Tales of the "Pink Mist" Ch. 01

"Absolutely, Mister Benan," Quillan responded, looking at the girl who was barely out of her teens. Tradition dictated that anyone wearing a uniform on a spacecraft could be addressed as "mister" regardless of sex. "Assuming a bay was open, we could fold right into it. But, Purgatory has more firepower than a squadron of these dreadnaughts and Infernus abhors surprises. Our shields would get fried in a matter of moments. The ship would become a paperweight. We probably wouldn't have time to say, 'Oh, shit.'"

Quillan shook her head with a gentle smile.

"It's best to let them see us coming from a long way off, and we'll be better able to see what's around us." She looked at the assembled group, hands carefully placed behind her back; her body language indicating total openness. "Any other questions?"

A broad-chested golden-haired young man of about twenty raised his hand. Probably a zero-gee footballer in high school. Team captain and ladies' man. High school jocks were notoriously conceited, thinking they were cock-of-the-walk and that all they surveyed should bow in their presence. This cockiness usually carried into life for a few years after school. There was no trace of it in his voice. In fact, he seemed a little reticent.

"Captain, will we be paired up on the station? And if so, what's to keep us from getting captured again?" He had obviously heard of the dangers of Infernus' Purgatory.

"Good question, Mister Hill. Rest assured that none of you will be bothered." Quillan's eyes narrowed and she grinned evilly as she slowly said, "We've got toys..."

The next two days were spent acclimating the crew to the ship. Quillan asked Alice to help as much as possible. The two divided their time (Alice could be in every occupied space at the same time, so she was a more efficient instructor) between steering the ship (Quillan occasionally used the manual override to keep her reflexes sharp), and showing the various systems to the crew.

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As the door hissed shut behind her, Quillan rubbed her tired eyes. What a fucking day. Like any military personnel in any army in any quadrant or planet in history, there were brilliant people and there were those who were dumber than asteroids. This group was split down the middle. But, she had never gone back on word. She had told them all that she would train them in running this ship, and that's what she was going to do. And probably get ulcers in the process.

Well, tomorrow they would arrive at Infernus' Purgatory and she wagered with herself that more than a few would jump ship. Heading the list of ship-jumpers was that big guy, Muffin. While very capable and a lot smarter than she initially gave him credit for, there was something about him that said he really wasn't cut out for the military.

While this wasn't a military ship, by any means, she had to maintain order lest the crew of new privateers...no, call them what they were...pirates, try to wrest control from her. She hadn't seen any indication of that happening, but wasn't going to chance it. She would run this ship as close to a military ship as possible.

She shed her uniform and wandered in to take a luxurious shower. Since the ship was a closed unit, the water used was recycled, sterilized, and pumped back into the holding tanks. Even the moisture from exhaled breath and the water from the toilets went back into the system. Bacteria count was kept as close to zero as possible.

Nearly exhausted and anticipating a big day tomorrow, she dried off and flopped on her back onto the bed, still nude. Staring at the ceiling, she began thinking of the computer voice. Alice. The mere thought of that voice sent her mind off in different directions. Was it purely synthesized or was there a human model for it? So sexy, that voice. If it was synthesized, whoever programmed it did one hell of a job. Probably a hormone-enraged whizkid teenager. If there was a human model for it, what did she look like?

Her mind's eye conjured up visions of possible seductresses with a fascinatingly sexy voice. The tone, timbre, and pace of speech were perfect. There was a hint of playfulness about it, with a vulnerability, too.

She began to imagine the seductress licking her lips, the soft lips blowing her a kiss. She felt the tongue as it lightly caressed her neck and slithered down her chest between her tits. The tongue traced a path downward and licked around her shaved vulva, a warm breath felt gently tickling her. She bent her knees, placing her feet on the bed as the imaginary tongue slowly inserted itself between her lips, licking down her slit and across her clitoris, causing the small nub to become engorged with blood and swell slightly.

She hissed slightly as the tongue was inserted into her, phantom hands roaming her stomach, lightly squeezing her breasts, her nipples also becoming erect. Something massaged her clit as the hands roamed and the tongue began pushing in and out. She looked down to see imaginary eyes staring back, the edges crinkled in a seductive smile.

Quillan cried out as the wave of orgasm hit like a meteorite. Her back arched, butt coming completely off the bed, then falling back to land with a muffled thump. She brought her fingers to her nose and inhaled her own scent. She longed for the scent and taste of another woman.

Satisfied but still slightly frustrated, she began to drift off. Maybe she could find a girlfriend on Purgatory.

Almost asleep. That time where sound drifts in and out of conscious hearing. The soft hiss of the air recyclers. The thrumming rumble of the ship's propulsion. A footfall on the carpeting out in the hallway.

A knock at the door.

Shit.

"One moment," Quillan said to the ceiling as she opened her eyes. Rolling off the bed and getting into her black jumpsuit ,she crossed to the door and thumbed the button to open it.

There stood the most startlingly beautiful, sexy, kittenish woman that Quillan had ever laid eyes on. How had she missed seeing THIS gorgeous woman at the meetings, or as she had circulated the ship to help the crew?

The woman was a few inches taller than Quillan's own five foot, seven inch stature. Her corn-silk blonde hair was pulled back and fixed in a regulation bun. If she let that hair down...Quillan mentally kicked herself for thinking that way about one of the crew. Her eyes wandered down the woman's body to her feet.

Early- to mid-thirties. Deep green, wondering eyes. Perky nose, slight upturn. High cheekbones. Perfectly formed cheeks. Kissable, slightly pouty lips formed into a gentle smile. Long neck...that would great to kiss, as well. The black skintight uniform showed a slim figure. Good muscle-tone. C-cup breasts. Narrow waist, wide hips. Long legs. Dainty feet.

This was THE perfect woman. Quillan blinked to clear her mind, doing her ultimate best not to stare at the woman; her utmost to close her jaw and regain her composure. She failed.

"Yes...uh...crewman? What do you need?" She covered that nicely, she thought.

The purring reply from that oh-so-sexy voice she'd heard and secretly wanted for the past few weeks.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain Quillan. First Mate Alice Nine, reporting for active duty."

Not for the first time, Quillan fainted.

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"How?" was the only question Quillan could muster. She had regained consciousness only moments later being carried like a babe to the bed and laid gently on it. Now, she sat with a glass of water as she stared at the vision before her.

"One of the experiments in the research section is cybernetic enhancement," Alice purred, apparently oblivious to the effect she had on her captain. "Many different former crewmen were augmented using this technique. Another experiment is rapid generation/regeneration of organic tissue; growing body parts. It was simple matter to build an entire body by marrying those two technologies with the genetic manipulation experiment. Then, I simply transferred a major part of myself into the body you see before you."

Quillan furrowed her brow in thought as she sipped her water.

"But," she said, at last, "I never ordered you or gave permission to any of the crew..." True bafflement.

"That's correct, Captain Quillan," Alice replied. "I chose to do so."

"And, who gave you this choice?" Bafflement was quickly becoming curiosity.

"I did."

The cute redhead and the gorgeous blonde talked for hours more, Quillan asking questions designed to trip up a mere computer, Alice firing back the answers as only a true sentient could.

"Show me something that an artificial intelligence would be incapable of doing."

Alice thought for a moment, then leaned slowly forward, nose to nose with her captain, staring into Quillan's blue eyes. Gently, she took the half-empty glass of water from Quillan's slack grip...

...and dumped the contents into Quillan's lap.

Quillan gasped as the cold liquid hit her crotch, soaking into her uniform and the bedding beneath. Alice's free hand shot behind Quillan's head and drew her into a deep kiss, her tongue probing the captain's mouth. Quillan's eyes went wide as she realized that she was kissing a robot. A...warm robot. One which tasted fantastic. And not dry like she had anticipated. The lips were pillowy soft; the touch gentle...a caress of her hair. Alice lingered a few moments longer, then broke the kiss and slowly drew back.

Without saying a word, Alice stood and went into the bathroom to fetch a towel. While she was gone, Quillan's mind whirled, trying to comprehend what had happened and why a computer couldn't do those things.

Spontaneity. Of course, there were sophisticated AI's that could emulate spontaneity. Not very well, admittedly, but they could do it.

Kissing. Sex robots in some of the higher priced bordellos quite often kissed their patrons.

Choice. Out of the literally millions of things Alice could have done, she CHOSE to do those two things.

Holy shit.

Alice returned with a white towel and dabbed at the spilled water, saying, "Captain Quillan, it might be best if you shed your current uniform and put on a dry one. A wet one is quite uncomfortable. Also, may I suggest that you stay in temporary quarters this evening. I'm afraid I soaked your bed."

As Alice leaned over her to soak up the water, Quillan got a closeup view of the back of her head. Very close examination showed that the hair was, in fact, made up of individual strands and each strand disappeared into the scalp. She tentatively poked a finger into the hair. It certainly felt like hair, not the fake wig hair that, despite the advances in technology, science had never been able to completely duplicate. All fake hair had a weird, stiff slickness to it. She even make out small imperfections in the skin.

"One last question," Quillan asked, as Alice finished dabbing and straightened up to stare at her again. "Why this body? This appearance...does things to me..." She blushed.

Alice smiled her disarming smile, the same smile she had used at the door. Quillan's heart skipped a beat or two.

"In selecting this look," Alice's sexy, tingle-inducing voice purred, "I hit upon the idea to access government databases and look at all of the women you ever dated as well as accessing your matrix browsing files and choosing the 3D pictures and trideos that you accessed more than five times. This gave me the basis of your ideal woman. I combined all of them and entered the data into the gene sequencing program. This body is a result of that combination. There was a ninety-nine point nine nine eight two three percent chance that you would consider this to be the most eye-pleasing. Was I wrong in my assumption?"

Surprising herself, Quillan leaned forward and kissed Alice deeply just as the wakeup alarm sounded. Time to prepare for the big day. Dammit. She'd been awake all night.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss while looking at perfection, Quillan reached over and shut off the alarm.

"Alice," Quillan asked, "would you care to be my guest aboard Purgatory? It'll give you a chance to try out your body."