CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION...
STANDARD WARNING
This story is of an erotic nature.
I wouldn't dream of telling you what you can or can't read but if the law, in your part of the world, says you must not read this sort of fiction then please go read something that they'll let you read.
Don't break the laws, change them!
CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION... CAUTION...
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Boldly Go
A Story in the Swarm Cycle Universe
by Duke of Ramus
A Piece of my Imagination
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The Swarm Cycle
The Swarm Cycle is a collection of stories manufactured around a concept introduced by the Thinking Horndog positing an alien invasion and Earth's reaction. The intent is for this to be a multi-author universe similar to the wildly popular Naked In School stories. If you're a budding author of erotica or sci-fi and see something here that strikes your fancy, pop over to the Author's Page for more info on what's going on here and how to submit a story for this collection. The rest of you are probably here to read, so...
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author�s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental
� 2007 Duke of Ramus.
All rights reserved.
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Credits
The Swarm Cycle Universe
Copyright � 2007 The Thinking Horndog
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Editor
I'd like to thank Mulligan for his assistance in turning this into a better story than my initial effort, any errors remaining are of course mine.
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Chapter One
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain seated and we'll get this over with quickly and allow you to get back to your meal."
'Oh Fuck, that's all I need!' he thought.
The woman -- now that she'd drawn attention to herself -- cut a truly imposing figure at over six feet tall with short dark hair and a physique that looked like it belonged on a body builder. The words she'd just delivered using her amplified voice -- were now almost a clich� -- and had been heard thousands of times before all over the planet. They signified a chance to escape for the people eating in the campus restaurant, a chance the majority of people here would be prepared to grab with open arms -- and legs -- or anything else that was required.
For a young student by the name of Jean-Paul Kirk it was an interruption to his daily schedule that he just didn't need. University was proving to be more enjoyable than he'd expected and as a party animal he needed these quiet lunchtimes to recover and refuel after the hectic times he'd had the evening before.
"Would everyone please take out their ID cards and have them available for inspection," the Marine requested through her amplifier -- although everyone knew it was really an order that they had to obey. Yet another of the changes the threatened Sa'arm invasion and the Confederacy had bought about to civil and moral obligations.
As Jean-Paul fished his ID card out of his pocket he noticed that the attempt by the Marines to keep things calm and dignified was already falling apart around them, several men were up on their feet and moving forward, waving ID cards above their heads and grinning like maniacs. Jean-Paul was close enough to see the Marines start to react, their hands moving to reveal what -- he assumed -- were stingers and the way the pair moved slightly apart watching the men coming towards them. Out of the corner of his eye Jean-Paul caught movement on either side of the room as more -- large -- people began to move in a similar manner to those in front of him. Jean-Paul found himself nodding in understanding, pickups had become more violent in recent times and the old method -- of just a couple of Marines turning up -- was no longer viable or safe.
The two Marines he'd originally spotted began moving casually through the room towards the oncoming men, glancing casually at the ID cards on display as they passed. His own clearly showed his CAP score of eight point zero, a score he was proud of but not sufficiently to make him volunteer for service in the Confederacy Armed Forces. He didn't object to fighting -- he just considered himself a lover not a fighter.
Jean-Paul never spotted what started the ruckus -- he doubted if anyone knew what actually set it off -- but suddenly there was screaming going on all around and the familiar sounds of shots being fired and the strange buzzing noises that he later assumed were the stinger discharges.
"Wall-field!" someone barked and moments later the gunshots took on a different tone.
Jean-Paul just sat there with his brain frozen into inaction by the sudden violence going on around him, he was only peripherally aware of the movement and conversations going on around him.
"How many were we collecting?" asked the vaguely familiar voice.
"Four, Gunny," came an anonymous -- almost musical -- reply from further away.
"Have we got them?" the first voice asked.
"We've not ID'ed them but it looks like we've got three on this side of the wall," came the answer in the same sing-song voice.
"Then grab them and anyone else that wants to leave and let's get out of here," concluded the familiar voice.
Jean-Paul came out of his funk when the big Marine grabbed him and basically hurled him towards the transporter terminus that had appeared next to the Marine ahead of him.
"I'm not..." he tried to protest as the second Marine caught him and casually flipped him into the shinning disk and off the planet.
---oOo---
Jean-Paul landed on something soft -- which proceeded to wriggle and complain at his arrival -- but before he could apologise -- or move away -- another body arrived through the gateway and sprawled across the pair of them.
Amid more squeals and complaints a pair of hands grabbed him and dragged him clear of the squirming pile before -- unceremoniously -- dropping him to the deck. Laid on the cold deck he was left to sort himself out as -- all around him -- various other bodies were receiving similar, impersonal treatment.
Slowly things resolved themselves and Jean-Paul was able to sit quietly and get his bearings. The woman he'd landed on was sat next to him -- her bright orange coverall clearly identifiable amidst the crowd -- and appeared to be no worse for her impromptu meeting with his body. Jean-Paul smiled at her, thinking she was pretty cute in a mature sort of way -- different from the college girls he'd been charming so easily recently -- and looked around at the other people who'd end up being extracted.
The last person through the portal was the female Marine who'd been doing all the talking back on Earth and she continued talking as she stepped clear of the transporter field, "Shut the damn thing down," she yelled.
She stopped moving and a tough looking man approached her, "Gabby, what the hell happened down there?" he asked.
"It was a fucking ambush, Sir," she stated. "There were four or five of them -- complete with fake IDs and guns -- and they were in action before I'd finished the opening address. We threw up a wall shield and got the hell out of there. I'm guessing that any of the volunteers that weren't on our side of the wall are going to turn up dead."
"That's the way it's been working so far," confirmed the man, "we've lost two Marines so far on this pickup run in similar circumstances to yours and eight of the volunteers that didn't get nabbed have been found with a bullet in the back of the head. God knows why, those people are probably the best chance the race has got of surviving."
"Seems to me that someone's decided that if they're not going to be saved," she said, "then nobody is." The conclusion was added with feeling.
The man, who it seemed was an officer shook his head then looked over at the bodies sprawled around. "So what did you bring me then?" he asked.
Gabby grinned, "I'm not sure," she said, "we'd just started to check IDs when the shit hit the fan so I grabbed the high rollers and bundled anyone else who was interested through with them." She looked around at the bodies strewn across the deck, "I suppose I'd better sort them out now and see who got left behind."
"You do that, Gabby and I'll check on the other crews. We may have to start going down in armour if things keep going the way they are."
As the officer moved off Gabby turned back to the confused mob and spoke up, "Sorry for that, it seems that some people were in a bit of a rush to join us and didn't have an invite." She smiled at the group and then crossed over to a desk, "Right we'll begin again - first, welcome to the Confederation colony ship Andromeda, and second, will those who've volunteered for service make themselves known and can everyone have their ID cards to hand."
Two men dragged themselves to their feet and crossed over to Gabby while the rest of the crowd continued to untangle themselves. Jean-Paul continued his survey of the crowd and did a rough count at the same time -- he came up with thirty-two people -- and remembered his main reason for choosing this college, the large number of females who did the same, studying everything from art to zoology. The college was not at the very top of the academic tree but it was amongst the largest in terms of subjects covered and its attitude -- totally biased -- towards the fairer sex had ensured that it had no problems recruiting the numbers required to keep it viable.
The woman in the orange coverall smiled at Jean-Paul, "Hi, I'm Wendy Simons."
"Jean-Paul Kirk but most people call me Jaypee," he replied.
"So Jaypee, what d'you think will happen to those of us who don't get picked?" she asked glancing around at the crowd. She waved an arm at the table and the two men talking to Gabby -- who'd just stood up -- and continued "If that's all the volunteers they've got most of us aren't going to get picked," she snorted derisively, "even if they're tens." She glanced over at a group of younger women who were still creating a ruckus and her face dropped a little. "Especially competing with them," she said quietly.
Jean-Paul looked over at the girls she was talking about and smiled, he'd already slept with two of them and hadn't been particularly impressed -- they looked good -- but despite the changes brought about by CAP testing still thought that looking the part was enough. Before he could answer Wendy a hand descended on his shoulder firmly.
"Can I have a word with you," said Gabby as she picked him up with a casual display of strength.
"Yes," gasped Jean-Paul as he struggled to regain his balance.
"Where's your ID card?" she demanded.
"Here," he said fishing the offending object out of his pocket.
"I thought so," she muttered. "Why aren't you over there?"
"Because I'm not a volunteer," he stated.
"You're an eight and you haven't volunteered, why the hell not?"
"I'm not going to fight," Jean-Paul stated firmly, "and when I asked at the recruiting station they told me that all volunteers fight, some more than others." He looked the Marine in the eye, "and that wasn't good enough for me!"
"So what do you think your doing here?" she asked.
"I've no idea," he said maintaining eye contact, "you're the one that grabbed me."
"Oh fuck," said Gabby releasing Jean-Paul. She closed her eyes for a moment and then told him to stay there before storming off in the direction of the officer.
Wendy looked shocked as Jean-Paul descended back to the deck beside her. "You've got a score of eight?" she asked tentatively.
"Yeah," replied Jean-Paul, "but it doesn't mean much if you don't want to fight.
"Are you scared?" she asked.
"Of course I am, so would anybody with half a brain be but that's not it. I just don't feel the urge to do that, for as long as I can remember I've always tried to walk away, only fighting when I had to. Even the karate I did was for the exercise and agility, not to kick anyone's arse." He slumped down beside the older woman. "Now they're going to kick up a ruckus and try to get me to volunteer and it ain't going to happen," he smiled, "but it should be fun for you to watch."
Wendy smiled not really understanding, she was clever -- she'd been studying for her masters -- but her CAP score was only six point one and she'd have fought anyone if it guaranteed she could get away from the terrible aliens coming their way.
Across the room the two Marines were in discussion, amidst a great deal of arm waving. Finally the paired turned and headed back towards Jean-Paul and the now interested crowd around him.
Without preamble the officer started on Jean-Paul, "What's all this crap about you not volunteering?"
"No crap, mate," said Jean-Paul, "just a simple statement of fact."
"I'm Captain Williamson and you address me as SIR!," yelled the officer, "so what are you doing on my ship?"
"Well Captain," slurred Jean-Paul, "It would appear that Gabby here kidnapped me because she fancies me so much and now you're just jealous."
Gabby dropped her arm on the Captains shoulder and squeezed for a moment. He responded by taking a deep breath and making an effort to calm down. "Sorry, it's been a difficult day," he said. "Shall we try that again." He glanced down at the ID card in his hand, "Mr Kirk, this card tells me you have a CAP score of eight but Gunny Logan informs me that you haven't volunteered for service in the Armed Forces. Is that so?"
"That's true, Sir, I am not a fighter by nature and the volunteer centre was only looking for fighters."
"And you're here because your CAP score caused us to believe that you'd volunteered."
"That's the way I understand it, Sir" agreed Jean-Paul.
"Thank you Mr Kirk, I'm going to pass this one up the chain of command and see what they can come up with." Captain Williamson actually managed a smile, "In the mean time we'll find you a place to relax while we sort out everyone else."
"Thanks Captain, I'll try not to be too much of a bother."
The Captain nodded and left, trailed by Gabby. Around Jean-Paul there were a real mixture of looks being directed at him, from amazement to disbelief.
---oOo---
Sorting out the volunteers that Gabby Logan had actually managed to recover proved to be a bit of an anti-climax for most people involved. The two men had scores of seven point one and six point seven respectively, which meant they only required six concubines between them from the thirty odd people available. When it transpired that the guy with a seven had his wife along with him -- and was keeping her -- that number dropped to five and -- true to form -- the guys went for the youngsters.
Jean-Paul snorted with derision as he watched on, and Wendy, who it turned out was thirty-two years old, looked at him questioningly.
"They're supposed to understand what's going on," he said indicating the two men, "but apart from that guy's wife they've both picked their slaves on looks alone." He shook his head again, "even I've read up on what happens next, and on what it's possible to do." He glanced over at Wendy, "Take you for instance, if I'd volunteered and picked you what would you want to change about yourself?"
Wendy looked at her body and scowled, of course she'd dreamed about this but did she want to tell this young man all about it, oh hell, what difference would it make. "Two things really," she said, "boobs, I'd love a set of boobs that got noticed." Her hands came up and cupped the small mounds she actually had and attempted to jiggle them, "and legs, much longer legs." She released her boobs and slapped her thighs, "these look OK but they are so short that even a mini-skirt comes down to my knees," she blushed as she reached her conclusion wondering what the young man would think of her admission.
"What about changes to the way you look, would you want anything there?" he probed ignoring her embarrassment.
"Well, if they could take away ten years of wrinkles that would probably help," she said, "but other than that I'm happy with the way I look."
"And so you should be," complemented Jean-Paul, "but if the changes you wanted were made just how grateful would you be to your sponsor?" asked Jean-Paul significantly.
Wendy looked over at the young women accompanying the two volunteers and grimaced, "I see what you mean, a lot more grateful than those girls are going to be that's for sure." She glanced back at Jean-Paul, "So Jaypee, are you propositioning me?"
Jean-Paul chuckled, "As your sponsor I'd have to try you out first, Wendy, how'd you like that?"
Wendy blushed deeply, "I was willing back in the restaurant," she said, "I don't see why I should become unwilling now."
Jean-Paul threw an arm around the shorter woman and hugged her to him, "Then I'd be happy to proposition you," he said.
"And what about me?" asked a voice behind the couple.
The two spun around as quickly as they could from their seated positions and were confronted by a tall, slim woman in a black skirt and white blouse -- the tag pinned to her blouse gave her name as Felicity.
Jean-Paul recovering first asked, "well, what would you want?"
"Like her," Felicity nodded towards Wendy, "I'd want tits," her voice got dreamy, "nice; big; firm; tits that any man would love to lay his head against."
"And what else?" asked Wendy, curiously.
"Well I think my legs are long enough as it is," she paused to glance down their impressively long length, "but I'd want a butt like JLo's," she half rolled to lift the offending item off the deck and added, "mine's too skinny for anyone to want."
Jean-Paul was still smiling, "and if I wanted a test ride beforehand?"
Felicity looked the young man straight in the eye, "You can have that whether you're picking me or not," she stated firmly, which caused Wendy beside him to blush again.
Jean-Paul felt his jaw drop at that statement, he'd never considered the availability of older pussy and now it was throwing itself at him. He vowed that if he ended up back on Earth -- which was the probable outcome of this dilemma -- he was going to start a new black book dedicated to the over thirties.
As Jean-Paul considered his expanding horizons his case was being discussed by figures in authority and he'd have been surprised to discover that sending him back to Earth was very low on the list of options.
---oOo---
"Tors, have you seen this from Captain Williamson over on the Andromeda?"
"Yes, Admiral," answered Captain Haaraldsson, "It's an interesting little problem isn't it."
Technically Admiral Roger Hargreaves should have been addressed as Major-General Hargreaves, but like most of the Navy -- especially above the rank of Colonel -- they'd gone their own sweet way and kept the old Navy designations, and no one had been brave enough to tell them not to. Which is why Colonel Haaraldsson was referred to as Captain Haaraldsson on everything but official correspondence.
"So what do you recommend, Tors?"
"Well I'd thought about the Civil Service or the Fleet Auxiliary but they don't seem to fit which means I really should recommend throwing him back. It's just that I hate to lose an eight..." he petered out.
"What about Jamie's idea, do you think this young man would go for that?"
Commodore (Brigadier) James Fergusson had been pushing the idea that humans -- now that they were off the planet -- should be exploring far and wide, with or without the Confederacy's help. So far he'd only had minor success in that his ideas were liked but no one had found a way of implementing them that didn't divert too many assets from the war effort.
"You'd be willing to divert the resources to make the project work, Sir?"
"Not for the new vessels that Jamie wants but I've been looking at the original ship manifest that the Darjee made available and I was struck by a particular class of vessels that they had in reserve. I've talked to the AIs about the K'treel ships and it appears that they were a bit of a mongrel design, too big to be classed as a Corvette -- and not powerful enough to carry the required armament for that role -- and too small to be a practical merchant." He smiled at his assistant, "only government inertia -- it seems -- allowed thirty of them to be built before they got it stopped. Those thirty were then put up for sale and -- believe it or not -- half a dozen of them were sold as yachts to the rich and famous," he snorted, remembering a certain fast patrol boat he'd been in love with.
Tors Haaraldsson called up the specifications for the K'treel on his screen and scanned the data while he listened to the Admiral, it really was a bit of a dog.
"Anyway, there are twenty-four of them sitting in a maintenance reserve port looking for a job and -- according to the AIs -- they can be had for less than their scrap value." Admiral Hargreaves pointed to the screen, "She needs a crew of about twelve to actually run her and has an endurance that is ridiculous for her size, the ones available actually have the mounts for two low powered phased beams and one of the old plasma torpedo launchers. The containers she has fitted actually have the same mounts as the habitat pods we're using on the colony ships, which opens up a few opportunities, I'm sure you'll agree."
The Admiral wandered back to his desk. "If this Jean-Paul Kirk is willing to give Jaime's plan a go I'm going to push for him to be commissioned in the Fleet Auxiliary -- which should keep him happy about the fighting thing -- and then send him off to see what he can find," the Admiral concluded.
"What about a crew, Sir?" asked Captain Haaraldsson starting to think as the G1 officer he was rather than the Admiral's adjutant.
"You know that offer they're going to be making to the techs?" the Admiral led.
"Those whose CAP scores weren't good enough to become volunteers," followed the Captain.
With the arrival of the Sa'arm getting ever closer it had been decided to make an offer to key factory employees provided that they had a CAP score between five point five and six point five. These select few would be given the chance to volunteer and if they did -- after serving in their jobs on Earth for a year -- they could pick two concubines and be evacuated to a colony world where they would continue to do the job they had been doing back on Earth.
"Yes those," the Admiral steepled his fingers, "how about we make a similar offer to the concubines we've picked up already and see if we can get enough to make a crew. Put them through the accelerated training course we're using for the Navy now -- we could leave out most of the combat stuff as it shouldn't be needed -- and then see how they get on. Hell, if it works there are another twenty three ships we could use in the same way."
Captain Haaraldsson pondered for a moment, "If Kirk is the Captain, we'd need an executive officer, an engineer, navigation, sensors..."
"Most of that stuff is done by the AI, the crew just need to know enough in case there's a problem, and don't forget a pilot on your crew list, that thing has a shuttle," added the Admiral, "and we'd better send a Marine along as well, just in case."
"If we let them take along their concubines they can do any make-work. Hell, it might even be worth giving them some training." Tors Haaraldsson consulted his screen then flipped through various windows and read a list, "Captain Williamson actually has a load of spare concubines on the Andromeda already -- I wonder if we could use them -- it would save having to go look for specific people on Earth."
"And let's face it Tors, if they end up dead it's no great loss," said the Admiral somewhat callously.
Captain Haaraldsson nodded his understanding, "I'll get on it right away, Sir."
---oOo---
"Gunny, get over here, we've got incoming brass," bellowed Captain Williamson across the deck.
Gunnery Sergeant Gabby Logan hauled her ass over to the transporter terminal and asked her boss, "What's happening, Sir?"
"Not sure," replied the Captain, "the AIs just told me that a Colonel Haaraldsson is on his way over from Taskforce HQ."
"Haaraldsson?" asked Gabby, trying to place the name.
"G1 for Taskforce Earth," answered the Captain.
"Oh crap, what have we done to deserve this pleasure?" wondered Gabby.
Captain Williamson jerked his thumb in the direction of Jean-Paul, "Think it's about him?" he asked.
Gabby looked wide eyed, "Jesus, I suppose it's possible, what on Earth did I start grabbing him?"
"I don't know but I passed the problem off to HQ earlier and now we're being visited by the brass. So I'd guess it has to be that," he looked around at the chaos that was a colony ship during pickup and scowled, "I hope this guy's familiar with the real world or we could be knee deep in the crap here."
Gabby braced as a man in Navy uniform stepped through the transporter terminus and the two Marines saluted the senior officer.
"Relax, both of you," he said, "have we got somewhere we can talk, I need to explain what we're going to do and see what you think of the idea."
"This way Sir," said the Marine Captain and headed for one of the privacy shielded briefing areas, trailed by Gabby and Captain Haaraldsson.
The Navy Captain dropped into the chair behind the desk and waved at a couple of chairs, when everyone was seated he smiled - a little grimly -- before beginning. "You handed us an interesting problem with Mr Kirk, Captain, a very interesting problem but I think we've come up with an imaginative answer for you."
He looked at the two attentive Marines and asked, "What's he like?"
"Gunny Logan, you've had more to do with him than I have, what's your opinion?" asked Captain Williamson.
Gabby thought for a moment, "Clever, he understood what was happening from the very beginning and didn't panic. He was prepared to fight his corner," she said glancing at her boss, "and wouldn't buckle. He seems to be getting on well with the concubines, who seem to be deferring to him, which could be because they know his CAP score."
"Have you anything to add, Captain?"
"No Sir, Gunny Logan has covered everything."
"Right then I suggest we get the young man in here and I'll make the pitch. If you would Gunny."
"Sir," responded Gabby as rose and went to find Jean-Paul.
Jean-Paul could see the two men sat in an open space as he crossed the deck with Gabby and began to fret, Gabby had said nothing informative when she'd asked him to accompany her to meet a senior officer who had a proposition for him.
"Take a seat," said the man in Navy uniform, "I'm Captain Haaraldsson and I work for Admiral Hargreaves who -- in case you didn't know -- is in charge of all Confederacy forces around Earth."
"Now I know you don't want to fight but have you any objection to actually working with the Armed Forces?" Captain Haaraldsson asked.
Jean-Paul knew what his gut reaction was but still took the time to think through what the man was asking. He clearly had something to offer that involved being in the military but not in a fighting role, could he live with that?
"Sir, I would have no objections to being in a military organisation as long as it was clearly understood that I have an objection to fighting. Is that possible?"
"Actually there are two organisations -- both of which wear uniforms -- that are not directly involved in the fighting. The one I want to discuss is the Fleet Auxiliary, they are civilians who are under military orders and discipline during a time of war, most of the colony ships -- like this one -- are crewed by them," explained the Captain. "What is being proposed is that you accept a commission in the Fleet Auxiliary and -- after a period of training -- take on the task of exploring the galaxy for the human race."
'Bloody hell, now isn't that something spectacular!' thought Jean-Paul. He glanced across at the two Marines and understood that this was something new to them as well. "What would be involved in exploring the galaxy -- as you put it -- Sir?"
"Well, you'd get a crew from the concubines on this ship and they'd be trained to operate your vessel. Then it would be a case of off into the wild blue yonder and see what you can find." replied the Captain.
Smiling Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow at the Navy Captain, "I don't think it would be quite that simple, Sir?"
"No it wouldn't," the Captain admitted, "You'd be told where to go and hopefully what to look for. We'd expect you to carry out a proper scientific study of the systems you visited and then get the information back to us. You'd be away from the majority of -- what is known as -- civilisation for long periods at a time and have little chance -- at least in the short term -- to establish a new home somewhere safe. As you can see it's not an easy task and may even turn out to be dangerous."
"Given all that," he asked, "What do you think, is the proposition of interest to you?"
"Yes Sir," replied Jean-Paul, "I'm very interested." He thought, 'who wouldn't be?'
"Good," said the Captain, "lets see if we can find you a crew then, shall we."
---oOo---
"What are you looking for in the way of a crew Sir?" queried Captain Williamson.
Captain Haaraldsson grinned, "Prepare for another shock Captain, we're going to let some of the potential concubines volunteer for service and then let them pick their own slaves."
The Navy officer watched as a gamut of emotions flew across the Marine's face, confusion, shock, disbelief and then, slowly, understanding.
"So the rumours are true?" the man asked, carefully not specifying which rumour he was referring to.
"Probably," came the answer, "though not just yet." He glanced over at the crowd they were approaching, "we're just going to give it a practical trial and see what happens."
"Actually Sir," Gunny Logan added, "It might be a good idea with this crowd."
Tors Haaraldsson looked interested in the non-com's words.
"We were doing a pickup at the university and seem to have got a lot of older people in the mix, rather than the really young student types you'd have expected," said Gabby. "I'm not sure where the rest of them have come from but there is a core of competent people in there, I'm sure of it."
"In that case let's start from the technical end of the process rather than just calling for volunteers and see what we get." Captain Haaraldsson stopped, "Can I have your attention for a moment please, I need to establish a few facts before we can begin sorting you all out."
When everyone appeared to be paying attention the Captain continued, "Will any of you who have experience in the following please move over to the Captain here. Engineering, either electrical or mechanical, Electronics, whether designing, repairing or operating and no I don't mean your television or gameboy," which raised a chuckle from the audience, "Logistics at whatever level or if you've been to sea in a military or civilian capacity."
The crowd slowly split as people filtered out of the main group and Tors was surprised to see so many cross the room from such a small sample. He crossed over to the smaller crowd ready to begin his sales pitch, taking Jean-Paul with him.
"Right people, lets get things started," he said, "could those with CAP scores of six or over line up here and the rest over there. Captain, if you could look over that group and give me your impressions I'll speak to these people."
The group split again and Captain Haaraldsson was left with five people, all of them women, to speak to. "Ladies, I'm looking for volunteers and we've modified the rules a touch to give you a chance. It's a simple enough proposition. You all have CAP scores of six or over and if you volunteer we will grant you the same rights -- of citizenship and extraction -- that we have to those with a CAP score of six point five and before you ask, yes that does include the right to have two concubines." He looked around and was confronted by five pairs of focused eyes. "However, it is not all sweetness and light, you'll be volunteering for a hazardous job -- not fighting -- but probably just as dangerous and you'll be a long way from help if things go wrong. Think about it for a couple of minutes and then I'll ask for volunteers."
Wendy, who was one of the women in this small group, looked across at Jean-Paul, "Are you involved in this?"
Jean-Paul gave her a grin, "Looks like it," he said, "fancy joining me?"
"You believe them when they say there's no fighting involved?" she asked.
"There shouldn't be," Jean-Paul said, "but you never can tell for certain. Let's put it this way, I won't be going looking for trouble, that's for sure."
"Do I have to put out?" Wendy asked with a smile.
"Only if you want to," Jean-Paul said returning the smile, "and I promise not to hold it against you if you refrain."
"Then you can count me in -- on both counts," confirmed Wendy.
Tors shook his head, whatever the young man had going for him it was working even now. "Right," he said, "would the rest of you ladies like to give me your answers now?"
Wendy was first to answer in the affirmative and the rest followed suit immediately after.
"OK then, why don't you introduce yourselves to your boss," he indicated Jean-Paul, "and give him an idea of what you can do."
Jean-Paul nodded towards Wendy, "Wendy, why don't you go first."
"OK Jaypee," she looked around at the group, "my name is Wendy Simons and I'm taking a year out from my husband's engineering firm to get my masters in electrical engineering."
Jean-Paul indicated the next woman in line.
"My name's Hannah, Hannah Cambell, uhmm, I'm thirty-one and studying for my masters in systems engineering. I'd had time out to have a baby -- a little boy -- and was looking to get back to work and this was the logical first step."
"Next," said Jean-Paul grinning.
"Gail MacDonald, I'm a hydro engineer and was here to meet with my PhD tutor. I've got two daughters I'd like to take with me - Oh and I was a keen sailor," she finished glancing over at Captain Haaraldsson.
"I'm Fay Horten," said a distinctive looking woman, still in a business suit. "I was the Personal Assistant to the Managing Director of a road transport company and handled a lot of the day-to-day affairs of the company."
"And you?" asked Jean-Paul of the shortest woman in the group.
"My names Rhonna Evans, I was the cook in the restaurant where the pickup occurred."
Wendy butted in, "Rhonna, you're not just a cook, your title was Restaurant Manager and beside being a qualified chef you ran that place -- front and back -- so don't go running yourself down."
"Thank you ladies," said Tors Haaraldsson before things could get out of hand. As they'd been introducing themselves he'd been allocating them jobs -- loosely -- on what they said and believed that he'd got all the key elements covered. One thing the advanced training techniques the Darjee had made available had proved was that anyone could be taught the requisite skills for most things, it was their aptitude that was the key and these ladies had the aptitude for most of the jobs available.
He glanced at Gabby Logan and felt a twinge of conscience, knowing he was going to be sending her off with these people, he just hoped that the promotion that went with the job would be worth it for her.
"Right," Captain Haaraldsson called, taking charge again, "you have all just volunteered for service in the Fleet Auxiliary and as such are entitled to select concubines to go with you. This should really be two each but, because of the distances and timescales involved we are pushing this to three." This wasn't particularly truthful in that they'd discovered some time before that the AIs would permit each volunteer to have a spare concubine, it just wasn't well known and -- in this case -- the ship needed the extra bodies to crew it. "I'd recommend that you make your initial selections from people qualified similarly as yourselves - it will make things easier in the long run." He raised his voice slightly, "Captain, would you supervise the selection process please?"
"Sir," came the distant reply.
"Gunny," he switched focus, "Mr Kirk, if I could have a quick word."
The three of them separated slightly and Tors came straight to the point. "Gunny you'll be joining Mr Kirk and his crew when they have finished training, you've time to collect your own concubines and take them with you -- if you wish -- or you can hand them over to the Civil Service and choose three new ones here, it's up to you." He turned to the young man. "Mr Kirk as an eight you're entitled to six concubines -- with the extra that makes seven -- but the habitat pods on the ship you'll be using only really house six people comfortably, I'd bear that in mind if I was you when making your picks."
"How many pods are there on the ship?" asked Jean-Paul, wrinkling his brows in thought.
"Nine."
Jean-Paul started thinking out loud, "one, two, three... and Gabby, seven, uhmm, does a pod have to have a volunteer in it, or could I use two pods?" he asked.
"That is one option -- I suppose -- I'd just thought you'd want everyone together." said the Captain.
"There are bound to be young children involved," said Jean-Paul, "and I'm guessing I'll need somewhere to hide in times of stress."
Tors laughed, "Now that I can understand," he said with feeling. "You'd better get over there and make your choices, before someone else gets the best."
"Sir," respond Jean-Paul walking away quickly, already scanning the crowd and then making a beeline for Felicity, she didn't see him coming and when he whispered, "Still want those tits," in her ear she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"God yes," she said when she'd calmed down, "are you asking for real this time?"
"As real as it gets," he said, "they seem to think I'm what they're looking for and I don't want to let them down."
Felicity took hold of her blouse, "do you still want that test drive?"
"Yes," he said, "but we'll do it in private later. I'm sure I won't be disappointed."
"So am I," whispered Felicity with tears in her eyes.
"OK, you probably know these people better than I do so you can help me pick," he said. "I'm after another six and one of them needs to be a man -- nothing too good now -- I don't handle competition well," he said with a grin to show he was only joking. "So who would you recommend?"
Felicity looked round and thought hard -- this was serious stuff -- and she didn't want to fuck it up. "Well Helen there, yes the plump one, she already had two kids and would probably be happy to spit out another half dozen and if the tales she tells are anything to go by she'll knock your socks off in bed. Linda there is a shop assistant and is pretty quiet and compliant -- if you know what I mean. She'll be a good, obedient choice and as for a man, well Andy there is the maintenance guy around campus and seems to get on with everyone, though I can't say how good he is in bed."
"Right, go grab them before someone else does and I'll try to find another two or three to fill out the quota," said Jean-Paul. He then looked around and began drifting towards a gaggle of giggling students of the sort he'd disparaged earlier but a simple check on the people he'd already earmarked recommended that he got a bit of young stuff to help things along.
Two of the younger women had their tits out already and were cuddling one another, Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow in query and another woman spoke up. "They want to get taken as a pair and are trying to put on a bit of a show to attract a sponsor," the middle-aged woman said, "but they're too nervous to do it properly," she concluded with a snort.
"What's your name?" Jean-Paul asked.
"I'm Sara, and those two are Jane and Karen," the woman said.
"You know them well, then?" he asked.
"Not really, they're both doing Economics as part of their courses and I'm on an Economics master's course so I've seen them around the campus," she said.
"Think you could put on a better show?" he asked with a challenge in his voice.
Sara looked Jean-Paul over, "You want a show, I'll give you one -- I could probably even get them to do a better job of it at the same time," she said starting to remove her top.
"Just strip to the waist," said Jean-Paul, "and grab the two of them and join me over there," he said indicating the spot were Felicity had started to gather the rest of his group. "Any problems with them and leave them behind, I can always pick someone else."
The two Captains were watching proceedings and remembering their own extractions, "You know," said Tors, "that's a lot more civilised than my extraction was."
"And mine Sir," agreed the Marine, "there were fights amongst the concubines and nearly a couple amongst the volunteers towards the end."
"Where are you headed when you've finished making pickups?"
"Prikat, Sir," answered the Marine.
"I'll have orders cut to bring you back via New A, you can drop this lot off there for training," said the Navy Captain. "In the meantime run them through the normal indoctrination procedure but keep them separated from the rest of the colonists." He shook his head as he watched the small group sort itself out, "You know, I'd really like to be going with them but..."
---oOo---
Chapter Two
The three divisions were lined up in their grey uniforms with not a hair out of place, every button and shoe shined to perfection. This was the culmination of six months of training, six months that had taken civilians and turned them into spacemen. The senior division -- formed up in two ranks -- contained the officers, eighteen of them being commissioned as Second Lieutenants and four -- the best of the class -- passing out as First Lieutenants.
The two lower divisions contained the ratings and were formed up in three ranks, one hundred and eight men and women who were trained to run the new ships of the Fleet Auxiliary under the guidance of the officers.
Admiral Hargreaves, Commander in Chief Taskforce Earth looked over the graduating class and smiled, the speeches were just about over. The band had played and the students had passed in review, all that remained were his final words and they'd be free.
"And so it is with great pleasure that I congratulate you all and wish you well for the future."
Admiral Hargreaves came to attention on the dais and the Sergeant Major running the parade called out, "Three cheers for the Admiral, hip hip..."
As the third cheer died away a swarm of caps flew into the air and the students broke away chattering, cheering and smiling at one another. Commodore (Brigadier) Bushman moved up to the Admiral and waited.
"How did it go Dan?" the Admiral asked.
"Not bad at all, Admiral," the Commodore said, "Mr Kirk really did finish second overall and deserved to qualify as a First Lieutenant. The rest, well it seemed strange having concubines in some of the classes but I didn't make a fuss about it and I'm fairly certain that half the instructors never even twigged on. It helped that most of them were pretty intelligent to start with and missing out the military side of things always seems to fit well with Auxiliary people." He looked over the milling throng, "Give them a couple of months to find their way around a ship and they should manage the basics pretty well. I'm still not sure how they'll get on if it goes tits up -- and no -- I'm not changing my mind about sending out experienced people with them. Their very expendability is what makes this whole idea viable and I'm not going to counter that."
Admiral Hargreaves turned to his companion and grinned, "Couldn't agree more, Dan, so don't go getting in a flap about it. Tors promoted a Marine to officer for the same reason though I'm willing to bet that two years from now, any of them that survive will be able to name their own job and get it."
"True, but that's two years away," he caught the SCPOs eye and nodded towards the refreshments tent, "if we go and get a drink the 'graduates' will join us and you can see for yourself how they've done."
"Lead on Dan, speech making always brings on a thirst," said the Admiral.
Across the parade ground Jean-Paul Kirk, newly promoted to First Lieutenant was gathering together the rest of his crew, and smiling at the label. They really were a crew now and he was going to be the man in charge.
Wendy Simons had finished fourth in the class and had also been commissioned as a First Lieutenant, Fay Horten had finished fifth -- much to her disgust -- and was the senior of the Second Lieutenants graduating. Gail MacDonald, Hannah Cambell and Rhonna Evans had all successfully completed the course and were wearing the single bar that signified a Second Lieutenant.
As the cluster of new officers crossed towards the refreshment tent and the informal meeting with the Admiral, a lone figure in the uniform of a Marine detached herself from the crowd and moved forward to join the group.
Jean-Paul was the first to spot her, "Gabby!" he called out excitedly, "They didn't find you another job then."
"No Jaypee," she halted, "Sorry, Sir," she said putting up a salute grinning wildly.
Jean-Paul waved at her, "Pack it in, it's party time," he said as he slipped an arm around her. "What have you been up to while we've been slaving away here?" The pair of them had stayed in contact but censorship had restricted what they'd been able to say and as busy as they'd been they hadn't bothered trying to find a way around it.
"What do you think," she said exasperatedly, "I've been doing the same thing as you lot, officer school to teach me how to do my job properly, God it was hard -- but oh so boring," she said with feeling.
"Well hopefully things will go on being boring," said Jean-Paul, "but without the hard work," he concluded with a grin.
"Come on, let's get this over and done with," he said leading them into the tent, "You really shouldn't keep an Admiral waiting, you know."
---oOo---
The newly named Confederation Space Ship Pytheas sat on the end of a docking arm just waiting for her new crew to arrive. Her journey from the holding yard to Earth had been slow under the command of a Darjee crew -- who'd handed her over to the humans as soon as they could -- and then gone home.
She'd spent all of the available time since her arrival linked with the station's AI getting herself updated on the current situation and in particular with the foibles of her new masters, these humans. It had taken time to assimilate the differences between this aggressive race and the normal requirements for trading in the Confederacy but -- after scanning all the available information on the Sa'arm -- she understood the need.
It felt right that the weapons were back on their mounts -- and now that the Darjee had departed -- had been activated. She -- and the data concerning humans indicated that a ship should have a female persona -- didn't think it was right for a ship to be anything less than one hundred percent efficient.
She'd watched and logged the actions of the space station staff as they'd made the required changes, removing the empty carriers and fitting the new habitat units. Adding weapons to the shuttle, stocking the various replicators and hydroponics units in the main hull and all the other intricate details necessary to prepare her for operations.
Now there was just a hand-over crew aboard who -- like her -- were waiting for the arrival of her real crew.
At that moment her prospective captain, Jean-Paul Kirk was standing at the end of the boarding tube looking through the clear windows at the ship he was about to take command of. The Pytheas looked like a very stretched space shuttle with cylindrical pods strapped to her top and sides. She even had stubby wings and a vertical tail to assist with atmospheric manoeuvring, not that you'd want to try it without dumping the pods beforehand. She was painted in the light grey so familiar to fans of the Enterprise in that old sci-fi series Star Trek and looked about as threatening as a Volkswagen Beetle, something which Jean-Paul had no problems with.
A cough behind him bought his attention back to the present, "Shall we?" asked Fay.
"I suppose we should," he replied grinning at the woman who was his Executive Officer and matched deeds to words by stepping into the boarding tube and crossing to the hatch, where an attentive Staff Sergeant watched him approach.
"First Lieutenant Kirk and party requesting permission to come aboard," intoned Jean-Paul.
"Welcome aboard, Sir," said the Staff Sergeant standing to one side. "Captain Ormskirk requests that you and your officers join him on the bridge and that the rest of your party wait in the main galley."
"Certainly," Jean-Paul responded, "Betty," he called.
"Sir," responded Betty Sage.
"Take the rest of our people to the galley," he ordered.
"Yes Sir," Staff Sergeant Sage acknowledged.
The party split in two and the officers followed Jean-Paul forward to the bridge where -- as the hatch glided open -- they got a view out of the forward screens at the blackness of space. The bridge itself was open and free from clutter, the various stations around its edge with only the command stations and the holographic display in the centre of the room.
A figure rose from one of the command chairs and Jean-Paul automatically halted and saluted the man with the insignia of a Captain.
"Relax," he replied, "I take it you're Jean-Paul Kirk?"
"Yes Sir."
"I'm John Ormskirk," the man replied, "I've been looking after this lady for you."
"Sir," responded Jean-Paul, not sure how he should be responding.
John Ormskirk chuckled, "I mean it, relax!" he said, "This isn't the Academy." He looked up and waved the other members of Jean-Paul's party forward. "Come in, find yourselves a seat and we'll chat." He guided Jean-Paul over to the three chairs that made up the command station and dropped down in one of the end chairs and indicated the Captains chair. "You may as well use that one, it's going to be yours."
Jean-Paul gently lowered himself into the leather-covered seat and slid his hands -- almost sensuously -- over the arm rests, feeling the warmth as if it was a natural thing.
John Ormskirk smiled knowingly before beginning, "Welcome aboard the CSS Pytheas," he said, "I'm the shipyard officer and it's my job to ensure that this vessel is ready for operations." He grinned, "and she's about as ready as I can make her."
"What happens now is that we take her out and run through a few basic tasks to ensure that you're happy with her and then I formally hand her over to you, and she's then your responsibility. The plan for the next couple of days is to get your crew aboard and let them familiarise themselves with the ship. Then, early next week we'll zap around the solar system for a bit so you can get a feel for how she handles before we do a quick trip out to Proxima Centauri to test the FTL drive. Assuming there are no problems we should be ready for a final hand over by the first of the month," he grinned, "and then you'll be all set to go off and play."
"Ivan here," he indicated the second person on the bridge, "will escort you to your pods and then give you the short tour of the ship. I suggest we all meet in the galley after that for a chat and a couple of drinks."
Jean-Paul nodded in agreement.
"OK Ivan, do your stuff," John said then held Jean-Paul back, "I'll take you to your pod and we can chat in private."
"Sir," respond Jean-Paul.
When the rest had left the room John Ormskirk slumped back comfortably in his chair, "Mr Kirk, how much interaction have you had with an AI?"
"Not a lot Sir, we were allowed to interact with the system at the Academy and I've had the odd dealing with the ship's AIs when I was on training sorties but that's about it."
"That's about what I expected," he said. "One of the things I've found -- since this ship arrived -- is that not all AIs are created equal. Like you I've interacted with a few of the AIs fitted to our ships, I've even been on some of the larger warships and I'll tell you now, their AIs have nothing on the system fitted to this ship."
"No Sir?" exclaimed Jean-Paul.
"No," agreed John, "I've actually discussed it with the ship's AI and -- as I understand it -- most races have their own AI systems and they reflect the background of their builders. Apparently the most life-like of the AI systems are produced by a race called the Tuull and that is the system that this ship is fitted with," John smiled. "You're going to find interacting with her is a pleasure."
Jean-Paul must have looked sceptical because John just chuckled. "AI, allow me to introduce you to your future Captain."
A sultry voice filled the room without shouting and the hairs on Jean-Paul's neck rose in response, "Good afternoon, Sir."
"Oh yes, uhmm, Good afternoon�" Jean-Paul glanced at John Ormskirk, his look clearly displaying his confusion.
John nodded at Jean-Paul's response, which was very much like his own had been. "We've named her Pi,� John continued, �It seemed like a simple enough shortening of the ships name and, as I understand it, an AI will respond to whatever name you give them. Anyway as far as we can tell she's as good technically as the current systems being fitted to the battlewagons. I've no way of measuring her capacity but I'd be willing to stake money on the fact that she could run a planet comfortably, which means she will always be able to answer any questions you can come up with, no matter what is going on around you."
"Right," muttered Jean-Paul then switched his attention, "Good afternoon, Pi, we will speak more later."
"Yes, Captain," replied those same sultry tones.
"Come on," said John getting to his feet, "lets go find your pod and get you settled in."
---oOo---
"Five hundred metres."
CSS Pytheas slide gently towards the docking arm of the space station.
"Four hundred metres."
The bridge was silent -- those who could were watching the space station getting closer through the main windows of the flight deck -- everyone else was keeping one eye on the monitor, which was displaying a similar picture.
"Three hundred metres."
Jean-Paul glanced up from his monitor ready to give the order but Gail MacDonald -- whose task it was -- beat him to it. "Slow to harbour speed, engage push-pull."
The tractor - presser combination, more commonly known as a push-pull, would anchor them in position at a set distance from the docking arm -- in the case of the Pytheas this was twenty metres -- and the docking tube would snake out and make the connection to the hull.
"Two hundred metres," intoned the helmsman.
"Stop engines, lock levers," responded Gail, ordering the main engines shut down and the control levers locked into the neutral position.
"Levers locked."
To the audience on the bridge time couldn't make up its mind whether it was racing or standing still.
"One hundred metres."
"Confirm position?" checked Gail.
"On the money," came the response.
"Fifty metres."
Jean-Paul felt his palms sweating and managed to resist the temptation to wipe them on his trousers.
"Twenty metres, vessel is stationary."
"All stations secure for harbour," sang out Gail.
Jean-Paul sighed, he couldn't help it, and beside him John Ormskirk managed to refrain from chuckling. The newbie crew had been working hard and this was the end of the final test as far as he was concerned.
"Sir, the station is asking for permission to deploy the docking tube."
"Tell them to go ahead, Hannah," said Jean-Paul to his sensor officer.
Slowly the reports came in from each section, announcing their change of status from operational to harbour stations. When the display in front of him made the last change Jean-Paul turned to John Ormskirk and grinned, "Sir, mission completed."
"Well done Captain," said John Ormskirk, using the honorific for the first time, "please congratulate your crew on a job well done."
Jean-Paul beamed, as did everyone else on the bridge, "Thank you Sir, I'll let them know."
"That's everything finished here as far as I'm concerned. If you'll meet me in my office in about an hour we'll sign off the paper work and you'll be free to get on with your job." Captain Ormskirk held out his hand and when Jean-Paul shook it added, "Congratulations, your people have come together well, I'm sure you're going to do fine from here on in." He fished an envelope out of his pocket, "You might want to read that before you come and see me."
---oOo---
Down in the Engineering department the same sense of relief -- that flooded the bridge -- made itself known. Andy Kane took the rag he'd taken to carrying everywhere and mopped his brow -- which in the air conditioned environment of the section couldn't possibly have been sweating -- beside him Ilene Porter held out her hand and after carefully taking the rag sniffed it playfully and pulled a funny face.
All of the Engineering staff were on hand, disregarding the usual watch pattern, to observe the ending of their testing period aboard the Pytheas. Now -- if everything had gone right elsewhere -- they were ready to head off into the big wide galaxy and see what they could find.
First Lieutenant Simons glanced at the smiling Staff Sergeant Natalie Arundale and asked, "Think we made it, Staff?"
"Well if we didn't it wasn't any of our doing," Natalie replied, "Our people did what was asked of them, when it was asked and did it well."
"I couldn't agree more Nat," replied Wendy before raising her voice, "Well done everyone, I think we've shown them that the Engineering Section is up to any task they care to throw at us."
Alan Jones, the youngest member of the section looked up from his screen, "Does that mean we can have a party?" he asked smiling hopefully.
"I think we can," replied Wendy, "I'll check with the skipper and get back to you." The rest of the section smiled, knowing that a good time was just about guaranteed.
Nearer the front of the ship Gabby Logan looked at her family and smiled, "It looks like they've passed," she said, "which probably means that there is going to be a party."
Her glance got more steely, "We will enjoy ourselves," she said, "but remember you are responsible for the security of this vessel and the crew. If someone gets out of hand I want them cooled down before it gets to raucous, understand?"
Tammy nodded and looked at the younger pair with her. Peter grinned, "How do we stop a party in full swing?" he asked.
Gabby grinned at her boyish charmer, "Carefully," she said. Then slightly more formally, "I've always favoured a bucket of water. It's much less personal than grabbing them by the balls and bashing them around the head."
She waited for the chuckling to stop, "Seriously I'm not expecting any trouble but just keep an eye open and try to nip any incidents in the bud, that'll keep everyone happy and, more importantly, out of trouble."
---oOo---
The letter was a bit of a shock -- albeit a welcome one -- it offered congratulations and then announced the promotion of Jean-Paul to Captain and his formal appointment as Captain of the CSS Pytheas. It also promoted one other officer, Fay Horten, to First Lieutenant and confirmed her appointment as his Executive Officer. All in all a very good beginning to his term as a Captain in the Fleet Auxiliary.
He summoned Fay to his cabin to give her the good news and to finalise the organisation of their small crew.
"Grab a seat Fay," Jean-Paul looked on as his assistant settled down, her augmented body boldly displayed in the short grey dress that had become the uniform for the female contingent of the Pytheas. It was a uniform that had been a combination of the Fleet Auxiliary grey coverall and the old Star Trek uniforms. Jean-Paul smiled when he remembered how Melissa Felps and Natalie Arundale had coerced Gail MacDonald -- three of the older women in the crew -- into putting forward the abbreviated uniform to display their new figures. A uniform he'd had to go into the archives to find details of before he could comment. When he found the old images full approval was quickly granted and the ships replicators took the old material and re-fashioned it to the women's description. So far no one had complained about the changes and the few men on board were more than happy.
"First of all I have to tell you," began Jean-Paul seriously, "that your performance has been noted and I wish to be the first to congratulate you on your promotion to First Lieutenant."
Fay looked stunned then leapt off her chair and grabbed Jean-Paul, hugging him as she squealed in his ear. He stood there bemused at such a display and was a little embarrassed when she released him and his erection was clearly visible to anyone who looked.
"I'm sorry," she burbled, "but I was so disappointed when I failed to get there in the Academy and now to find I've made it so soon is wonderful news."
"And totally deserved Fay," said Jean-Paul, "Now sit down and tell me your thoughts on the crew dispositions."
Fay looked slightly disappointed, "Don't worry Fay, we'll go and celebrate later, but now we need to get the ship's business sorted," he said gently.
"Yes Sir," said the woman as she returned to her seat.
"So what do you think of the make up as we've been using it?" he asked.
"It works," she said, "I'd like another three for the navigation section but we can get by with what we have."
He nodded his understanding, every section had six people available, which meant there were two per watch -- a level of redundancy that was reassuring -- except for the navigation section, which only had three ratings.
"Well," he added, "you, Gail and I can all cover that detail if we need to and most of the work is done by Pi so it's an acceptable situation."
"True," said Fay, "the only other area is the lack of a doctor, which I know is not going to change. Sandra is a good nurse and I'm glad she's going to be running the cr�che but if things go pear shaped we could lose people before Pi and Sandra can get them sorted."
Jean-Paul agreed but his request for medical cover had been rejected as no medical staff were available at this time. He didn't believe it but there was little he could do about it at this time.
"Felicity, Natalie and Betty are coping as senior non-coms?" he asked.
"Oh, easily," she responded. "I was initially worried about Betty, being so young, but she's got an old head on young shoulders, that woman does, and she has handled everything extremely well."
"And the men?" he asked.
Fay grinned, "No problems at all." She paused, "things may change when we're out on our own and a long way from anywhere but at the moment sex hasn't reared its head on duty."
"Just pass the word Fay," he reminded her, "I don't mind what concubines do when they're off duty -- as long as their sponsors agree -- but I will not have any hanky-panky going on when they're supposed to be on duty."
"Have you decided on a punishment routine yet?"
"It's difficult," he said, "the manual of military law isn't complete yet," he grinned, "apparently they're removing a lot of the softer bits but I can't be too harsh with our concubines. Apart from anything else we haven't got the bodies to cover for anyone being thrown overboard. At the moment I'm favouring periods of solitary confinement and for more serious offences adding sleep deprivation and other psychological torments all run by Pi."
"Is that wise?" Fay asked.
"I'm hoping we never have to go there," he replied, "but people need to know that the options are there and they will be used." He shrugged, "I don't want to be a Captain Bligh but we do have a job to do and if anyone is too stupid to realise that we will be better off without them.
The two sat in silence for a moment before Fay crinkled her brow, "On a different subject..."
"Yes?"
"I've always wondered why they didn't name this ship the Enterprise, like in the Star Trek series?"
Jean-Paul allowed his demeanour to soften, "You and me both Fay, I even asked the Commodore at the Academy -- when he told me what ship I was going to -- though I think we may have been thinking of different version of the series."
Fay chuckled dutifully, then asked curiously, "What did he say?"
"He pointed out that the Confederacy already had a carrier with the Enterprise name and they weren't going to change that just for me. He also added that Pytheas was a real explorer and not some TV character with no real substance."
"Oh well, I don't suppose you can have everything," said Fay disappointedly. "What are we going to do now?" she asked.
"You are going to get the proper rank insignia and I'm going to see Mr Ormskirk. Then we -- the whole crew -- are going to have a party down in the main hold. Pi has organised refreshments and Rhonna has got people preparing the hold as we speak." Jean-Paul glanced at the paper confirming his promotion, "then we boldly go where no man has gone before," he said in his best Captain Kirk voice.
---oOo---
To Be Continued...
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