Ch. 1 - Old Flames and New

"And Colonel-Doctor M'Raatha, our mission scientist." The Taucetian does the zero-a equivalent of a bow among her kind, corkscrewing all four limbs out and back in a manner that keep her torso perfectly still and balanced.

"I take it you've already acquainted yourself with Master Sergeant Y'Jaan."

"Yes, of course," I answer. As full of questions as I am, I sense that this is not my briefing but the mission commander's and ship's captain's, so I refrain from saying anything more than, "I'm very pleased to meet you all. Thank you for your hospitality and for including me here."

"Don't thank her yet," the Taucetian doctor says, to differently stifled laughter around the table.

"Please, have a seat then, and we'll begin," Kimma directs.

Y'Jaan and I push off and slip into the third seats down on either side of the table. Once we're strapped in, the captain launches the briefing with a simple prompt, "Doctor?"

Everyone but the doctor is eating, so I mag my bulb of kava to the tabletop and pull out my food pack.

"Yes, Sir. First: The data dot retrieval was complete with no attenuation and near-five zeros of degradation. We have approximately a half a yottabyte of information spanning - we think - the entire imperial breeding plan from its inception to just about a week ago."

Data icons scroll on the briefing screens, almost completely illegible to me. I peel the tip off of my food pack and take a bite. Mmm! Quavil egg and Agnis sausage burrito. Somebody has been reading my diary!

"Spec-One markers from the latest sample are nominally within expected augment ranges, with a couple of new peaks that we're still looking at, Sir." I look up from my burrito to see a stack of gene charts displayed, with red, amber, and green circles, highlights, and notations. I know what it is. I just can't read it. My inner nerd doesn't bend that way.

Perhaps for my benefit, the Captain interjects, "So what kind of range are we looking at, Doctor?"

"We'll be able to confirm in a couple of ship days. I really want to nail down the unexpected spikes at least through simulations; but right now I believe that, either directly or in native pair triplings, Spec-One is compatable with and capable of passing on at least eighty percent of exceptional markers to twenty-seven of the thirty largest force-contributing mammalian species in the Resistance, and both itcthyans. Between our research and theirs," she adds, "I'm certain we'll be able to significantly extend both range and potency.

Captain Kimma let's put a low whistle. "That's some hot supersperm!" She doesn't quite look at me, but I've got a sinking feeling in my gut, and it's not yummy burrito!

"Tell me about the Empire's latest harvest," the Captain said.

"Again, we've some more scenarios to run - mostly edge cases involving now-known stock in their inventory. I'd like some AI time to run those to ground."

"Granted," the Captain acceded, "What's your current analysis?"

"Nearly full suppression: in cases with less than seventy percent suppression of known exceptional markers, we project that the resulting zygote will be unviable owing to recursive recombinant frictions. Edge cases would be first or second generation S1 females where we predict the offspring could be viable with up to forty percent exceptional expression but would be a mule; incapable of reintroducing the genes through procreation."

"That's acceptable," Kimma says. "You said 'known exceptional markers'. Does that refer to analysis yet to be done with the latest data?"

"It does. Also," the Doctor added, "we will need an untainted current sample, both for verification and comparison."

"Very well." Shit! Kimma's eyes snap onto me. "Commander Deck, please provide Doctor M'Raatha with a semen sample."

"What, now?!" The thought escapes me out loud while my mind is wrestling with everything else going on.

"Do you feel prepared to provide a sample right now?" Her eyes bore into me. Her tone is calm and quiet, but still with an added undertone of don't-fuck-with-me-on-my-ship.

Doctor M'Raatha spares me. "For optimum results, I'd recommend at least an eighteen hour stand-down time before next sampling."

"Very well. Commander Deck, you will report to Doctor M'Raatha wherever she directs, tomorrow at 1300 hours ship's time and provide her with a fresh-catch semen sample."

I'm cashed out, not under military justice's jurisdiction anymore - neither the Empire's nor the Resistance's - but I'm not about to argue finer points of naval law with Kimma on her own ship, so I just say "Aye, Sir!" Plus, I'm getting a little thump-thump action going on my ship suit just thinking about cumming in front of - for - the hot doctor, bioethics and personal property rights issues aside.

"Between now and then," the ship's supreme autocrat continues, "you will not ejaculate or engage in sexual stimulation, whether by yourself or with a partner, that would risk your ejaculating prior to your appointment."

Whump rat excrement!

"Aye, Sir," I acknowledge, briefly looking across the table at Y'Jaan. Her grin is dripping with naughty thoughts. I'm going to have to figure out how to avoid her - and probably the rest of the crew, too, judging by the way they're all looking at me - for eighteen hours.

Sleep. Sleep sounds good. Eighteen hours of it!