Confluence Point

by Mark G Brewer

  Rod stopped in mid stride, just looking at her and shaking his head. She pulled up at the same time. "What?" she asked.

  "Minjee, it is so interesting to see the change in you. It's all 'we' and 'us' now . . . we're converts aren't we? We're more part of Hillary Station than our own countries."

  "Hey, don't put it like that. We're working for STEIN and Hillary Station, and STEIN are right behind what the coalition is trying to do. It's just a pity the coalition seems to find that so hard to believe."

  "Well, they'd better catch up. They have billions tied up in the ADFs they bought and at the moment they're just sitting there. The focus has already shifted for them to the shuttles; it's crazy. Ham could have those ADFs humming for them and do it at their command. Even our low level AIs would be infinitely better than what they're trying to do manually."

  Minjee laughed out loud. "Listen to you. Only months ago you would have mocked anyone who suggested an AI could fly a fighter. Now you're a convert."

  They continued chatting happily as they approached their fighter. Neither would exchange their lives at the moment for anything.

  He guided the EFDF off the flight deck and out through the field screen and for a few seconds just enjoyed the thrill of flying, dipping off the edge and soaring under effector power in a sweeping curve before turning for Hillary Station and home.

  "At least they're all working together now."

  She shrugged. "It's still early days Rod; I try to be the optimist, but the Chinese working together with everyone else? Hmm, we'll see."

  Regan monitored their progress, already beginning to starve for human contact. She tracked them as they swept in to the station flight deck on the earthward end and followed them as they walked across the deck joking together. An old familiar 'left out' feeling came back, something she hadn't felt for years and she felt like that person not invited to a party.

  Like a voyeur she couldn't let go and continued tracking their progress up the corridor to Rod's rooms, following them through the door and feeling increasingly uncomfortable as they headed straight to the shower. It was obsessive and she knew it, an unforgivable invasion of privacy. Watching them both naked was the punishment she deserved; that they were both happy and aroused was unbearable.

  As they rolled onto the bunk in a slow passionate coupling she could stand it no longer.

  Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhh! How does Ham bear this!

  * * *

  The Behemoth, In Transit

  Ham, with his decades of experience lectured them on the main hazard of interstellar cruising. Boredom; potentially mind numbing boredom; the enemy within. Shut any crew in a tin can for months on end and humanoid weaknesses were bound to arise. In time, he explained, ordinary day to day issues of interpersonal relationships prove enough to stretch most people's ability to cope. From the earliest days of submarines, keeping people busy and entertained has been a challenge, sometimes tragically insurmountable.

  On a modern interstellar cruiser the problems were exacerbated; engineering was almost failsafe, there were machines for everything and an AI on board. As the AI made most of the minute by minute decisions, time, he pointed out, would be something everyone had plenty of.

  Regan tuned out, thinking about Aaron - fortunately with his modifications this journey will only take a month.

  As she led a large group in laps around the flight deck, the lecture prompted her to reflect on the Behemoth crew selection. It struck her that whoever had recruited this Coran crew had chosen well. From her observation they were generally optimistic with a positive perception of service. They were also in the main positive thinkers with a good sense of humor, all qualities essential in space. The few crew who had been problems were those originally favored by the Coran hierarchical system. To them each change in leadership was simply an opportunity to advance up the hierarchy, even if they didn't deserve it. As a consequence they tended to demand obedience as opposed to earning the respect of others. The new attitude championed by Regan where leadership was first demonstrated by actions and then recognized by position did not suit the old guard and they grumbled.

  The unfortunate death of Officer Cora three days out from Hillary had led to a breakthrough. He failed to survive extensive injuries sustained in some fight with crewmates, and though Regan could have pursued the issue she chose not to.

  The remaining detainees had immediately negotiated freedom of the ship and it had been a good move. Every day Regan or Marin led exercise routines on the main flight deck and used the occasions to meet everyone, press the flesh, engage them in conversation and sell the dream of partnership. It turned out they were a receptive group as although they were well drilled in navy disciplines, the pursuit of dominance by force was not the traditional way. The tribe of Cora had worked for generations in the outer reaches of the Gliese 667 system mining the asteroid belt in the most dangerous of conditions. The harsh environment and hazardous work had built a culture of interdependence, trust and mutual support, not just for themselves but for all in the space faring community. There was an understanding that you never knew when you might need your neighbors help so you looked after them like yourself.

  When pressure on available resources had become an issue for the tribe most were ashamed at their Emperor's response. They felt that as brothers and sisters of the other tribes they should be working together, not trying to conquer.

  Regan encouraged that feeling, not pushing but nurturing by example, laughing with them, listening to their concerns, reassuring them and offering hope for the future. Her dream of a wide supportive interstellar community, an open galaxy with the ability to travel freely between the stars and to start anew as pioneers was intoxicating. In their hearts they knew if it was to happen they would have to work with her and be groundbreakers.

  The new optimistic galaxy view surged through the ship like a breath of fresh air after months of tension. The lid was off, the clouds had finally lifted and like people everywhere, they celebrated.

  Aaron however was missing out, a problem of his own making. Socializing was not a strength and he hid away in the bowels of the ship with nothing really to do, but more comfortable there than anywhere else. He worked, he thought, and at times sulked. Today however his attentive Coran companion was proving a welcome distraction and certainly an ego boost . . .

  "You seem to be the genius of your group Aaron; as a pilot I have always appreciated the work of those who keep me safe, thank you for all your hard work."

  The woman was young he presumed, although it was hard to tell from her features. Tall and thin with a winning smile, her recent interest and offer to accompany him to engineering had been welcome. For the most part people usually left him to his own devices.

  He smiled, bathing in the attention. "Genius . . . oh no, far from it, Mariner was the real genius and I see his work throughout your ship drives; clearly he made breakthroughs that were adopted throughout your system." Aaron batted away the compliments while clearly enjoying the observation.

  "You undervalue yourself Aaron. No one else on this ship understands these things, let alone has the ability and insight to improve them; I am in awe of you." She placed one hand on his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately, smiling shyly as she did so.

  "Well, it's true probably no one else understands, but then they have other skills, we can't be good at everything." He coughed nervously as somehow without obvious movement she was closer now, looking down at him, with a hand now draped over his shoulder and the other sliding down his back.

  "That is true Aaron, and sometimes those with important skills are forgotten by those who take them for granted. I have skills Aaron . . ." She used her other hand to tilt his head up, making eye contact, and then leant forward to gently kiss his cheek.

  He coughed again. "I'm sure you do, I couldn't pilot a kite . . ." The hand trailed down his chest and he tried to lean away slightly but could feel the pressure of the hand on his back, that long arm holding him
there as the hand on his chest stroked lower.

  He was putty now and somehow she maneuvered him back to the wall, reaching down to cup him in her hand, gently bringing him to life. He closed his eyes.

  "You and I, Aaron, could make a long journey more than bearable . . . I would like that . . . I would be proud to lie with you, it is our way." Rubbing him more determinedly, slowly drawing her fingers up and down the obvious hardness, barely hidden by the thin suit, she leaned in and softly licked his earlobe.

  He said nothing, way beyond any attempt at restraint, his mind only on the hand, and the stroking. And then suddenly, he could feel it was too late, "Oh shit . . . I'm sorry, I . . ." and he came, ejaculating into the suit to his immense embarrassment. "Oh shit, shit, shit . . . I'm sorry." He made to push her away.

  She continued to hold him there and stroked his face, "Why should you be sorry?" She reached for the collar of his ship suit, and in a deliberate sensuous action unclasped it, slowly drawing it down off his shoulders, and continuing with it to the floor. On her knees now she placed a hand on each hip, caressing as she looked at him before leaning forward and licking, then sucking him into her mouth. He groaned, feeling weak at the knees and couldn't help responding again. He reached to hold her head and looked up in ecstasy.

  At that same moment, on the opposite wall, he saw to his immense surprise that words had appeared, seeming to be etched into the surface.

  SHE'S A SPY!

  In shock he pulled at her head causing her to release him with a loud smacking 'mmpop!' Already he was shrinking and she pulled him back to try and continue.

  "I'm sorry . . . no." And he pushed her away.

  "What's wrong Aaron; this is my pleasure to do this for you."

  Flustered now, Aaron clumsily pulled his suit back up and secured it. "I'm sorry, I took advantage of you, and I shouldn't have, this won't happen again." He stumbled to the door, padding it open and left her there, the door sliding shut behind him.

  She sat back against the wall, thoughtfully wiping her lips with one sleeve. With the other hand she then cupped herself and squeezed - It wouldn't have been so bad - still, it is progress - he is a male - I will have him.

  Pushing herself up she took a second to arrange her suit, stretching it back into shape and then stepped forward reaching for the door pad.

  It didn't open.

  * * *

  [Guys, helloo . . .] There followed a short pause before Ham continued.

  [We have a minor Aaronic situation to deal with . . . the problem has been averted, but I think you should know about it.]

  Jean, talking with Leah at the time could tell her attention wavered, Leah's eyes having glazed over briefly; she scowled, "I saw that Leah, what does he want?"

  Then, realizing how abrupt she'd been Jean quickly smiled an apology, "Oh go on, who am I to hold up the march of ship progress?" She put down her coffee and waved Leah away.

  [What is it Ham?]

  [Meeting in Regan's room, it's about Aaron.]

  Jean watched her leave and then turned back to the small 'Book Group' she had organized with some of the more intellectual Corans. No one there had anything remotely like a book but they told great stories. The attraction of meeting had been establishing similarities between Earth themes and those of the Tribes. Some of their older stories were so close to stories she knew from home it was beyond unlikely. It was another mystery and she knew even Leah had enjoyed every moment.

  Leah made her way to the Command quarters Regan had made her own. She could see Marin coming up the corridor from the elevators and waited for him before going in.

  [What's up big guy?]

  [No idea - is Aaron all right?]

  [Guess we'll find out.] She padded the door and they entered, finding Regan sprawled on the bunk.

  A shrug from Regan said it all, she also knew nothing. "Ok Ham, spill it, what's the problem."

  "Hmm, well, the heart of the problem is that Aaron's not getting any." Ham was typically obtuse.

  Regan looked at the others and raised her eyebrows. "Ok Ham, I'll play your game, not getting any what?" She asked.

  Ham didn't answer and both Leah and Marin looked at her strangely, they obviously got it straight away.

  "Oh . . . you mean . . ."

  They nodded in agreement.

  "So you two were aware of this, how come I didn't know?"

  Leah looked at Marin, "I don't know about the big guy," She nodded in Marin's direction, "But I've noticed Aaron's always on his own. It's sad really, he's a nice guy, it's not his fault he's so bright."

  "I've noticed too." Marin agreed. "Apart from you two and Jean, the only females on this trip are from Cora and for a man who seems to have difficulty talking at all, engaging with a two meter stick figure must seem rather daunting; he's bound to be well, let's say lonely. "

  "Ahem." Ham coughed pointedly. "There's the rub . . . unfortunately he has engaged, if only briefly and then only because he was drawn in by that viper pilot - and trust me; she hasn't given up the fight. She has no idea I'm watching her and there is no doubt she sees him as a prime vulnerable catch, she wants to know about his changes to the drives."

  Regan groaned, "Are you sure Ham? Things have been going so well." She didn't want more trouble.

  "I'm certain Regan. I wouldn't mention it if I wasn't sure. She's been sucking up to him, after information."

  "We need to be certain Ham," Leah prompted, "there's been enough shaking up of the crew. How exactly has she been sucking up to him, are you sure she's not just being friendly?" She lay back on the bunk with Regan.

  "I just told you, she's been sucking up to him . . . do I have to paint a picture?"

  Regan rolled her eyes. "Ham, we're trying to understand, to get a feel for how serious this is."

  "Uh-huh . . ." Ham didn't bother answering and began to play through the full scene from engineering on the screen.

  They soaked up the conversation and it was obvious, the Coran's flattery was painful to hear, but not to Aaron it seemed.

  Genius . . . no one understands you . . . those with important skills often forgotten . . . taken for granted . . . I have special skills Aaron.

  "Hmm, I see what you mean by sucking up . . ." Regan looked concerned.

  "No, no," Ham interrupted, "The sucking up was next." And he rolled the recording.

  "Oh!"

  "Oh my!" said Leah laughing.

  Marin roared, "Ham you can be so delightfully literal when it suits you."

  They watched like voyeurs through to the end, laughing hysterically at the warning on the wall and the 'pop!' as Aaron pulled out in alarm.

  "Oh guys, we are awful." Leah was still smiling, but voiced their thoughts perfectly.

  "So is she still there, Ham?" Marin asked.

  "Yes, the door won't open. It hasn't been long but she is feeling very sorry for herself - what do I do with her?"

  "If she can't do any damage leave her there for now." Regan answered. "Marin can escort her to private quarters and we'll keep her fed but locked up for the duration. It's only a few more weeks anyway." She paused for a few seconds. "Now, what do we do about Aaron?"

  "Leave him to me?" Leah offered, "I can keep him happy."

  "Whoa . . . no way, you're not doing that!" Regan protested.

  "Regan, I'm not offering myself" and she laughed, "I have a Coran girl in mind that I've got to know in Jean’s book group, her name is Moriah. Ham can check her out but she seems the real deal to me, I like her and she's been supportive of us from the beginning."

  "Is he going to respond to a Coran?" Regan asked.

  "Helloo . . . were you not watching?" Leah smiled. "He seemed to respond in a rather healthy fashion to that pilot. Regan, there are six males on this voyage for every four females. He's not likely to find any other female company here, other than us. Hey, it's no hardship to introduce him but he may need some emboldening after that experience. Look, I'll just talk with him, give him some encouragement
." She smiled mischievously.

  Regan slumped back on the bed. "How is it that everyone else seems to be getting laid around here except me?"

  Marin just looked at her blankly. "I don't know babe, why is that?" They exchanged frustrated looks.

  "I'm sorry lover; I guess I've just had too much on my mind." and she screwed her mouth up in apology.

  "So how sorry are you?" He smiled suggestively.

  Regan felt a twinge of concern. Marin was much less promiscuous than in the past focusing his attentions more specifically in their direction, and as a result both she and Leah were kept more than satisfied . . . generally. Still his needs seemed less than fulfilled and it was obvious he was interested now. She gestured for him to join them on the bed and it was no surprise that he didn't hesitate.

  * * *

  After a satisfying half hour, Regan pulled her ship suit back on feeling just a little guilty; she normally preferred to be a giver and certainly not just a taker. Still, she hadn't argued when they'd both pounced. She smiled to herself as she stepped out of the room, intending to head for Control. Looking to her right she saw Marin already disappearing through the lift doors, off to deal with the Coran pilot. He was wasting no time and intrigued, she slipped back into the room to sit comfortably while tracking his progress through ship surveillance.

  * * *

  The engineering room door opened to his touch and Marin hesitated, scanning the small room before stepping through. The viper sat slumped against the wall and as the door shut behind him she looked up and smiled.

  "I'm glad someone found me, the door wouldn't open."

  "What is your name?" He asked, staying neutral.

  "You can call me Delvin." She answered, smiling again broadly. "It means passion in Tihan." She slid forward slightly toward him.