In Space Everyone Screams Ch. 04

The enemy fell away, their body disintegrating, their form breaking apart into segments and those parts themselves breaking apart like sand falling away into individual voxels until there was nothing left.

She breathed out. Her chest rose up and down and she felt the thin layer of sweat that had formed over her skin stick to her clothes.

Thirty-four seconds. A personal record, Nim. Congratulations, chimed Pal in her mind.

A set of stats appeared in her peripheral vision: her completion time down to the millisecond, kills per second, damage sustained, average movement speed, calories expended per second, and other variables.

Nim huffed and started peeling the training vest and pads off. She ambled over to the bench on one side of the room where she'd set down a small bottle and towel. With her thumb, she pressed the cap off and closed her mouth around the spout. Within a few seconds the thick, sludge-like white fluid inside the bottle drained away as Nim sucked it all down.

"Hm. Not bad." She set the empty bottle down and wiped at the sweat on her brow and neck. Under the training outfit, she wore a form fitting black tanktop and leggings. Simple, functional clothing. Nim didn't experiment much when it came to fashion. She wore nearly the same outfit as when she had been in the Corps.

Her mind wandered but as of late went back to the same thing: Ophelia insisting that she personally lead the boarding mission onto the Adventum.

Nim felt the same emotions she had felt back then. Frustration and disappointment.

It wasn't that she had wanted to be the first to board the ancient ship. She could have cared less if it was her or someone else. As long as the job got done. It was more the principle of Ophelia taking point on a mission that should have been given to a lower ranking member of the team. It was Nim's job to take on risk so that her commanding officer didn't have to.

The commanding officer needed to be the one to make the hard calls. To sacrifice one piece on the map to save three others. Ophelia came off as the sort of person who seemed to think she could save everyone and that irked Nim. Because she knew that it simply wasn't feasible. You couldn't save everyone. You had to pick and choose. That was the life that they had chosen. The civilians would likely never understand but Ophelia should have.

It was a pattern of behavior that Nim had seen jeopardize missions and cause all sorts of trouble during operations. She ran a hand through her hair and blew out another breath and sighed.

Are you all right, Nim? Thinking about the boarding party selection again?

Reading my vitals again? Nim fired back, her tone dry.

Yes, your cortisol levels have been fluctuating.

Nim contemplated the ground. Her eyes took in the detail of the textured weave of the mats. They had a great training space aboard the ship. That fact that she was one of the few people who took advantage of it was both a shame and a priviledge at the same time. But she knew what she had been getting herself into when she had signed on. She had wanted this. A skeleton crew on a small vessel. Low chance of combat. A route that passed through fringe space. It had been perfect. Or so she thought.

I'm concerned about the captain, Pal. I appreciate her candor and I don't mind her relaxed attitude when it comes to certain... protocols. I know I'm a stickler for some things but I've seen this behavioral pattern before and it can cause problems in the long run.

I understand your concerns. You think that the captain would likely sacrifice herself to preserve the life of the crew rather than survive to advance or complete the mission objectives.

That's exactly what I'm talking about, said Nim mentally. She paced across the floor now.

Nim, I find your loyalty and drive to succeed admirable but consider the stakes and overall danger level. If you recall, we discussed this several times prior to arrival at the distress beacon. I calculated a 93.3124% chance of succ--

--yes and there were still unknowns! It was too big of a risk to take.

Nim was starting to feel really frustrated now. She'd already run through five different combat sims. There really was nothing else to do but to let the emotions run their course.

So she left the training room and made for her quarters.

It's easy to say when the stakes are low. Yes it turned out fine. We rescued the survivor and recovered the ship but what if the stakes had been higher? The captain needs to be the one to make those difficult calls. Needs to be able to put the mission first, instead of feeding their savior complex.

I fear that this is where your different backgrounds lend the two of you opposing viewpoints. Your service record is quite different from the captain's, Nim. You were more--

--it doesn't matter! I need to know that my commanding officer is able to make the hard choices when the chip's are down and everything's gone to shit. They need to make the right choice!

Nim reached her room. The painted varinium surface parted as the door slid open to welcome her.

I don't want to talk about this anymore, Pal. Switch on Privacy Mode.

As you wish.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she took a moment to slow her breathing. She'd done it so many times before that it had become like second nature to her. Tossing her training gear and used towel into her laundry box, she stripped out of the rest of her clothing. The door to her bathroom opened without a sound. All their bathrooms looked nearly identical. A metal sink, a single mirror cabinet that was built flush into the wall above the sink, a towel clip on the adjacent wall and the toilet and shower set against the opposite wall.

Nim stepped into the shower and the water immediately began pouring down on her in a heavy torrent. A layer of soap jetted onto her skin by the nozzles set into the wall. She scrubbed with routine, brisk motions. Then a torrent of water and air blasted at her until she was clean. The small space heated up quickly and more nozzles blew air in a thin blade that swept over her body from three sides, pushing all the water down to the floor.

Her hair was always still a little damp but she wore hers shorter than the rest of the crew and it would be dry soon enough.

She needed to unwind. With a thought, she flicked through a library of books, shows, movies, and games. There were a few pornos that she always came back to and she was about to throw one of them on and step over to the storage closet to grab her toys when something caught her attention.

Nim paused a moment. Her finger hovered on the button that unlocked the bathroom door. Something had sounded off. Her augmented senses were much more sensitive than a normal person's. Even before she'd signed on with the Institute, she'd had some intense combat augs. Then her world had been blown when she'd experienced what private funding could provide.

There was that sound again. It sounded like it was coming from the wall in her room. A faint, wet squelch. Almost like the sound a suction cup would make against glass. It was very subtle.

Her foot lifted off the ground and she brought it back down as softly as possible, stepping towards the sink. Reaching under the sink, she pressed her finger against the biometric pad and a muffled click sounded as the small case opened. Out of the enclosure, she pulled a small handgun. It wasn't like anything that they had used in the Corps. This was more civilian sized and designed for concealment. The handle barely reached her pinky.

With her weapon trained in front of her she unlocked the door and jumped out, landing in a low crouch. She checked right and then left, both were clear and as she slowly stepped forward, still in crouch position, knees bent and body low, she felt the nerves in her neck tingle.

Nim swung around and raised her gun--

--a mass flung itself onto her face.

Her nostrils flared in response to the strange scent that crept up her nose. It smelled both sweet and wrong at the same time. As if a chem lab had tried to synthesize the smell of vanilla but had gotten it very wrong.

It made her instantly woozy and she felt her muscles slacken and grow weak.

With one hand, she tried to pull the thing off her face. But the more she pulled, the tighter it held. She dropped her gun and pulled with both hands, willing her combat augs to fire up. She felt her muscles flood with power. Biceps straining, she tried pulling again and felt the thing slowly lift away from her face.

Her skin seared with pain and she opened her mouth from the exertion to yell. But as soon as her lips parted, something moist forced its way into her mouth.

A tendril lashed itself across her eyes and her vision went dark.

She felt sharp pinpricks against the inside of her cheeks. Fluid flooded her mouth. She tried to spit but something flared, pressing against her teeth. The fluid flowed, thick like slime it clung to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and nearly retched.

It tasted like curdled milk.

At first her stomach turned but then, unexpectedly, heat blossomed in her belly and she started to feel... good. Her muscles slackened as if she had been tranquilized and her entire body began to relax despite her mind continuing to fight.

She felt her cock twitch in response. The aftertaste changed, becoming a flavor that reminded her of the brown sugar milk tea drinks from her youth on Alexia. She tasted notes of honey and cinnamon. More fluid pumped into her mouth and she reluctantly swallowed again.

Turn... Priv...a...cy...Mo...de... she tried to complete the command but her mind stuttered.

Command not understood, please try again, an automated voice spoke through her chip.

Nim crumpled onto the floor. Her mind wavered, flickering between consciousness and unconsciousess.

It was worse than any simulated torture she'd experienced during training. Instead of pain, she was awash in pleasure. She swallowed another mouthful of that sugary sweet fluid. Instead of resisting, she now wanted more of it.

The thing atop her face shifted and more of its body spread over her and she felt flat appendages snake around the rest of her body. One of these crawled down her bare stomach to wrap around her semi-erect cock.

Nim felt more turned on than she'd ever been in her life. Her mind slowly stopped fighting and the sense of muffled danger faded to the background as whatever she'd swallowed coursed through her system, binding to specific receptors in her brain and unblocking her inhibitions.

She felt her cock grow hard as varinium. Something warm and oily stroked it, moving over her length repeatedly. And she felt pressure on her nipples as well. Teasing her buds. Something pressed against her pussy and she gasped, finding that she wanted it to keep going.

She didn't know what was happening and she didn't much care.

All she knew was that it felt good and she wanted it to continue.