding an expression that would freeze balls on sight.

"Ah, Maestro, about time you got here, boyo; are you ready for some planet-side recreation? Looks like none here for you." A smirk, his eyes went pensive. "I am ready to decend; time seems to have slipped since last I had feet on earth instead of PlasSteel(tm)." Cuddles released her clawed grip with a fractional dig. "Besides, it's grown chilly here in space," his eyes danced with mirth between them, "and planet-side women very warm." Maestro held a chair ready and she sat, chin raised, silent. Thaycher's amused laughter erupted again.

"I am here to party and explore the mysteries of brewing; let the debouch begin." He handed the jug to Thaycher and sat between the two. Waving up the Autotender(tm) device secreted in the center of table, he spoke. "Service please, clear and set three number 2 glasses." Vacfiber(tm) hissed across the top and the heroic ramparts of Thaycher's last eight hours were sucked into the bowels of the pub. Fresh Fauxglass(tm) tumblers slid upward out of the thick top. The W.O. poured two fingers worth in them as soon as they appeared.

"Cheers, ya Fay git." He sipped, made noises of contented contemplation. Maestro drank all of his and refilled, ordering beers from the Autotender(tm). Cuddles sniffed tentatively at her glass, extended a tongue for just the smallest taste, then rose without a word, leaving the room quickly by way of the kitchen doors beside the long bar.

"An' there she goes, Lady Chemist; you knew that would entice her out of a bad mood, send her running..." (he pushed his Fauxglass(tm) insistantly for a top off) "...down into that sterile sewer she calls a laboratory." Maestro poured, eyes still on the swinging right hand door and the sight of Cuddle's rolling ass receding across the floor.

"Cheers, Ustiss, better her mind turns to puzzles, what-ifs, than retribution for my inattention." Outside in the vacuum, shuttles began Maglocking(tm) in clusters about the airlock. "Oh fuck, they found me."

W.O. Thaycher's laughter greeted the crew of the Hoochie as the Standard(tm) shuttles disgorged Interns to cycle, jammed ten at a time, through the narrow confines of the device then returned to Hoochie's hangarbay for another load.

Cuddles returned, tumbler in hand, as the bar began to look like something other than a graveyard. She prowled around the table, face animated, not yet smiling.

"Interesting sample, there's no fusel oil in it at all." Maestro shrugged and pointed with his glass at the boisterous crowd slowly filling the grand room.

"I told the gang I'd buy the first drinks. Open a grill menu for them too while we wait for my party to assemble. Can I buy you a drink?"

She considered it for a moment, sniffing the tumbler as if a flower, dimpled and moved swiftly away, throwing over her shoulder.

"Some of us have to work." She performed a duplicate performance of her previous exit between the double doors and Maestro did a convincing portrayal of his own careful attention to her leaving.

Shuffalo:

Harry met with Thaycher's squad as they officially joined the Hoochie, assigning outrageous party attire with the help of onboard ship's complement; there was voting on-screen live in a game show formatted routine that greeted all new arrivals. After that he opened the sundries locker for any other wardrobe accessories they might need from the lost's bin for the duration of their stay aboard.

They took the hazing good naturedly then loaded for the drop with Sallybot and a large portion of the beer saved from sale for fuel. Harry continued to the Post Office where he had a for-real piece of mail to be picked up and one to send on the way to his official, most secret, briefing with Colton after his own stop at the Commisary and a quiet moment to read the letter.

Chyna said goodbye to the last of the Interns, kissing a few and joking up the others as they left for Maestro's liberty party. Exhuming the 68 MKVII Banger(tm) combat armour from the tight spaces under the hanger deck began immediately; they were concealed, a pair at a time, in shuttles bound for the party, each returning to refuel, reload the bins, then back to Cuddles' bar to ferry more Interns down again. Long before all of them made planet fall the suits would be gone from Hoochie. It would be up to SALLY to [i]find[/i] them again.

Cuddles landed at her modest 2000 hectare estate to prepare for the party. She hosted catered parties and raised embryo seeded herefords there that grew fat in fields of designer fodder. They fed the beefeaters Earthward, shipped straight bill of lading from her own wiper processing facility, conveniently sharing a giant warehouse with other manufacturers and the non-critical storage of His Majesty George XII where SALLY had re-routed the mis e-labeled, now empty wiperpak(tm) of MKVII combat suits previously.

Sallybot left the 6 marines and the party supplies with Cuddles and continued on to where Nonny and Blynd waited not far from the wiper packing plant which would soon begin transporting whole dressed beeves to the warehouse.