Presenting the Cap

"Computer: Enter rec room Omega."

A beep replied before, "Enter password."

Captain Mitt lurched to a halt in his step, processing the console's prompt as well as the still-closed sliding portal door. The password! Rec rooms so rarely had password-locks activated that it'd taken him a moment to recall that one was needed, much less what that password was. "Jericho."

Another beep. "Do you authorize and affirm your desire for rank and role to be disregarded?"

He paused. It was difficult to consider throwing out the work of over two decades, even for a single night. "I do."

A beep. "Do you understand and consent to the exploration of power and sexuality, including the presence of various states of dress and undress that will be evident beyond this door?"

Of course, objectively the computer must have maintained its customary tone, but, for a moment, Mitt would have sworn it'd altered its flat tone to give itself more gravity. "I do."

A beep. "Do you-"

"Halt!" Two lower crewmen walked pass, making eye contact with the captain as they passed. He did not want to consider what they'd already heard as they had approach, but he waited ten seconds before saying, "Continue."

A beep. "-take full responsibility for your actions, experiences, negotiations, and the results of those negotiations beyond these walls?"

With this question, he again felt the full weight of the four pips that ran along his collar. It was the first question in this entire conversation that made him feel at ease. "I do."

A beep, then silence a moment before the portal door slid open with a hiss. The captain did not move. Douglas Mitt stepped inside.

***

Red, blue, and purple fog enfoldd Mitt as the portal door hissed cloed behind him. The colors changed in a rhythm dancing off the cloud of fog as it thinned giving the visitor his first full view of the ship's fully functional play space.

A low bass pumped out a steady thythm overhead, which seemed to guide the movement of the bodies around him. That music was interrupted by te sound of an electric explosion. Mitt took one quick step towards the sound before focusing on what he saw.

Blue flame raced six inches from a steel rod. Liz Stone, the ship's chief engineer wielded that rod, bringing the flame to the open wires in the rear neck of the ship's comms officer, Bitdot, whose head rested in what looked to be a particularly awkward pose against his uniform. Mitt took the scene in, inhaling an acrid scent as the flame fused two wires.

"The hanging head of Bitdot emitted what sounded like gasps of extreme pleasure, while swying to the left and rhight in a steady tempo. "If you can smell the smoke, you are too close to the scene space." The deep voice came from behind Mitt, who looked backwaard, making eye contact with the chief of security. The one person in this room who had not dropped their ship's role would always be Joshua Maan. While he tranded in his pips, he wore a yellow sash labeled MONITOR in bold lettering. Mitt noticed the distance Maan placed between himself and the scene they both watched and took three steps backward to join him. "Thank you...sir."

"No, don't call me sir here." Mitt glanced at the sash, adding, "While you wear that, I believe you outrank me."

Maan nodded. "I appreciate your recognition."

Mitt returned his gaze to the torch flame. "What am I seeing here?"

Maan eased closer to the spectator, lowering his voice as he addressed him. "Bitdot is releasing some tension." He nodded towards the scene as the droid's head begand to bob once again with another round of fire at his neck.

"But isn't that dangerous?" Mitt tilted his head in an attempt to see where the fire was scorching his colleague and subordinate.

Maan answered, "Everything in this room contains some level of risk, and this is no exception." He paused, then continued, "Look at his fingertips."

Mitt eased forward a half-step before taking in a quick breath. "Green! They're green!"

"As you were told during your screening, this club operates with a color-code system. Green means everything is okay and that the scene may continue as planned, yellow signifies that an adjustment must be made and a pause and conversation must inform that adjustment. Red means that the scene must end. It's usually accompanied by a full debrief to understand what, if anything, has gone wrong and how it can be fixed."

Mitt nodded with some understanding. "Stone processes without hearing. Are the glowing colors to make his response more accessible to her?"

"Bitdot uses the colors, along with verbal cues, universally but yes the effect is accessibility for all players."

They said nothing more, instead watching as the scene wound down. Liza Stone drew back the flame, removed the goggles, and shut the door flaps to fully encase the wiring and circuitry in Bitdot's neck. Mitt noticed what might have been a smirk on her lips as her eyes made brief contact with his while she worked.

In a moment, Bitdot's head jerked forward and then backward into place before rising, leveling his eyes at those spectators. In one second, those eyes glowed the same shade of green as his nails, then all glowing made a swift fade into their usual color patterns. Bitdot stared at first, then focused on the people in front of him. "Cap-Dougy!"

Mitt visibly bristled at the casual address. "Bitdot."

The droid cocked his head, saying, "Inquiry: as we do not adhere to ship's rank, how should I address you?"

Mitt made a start, then replied, "I-I don't know. I hadn't thought about what I'd like to be called. What is everyone else using?"

"It depends," Bitdot said. He was now engaged in the process of wiping down the bench, administering a disinfectant spray while Stone followed up wiping the area down with a towel.

Mitt said nothing for a moment, focused just then on the precision with which they operated, removing all trace of their scene from the station, preparing it for some future scene. It was as they dropped the last towel into the receptacle that he remembered the conversation and thought to reply. "Cap might do, I suppose."

"Cap," Bitdot said after a brief pause. His eyes focused in on the area above Mitt's eyes. "Inquiry: cap has a number of meanings. A hat of a casual variety, often worn at sporting events for one, but I do not see--"

"Of course I'm not wearing a cap, Bitdot!" The long day and this conversation with his most verbose and inquisitive crew member was beginning to wear on Mitt. "I'm choosing Cap because I'm the Cap--" He paused, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "I suppose it's a bit derivative."

Stone smiles behind the blank face Bitdot was making, and Mitt could see the fine print of green letters dictating the conversation racing along the clear glasses frames she wore. "It's a start. You'll think of one that suits you in no time."

The song that had been playing faded out. In the brief silence between music, a scream of, "Oh fuck!" caught Mitt's attention, and he turned around to see his first officer Commander Strike standing nude, his wrists cuffed above his head, fingers wrapped around metal handles in the frame that surrounded him. For a moment, it looked to Mitt as if his first officer had grown six inches before he saw that the man's feet were off the ground. "What on earth?" It was all he could think to say that would even come close to expressing his astonishment at what he was seeing.

Strike was surrounded by junior officers, two of whom appeared to wield electrified whips as they encircled his naked body. As they paced, they cracked the whips alternating between taking turns cracking and cracking them in unison. Without being touched, as if triggered by the amplified sound, Strike jerked his head and exhaled as he said "Oh, God!"

"That," Maan said, "is Cap."

"Cap?" Mitt turned to Stone and Bitdot. "That is Cap? You said nothing about the name being taken."

Although Bitdot maintained his impassive expression, Stone utterly failed to keep her composure. "Well," she said, a laugh escaping, "we thought you should see for yourself to understand."

"Understand what?" The sharpness had returned to Mitt's voice.

Stone's laugh subsided into a chuckle as she walked toward Mitt. "Well, some people choose their scene names." She raised her finger as Cap shouted, continuing, "and other earn it through their actions and reactions."

Two things happened at that moment. The first was that Mitt noticed that his first officer was not only naked but that he was also sporting what appeared to be a full-staff erection. The second thing that happened was that one of the junior officers encircling Cap swung his electrified whip towards th engorged organ, whipping sound the shaft in a fluid movement, the crack of the whip slapping against the head, sending spasms and jerks throughout the officer's body, forcing the tortured man to cry out, "O Captain! My Captain!" before releasing himself on the floor ahead of him.

The last drop of cum was still on its way down as Mitt rushed to the portal door. The moment's wait stretched for an eternity before the door slid open, and Captain Douglas Mitt made his exit. As the door slid closed behind him, he straightened his uniform, muttering, "Not for me," and walking briskly down the corridor towards the bridge.