Dominion of Terra Ch. 02

Terra

"OK, but the ship is new."

I fight the urge to check how long I have left on shift. We're two weeks into our test run and every day has been more boring than the last. We run drills, we run more drills, then we run drills again. The only excitement is the goddamn wiring running through panel fifteen. Panel fifteen has been a massive pain in my ass for three days now, three fucking days. All while Laurel has peered over my shoulder while I try to find out what's causing the short.

"I'm going to hit you." I mutter. "Shit!"

"What?" He asks, his breath hot and stinking of coffee and washing over the side of my face when he leans in to see.

"I dropped my fucking wrench, back the fuck up before I find it and cram it up your ass sideways!"

"Chill out, Terra, Captain's breathing down my neck about this so I gotta breath down yours."

He backs up a little bit and I pull my head out from the mess of wiring, pushing bundles to the side to see where my wrench went. It didn't clang all the way down so it can't have fallen far.

"You know that's a metaphor, right? You don't have to literally breath down my neck. I don't know what's causing the short, alright? I know the ship is new, it shouldn't be happening, but it is. Every connection is good, every wire is in perfect condition, every buffer is functioning, everything is in perfect working order and then it shorts out that weapons console during every...every drill."

I drift off and Laurel breathes a huge sigh of relief. I ignore the smell of coffee and again wonder why he needs to be so close, and I get very mad at myself for not seeing it sooner.

"It's user error." I say, smacking my forehead. "Of course."

"You can fix it?" Laurel asks.

"I can. Think the Captain will be mad if I yell at someone for being stupid?"

"Depends." He purses his lips, thinking. "Who is it?"

I tell him.

"Oh, then no. She might frown and scold you but that's it. She'll enjoy it but she'd never admit that. We'll close up, you go deal with it."

Good. I find my wrench and throw it into my tool belt and stalk away from the panel. God. It feels good to solve a problem.

We are becoming used to being underway. About half the crew are veterans of space travel, used to the artificial gravity that keeps us from floating around. We're a mix, there are Terrans, Martians, Mercurians, Lunars, Jovians and most of us have done some space travel. Half the crew are new, fresh recruits and recent graduates. Thrown to the wolves to learn.

Me, I've done some tours on ships. I keep my feet about me.

I'm in my orange jumpsuit, I've unzipped the top and let it fall to my waist, leaving me mostly in my gray undershirt that's stained with oil and sweat. Engineering gets a pass on uniformity and cleanliness on good ships, it's better to have them working than pretty. That's also why we often get carted away during inspections. I see the looks that are thrown at me by the new kids, unsure of what to make of an officer stripped to the waist storming through the ship. Veterans just nod and get the fuck out of the way.

There's a universal lesson that everyone learns on ships.

Without engineers, there's no air, grav, or water. So, we get leeway.

I pass the two security guys with a nod, we've been running drills most days and these guys have it bad, dressed in their combat armor and toting those short barreled weapons around, all the extra ammunition in pouches hanging from their body armor. I enter the bridge and look around, finding exactly what I was hoping for.

He's sitting at his weapons terminal. Petra sees me and raises an eyebrow. I shake my head and she shrugs. Captain Wren also watches, holding a finger to silence the officer that was delivering a report. I cross to the weapons terminal in a handful of long steps and slap him on the shoulder. He looks up, confused then furious that I'm touching him.

"Ensign Yarmody." I say, offering my most sincere smile.

"Lieutenant Katina, have you fixed the issue?"

"I think I've got it figured out, just have one question." I say, pouring as much sweetness into my voice as I can, it practically drips with pleasantry.

Ensign Yarmody is the son of Senator Yarmody, who uses his position to get his ineffectual spawn onto this ship, apparently to terrorize the rest of us. Ensign Yarmody is completing his term of service that is mandatory before one enters politics on a system level. He believes all of this to be below him and yet, we are required to deploy into zones that could include combat. Since Ensign Yarmody is as useful as a leeching polyp, it is likely he will get someone killed.

"Let's pretend, just for a second, that you're completing your preparations for defensive firing, as in the exercises where the short occurred, would you mind just showing me?"

I fight the urge to add a 'pretty please' and just smile. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and starts the process, his fingers tapping limply against the terminal.

"It's been days, I don't know how you managed to get on this ship since you're entirely useless." He mutters, tapping to active the PDCs in his quadrant of the ship. I watch a message pop up on the screen, flashing red, and he idly presses 'Proceed' and clears it. I hang my head and sigh. Down at that panel, a connection just shorted and I don't even need to ask for confirmation.

"Can you read, Ensign Yarmody?" I ask.

"What? Obviously I can read." He's so puffy, sputtering and offended, looking for rescue.

"Are you sure? Try this with me: A, B, C, D-"

"-What the hell is wrong with you?" He shouts, standing up.

"What's wrong with me? With me?" I grab his collar and turn him, forcibly, to look at the screen. My fingers dance on the screen much more nimbly than his, until that flashing red warning appears again. "What the fuck does that say?"

He snarls and grabs for my wrist. I use my other hand to catch his arm and I start to squeeze, I squeeze until he yelps, then I repeat my question.

"What. The fuck. Does that say? Ensign?"

"Warning." He says. "Power draw unsustainable. Proceed?"

"So, you can read!" I shout. "That's great! What the fuck do you think that means? Did you even bother checking?"

"Of course! I check my systems every drill!"

"No, you don't Ensign Fuckface! Cause I see three plasma cannons in 'stand-by' instead of 'stand-down' and you know what that does to the power cells? It overloads them when you tell the ship to arm PDCs at the same fucking time, you raging dipshit!"

"Lieutenant!" Captain Wren has decided I have pushed it far enough. "That's enough."

"Aye-aye, Captain." I release the Ensign. He rubs his wrist and glares, then casts his eyes to the floor of the bridge when a shadow falls over us. Naylor is in his body armor too, a veritable mountain of man and carbon fiber. He smiles his goofy, genial grin. His eyes are hard as steel.

"Ensign Yarmody, it seems you and I have some additional drills to run. I think perhaps you could use some time to cool off first. Let's say, ten laps of the ship first."

"A good idea, Mister Naylor. Lieutenant Katina, my quarters, now." Captain Wren says. I smile at Yarmody, as nicely as I can.

"Short's fixed." I say. Then I head to Captain Wren's room, following her into it. When the door is closed she beats her head against it lightly, just a few taps.

"I'm going to get a message from his father about that." She says, rubbing her temples.

"Sorry Captain." She waves me off, heading for her desk and opening a drawer.

"No, no, he deserved it. Did you know one of his instructors resigned instead of automatically passing that idiot? A former Vice-Admiral, with twenty years of instructing and that idiot out there was the last straw."

"I did not."

"Sit down." Captain Wren says. I do. She draws a glass bottle from her desk and two glasses. She pours two drinks and pushes one to me.

"Fucking worth it." She says with a grin. "How long do you think we have to sit in here? How long does a righteous ass-chewing take?"

I sip from the glass and it is good.

"How long does it take to finish two drinks?" I ask. Captain Wren leaves the bottle out and nods sagely.

"Exactly what I was thinking, Lieutenant. Exactly what I was thinking."

Findlay

It's thirty minutes to reveille when I slip out of my bunk and sneak past the snoring shapes of my platoon. It's our first night back from spending a week qualifying on the shooting ranges, basic and intermediate level with basic weapons. No one else is awake yet but I woke up needing to take a leak, no point in tossing and turning for thirty minutes trying to snatch a few more precious seconds of sleep.

I do my business and stop on my way past a mirror.

I hardly recognize myself. Twenty-four years old, joining the UDMC like a fool. Can't argue that all these weeks haven't turned me from a reasonably fit guy into something else. If nothing else, there is one benefit to training. They feed us. Add that to the daily runs, countless push-ups, hours of planks, and regular instructed physical training? I've shed anything resembling fat and put on a few pounds of muscle. I grin and wink at myself, like a loser, and then manage to laugh at myself.

I turn to leave and jump.

"Jesus, Howler."

"You woke me up." She says, rubbing her eyes. "You checking yourself out? You're a loser."

"I know!" I hiss. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Oh come on, don't take it personally." She sidles up to me, hands on my chest. "You look pretty good."

She bites her lower lip and one hand slides down my shirt, finds the waistband of my boxers, and slips under. Her fingers wrap around my cock, her lips find mine and I harden to her touch. She strokes my cock to full hardness, gently pushing me back with her other hand until my back hits a wall. I lean my head back as she drops to her knees, releasing my cock and using both her hands to pull my boxers off. My stiff cock springs free when my boxers slip down and she giggles, using a finger to make it bounce again, biting her lip.

"Howler, we-"

"Thirty minutes of sleep won't make a difference." She says. Her head dips down and her tongue circles the tip of my cock and all my arguments about sleep disappear, one hand gripping the sink next to me and the other in her hair. The warmth of her breath and the wetness of her tongue are on my cock. She teases me with her tongue, flicking it around the tip before finding the underside of my cock. Then she wraps her lips around the head of my cock and I moan, clenching my hand in her hair. She starts with just the head, sucking and using her hand to wrap around my shaft.

She works down the length of my cock, her head bobbing and her tongue flat against the underside, moving up and down. My breaths hitches as she sucks my cock and I grip that sink tighter, my legs tensing up. When she returns focus to the head of my cock while her hand turns around my shaft and I feel it building, and quick.

It doesn't take long to get there. We couldn't find any time to sneak away during the weapons qualifications courses. I gasp a breath but she doesn't slow down and I lean my head back against the wall, feeling that familiar pressure just before release.

"I-" It's all I manage to get out before I cum. I cum in her mouth and I moan with each spurt, my legs tense and my hand tightening in her hair. She doesn't stop right away and I yelp, overly sensitive to the sensation. She grins up at me around my cock in her mouth. Some of my load leaks from the corner of her mouth, she uses a finger to swipe at it and licks her finger clean.

She swallows my cum and stands, kissing me hard. I let my hands fall to her ass in those tight shorts, turn and push her against the wall. I loop my fingers into her waistband and strip her shorts down onto the floor. Then I make my way back up, kissing her calf, up her thigh, working my way slowly to her pussy. She leans against the wall and spreads her legs for me, her hands running over my head. It's my turn.

My tongue finds her wetness, teasing her the way she did me. I start with gentle flicking of my tongue, tasting her and exploring her pussy, slowly and softly. I wrap one hand around her leg to caress her. The other I let drift up under her shirt, up her taut belly and to the softness of a breast, tracing the underside and then slipping up to her stiffening nipple. I massage her with my hand and then, then my tongue finds her clit. She has one hand on the back of my head, the other on the wall behind her now, her hips grind into my mouth and she pushes me deeper, so I obey.

I take her in, my tongue exploring her, working in circles around her clit, side to side across it, then up and down through her pussy. She arches her hips into my mouth, moaning and breathing harder, quicker. She draws in shorter breaths and her fingers lightly claw my scalp.

I don't rush it. I just let her make her way there and when she cums, she lets out her breaths in gasping, little squeaks that are buried in the moaning, her nails raking my scalp with each wave until she is done. She leans back against the wall on shaky legs and I feel a little proud of myself. I stand and we kiss again, standing there for a minute, just breathing and holding each other.

"I missed that." She says. "Worth a few minutes of sleep."

"Yeah." I grin. We find and put on our respective clothes.

And the lights come on in the barracks.

"Good timing." She says.

And another day starts in the Corps.

Terra

A Haelstorm-Class Destroyer has a crew capacity of seventy five, with room for a thirty-man Marine platoon. The ship itself is roughly a kilometer in length, a third of that in width and height. That includes the double hull to keep the nastiness of space from being inside the ship, the engine room and mess hall, bridge and security, Marine quarters and training center and our own quarters.

Every ship is roughly one third officers, we get special treatment. Our quarters are about six feet by eight feet, a bunk, a barracks box, a few closets and drawers, and a shower.

I open the door to my own spacious quarters and step in, shutting the door. I'm off shift and it feels so good. I unzip my orange jumpsuit and step out of it, tossing it into the laundry. That leaves me in my gray undershirt with my name on it and gray undershorts. The Navy is not a fashionable organization.

I strip off my shirt and toss it in the laundry too, standing there feeling the cool air of freedom on my skin. I swipe my hand across the panel near the door and lock it, strip off my undershorts too and toss them aside. I feel grimy and sweaty and I only want a shower and a nap. It's been nearly two weeks and I'm exhausted. The ship is running smoothly but Yarmody has been a pain in my ass every shift since the verbal beating I delivered. Nothing I can prove, of course, but irritating.

We've run so many drills that the XO, according to rumors, asked the Captain to give us a day to breathe. She apparently obliged.

I step into the shower and turn it on, seeing that blinking timer there that reminds me I have sixty seconds of recycled water. Excellent.

I use every second of those sixty seconds, quickly scrubbing the layers of sweat and dirt from my body and watching it drain away. It'll go to the recyclers and be recycled yet again, until we can stop over at a supply station for fresh rations. Or, if we're lucky, go planetside and have all the luxuries that comes with.

When my time ends I stay in place, dried by a jet of warm air that keeps us from having more laundry. Luckily I am allowed to enjoy as much warm air as I'd like. I practically collapse on my bed, falling face first and laying there naked and clean and tired as hell. I force myself to pull on the casual wear we are all allowed, for off-shift time. It's gray, because of course it is. There are orange stripes on the shirt, that way we always know who is what on the ship.

I've heard officers complain that it's to keep us separated but it's not.

If we are attacked, it's so we can identify the off-shift deaths with a practical speed. You know how many engineers you've lost, without having to do more than look at their clothes. No one cares what you are off-shift, you're either in the way or not and that's it.

It's grim but that's working in space.

I fall back on my bed and stare at the drab ceiling. I do my best to stretch the aches in my back, arching like a cat. Not a lot of space to stretch. Then I settle in, closing my eyes. I lay there for a few minutes listening to my brain talk its way through everything before I open them again. Goddamn it.

I need to sleep. I got spoiled by having Petra but she's still on shift, so I'm out of luck. But...

I lean over and open the drawer under my bed, my fingers digging through the contents until I find what I'm looking for. I tuck it beside me and lay back on my pillow, closing my eyes. I think about better days, better places with better people. I start with thinking about Petra, her smooth skin against me and her sleepy smiles. As will happens, my mind wanders further.

I remember the handsome engineer that helped me learn the ropes, more than a few years ago now. I remember him holding me against the cold wall in engineering as we tore each other's clothes off, I remember his cock inside me and how his calloused hands were so gentle on my skin. My breathing gets a little heavier, a little slower, my mind stops racing so fucking much.

My mind is back to Petra and our first time together. I remember her tongue on my clit, after weeks of tension between us it was a hungry release of energy between us. My left hand slips up my shirt, gliding against my skin and I let it move on its own up my belly, up to the stiffness of my nipple. I moan and think of Petra's tongue, my right hand in my waistband of the shitty, ugly pants and under my panties. I make a v of my fingers and massage myself, slowly at first.

I think about Petra's hands on my thighs, how she knows just where to squeeze and just when to massage and just when to let them glide over my skin. I think about her tongue, warm and wet and hungry for me, devouring my pussy. I move my fingers to massage my clit, drifting to that engineer and his hard body, his harder cock. How he teased my pussy with the head, how my hands ran over the hard muscle of his body, how his tongue felt in my mouth.

My wetness explodes against my fingers and I up the pressure, apparently I don't even need my little friend, not today. I push aside all the tension of work and moan. I think back to Petra and I can almost feel her hands, her tongue, her warm breath and how she floods every nerve I have with ecstatic pleasure.

I cum, moaning and gasping with each orgasm that crashes through my body.

I fall back, spent and exhausted, but a little more content and my mind a little less active.

I lay there for a while, breathing out, feeling a lot less stressed.

And then I start thinking again and it just won't stop.

For fuck's sake.

I sigh and get up from the bed. If I can't sleep then I'm going to go get something to eat. Might as well use my free time, no use just laying here.

I open my door and am surprised by Ensign Yarmody.

"The fuck you want?" I ask.

Then he tries to hit me.

Findlay

"Marines, form up!"

Sergeant Blue is instructing today. He's a thin man, never without a cig between his lips. His hair is thinning, his face permanently disinterested in whatever is happening around him. Sergeant Gray hardly raises his voice and doesn't seem to care that we exist. Today we have funneled in to a warehouse building. Dim overhead lights dangle above us and we have lined up in two rows, facing our fire team partners.

"Congratulations on getting this far. You have proved yourselves to be less than useless. The Corps believes that it is time to treat you with some modicum of regard, a fractional level of trust. You have four weeks left. These next four weeks will be the most difficult weeks of your lives."