Tales of the "Pink Mist" Ch. 05byQeda_Charlemaigne©
Unconsciously, Alice wrapped her arms around Quillan's neck, pressing her lips hard against her lover's, her love for the redhead growing by the moment.
Quillan continued with the kiss, Alice's breath on her cheek warm and soft. Her hand found its way down to Alice's smooth hairless mound. She lay her hand flat over it, cupping the mons pubis and spreading the lips slightly with her fingers, feeling the heat being generated from the center.
Alice, never having felt cool air on her clitoris, moaned into Quillan's mouth and hugged her tighter, her tongue twisting and turning and dancing as it mingled with Quillan's.
Quillan tenderly broke the kiss and began licking her way down Alice's chest, pausing to lick, kiss and momentarily suck on the erect nipples. She motioned for Alice to bend her knees, kissing the creases at her hips, the scent from the woman/cyborg wafting to her nostrils, working in ever-smaller circles as she licked toward the center of her desire. Fully spreading Alice's lips, she noted that Alice's clitoris was slightly thicker and longer than average. She breathed warm air on the clit and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Alice.
She opened her mouth wide and placed it over Alice's clit, with the nub in the very center. She wiggled her head from side to side in order to snug it completely in the slot, an airtight seal. Keeping her tongue carefully away from the tender morsel, she sucked hard, her cheeks bending inward as a vacuum was created. Once she had sucked out as much air as she could, she flattened her tongue and draped it across the swollen clit.
Alice involuntarily bucked her hips at the sensations presented by the warm mouth and tongue. Her hands began stroking Quillan's short red hair as her knees spread wide apart in counter to her feet which were locked together at the ankles and resting on Quillan's back. Her eyes were open, staring at a fixed spot on the ceiling, her breath coming in short gasps.
Quillan's lips closed on the tender clit and she began humming, the vibrations being absorbed by it. She carefully and slowly pushed in a finger, knowing Alice had never had anything inserted and not wanting to hurt her. Once her finger was inside, she slid it back and forth gently, a slow fingerfuck.
"Ka...Ka..." gulped Alice, her eyes unfocusing; she closed them tightly. "Ka...will...an...my...w...w...world...is...UNGH!!!!"
Alice's back arched sharply, her ass coming off the bed, fingers gripping Quillan's hair tightly as the first orgasm slammed into her with the force of an exploding star. She sucked her lower into her mouth and bit down hard enough to draw blood. She didn't care. This was the most exquisite feeling she had ever encountered.
Quillan continued slowly pumping her finger and licking Alice's clit, pausing to kiss the surrounding area as she eased the beautiful cyborg through her orgasm.
Suddenly, the room became completely dark as the lights went out. The small background hiss of the air handling unit ceased. Alice's body went limp and collapsed back onto the bed with a soft thump.
"Uh-oh," Quillan said to the total darkness. She slid backward off the bed and began crawling on hands and knees toward the spot she had left her clothes. Feeling around, she found a boot and knew she was headed in the right direction.
The room lights flickered several times and came back up allowing her to find her jumpsuit and pull it on as she looked at Alice's inert form on the bed. The airflow from the ventilation shaft overhead started its gentle hiss again. The communications panel next to the bed started bleeping for attention.
Quillan dashed to it and opened the comm channel.
"This is the captain," she said, her eyes glued to Alice. At least the cyborg was breathing on her own.
"Captain, this is the XO," came Charleen's voice. "That power outage was caused by an auto-reboot of the entire system. The comp-geeks are having a closer look and will send regular reports."
"XO, tell the comp-geeks that I know precisely where the problem lies and to leave the matter alone. They are NOT to proceed any further in their investigations. Am I being perfectly clear? Threaten to withhold their pay if they keep playing around. That should do the trick. The problem's in a very sensitive area of Alice's programming and the ONLY one who will be allowed to correct it is Alice, herself. Shiny?"
Long pause, then a single, humored "heh," from Charleen followed by a clearing of her throat.
"I understand, Captain," the XO replied officiously. "I'll take care of it." Charleen signed off.
Quillan, her jumpsuit zipped only up to her navel, moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She laid two fingers along Alice's carotid artery and was rewarded with the feel of a strong pulse. She moved her hand to tenderly stroke the flawless face, admiring the graceful lines.
Alice took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She stretched languidly, as if she had just woken up from a nap.
During their planning session, Alice had pulled up and displayed the schematics and specifications for the Mongan Pitbull Class along with the strengths and weaknesses, crew capacities, and various other data gleaned or outright stolen from various Alliance databases. She was beginning to like this pirate stuff.
Alice bounced a signal around the galaxy to a trio of sensor satellites which would detect the pair of Mongan carriers and provide an exact location. She couldn't access the satellites directly as the Mongans had communications equipment that was able to detect from which direction a signal was emanating. PINK MIST wanted as much surprise as possible. She locked the signal and set up a simple program to continue monitoring. As the ships passed out of detection range of one satellite, detection was sent to the next logical sensor. With three satellites tracking the Mongans at all times, there was little chance of the pair disappearing.
"All stations, report your ready status, please," Quillan ordered casually. The viewscreen displayed an extreme long-range shot at full magnification of the carriers. Over half a million miles distant and well out of sensor range, they were mere dots, their images virtually blending together. The left side of the screen displayed a column listing all departments and stations on the PINK MIST. One by one, a green dot appeared beside the station to denote that the station was ready for combat.
The last to turn green was the ship's laundry. Jesse's "armament" was a handheld clothes-press.
"All hands," Quillan smiled, "the ship is ready. We're about to be filthy rich. Alice, sound battle station alert, please." A raucous clanging filled the air around them for fifteen seconds, then all was silent once again.
"Mister Jeffers, match target speed and fold. You have your co-ordinates and position."
"Aye, captain," Jeffers replied professionally, "target speed locked. Folding."
The PINK MIST blinked into existence ten miles above and to the rear of the Mongan carrier which had been designated as "Gypsy Moth."
Amanda activated powerful frequency jamming equipment to prevent the carriers from calling for assistance while still allowing their own communication equipment to function.
Muffin blipped his targeting controls and fired the forward plasma arrays, smiling grimly as he saw multiple forward hammerpoint pulse lasers join in. The beams started at the rear thrusters of the huge carrier and worked their way forward, flaying open the carrier like a gutted fish. Interior explosions started winking soundlessly as bulkheads failed and the interior was opened to space. Nothing had escaped alive. Two small inert torpedoes shot forth to embed themselves in the largest portions of the halves. These contained marker beacons to direct the PINK MIST for possible recovery later.
As the forward artillery was opening up the "Gypsy Moth" carrier, every one of the fighters was erupting from the open bays and charging toward the "Emporer Moth," under cover of laser and small plasma fire from the PINK MIST. Most firing points were under direct control by human hands, a few directed by Alice.
Caught completely by surprise, as was the intention, vital seconds were lost by the Mongans as their fighter pilots rushed to their own fighters. The Mongan carrier's flaws in launch operations, as well as being able to launch only four fighters at a time from the front, lost them even more precious time.
Ensign Jeffers sideslipped the massive dreadnaught and took position above and behind the carrier, as he had done with the previous carrier. Muffin targeted the rear thrusters of the immense craft, unleashing multiple plasma beams and disabling them in under ten seconds.
Eight more inert torpedoes, these trailing towing cables as thick as Muffin's waist, blasted forth and spread out to slam into the rear of the carrier at equidistant points. The PINK MIST fired her reverse thrusters to slow both ships at the same time.
"Powered suits and Meat Squad, go. Lizards, go," ordered Quillan.
The PINK MIST's forward pulse lasers were blasting the Mongan fighters almost as soon as they exited the carrier bay. Although highly maneuverable, the fighter's near-lightspeed inertia had to be overcome and they still needed to completely turn around to face their targets. More time gone. Out of the fifty Mongan fighters inside the carrier, seventeen met their untimely demise at the hand of the human gunners. Several Mongan fighters had been destroyed directly in front of the launch bay. In the absence of gravity or air friction, some of the pieces seemed to hang immobile before the opening. A fighter tried to bull its way through the detritus, only to be shredded and add itself to the wreckage.
Despite the devastation, Mongan fighters poured forth. The battle was joined.
The powered-armor suits had been affixed with quick-release pulleys and were using their own thrusters at full burn to travel the ten-mile long cables. Clipped to their "belts" were six atmo-suited warriors who were loaded, geared, and keeping their eyes peeled for encroaching fighters. Directly behind them, sprinting along the cables as their claws held them firmly, were the six-legged lizards.
The lizards needed no air, no food, no water, drawing their power from whatever electrical signals happened to be in the vicinity. Situated between the PINK MIST and the Mongan carrier, laser and plasma fire all around, the electrical emanations were intense.
Voices, male and female, came from the speakers as the PINK MIST monitored every channel. Only the fighters could hear the other fighters and, of course, the PINK MIST. Likewise, the armored warriors and powered suits. This prevented confusion. On board the PINK MIST, it was a cacophony of sound. The only person Quillan was listening to was Amanda, as the Parrot separated, categorized, and prioritized the chatter...in the voices of the speakers.
"Horrors, twenty seconds to landing."
"Twinkie! Ya got five after ya! Swing left ten degrees!"
"Saints on deck. Plasma cannon deployed and firing."
"Squad two, set charges here."
"Open that door!"
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"
As soon as they'd landed on the exterior of the carrier, the powered-armor troops fanned out in squads, pausing only long enough for the Meat Squad to make sure their magnetic boots were secure against the hull and detach themselves. Several suits had anchored firmly to the ship and were providing more cover fire for those still arriving. Two members of the Meat Squad moved to a large door and surrounded it with burncord, designed to breach heavy metal.
A harsh light came from the area and the door neatly popped off, shot into space by the internal pressure of the ship. Five seconds later, a powered armor warrior dropped an oxygen enriched high explosive into the opening, waited for it to detonate, then dropped in himself. The other suits began dropping through the hull to the interior, followed swiftly by the lizards, then the Meat Squad.
"Saints, sweep left by twos. Anything moves, make sure it doesn't move any more."
"Horrors, right by twos. Everything dies. Get 'em, gang."
"Magic, bring your flight...shit...TAKE THAT, FUCKER! ...bring your flight to the starboard side of this bastard. Yeah, that's it. There's one hiding behind that gun emplacement. Dig him out."
"Meat Squad, clear for entry."
"Meat Squad's in. Sealing the hole."
"Hole sealed. Integrity's tight. Take down some bulkheads and let's get some pressure in here."
"Holy hell! Did you see that? Those lizards are unstoppable!"
"Nice little puppies, ain't they?"
"All flights, this is Witchiepoo. Check your sectors and gimme a report. I think we got 'em all."
"Captain," said Amanda in her own voice, "All flights report losses. We lost eight. The Mongans lost forty-nine. One intact fighter is trying to blast its way out of their launch bay."
"Attention, boarding crews," Quillan announced, "There's one fighter still in the launch bay. Do your best to capture it intact. If not feasible, kill it. Break. PM Flight Lead, continue security patrols in this airspace."
"Flight Lead, copy. Razor, take your formation and hover right over that goddamn bay. That rat-bastard shows you a piece, blow to him to Earth-Actual," Krystine/Witchiepoo ordered. "All others, scan for hidden gun emplacements and take 'em out if you get the chance."
"Affirmative, Captain," replied Hitchcock, "Specter, how close are you to that bay?"
"Charlie team should be at the back door," voiced Specter, then continued, obviously speaking to the team in question, "Charlie team, this is Saint Actual, did you copy the fighter?"
"Saint Actual, this is Charlie One," came a cool female voice, "Copy that. Break. Charlie Two and Four, form on me. Three has the rear guard."
"Is this the door?"
"Looks like it. Hold here. Map check...this is it. By the numbers. FIRE!"
Muffled explosions came through the speakers as the power-armored warriors unleashed a flurry of powerful short-range plasma bursts on the offending bulkhead door. Quillan cringed. If the sound of the shots came through the sound-dampened speakers, standing there must have been deafening.
"CHECK LEFT! CHECK LEFT! TURRET! TURR--!"
The sound of intense automatic plasma fire was undercut by standard hypervelocity machinegun chatter.
"Charlie Two's down. Charlie One to Meat Squad Lead, can you redirect a few lizards to my location?"
"Meat Squad Lead here, they'll be with you in thirty seconds. Stand clear of the door. They're highballing it."
"JESUS-JACK-JUMPING-CHRIST those things are fast!"
"Kick it, guys! He's almost out!"
A very intense, low, slow-speaking female voice sounded.
"Three-hundred-four meters to target. Stand by." A single hypervelocity gunshot sounded. "Target neutralized..."
"Helluva shot, Three," chuckled Charlie One. "Launch bay secure."
"PINK MIST, this is Meat Squad Lead," came the gruff voice of Don Rathberger. "The bridge is secure."
"Engineering is secure."
"Ship's stores are secure."
"Mainframe is secure."
Grins were appearing on faces throughout the PINK MIST as each section of the carrier was reported as being secure.
"Captain Quillan," said Alice, at long last, grinning ear to ear, "scans of the ship show only our personnel on board."
"Captain," Rathberger's voice was heard once more, his relief evident, "These controls ain't in English...anyone read Mongan?"