Space Relations Pt. 07

Date: Scratching head here.

Location: In case you missed it earlier, somewhere at the edge of the populated galaxy.

"Let's boogie!" Mark, the lead singer of the Milky Way Misfits, declared to the four Space Corps personnel manning their stations on the SCS Space Relations.

Captain Washington swung his official chair around and faced the singer first. Second, he took in the unobtrusive collection of speaker wiring Mark and his Combat Tech Brukenfooken had been installing for the past few hours. "I take it the sound system is fully operational now?"

"It surely is, my friend." Mark nodded. "Don't bother to thank me. It is the least I can do for letting us hitch a ride with you guys, and for finally getting us off the Neptune. We will be forever in your debt, and we will playing your favorite disco tunes as soon as I get back to the command console in the lounge. You will of course have a bypass button on your command chair, in case you'd like to mute us out."

"That's wonderful." Washington nodded. "But why disco? I thought we were going to have a random drawing so that everyone's musical interest would be represented?"

"Oh, the crew took a vote earlier." Brukenfooken grinned. "We all decided that the first twenty-four hours should be dedicated to disco, in your honor, captain, for the way you handled Commander Braxton."

"Well, that wasn't necessary." Washington stuck to his modesty as Mark left the bridge. "But it does make me feel all tingly inside, in a non-gay sort of fashion."

"With your permission, captain, I'd like to return to my quarters and don my official uniform." Brukenfooken requested. He'd been wearing a casual shirt and shorts while he'd been working, as he was very responsible with his professional attire.

"Granted." Washington nodded. As the captain swung his chair back around, he noticed that his navigator was blowing silent kisses and wagging his tongue lasciviously at ensign Willow, but the pretty brunette didn't look to bothered by this. In fact, she seemed to be quietly enjoying it. "Ensign Cummings, what on Earth are you doing?"

"Oh." Cummings stopped his tomfoolery and turned his chair to face the captain. "It's, uh, something Cruz told me to try out. He said to wink and smile at a girl. If she doesn't turn away right off the bat, I should take it to the next step. I've gone past five or six steps already, but I'm kind of nervous about the next one."

"Why?"

"Because that's when I have to actually expose myself."

"I see." Washington said. "And you, Willow, have no problem with this man's actions? He's not bothering you?"

"Oh, of course not." Willow dismissed the question with a wave. "I had a similar conversation with Mary. She said to hold the man's gaze and to visually egg him on, just to see how far he's willing to go."

"Even if it means he'll soon be exposing himself to you?" Washington asked.

"I'm a big girl." Willow replied. "If I wanted him to stop, I would have told him to already."

"Ah." The captain nodded. "You do understand, that there are certain areas of ensign Cummings that I would rather not be made aware of? Although, I suppose that with this crew, my reservations mean next to nothing."

"You're such a card, captain!" Willow laughed politely.

Cummings frowned. "I don't think I can go any further. Cruz said that I have to take into consideration who else might be present, and where we are. Like the captain said, I might get in trouble."

"Well, Mary said I should provoke a man into going further," Willow confided. "Just so they would get in trouble. That's why I've been looking back at you the way I have."

Cummings looked disappointed. "Oh, I thought you might actually be interested in me. That's why I kept at it so long. My bad."

Willow blushed prettily. "Well, I kind of am. You should try that sometime when we're both in the lounge."

"Oh, yeah?" This perked the navigator back up. "Well, maybe I will."

At that moment, the sliding doors did what they normally do, which is to, ahem, slide open. Science Officer Wattakunt stepped onto the bridge.

"Just Mary will do." The ensign commented.

Right. Mary was dressed in a purple Space Corps shirt. Her pants hugged her butt so nicely that she felt compelled to turn around briefly just to show this off to the others. In her hands, she held a magnetic pen and a metal clipboard. "I am conducting a study."

Washington was suddenly on his guard. The last study his two science ensigns had conducted involved homoerotic Rorschach cards and mentally gauging a participant's reaction times for arousal.

"We're not doing that one anymore." Mary said. "But it's very similar to that. In this one, I'll be sitting on a subject's lap and gauging that exact same thing."

Overhead, Washington noticed that a disco version of It's In His Kiss began to play.

Cummings started jumping up and down in his chair. "I'll do it! I'll do it!"

"No, you ninny." Mary refused him. "I already have a full page for you. We already have your arousal time down to the nanosecond."

"Tell me," The captain asked. "What possible practicality could there be in knowing when a man's pecker stands up?"

"Oh, there are all kinds of applications." Mary replied. "Adult fragrances, erotic videos, disputed paternity suits, sexual preference designations, for gauging tendencies toward bestiality or incest, or for..."

"Forget I asked." Washington shook his head.

"Well, can I be a tester then?" Cummings asked.

"Oh, I'm afraid you can't." Mary frowned back at him. "Cruz can't even be a tester on this one. Only I can, because I can read a person's mind for the reaction and click on the stopwatch, minus my own personal reaction time, of course."

Cummings grumbled.

"Willow, would you like to participate?" Mary asked.

"I don't get turned on by women." Willow denied.

"You are such a liar!"

Willow looked back in surprise. "Did you just catch that from my thoughts?"

"Oh, yeah!" Mary nodded, checked her stopwatch and jotted down the time. The ensign turned and wiggled her butt like a saucy wench. A second later, her head darted toward the command chair. "I got you too, captain!"

Washington covered his eyes with both hands. "Maybe it was a bad idea to ask you to join my crew."

The sliding doors slid open again. A confident and swaggering Brukenfooken strode toward his assigned seat.

"Brukenfooken?" Mary asked.

The big Viking halted to address her. "Yes?"

"In the name of science, can I sit on your lap?"

"No, you may not." The blonde, clean-shaven stud made an angry face, before trudging over to his chair.

"How about your face?"

"Leave me alone!"

Mary shook her head. "You never want to participate in our studies!"

After this, the pretty ensign turned on her boots and quickly left the bridge.

"What is it with those people?" Brukenfooken growled. "Always sex this and sex that. Why can't they be normal?"

"I know what you mean." Washington agreed. "Well, I'm due for a break and I believe you are, too, Willow. Would you like to join me in the lounge for a drink?"

"I'd love to, Captain."

"Your Barbie doll is going to get mad." Cummings teased.

Yes, they still have Barbies even in the 26th century, and not just for kids, either. They have full-size ones for adults that walk and talk and make sandwiches.

"No, Barbie is not going to get mad." Washington countered. "She's going to be in the lounge, too."

The captain and his systems analyst made their way down the hall, turning left when they came to the lounge door.

As they stepped in, the last disco song faded out, and a new one started. It was Abba's Dancing Queen. While the digitized vocals were based on the original artists, the Misfits were taking care of the live music. The lounge itself had been converted into a dance floor, with a revolving and glimmering disco ball, a darkened atmosphere, and lots of undisguised libido.

In the center of the dance floor, and wearing a white and glittery gown, was Barbie. She was swaying to the music, with soft pink and blue streaks colored under her eyes. The curvy brunette smiled like an angel when she saw Washington come in.

"I believe this is my dance, ensign." Washington said.

"I believe it is, captain." Willow agreed.

The Bigfoot that was Margo had been hiding in the shadows like a thug. Now she stepped over to slap Washington hard on his butt. "Go get her, Cappy, before I do!"

Willow glanced around the lounge. When she saw the table where Cruz and Mary were conferring over their clipboards, she strode over there. Margo skulked back into the shadows like a very large assassin, as if she was happier there.

Although she'd been the quietest member of the crew, and to a large extent still was, Willow was nevertheless starting to feel more comfortable around her crewmates. When she took a seat next to Cruz, for example, she slid in close enough to jolt his elbow. This caused the magnetic pen Cruz was holding to smear across the page.

Grunting, Cruz wiped away the smudge with the pen's magnetic eraser. "My dear, I do ask that you be a bit more careful. We are in the middle of a comparative analysis that could very well change the face of modern social therapy as we know it."

Willow ignored the mild scolding. "I wish there was someone around here to dance with. Too bad all the straight guys are back on the bridge, or up on that stage playing with their instruments. I want to play with somebody's instrument."

Deeply offended, Cruz slowly turned to face her. "I beg your pardon."

"You heard me." Willow taunted. "Every man sitting at this table is gay."

"I don't believe that you can fully comprehend what category of tempest you are about to unleash upon this unsuspecting vessel." Cruz threatened her.

"Double gay."

"I'll have you know, and Mary can attest to this if she so chooses. Just as the Inuit can kiss in twenty-three different ways just by using their noses, I can make a woman achieve her climax in an equal number of ways, just by using my nose."

"It's true." Mary nodded. "Twenty-three. I have the list."

Willow persisted. "They should call you Super Gay Man."

Cruz was huffing now. "Pray that your gods will forgive you, dear woman, for the havoc you are so insistent on inflicting upon us all."

"What's more gay than super gay?" Willow asked. "How about Cosmic, Extra-dimensional, Cock Rubbing, Bum-Humping Faggotry to the Nth degree... Ooof!"

It was at this point that the man, the myth, known as officer Cruz could take no more derision regarding his much touted manliness. Like an angry linebacker, he tackled the smirking but wholly unprepared ensign Smith and knocked her off her seat. They fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Cruz' arms appeared to move in an octopus-like blur while below him, poor Willow squealed as all of her private parts seemed to be getting groped all at once. There was a loud wrench, followed by a tear of fabric. A good portion of Willow's shirt was ripped away from her chest by Cruz' teeth. A second wrench successfully tore away the flimsy cover of her bra and exposed her nice and modest, but nevertheless proudly erect lady lumps.

The animalistic growls from Cruz melded with the siren-like moans piercing from Willow's mouth, combining into something primal and wild. This succeeded in stirring up the long tempered and suppressed urges in the small throng of spectators, urges that civilized and modern society has long sought to make obsolete and forgotten.

"We should stop them." Washington said, as his own inhibitions were being swept away by the sexual mania now taking place before them.

"Are you kidding?" Barbie asked. "If anything, we should join them!"

Not one to be left out of any amorous contentions anywhere or anytime, Mary set a fierce mask upon her face. She stood up on her seat, ready to pounce into the fray with the reckless abandon of a prime time wrestler. Mary launched her body through the air, only to have the beast named Margo reach out and snag her away. A second later, there was another tiny riot taking place, as Margo sought to subdue her prize. The wildcat that was Mary turned the tables on the big girl and managed to place her head and shoulders under Margo's oversized shirt. Her mouth was now wreaking sexual havoc among the mountains of flesh that had been hiding underneath.

There was a scramble among the band members. Lead singer Mark's voice could be heard above the tumult of flesh and sexual growls, "Somebody get some video of this! It's off the satellite!"

In unison, and fearing for their own welfare, both Barbie and Washington stepped back. A flurry of shirts was seen flying across the room. The erotic revolution had barged into the darker sections of the lounge, and had become further embroiled among the furniture. None of the observers was the wiser as to whom had gained the upper hand against whom.

"Mary!" Cruz's voice cried out. "Mary!"

"I'm here!"

"Roll this way, woman!" Cruz demanded. "Engage in the leapfrog maneuver and take over for me! I have bigger fish to fry!"

"Gotcha!" Mary's voice shouted back.

"On go." Cruz said. "And go!"

There was a ruckus, where chairs bounced away to crash into walls. A table could be heard cracking and splintering apart.

The silhouette of Cruz appeared over the mounds of furniture. He screamed out, "Lesbian! It is your turn to face justice!"

"Come on then, little man!" Margo shot back.

Just then, the lights dimmed, to be replaced with the red glow that warned of an emergency. A second later, the ship's siren emitted an ear-splitting shriek and the entire vessel rocked and shook.

In a panic, Washington rushed into the battle. "Stop it, all of you! You're destroying my ship!"

The Space Relations jerked and shuddered again. This time, the captain realized that something was happening outside the vessel.

Brukenfooken's voice shouted over the intercom. "Request that the captain return immediately to the bridge! We are under attack!"

"All of you, to your battle stations!" Washington called out, but he had no time to stand around and wait for them to comply. The captain hurried out of the lounge and raced down the corridor. He reached the bridge in record time. "What's happening here?"

Cummings had taken over the command chair. The flustered man pointed at the main screen. "They showed up!"

Washington stared into the large monitor, where a small vessel shaped like a bat's wings seemed to be veering away from them.

"They're pulling away now." Brukenfooken confirmed. "I think they're getting ready for another run!"

"Take the chair, captain!" Cummings jumped off the seat, where he'd temporarily been posted, and ran back to his navigation station. "We got the deflector shields up just in time, but man, that was a close call!"

Washington took his seat. "I need a report, stat!"

"We spotted that ship a few minutes ago. While Brukenfooken was trying to identify it, I tried to hail it just like I'm supposed to." Cummings explained. "They came in all calm and quiet at first. All of a sudden they darted in on us and blasted two missiles across our bow. With no warning or nothing! We barely got the shields up in time!"

At this, the sliding doors opened up. A much unkempt Ensign Smith hurried over to her station. Her hair was mussed up, her shirt torn in shreds and her pants were gone.

Both the Viking and the navigator looked back at the sliding doors. Cruz, Margo and Mary rushed in and were all in a similar state of distress. Barbie was the only person who had managed to keep her clothing intact. The band members hurried in behind them.

"What happened to you guys?" Cummings asked.

"Wild orgy on the dance floor." Cruz explained.

The portly navigator stood up. He began to stomp down on the floor and to kick out at the air. "Damn it! Why did I have to miss that?"

"Forget about it." Washington ordered, as the rest of their passengers began to filter into the chamber. "Is everybody here? Willow, secure the bridge. All of you find somewhere to sit and strap yourselves in."

The eight newcomers took the six remaining seats, with Mary doubled up on Cruz, naturally, and Barbie having no choice but to sit on Margo's lap. The four band members all sat alone.

Overhead, the song Just A Love Machine by the Miracles began playing.

Washington pressed the mute button on his armrest console, but the song stayed at the same volume. He pressed the button a second time. It didn't work.

"Great." He muttered. "Just great. We've got this playing in the background just as we're getting ready to battle here."

"I'll go and shut it off from the lounge." Mark volunteered.

"No, you stay where you are." Washington halted him. "We're under attack. This is the safest room on the ship. We'll just have to tolerate it for the time being."

"Captain," Brukenfooken called out. "The ship is keeping a uniform distance from the Space Relations."

"They're pacing us?"

"Yes, sir." The combat tech nodded. "Also, our databanks have now identified the vessel. It is of Worf design, and it is a fairly older ship. That's why our computers didn't recognize it right away. This type of ship is not usually seen nowadays."

"Well, what's it doing out here attacking us?" Washington asked aloud. "Science officers, refresh me on the Worf species."

Cruz spoke up. "Well, they are comparatively humanoid in form, but they are excessively hairy and can be paralleled with the Italian people from back on Earth. You know, women with mustaches and men that look like they're wearing wool sweaters, when they're really walking around bare-chested. Physically, their bone and tissue mass is much thicker than a typical human being's, giving these people much greater strength and stamina."

"We ran into the Worf when I was assigned to rehab the Space Corps pilots." Mary added. "They are extremely belligerent. From childhood, they are taught that they have to prove themselves to anybody and everybody they come across. They always approached our pilots like this; by taking a shot at them and trying to pick a fight."

"And I assume that Space Corps personnel fought back?" The captain asked.

"Well, they had to." Mary nodded. "These guys always take a couple of warning shots at humans, just to let us know they mean business. Then they come in with their guns blazing. They won't let up until one side shows a definite advantage over the other. That's how their species understands respect."

"They fired on us without provocation." Brukenfooken glowered. "That is clearly an act of war. Under the Universal Pact, we are under our rights to defend ourselves with any and all means necessary. With the advanced weapons installed on this vessel, coupled with my superior knowledge of battle tactics, sir, I am convinced that we can blow them out of the sky."

"Can we really?"

"Definitely, sir." Brukenfooken firmly stated. "You can see that their concussion missiles did virtually nothing to damage our ship, once our defensive measures were implemented. The weapons this alien vessel has are considerably more outdated than ours."

"They must know this." Washington considered. "They're flying in an old ship, and they're taking a big risk by attacking a vessel they probably know nothing about. But they still want to start a brawl with us. Ensign Cummings, we didn't inadvertently fly into any off-limits section of space, did we? We didn't end up in anybody's backyard?"

"Absolutely not." The navigator shook his head. "We're in open space, just past the edge of our solar system at eighteen billion kilometers from the sun. Nobody can claim this section of space."

"Well, they're not defending anything then." Washington reasoned. "And there's only the one ship, so they're clearly not massing up to attack us either. I can't believe they want to start a pissing contest out here in the middle of nowhere."