by Chris Hechtl
Yet that was the only thing he could do. If he cracked down on the A.I.'s attitude, it'd turn around and bite him in the ass when the A.I. found some way to get his revenge. Most likely by making him look bad. So, to protect his career he had to play nice.
Even when it was getting on his nerves. At least he didn't have to man too many watches on the bridge. He did have to put up with a lot of classes though. He hadn't expected that. At least they weren't in person, trying to get up and down from the planet would have been a headache and a half with everyone trying to get ready for Federation day.
He smiled politely as a pair of medics entered the wardroom. He listened with half an ear as they nattered on; most of it was about plans for the holiday. He had other things on his mind, like the assignments his “professor” assigned him so she could take some maternity time off.
He'd been thrilled to find out his two professors were Ssilli. To be a TA, hell, even a student of theirs was an experience he could tell his grandchildren about years from now, if he ever got to that point.
Commander Nata'roka was a good teacher. He could tell she wanted to do more than teach, but she was old despite the anti-geriatric treatments the pill pushers had managed with her. He'd found to his surprise that she had something of a sense of humor when he'd carefully teased her about being a cougar.
He smiled slightly.
“What's up, Commander, got a date for the celebration?” one of the nurses asked. She gave him a moderate flirty look.
He snorted. “I wish. I'm on duty for the entire holiday weekend for my sins,” he said.
She made a moue of disappointment. “What'd you do to deserve that?”
“I'm the latest officer to report on board,” he replied with a shrug. “And I need the extra time to get used to the ship and her computers,” he said.
“There will be plenty of time once we're underway,” the second nurse, a Neobonobo said.
“If we get underway. I'm betting not too soon,” the first woman said.
“I think we'll get there eventually,” Yoshi replied with a frown. “After all, this ship got here, right?” he asked. Both women nodded reluctantly. “Well then, we're in a better state than we were then. We're just about shipshape, just some rough edges to finish knocking down in engineering before we start working on the rough edges of the crew. We'll work everything in and really show them. I just wish we'd gotten it sorted out before Federation day.”
“That would have been something,” the first nurse said with a smile as she played with her shoulder length brown hair. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously, craning her neck to see the tablet in his hands. “Is that math or what?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Math,” he replied with a chuckle. “Navigational equations actually. I've got to grade papers later,” he said with a shrug. “So I need to brush up on some of the more obscure points the commanders like to throw in from time to time to keep things lively and make sure certain people are paying attention,” he said with a wry twist of his lips.
“I hate math,” the first nurse said, shivering. “Hate, hate, hate so you can keep it.”
“Well, I am a navigator. It goes with the job description,” Yoshi replied mildly. He was slightly disappointed by the girl's repulsive response to his trade. “We don't just point the ship at a star and press down on a gas pedal and say “engage,”” he said.
“Yeah well, I thought the computers handled most of it?”
“They can and sometimes do. But we need to know that we're getting the right answers. It's called GIGO—garbage in, garbage out. If you don't make sure of your variables, you'll get garbage. And that's bad when you're flying a ship.”
“We don't want to fly into a star or black hole,” the second nurse said nodding soberly. “Come on, Contessa, let's leave the man to it,” she urged.
Yoshi opened his mouth to protest he needed the distraction but the two nurses nodded and rose. “Be seeing you,” the first nurse, Contessa said softly before they departed. He watched her strut across the compartment and leave.
He looked over to see a couple of the ratings staring as well. The humans and Neos just shook their heads. The lone Veraxin seemed confused.
Yoshi snorted then went back to his current project. He made a mental note to find out if the latest matings went off as planned. If it did, and if the larvae were viable this time should he send a card? He wasn't sure. It might be funny for the commander.
Which reminded him. Since he was in the college, at least remotely, he might as well take a few classes of his own to help his career along. Roger had let slip that he was busy doing that as well... he frowned. Well, since he needed the distraction he decided to check the schedule for a bit before he went back to the math.
<===@^{:::}{<
One of the hardest things in their line of business was approaching drops and meeting points. They each had them drilled into their heads, and of course he'd brought Miss Red and Miss White along to watch his back. But his back still itched. It was exposure, and he hated it.
Not that he had a choice. The park bench was public, another problem. But he had to look like he belonged there. Like he was relaxed, without a problem with the exposure. He flipped the paper, shaking it out, scanning the headlines without really reading them. His coffee was getting cold beside him, despite the thermos it was in.
He felt a presence near, then a shadow. He fought the urge to look up, but he did superstitiously glance at his watch. Right on time. Punctual was nice for once.
It might be the weather he thought. It was getting brisk, and the weatherman was threatening rain. Most people were in a hurry to get where they were going and get inside. “Looks like rain,” he said.
“Rain hell, I'd prefer snow. Rain's damn cold. Snow you can ski in.”
“You go cross country skiing?” Victor Knedson asked, turning and dropping the paper to look at his contact.
“When it suits me,” his contact replied gruffly. He wasn't much to look at, which was the point. He was wearing a dark trench coat with a brown inner liner. That meant it was reversible. He had an umbrella tucked under his arm and was wearing a gray cap.
“Been here long?” the gravelly voice asked. “This had better be damn good. I mean, we're talking compromising a major team. Two of them if you really are who you say you are and really put the call out broadband. And for what?” Knedson asked, eying his out-of-town guest scathingly.
“You answered the call. Only two of you did.”
“I answered the call when barely anyone else would. Most are gone or so deep underground it's pointless to try to dig them out. I knew Keldor wasn't going to step up. His monsters would be useless for this anyway,” Knedson said, shaking his head.
Mister Black raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “I'm sorry, monsters?”
“Yeah. Chimeras, the like. It's disgusting. He's been labeled a terrorist, and he's in the news practically every damn week. He's become too damn public. I swear, ever since the man lost his face he lost his mind along with it. Someone should do us all a favor and put him down like the rabid dog he is and save us a lot of exposure and headache,” Knedson growled.
“Keldor …,” Mister Black frowned thoughtfully.
“He's going by a different name now. He's gone Goth and fallen in love with wearing purple of all things.” He shook his head at the absurdity of the man. “Don't bother trying to contact him directly; he's not answering. Probably listening, but not willing to answer the call. Like I said, nutty as a fruit cake ever since he got his face toasted. He's a lost cause.”
“But you are here. Presumably to tell me more than that I hope.”
Knedson sighed fatalistically. “Yeah. I still remember my duty. But why this?”
“Don't ask. You know better,” Mister Black scolded, eying him coldly.
Knedson sucked in a breath and then heaved it out in an almost explosive sigh. “Okay. Fine, play it your way then.”
“Your report said
you have a way in. We need access to your source and the material. Everything, if we're going to pull this off.”
Knedson seemed to think it over then shrugged. “Okay. You're crazy to try though. You'll only get one shot at it.”
“You're not really doing this for country, are you?” Mister Black asked, eying him.
Knedson stared back then snorted. “Hell with that. I doubt I'll ever see home again. Same as you. I'd like to see some egg on this Federation's face though. Run them through the mud; take ‘em down a notch or two. Really ream their asses and leave ‘em raw,” he said.
“Right,” Mister Black drawled. “Well, we can help you with that if you'll help us.”
“You scratch our back, I'll scratch mine,” Knedson replied as they finished the meeting and stood.
“That's not how it goes,” Mister Black said, stopping to turn back to the other.
“It is for me. I look out for my own ass and assets. That's how I've survived this long. Don't fuck me over,” Knedson growled.
“Try not to,” Mister Black replied sincerely with a grimace, making a mental note to be as far away from Team One's leader as he could get when the operation went down. Hell, that wouldn't be a problem if the man stayed on the planet supervising the distraction.
“Come on. Grab your girls and we'll go to the club and talk to our source. You're lucky she's in town.”
“Right,” Mister Black replied with a nod, grabbing his coat.
<===@^{:::}{<
Knedson led Mister Black and the two ladies to meet the local recruiter for Team One who went by the name “Shren” in a club a few hours later. Since it was “after hours”, meaning during the morning, the club was deserted except for the small staff left to clean and prep the place for the evening's entertainment. All of the staff were on their payroll in some way. They also knew when to retreat. A single look from Team One leader's face and they found other places to be.
Shren had a harem of girls with him in a back booth. One played with his open shirt while the other girls kissed or simpered. He was a long-blond-haired Adonis, a singer who worked at the clubs and bars to seduce unsuspecting women. He was apparently very good at his job. That was to be expected; she'd seen his type before on dozens of worlds the team had visited. Horath intelligence had been quite good with using the honey pot method … no matter the gender.
Shren had been carefully crafted, some murmured in a lab test tube. The Incubus had a perfect physic and face, perfect throaty singing voice that all the women fell swooning for. His ample muscles made heterosexual women of any age blush and swoon. He had just the right mix of bad boy in him to make him even more attractive to the opposite sex. He'd been taught from an early age how to work his magic on a woman, knew every trick, every button to push both on her body and within her mind.
He was in short, an artist. One Miss White had to admire and secretly loathe. There was no telling how many STDs the guy had in him she thought.
“Sharon, these are our friends from out of town.” Knedson said, indicating the trio. “We've got a different sort of job for you. We need you to deliver a package to a certain ship and allow our people on board,” the craggy faced scowling man said to the girl.
The girl glanced at the trio, then to Knedson and then shirked away, seemingly afraid. “But, I don't want to. Please don't make me do this,” the girl whined, shaking her head. She looked imploringly to Shren. “Please, Shren, don't make me do this,” she begged. The other girls backed off a bit. Miss White noted one biting her lip, the other swooned. She wondered if the Adonis had special perfume or something else to ramp up his attraction level. She wanted to fan herself, even she was getting a dose.
“You'll do it,” Shren said in a no-nonsense voice. He placed a heavy hand on the slight girl's shoulder. Miss White winced in sympathy for the girl. She could see the girl wince as well, hunching her shoulders as whatever resistance crumbled. The girl bit her lip.
Shren had picked her up at a dance club on a weekend several months ago. She was young, barely in her twenties and had been quite proud of her independence. Having a hot guy hit on her had blown her mind. So had the roofy he'd slipped into her drink. He'd gotten her hooked on sex with him and Bliss. Bliss was highly addictive, as was his sex appeal apparently. He'd weaned his attentions down to the minimum once he had control of her. She took a hit or two on the weekend after she'd produced results, and then was out of it for hours while the gang either let her sleep or fucked her senseless body. Then she'd get another hit, some more sex on the next day, and then she'd be kicked out to go back to work sore but happy. The last dose was carefully calculated to taper off within a few days. By the end of the work week, she'd crave more. And since she needed more each time, she had to produce more information each time.
Eventually the Bliss would consume her. It'd put her into a coma or shut off her respiratory system and that'd be it. But so far Shren seemed to know his business as a pimp and handler. He was playing the girl exquisitely.
It was obvious that she wasn't his first or only conquest. The other girls seemed subdued but shot poisonous looks at each other when Shren wasn't looking. Miss White shook her head slightly in disgust.
“Problem?” Knedson asked.
“Problem? No, no problem,” Miss White replied shaking her head. “I'm just wondering how well this will work.”
“It'll work. Babe, here,” Shren ran a fingertip up the girl's spine and then caressed her neck and shoulders. He kissed the back of her neck making her seemingly melt and purr at the same time. “Can get you in. You can drop your package and then get out,” he said.
“Package? Why do they need to get in?” the girl asked, turning to Shren. “I thought you just wanted information?” she asked.
“Of course. We've got a package to deliver,” Shren said. “A customer asked for it. He gave us some of the details but not all.”
“Oh,” the girl said dubiously, not quite convinced. When he kissed the nape of her neck and her throat though her eyes closed and she inhaled then exhaled, purring again.
Shren shot Miss White a look, winked, and then caressed the girl's breasts again. She tucked herself into his arms. “Now now, we have to focus, dear,” he said in a mocking voice. She made a soft protesting sound. “Later if you are good and get this done, I promise. We'll do a whole three-day weekend. You'll love it,” he murmured in her ear.
The girl smiled beautifully. Timidly she offered her right hand.
Miss White took the proffered hand, and then turned it over. She found the jack port in the back of the girl's hand. It was a lattice of glittering gold filaments just under the skin. She nodded and pulled out her kit and started to attach leads.
“What are you doing?” the girl asked.
“Just hush,” Shren said softly in her ear. He kissed it, brushing her hair aside to do so. She wriggled a little.
While she was distracted, Miss White accessed and cloned the girl's ident implants. She whistled. “This is basic Federation stock, but it's new. The coding is the same but the algorithms have been reset. And I'm talking new hardware.”
“Any problems?”
“No, just surprising. I'm not sure cloning it will work though. If they have as sophisticated a setup as I'm seeing here, they might have a script that looks for more than one ident in the dock at the same time or in different places.”
“So …”
“So, we need to see if we can pick up a couple more, then I can see if we can safely do this.”
“That might be tricky,” Knedson replied slowly. “Access we can get; they've got a big Federation holiday coming up. Everyone's off duty, or just about. Our intel …,” he caught himself and glanced at the girls, then to their handler.
Shren grimaced, knowing what he had to do. He wrapped his arm around the girl's waist who was now looking rather concerned and his free arm around another girl and pulled them away. His hands caressed and moved down to grope at their miniskirt-covered pert rear end
s. “Come on ladies; let's go see what you've learned. First one to make one of the other's cum gets a bonus,” he said lasciviously,” he said, copping more of a feel as he leered. That got the girls giggling and cooing as they danced towards the door.
<===@^{:::}{<
When she had an unexpected cancellation giving her a free moment in her schedule, Commander Sprite checked in with Admiral Irons briefly then launched herself at the fitting docks.
Bismark was in the largest berth of course. She still had a lot to finish to be called a completed warship, but she was nearly there. Another month and she'd be in space and finally performing her first proper working-up exercises.
That was, if they could finally find the crew to man her. So far they'd been a bit threadbare on that account. She had an upcoming conversation with the heads of BUPERS and Buschools as soon as she concluded the conversation though.
She'd taken the opportunity to download the personal interactions, reports, and other relevant files into her ram in order to have it fresh. She'd picked out a few problems, and some heavy hints told her they did indeed have a problem, one she'd been overlooking for some time.
“Commander Sprite, what brings you here to grace me with your presence? Are you here to tell me we're going to be delayed on getting another captain again?” Ensign Leopold stated as she gained remote access to his network.
She noted he'd limited her visiting privileges to guest. That was fine; she had her own back doors.
“Rather heavy with the sarcasm and light on protocol, Ensign,” she rebuked, eying him.
“Oh, sorry. Would you like me to arrange a side party? But wait, you are here virtually, not in person,” he said.
“Stow the sarcasm, Ensign,” Sprite replied in a more serious tone.
“What brings you here, Commander?” the A.I. asked, monocle shifting to cover his eye as he examined her.
