AI Era: [REDUX] The Captain's Commander

"I'd like to get a drink," I told him. "And I'm not a captain anymore." Actually, I was, but that was where this whole situation got tricky.

He gestured towards the corner occupied by a tiny fixed table and two chairs. Next to it was a beverage dispenser. "Over there. Captain Wero ordered that we are to address you as just 'Captain', ma'am." I stiffened at this revelation as he went back to work.

The beverage dispenser was a more expensive model than my own on the Fortuna. My eyes lit up. "List alcohol," I told it. Getting buzzed for the first time in years would be the next best way to pass Wero's interminable detention. Or whatever it was. I pondered his odd turns of phrase thinking a normal Vox woman wouldn't just be running away at this point, she'd be running screaming. Which again revved my engine.

"Listing alcohol," the machine replied. The dispenser screen blinked, 'ALCOHOL ISSUED. TOXIC-SLUDGE.' I grunted, humored.

In the silence of the slap of plastic trays and utensils as the cook pointedly ignored me, curiosity about the Mulligan popped into my mind. I shook my head. I really didn't want to be thinking about the Mulligan. "Trap," I muttered, reminding myself. "What is 'Toxic-Sludge', Wires?" I asked the android, "Does it have ethanol in it?" I hoped.

"Toxic-Sludge has ethyl alcohol in it."

"Oh good. Maybe I can relax with this stuff."

Wondering what it was going to be like, I ordered it. The machine made a lot of noise, and I pointedly stared at it wishing it wouldn't be so loud. The door to the cup opened, and the cup was tiny. Sniffing it, I only smelled chemicals for cleaning. On the first sip, I coughed.

"What's wrong?" Wero asked, appearing right behind me.

I startled but covered it up, "I don't know. It's just... this tastes different. I don't recognize the molecular structure."

"It's like a cheap imitation of grain liquor."

I looked at Wero, gauging his expression. Still possessive but with a new edge. "Done doing whatever you were doing?"

Narrowing his eyes at me, he nodded. "For now." Addressing the beverage dispenser, he stated, "List water."

"Listing water." The screen blinked, 'Drinking water, 3.4 ounces.'

Completely silently, the machine dispensed a cup of water. I mentally kicked it.

Wero held out his arm, offering to escort me to the seat at the table one step away. Nervously I looked at it then into his eyes. They were twinkling. I worried mentally at his expression. He knows what you just did. Despite my sense of self preservation, I raised my hand and barely laid it on his offered forearm. Some remnant heat from my orgasmic vision revisited me, and I blushed.

"You look a bit flustered," he commented unhelpfully. "Don't be," his timbre carried an intimate tone to it.

And there went my libido. The man was incendiary. "You know," I took the seat and glanced at Wires, "I'd like to know how closely I'm being monitored." I looked around the galley to see whether the cook was observing us. It had gotten too quiet. He's left. Taking another sip of Toxic-Sludge, I sucked in air, "Tastes like industrial cleaner," I mused.

"I'll list some ingredients for you," Wires said, "Toxic: ethyl alchohol."

"And Wires is a comedian," I added as Wires listed the next ingredient as a potential insecticide.

"Stop," Wero ordered. Then he tapped his nose in a characteristic Vox gesture, indicating I was correct on both points. "Wires, huh," he was amused with my name for his android. Sitting across from me, he asked, "What's your real name?"

Lying to him was getting harder, and he kept asking. "My name's valid. What's wrong with a permanent alias?"

He leaned back, "Lets talk about your plans, 'Smit', assuming I drop you off in Salem. If I have to leave you there to handle your former employer, what will you do without the Fortuna until my return? I'm keeping it. That's not negotiable."

Ignoring my fanclub's demanding attention to his threat to 'return' because it didn't really matter, I summarized, "I'll be grounded as a captain." As far as my alias was concerned, no one would loan me the funds to buy another spaceship. And then there was the inquiry at HQ. I sighed, "Probably end up working shipping." HQ would send me home in a merchant crew. After that, Two weeks. I knew I would last at a desk in HQ for two weeks. Then they'd banish me to clearing trails and inspecting remote monitors around the training center.

"Station police will be notified not to let you off station," he warned. Which meant theoretical me would have to work in warehousing or kitchens. Freakin Asshole! "You're obviously single," Captain Control Freak continued, smiling slightly as I stiffened at his assumption I'm going to agree with this insanity. "Where are your parents in this picture?"

The gut punch was so unexpected, I couldn't cover it up. When I refused to cooperate with their religious leader and it came to blows, they cut me off. "I don't have parents," I snapped angrily. I pictured going back home to dig up whoever that bastard hurt after I left and sending him to jail once and for all.

I blinked shaking my head at the scene that popped into my mind and internally cursed as reality shifted; I suddenly saw where getting all hot and bothered from danger as a coping mechanism came from. Between one breath and the next, it all seemed rather bleak. Ejected by family like a sacrificial animal, building my career as a solo operator because all my former partners either got injured or ran screaming, and then losing my spaceship to a hostile space force. Then Wero had figured out I was not a typical Dirt Merchant. His crew probably knew by now that PAL was buffered against divulging information. Time to beat an offended retreat and reset.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I drank the rest of the alcohol in one tear-watering gulp. Coughing, I stood up. Wero grabbed me by the wrist, making me pause. I wouldn't even look at him. "I'm going to get my answers," he told me softly, "Letting you go will only be temporary. If I have to, to get them."

My inner fanclub gasped. Was that a threat or a different kind of threat, I wondered. All of my thoughts were being openly displayed on my face. Wero's hand on my wrist shifted to rub his thumb across my palm. I sucked in my breath sharply, lubricating instantly. My reactions were completely open to any more of his questions. It was time to get away. Leave now. "You know what, Wires?" I said in a breathy voice, "You are welcome to list the rest of the ingredients that were in my drink."

"Thank you," it said.

"Stop," Wero ordered, "Both of you."

I shook my head. Wero narrowed his eyes and reacted to the show of resistance. Letting me know how he interpreted it, he slipped his fingers between my own. My heart rate jumped as I shivered with lust. I returned the gesture, curling my fingers around his.

"Want to know why I put the collar on you?" Wero asked.

There was no answer to that question that was good for me, but yes, of course I was curious to know what I was dealing with. I shrugged pulling back together my game face at least. My body was just plain out of control at this point.

"Ha, that's a yes."

I worried that he was getting better at reading my tells.

"You're in a constant cloud of nanobots; if you weren't wearing that, you'd be dead by now," he continued.

"What are nanobots?" I asked, "I've heard the word, but I don't know what they are." Not for the first time, I worried about HQ's intel.

"Another tool. Swarm technology," Wero answered. He hadn't let go of my hand. I hadn't let go of his. Standing himself, he slowly moved his face towards my neck. I held still, riveted. Then I gasped: he licked my neck by slipping his tongue just under the collar and made goosebumps break out all over my skin. Raising his head fractionally, he murmured into my ear, "While you wear that collar, I know where you are and how you feel." He pulled his face back looking me in the eye, his breath lightly gusted through my hair. I kept my eyes on his lips, refusing to meet his stare. "Your collar is like a controller and reader to the swarm of nanobots," he explained.

"And for dropping me off in Salem, you'll remove it when?" I asked. His lips were just a few centimeters away. I shifted my gaze from them to his eyes. He's giving me the look of a hunter. My nipples hardened in response.

My eyes captured, he read me for several seconds before responding. Whatever he saw made him smile. "Assuming you get there? I'll consider any effort to take it off to be my call to collect you immediately," Wero's smile sharpened as he let my hand go when I pulled mine away.

My pulse and breathing increased as my whole body lit up. Means he's not letting me go. Not in any real sense. Realizing how deep I seemed to be slipping into Vox customs, I took a step back to get a good look at Wero's facial expression. The twinkling eyes, the pleased curve to his lips, his eyebrows down in the look that he had in his photo. It's too late. The master interrogator knocked me off my game and had my transmission frequency. I turned and took another step away from him. Pausing, thinking of how extensive this connection through the collar might be, I looked over my shoulder at him and asked, "What if I'm just in fight? That can happen sometimes."

Wero's eyes narrowed and flashed. "I'll retrieve you and if severe enough, hunt down anyone who injured you," he answered, "Same goes if the collar tells me you're in extended stress. I don't know if you realize you slept 12 hours straight to recover from whatever you were doing."

My inner fanclub fainted and an adrenaline zing shot up my spine. "I'll keep that in mind." I turned, walking away from him. Never mind the Mulligan in the cabin, the man himself was pure temptation. And worse, he knew it. And disastrously, he was figuring out how to use it against me.

"Beautiful, I'm going to find out your real name," he warned my back. "When I do, this game is over."

The man was full of threats today, which meant the crew on the Fortuna hadn't found anything. He didn't follow as I left, and I breathed in relief. Fact was that even if I found myself stuck with the collar for the next year, he wouldn't show up without provocation. Assuming it wasn't all bullshit, he couldn't possibly marry me as a Vox Captain and keep me cloistered on Vox between his shore leaves. So there was that at least.

I went down the corridor back towards the cabin with Wires, smiling despite myself. His threats were so exciting. Then my smile slipped. I was constantly in danger in this job, and one slip-up away from needing a rescue. That time the M.A.U. guards were trying to figure out why I was outside the security fencing by threatening me and became completely thrown off when I orgasmed came to mind. Toss the collar into that mix, and Wero would have shown up just as I reached my target and blown that mission to hell. And then I could forget about going back to work after that. Then there was the other thing. Not that I would take any lovers while Wero was making me so hot and bothered, but he might even interpret masturbation as unacceptable, too, making the collar akin to a chastity belt.

Disgruntled as I entered my cabin, Wires passed me to pick the Mulligan up from under the bunk and placed it in the corner where it couldn't be missed.

"I get the impression my tendency to get off from losing control is backfiring," I told the android while staring at the box of temptation. Lifting the Mulligan up, I flicked open one of the catches, closed it, and threw it back under the bunk. "I'm not going to be tempted by anything from someone who has nano-fucking-bots in the breathable air," I growled.

I laid down thinking over the implications of what Wero had revealed. Something was up. Sure, I had read about his career, expecting to be disgusted and was surprised, impressed when I didn't want to be. Then when I looked at his photo on the file, I found something in his expression, the serious frown with a twinkle in his eye conveying someone I really didn't want to tangle with, which of course made me tingle inside. But it's not like I went back. I did perk up if he appeared in any Alerts, but they were never for anything really bad. Just him doing his job, competently, restrainedly. He was always so controlled. Why he was focusing on me, 'chaos incarnate' as my exasperated Commanding Officer called me, in mere hours after my capture made no sense. I instinctively knew he was not a man to make idle threats. But it made more sense for him to be bluffing. Was he really tipping on the edge of marking me as his intended wife? Where he licked me on the neck still felt a little cooler after his saliva dried. I could have wiped it off in front of him, but I liked it. A lot. Arg. How will he react when Captain Smit ceases to exist and the collar removed altogether? That standard operating procedure would follow with my losing the Fortuna. He might not take it well. Whether as his prisoner or something more, I knew he wouldn't forget me. I shivered thinking of his response, given what I'd seen. He'd react poorly. Deploying-Vox's-terrifying-resources poorly, in fact. If I told HQ about him, they'll end my job. I'll spend my days aggravating command from planetside duty until they just ask me to resign. What then? I'll be hitting the space lanes for unsatisfying work, completely exposed, and Wero would be looking for me like an electromagnet for metal. I decided to go to sleep, my hind-brain will come up with something. It always does.

Exposing The Game Behind The Game

Holding my breath, I dodged through the smoke. One down. A shoulder knocked me to the side. Arms wrapped around me. I fell and slid just as a kilowatt bolt passed close by. Too close. My hair stood on end. I couldn't get a good look at the merchant who saved me. Replying "Copy that," in a rough voice, he got up, fired across the line of pirates that I was trying to get to, and covered for two others moving towards them. Watching them move, I tried to predict where they were vulnerable. A pirate appeared behind them. Expecting it wouldn't be expected, I charged at him keeping to an angle, so he had to keep working at targeting me as it got harder the closer I got. It helped that he couldn't believe I was doing it at first. When I couldn't possibly miss, I used my mostly useless plasmagun to shoot upward cutting a heavy decoration down. I was a little too successful. The base panel came with it and whiplashed right past my ear. I threw myself to the side it was so startling.

"Shit!" I yelled, physically rolling to the side and waking myself up. No hyperacceleration netting secured me down this time. I was sweating profusely from my dream despite the cool air. The room was dark, a single unstable light was near the door. Breathing heavily, I realized that I lived through that. I was relatively safe. With a teragram of problems but relatively safe. Calmed down, I called, "Wires?"

"Wires is right outside the door," Wero replied in the dark.

"Shit!" I yelled again, jackknifing straight up.

"Lights," Wero commanded.

I threw up my hand to block the light, cringing. I saw the dark blur of Wero do the same, putting down his comm as he did. He was on the floor, near the door, blocking it. Taking a deep breath I yelled at him, "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY QUARTERS?"

My eyes were starting to adjust as he got up stiffly. "There's something you need to know." His tone told me it was pretty bad. "Five mercenaries attempted to assassinate you on the Fortuna a few hours ago," he began. "I sent a man to your quarters when the battle began just in case it was a double hit."

I blinked in disbelief, "Stanners?" I asked worried. They took a lot of mercenary work, not assassinations, though. Killing two crews would start a war, regardless.

Pinching his lips, Wero shook his head, "No, a band of cut-throats just released from prison. The Waystop AI put out a contract, apparently realizing you got away. My people killed the team, put in a report that you were dead to the contract, and got paid." He snorted lightly on the last part.

I stared at him, stunned. Another close call. I wanted to kiss him for saving my life. Again. Wait a minute. PAL was the Fortuna's proximity alarm. His men had taken it down in their probe. "Are your people okay?" I narrowed my eyes at his appearance. It was different.

"They're a little banged up, but fine. They..." he paused a second, "...asked about your safety."

I darted my eyes to take in his insignia. Vox insignia. Openly displayed. No. He just deliberately blew his cover. It was different, too. That was no Captain's pin. He'd gotten promoted. To a Commander. Everything I'd seen over the past couple of days came into focus. Commanders had a flagship. Commanders traveled with their families. A newly promoted Commander Wero had no obstacle preventing him from taking Captain Wero's captive permanently. He knew the promotion was coming. His dating pool was tiny, because not many civilian women liked the space travel life. And then I showed up. Heat shivered across my skin from my scalp to my womb, the risk of being Claimed was real. "It appears Congratulations are in order," I commented. Then I wanted to kick myself. Not many merchants knew Vox insignia in detail like that. Shit!

Commander Wero smiled at me with a very satisfied, lazy grin. "Thank you. I'm so pleased you noticed." Yep, the urge to kiss him was still there. He looked so cute when he smiled like that. I also wanted to slap sense into myself that he was going to send me to prison, but that voice was starting to get out-voted.

Sighing at my first major screwup of the morning and climbing off the bunk, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up. And I found a new set of clothes to change into. But they were men's and not the yellow-green jumpsuit. "What's this?" I asked, holding them out in my hand from the doorway.

He glanced away from his comm, "They're mine for you to wear. It's a little awkward having my Intended in prisoner's attire." I unconsciously knew they were his already; I could smell him faintly in the material.

'Intended?' my fanclub squeaked. I knew I had to crack a joke to sidestep that conversation. I gave him a look out the corner of my eye and snarked, "Prison attire's not a Vox courtship standard?"

He was looking down at his comm again as I replied. The comment registered. He frowned to cover up a smile. Then he swiveled his gaze to mine. "Tell me your name, and I'll get us set on the normal way of things." His voice was a timbre lower, promising.

Not likely. And my facial expression gave me away.

His brows lowered as his eyes flashed. Softly, he mused, "Or maybe I'm just extremely lucky to get you and this is the only way."

Heating up again, I decided morning interrogations simply weren't fair and shut the bathroom door. Breathing slowly, I closed my eyes. He sent Wires out of my quarters while he occupied them. He switched my clothes from prison attire to his own. Opening my eyes, I limped to the shower. He isn't bluffing about Claiming me. In the shower I studied my knee. It didn't look any better, and I worried something might be wrong. I sighed. It would be another day at least before I could get to an allied medical bay.

Stepping out 15 minutes later, I spotted him putting the Mulligan back in the corner. "I could use some caffeine," I told him. He turned and held out his arm again to escort me. I was terrified to believe that he seriously wanted me. And for no discernible reason, I had a limited sense of self-preservation with him. Taking his forearm, I realized I was very very close, microns close in fact, to facing a very long confinement under a hostile government. Or a lifetime partnership to a frighteningly capable and incredibly sexy man? I started to wonder if being allowed to sleep counted as Stockholm Syndrome.