Making of a Starship Captain Ch. 22

The Making Of A Survey Service Captain

By Gary L.M. Martin

[Note: This Science Fiction story is an intense character study with occasional sex scenes.]

What Survey Service Captains are made of

Captain Michael Tiberius Taylor of the United Survey Service dabbled with his wand, putting more flesh tones in his holographic painting. To his right stood Sophie Astor, doing much the same. In front of them were Ann Marie Queen and Audrey King. Both were topless. Both were posing with their hands around each other's throat.

"An interesting arrangement," said Sophie, as she tried to do artistic justice to Ann Marie's pear shaped breasts. She peered over at Taylor's rendition. On his virtual canvas, they looked more like mangoes. Clearly, his mind was not on his art. "Why did you arrange the models in this fashion?"

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked, after a pause, as if he had been thinking of something else.

"Topless, and strangling each other," said Sophie.

Taylor had been surprised when Sophie had agreed to join him on this project. While what they were doing was not widely known among the crew, Taylor kept no secrets from his first officer. When he told her that he was going to paint his yeomen topless, Sophie had lifted an eyebrow and said, "Why don't you save time and simply have sex with them?"

Taylor had laughed. But Sophie hadn't. "After all, I'm the only one on the crew who knows you're not, Captain," she had said.

That was true. It was widely rumored that Taylor had shown his affections to one or both the young, pretty yeomen. But Taylor had drawn a line and vowed not to cross it.

"It's art, Commander," said Taylor. "Or does your practical mind not acknowledge art?"

"My practical mind observes what is called art. But in my observation, the term art is as freely and sincerely applied as the words 'thank you'."

"Then why don't you paint with me, and I'll show you what real art is," said Taylor.

And much to his surprise, Sophie had lifted an eyebrow and accepted his challenge.

"I'm going to call this one 'naked aggression'," said Taylor, as he studied the two women glaring at each other, as their hands were wrapped around each other's throats. The two were leaning forward slightly, so that their breasts hung out erotically. "Normally when a subject is sketched, only one person is drawn, and their face is blank. I find that boring. I wanted to tell a story."

"And what story did you wish to tell?" Sophie asked.

Anguish.

Taylor didn't answer her question.

"You have been remarkably quiet since we left Starbase Four, Captain," said Sophie.

"Have I?" Taylor asked, as he adjusted his wand to scatterbush, and selected the proper shade of brown for Ann Marie's pubic hair.

"Yes. Did your... tour of the ship with Cherry leave a lasting impression on you?"

Taylor cast a quick glance to the yeomen, but they looked bored, and were locked in their own thoughts, apparently.

"It may have," Taylor sighed. "It was good seeing Cherry again. I'm not likely to get another chance."

Sophie adjusted her blonde to blood red and narrow gauge, and started to delicately paint in Audrey King's areolas and nipple protrusions. "I liked her too," she said quietly.

Taylor's eyebrows shot up, and his hand jerked, as he sprayed pubic hair all over the image of Ann Marie's belly. He quickly reset his painting wand to erase and started to fix the damage. "You did? You never showed it."

"I admired her taste in men," said Sophie quietly.

Taylor struggled to unpack that. Did Sophie just say what he thought she did? Taylor looked at her, his mouth wide open and surprised. But then the comm chimed. "Yes?" said Taylor.

"Sir, we have a message from Survey Service Command on Earth. Priority Urgent."

"I'll be right up," said Taylor.

"Does that mean we can stop?" Ann Marie asked. "My hands are getting tired of strangling her."

"Mine too!" Audrey whined.

"Yes, girls, by all means. Get dressed and meet me on the bridge." He looked at Sophie.

"I am already dressed, as you can see, Captain," said Sophie. "It's one of the many advantages of being the only woman around you to wear clothes."

********

The holoimage of Admiral Chellina appeared on the bridge. "Mike, we have a developing situation on Ramada."

"Another war?" said Mike, stiffening in his command chair.

"No, but it could turn into one," said Chellina. "Have you heard of the Guttmacher Institute?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Taylor.

The Alyssa T. and Murial J. Guttmacher Institute was one of the leading foundations which promoted women's rights and women's issues across the galaxy. They were also a leading thorn in the side of the Survey Service, as they constantly accused the Survey Service of sex discrimination because the number of female Captains and Admirals did not match the precise number in the general population. Never mind the fact that in recent years a majority of cadets at the Academy were female, or that 40% of starship Captains were women, as well as 30% of all Admirals, that was not enough for them. Nothing would ever be enough for them.

"They operate a mission on Ramada designed to raise the standing of women and girls."

"Oh oh," said Taylor.

"Oh oh indeed. Three of their project employees, two of them World Government citizens, and one of them a local with a World Government work visa, have enraged the locals with their calls for women's equality. They have taken refuge in Earth's embassy on Ramada, which is now surrounded by a mob, calling for their blood." The image shifted to the embassy on Ramada, which looked like it was surrounded by thousands of people.

"You need to go in there and rescue those activists, Mike. I don't need to tell you that the Survey Service doesn't want another bloodbath on its hands."

"I understand, Admiral."

"A specialist from the World Government Diplomatic Corps will meet you enroute, the High Commissioner for Ramada herself. I believe you know her, Mike. Her name is Allyson Harshbarger."

Sophie looked rapidly at Taylor's face. It betrayed no emotion.

"I know her, Admiral. We're old friends," said Taylor.

"Good, because she's going to be calling the shots."

"Admiral-"

"That's the way it will be, Michael," said Chellina. "I'm sending you coordinates to meet the Kincaid enroute, and details about the mission on the sub-band. Good luck, Michael." Her image faded.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "First Andrea, then Cherry, and now Allyson Harshbarger. It seems we are in a season to be greeting old friends."

Taylor gave her a glare. He sat in his chair sullenly, as Sophie analyzed the incoming data. He listened as she ordered navigation to set a new course to rendezvous with the USS Kincaid.

Taylor stared sullenly at Sophie's ass as she looked into her viewer at her console, until she turned and said, "Captain, you should see this." Suddenly, the holoimage of two women appeared in front of them. "These are the two Earth citizens who have taken refuge in the embassy. One is Andrea Zuckerman, and the other is Audra Zuckerberg."

Taylor was half tempted to ask if they were sisters. Not only were their names similar, but they actually looked somewhat alike--round faces, long noses, and dark, curly hair. And one was named Audra! He hadn't met an Audra, not since.....

"I am bringing up the image of the third activist, who is also in the embassy." The image of the woman appeared in front of them. "Do you recognize her, Captain?" Sophie asked.

"I should," said Taylor.

It was Mohammida Najjar.

********

Six hours later, the USS Relentless met with the USS Kincaid. The Kincaid was a Deep Space Cruiser, built more for exploration than combat. Taylor and Sophie stood in the landing bay as the shuttle touched down.

And out of it came Allyson Harshbarger.

Allyson definitely looked older. At 36, she wasn't exactly old, but the bloom of youth had clearly left her. Her face was older and visibly lined; her face had also somehow gotten bigger, and her cheeks more plump, but not exactly in a pleasing way. She seemed to have aged a lot more than Sophie or Andrea or even Cherry, who was mightily pregnant.

"Mike!" she cried, as she flew into his arms. Taylor let his arms lay stiffly at his sides until Sophie gave him a look, at which point he half-heartedly wrapped his arms around her.

"Let me look at you," she said, looking closely at his chest, and then down to his groin, as if she had IR goggles and could see his penis. "Mike... you've grown into a man," she said.

"I was a man when you knew me before, Allyson," said Taylor.

"Yes, yes of course," Allyson said, her eyebrows fluttering. "But even your voice, it's gotten deeper! You've certainly... developed well." Her gaze turned to Sophie. She looked puzzled for a moment.

"Sophie Astor," said Sophie. Seeing Allyson's continued puzzlement, she said, "I was your Galactic Physics Instructor at the Academy, don't you remember?"

"Yes, of course," said Allyson. "So nice to see you again!" She hugged Sophie, while Sophie gave Taylor an ironic look.

"You've hardly aged a day, dear," Allyson told Sophie. Sophie was about to respond to that, when Allyson continued. "Now Mike, I am so glad we are going to be working together. I just know we'll make an excellent team! Is there somewhere... private we can go and talk?"

"I've arranged to have dinner in the mess hall... but if you want to talk classified mission details, we could meet in my quarters," said Taylor.

"Excellent!" Allyson beamed, clasping him by the shoulders. "I can hardly wait!"

As Taylor and Sophie watched Allyson trail the yeoman who was carrying her bags to her quarters, Sophie said. "She makes me feel good."

"She does?"

Sophie looked up at him. "I used to feel like I was the only woman on this ship who felt safe being alone with you in your quarters." She paused. "I no longer feel so alone anymore."

*********

"And so Natasha Romanov really was a spy, can you believe it?" Allyson asked. She was talking a mile a minute as she ate dinner with Taylor in his quarters. She was wearing a brown dress which left little to the imagination. Allyson, like Sophie, evidently had gotten a nuclear breast job, and she revealed every bit of it she could, in a dress which showed off nearly everything, it seemed, but the actual nipples.

"And Ernie Maslarov, he became a millionaire, writing some bizarre stories about pancakes fucking people. Or were the people fucking the pancakes? I don't know, but everyone back on Earth is talking about it-"

Taylor could hardly get a word in. And that was fine with him. Let Allyson exhaust herself.

"-and I hear little Andrea Farby Doll is finally making Captain. Local girl does good. Yay!" said Allyson, giving an exaggerated cheer. "Not that I haven't done well on my own, Mike," she hastily added. She proceeded to launch into an annotated autobiography of her career in the World Government's diplomatic service.

"-and after I became the first Trisexual Liaison to the Galactic Liaison for Intercoordinational Affairs, I rapidly rose through the ranks, to become the Deputy Commissioner on the Committee for the Study of the Pollution of the Outer Space Vacuum-"

Taylor rapidly wished he were somewhere else.

"-and then I became the first Trigendered woman on the Women's Rights and Women's Wrongs Commission, and after that I was promoted to be Inspector Colonel in the Inspector General's Office-"

Taylor would have rather been on Korana, fighting Abduellah with sticks dipped in Subarru shit rather than listen to this.

"-and then Director of Policy Planning for the Galactic Temperature Change Commission, ...and then finally here I am, High Commissioner for Intercultural Relations on Ramada."

"Intercultural relations? Allyson, this is a military situation," said Taylor.

"That's how you view it, my dear," said Allyson, pinching his cheek. "Don't worry. Mama Harshbarger is here to make everything better." She leaned forward, and started to caress his face. "Your career advancement has been impressive too, dear. Not quite as rapid as mine, of course, since I'm now a High Commissioner and you're only a Captain, but still impressive nonetheless. We're going to solve this puzzle together, Mike, and our success is going to look good on both our records."

"I'm sure," said Taylor quietly.

"I'm sure," said Allyson, imitating his deep voice. She leaned forward. "When did you become so grim, Mike?" she asked. She kissed him. He let it happen, and didn't resist her. But neither did he kiss her back.

She frowned at him. "What's wrong? Don't you like these?" She said, indicating her breasts.

"No, they look fine. Very well done, I must say," said Taylor. He was lying, of course; Sophie had gotten a much superior, more realistic looking set. Allyson probably paid as much or more than Sophie did, but she looked like she had simply gone to the local balloon maker.

"Then... what is it?" She tried to screan him, without realizing she didn't have that ability.

"Will you be recording this encounter as well?" Taylor asked grimly.

Allyson jerked as if she had been punched. "Is that it? You're still angry about that? Mike, we were kids. Neither of us knew what we were doing. Are you still going to be angry about that?"

"I'm not angry," said Taylor.

"I think you are," said Allyson, and she slid her hands along his pants seam. "I've heard about you, Mike, everyone has. You've become quite the ladies' man. I was there first, Mike, I was there before all of them. I planted my flag on you first, and claimed you as my own." She stared hypnotically in his eyes. "Don't you want to see, Mike? Aren't you curious to see how our abilities... our bodies... have changed over time?" She gave him the sexiest smile she could think of, the same smile she used to get Foreign Secretary Amelia Acrobati into bed with her and secured one of her many promotions.

Taylor counted to five. Then he said, "I... I think we should keep things on a professional level, Allyson."

Allyson's' face went cold, and she pulled back. "Whatever way you want it, Mike."

********

They were in the briefing room, only hours away from Ramada. In addition to Taylor, Sophie Astor was there, as was Lieutenant Commander Aloysius Garrity, as well as Allyson's executive assistant, Monehan Janney. And Ensign Miles Redding was also present.

"Ensign Redding?" said Allyson, with a puzzled smile.

"Our trainee, from the Academy," said Sophie. "Captain Taylor feels he should be getting some command level experience."

Allyson frowned. By now she had figured out exactly who Sophie was and was angry for having been played the fool.

Taylor gave a nod, and Sophie began the briefing. "By now we have learned that the embassy is surrounded by several thousand Jihadi's-"

"Excuse me, Commander, but Jihadi's is a very Laquintaphobic term," said Allyson.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "What would you call them, then?"

"Activists?"

Sophie raised her other eyebrow to match the first one. "Very well. Several thousand activists who have called for the blood of Andrea Zuckerberg, Audra Zuckerman, and Mohammida Najjar, who have sought refuge in our embassy. The embassy is surrounded. The activists demand that the trio be released to them, so they can be sacrificed to the God of Blood." She looked towards Allyson mockingly as if seeking her approval for her description of the situation.

"We should open a dialogue with them, to seek out a negotiated solution," said Allyson. Her assistant Monehan, a severe looking androgynous skinny bird of a woman with a short crewcut, nodded her agreement.

"I think if you tried to open a dialogue with them, they would open one of your arteries, Allyson."

"Commissioner, if you please, Michael," said Allyson.

"What?" said Taylor.

"When we are discussing formal work matters, please address me as Commissioner, or High Commissioner. Your choice," said Allyson graciously.

"If you go down there that mob will tear you apart, Commissioner," said Taylor.

"Then we will negotiate with moderates. We can start by opening a dialogue with their Prime Minister, Jihadi Nabil."

"Nabil has ties to the radicals," said Taylor.

"Then he's the perfect one to negotiate with, Michael," said Allyson.

"Captain," said Taylor.

"What?" said Allyson.

"In work situations you will address me as Captain, or Sir. Your choice," said Taylor graciously.

Allyson looked startled.

Sophie bit her lip and turned away hastily.

*********

The current capital of Ramada was Al Sa-Naa. The frequent wars among its own people had a habit of changing that, from time to time, as a new Sheik or Emiri would claim ownership of the planet from another location. The current Prime Minister of Ramada was Jihadi Nabil, but such was the chaos on Ramada that his authority barely extended beyond the capital, if even that. Ramada was ruled by a complex network of tribes and sub-religious cultures within Laquintaism. They had settled disputes and ruled over their own people for hundreds of years, going back to when they had lived in the Middle East on Earth.

Ensign Miles Redding was nervous as he prepared to land the shuttle at the edge of the Plaza of Martyrs, next to the Caliph's Palace, but Taylor perfectly calm as he sat in the copilot's seat. Behind him sat Sophie Astor, Allyson Harshbarger, and a squad of space marines.

Allyson was covered from head to toe in a black burka, with only a small slit for her eyes, to respect local customs. When she learned that Sophie was coming down as well, she requested Taylor have her similarly garbed. "I even have a burka, just your size."

"No you don't," said Sophie.

"What?" said Allyson.

"None of your burkas will fit me. Ever," said Sophie.

Allyson had turned to Taylor, but he shook his head.

"I am in command of this mission, Captain," said Allyson.

"And I am in command of my crew, Commissioner."

And so Allyson was in a burka, and Sophie was dressed like a modern 23rd century Commander in the United Survey Service.

"Sir, are you really sure we should be landing here, and not at the spaceport?" Miles asked nervously, as he prepared to land in the Plaza.

Allyson said, "Landing here will show great disrespect for the people and customs of-"

"Go ahead, Miles," said Taylor.

Ensign Redding reluctantly put the shuttle down, right outside the Caliph's palace.

"A perfect four point landing, Cadet," Taylor grinned. "Lieutenant Tierce. Have two of your men stand guard at the shuttle. If anyone approaches and ignores a verbal warning to stay away, shoot them. The rest of you, come with me."

And so Allyson, Taylor, Sophie and seven Survey Service Marines marched to the Caliph's Gate, where they were met at the doorway by the Prime Minister's Charge de Affaires, Mustafa Winford. "You cannot come in here with guns," he said firmly.

"On the contrary, we can," said Taylor, who was well prepared for this objection. "Under the Treaty of Nantes, which ended the third and most recent war with Ramada, Section 92.3 says that visiting dignitaries and ambassadors, which would be us, are entitled to bring armed guards with us wherever we go. You see, we kind of remember what happened to Roland Astor when he came visiting to Ramada, all those years ago."

Winford bit his lip. "All right... but she may not enter," he said, pointing a brown finger at Sophie. "She is not dressed modestly!"

Taylor looked at Sophie, who was covered nearly head to toe.