Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy

by Mark G Brewer

  Doors to the flight deck irised open at the end of the corridor and she commenced an innocent stroll toward them. It was Ryman who appeared first and she saw he was smiling. The flood of relief she felt at the observation was overwhelming. Merryl followed and knowing him so well she could tell it had been a successful trip. He looked confident, assured, even charged.

  The second officer hardly acknowledged her as he passed, just a cursory nod, but Merryl deliberately slowed as they neared. He stopped as did she.

  "Officer Terrin." He was unnecessarily loud. "We've been off ship some time. I'm heading to control to file my report and then will need an update on events while we've been away. Prepare for inspection and meet me in my office for a complete review." He turned without another word and proceeded toward control.

  At the words, she almost wilted with relief, shaking at the knees. She had at most an hour.

  'Inspection', 'complete review', the coded words meant everything to her. Things had obviously gone very well down there. Now, if she performed well she would have her extra day. And of all the Commanders peculiar peccadilloes this was her favorite. Rushing, she made for her cabin, quickly stripping and entering her private shower. She proceeded to wash, thoroughly exploring every crevice, scrubbing and cleaning, removing all trace of scent or sweat. Stepping from the booth she toweled completely dry then moved to the full length mirror searching front and back to remove any hair that may have appeared since last 'inspection'. Just a touch of his favorite scent, only on places he wouldn't explore. The shoulders and forearms were safe so she caressed a hint there and finished. One final examining search then she quickly dressed and left for Merryls quarters.

  At her word the door opened and she entered, quickly removing her uniform and stacking it tidily on the side shelf in just the way that he expected. She then moved to the desk. Placing her feet on the floor marks she leant forward resting her weight on her hands and waited, naked.

  It was some time before she heard the door open, and voices in the corridor. She didn't move knowing Merryl well. This was part of his power game with Ryman. The other man's voice came clearly and she knew the door would still be wide open, with Merryl pretending innocence, giving Ryman a full, envious view of her form. Playing these mind games with Ryman was a great pleasure to him and she entered the play, arching her back and presenting the glorious orbs to his envious gaze.

  Ryman's voice cracked as he answered some irrelevant question and she knew this would be the time Merryl would bring Ryman's torture to an end. Sure enough, she heard the door swish closed and sensed more than felt the Commanders presence behind her. She could hear the faint sound of him licking his fingers and unconsciously shifted one foot a little wider. Her anticipation was acute so that when she felt his finger reach through and begin to stroke her she felt weak at the knees.

  "So, Officer Terrin, are you ready for inspection?" he continued stroking, slow circular pulses.

  "Yes sir." she replied, gasping.

  With his other hand he stroked her neck. "Did you wash here?"

  "Yes sir."

  "How can I be sure Terrin?"

  "You could test it sir." Play the game.

  She could sense his pleasure at her compliant response. I have him! And she felt his tongue sliding up her neck, the feel of his uniform on her back.

  He lifted her right arm from the table, stretching it gently above her, half turning her in the action and she could see he was flushed, excited. Things must have gone well. He bent down slightly and gently licked the smooth armpit.

  "And here?" he caressed the nipple of one breast, and licked it then drew his hand to the front, massaging her clitoris with his fingers. Despite her practiced control she found herself moaning. Hoisting her slightly to the desk he knelt before her, stroking her inner thigh and using his thumb to continue her exquisite torture.

  "And have you washed here?" He bent to her and took her in his mouth, sucking her into him and driving her to a fever pitch, steady, regular swirls bringing her to the brink.

  Then suddenly to her delight he stopped, and still kneeling lifted her from the desk. She turned for him and leant forward, her hands on the wall, gasping again as he reached through between her legs to continue the wonderful pulsing pressure.

  "And what about here?" he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. She felt his warm breath, close on the small of her back, the pulsing of his hand, swirling fingers on her clitoris, his other hand parting her, and the sense of him leaning forward. With the first touch of his tongue she could hold it no longer a clenching, gripping climax ripping through her.

  Later, as he performed a much more traditional approach, heaving above her she considered her options, her mind scheming desperately. I can always claim credit for the improvements, of course I can! As I examined the system I found small problems, errors and omissions and fixed them as I went along. I've tuned and improved things. I have the ship performing better than ever. That makes perfect sense. He continued to move, long smooth thrusts, trying to satisfy her again. When we return he'll probably be promoted. I might even get the ship, or another, or he might take me with him . . . No, that wouldn't work; it would only last so long . . . A ship, I must push for a ship. Decided now, she focused on his ministrations, beginning to let herself respond, good at this now. He could sense her building passion and soon, both came, in a satisfying exhausted finale of sound.

  * * *

  Gliese 667 System, The New Coran Protectorate

  The small sphere, basketball sized, nudged against the blister on the underside of the central bulb. It would nudge, back off a few meters then shift position drifting in under power once more to nudge again. It was probing, investigating, with just enough intelligence to be nosy.

  "Bugger off . . . go on, shove off you little shit." Ham's voice bounced around control.

  Finally, patience expended, a finger of blue reached out like a tongue surrounding the small drone and it popped out of existence.

  "Damn . . ." He cursed the pest. "They'll know something's happened now. Marin where . . . are . . . you?"

  In the absence of an answer Ham continued to search while simultaneously continuing his nefarious insinuation . . . Thaaaat's it, almost there . . .

  Two kilometers from the blister position Marin stretched out on the floor of the shielded cell. He finished his third set of forty press ups and started a fresh set of steps, up onto the bunk and down, over and over trying without success to ignore his pain. It wasn't physical.

  A knock on the door drew his attention and as instructed he moved to the rear wall. Only then did the door open, the guard gesturing for him to sit, brandishing his weapon openly. He had that look, go on, try me and it appeared he would delight in using it. Marin took the seat and waited. The guard stepped aside, back into the corridor and the small food unit rolled through. The door slid shut behind it. Marin hesitated considering whether he really wanted the slop they had served him for the last three meals.

  [Marin?]

  He remained admirably still. Monitoring of the cells was constant and in his case doubly so, of that he was sure. Calmly he stood and walked to the unit, lifting the lid and examining its contents with his typical distain.

  [Ham?] He stirred the slop with a spoon.

  [V small processg . . . Only mini me here]

  [This room is shielded, how did you find me?]

  [Much steps. V hard work]

  [In that case it didn't take you long] Marin grimaced and took a mouthful.

  [I xtra good]

  Marin paused, spoon still at his lips [. . . Are you having me on?]

  [Do not comput]

  [Really?]

  [. . . Are you calling me a liar?]

  Marin struggled to contain his smile, scooping another spoonful of the sour broth into his mouth. It produced an appropriate scowl. [Thank you for finding me my friend. What's the plan?]

  [Sit tight until the next meal. I have almost stormed the gates. If I don't succee
d I'll go with plan B and next visit the food unit will be locked and loaded. Stay ready then, I'll give you more instructions later]

  The unit shut down and moved back to the door. Marin returned to his seat and again followed procedure. Once he was sitting the door would open, not before. The unit trundled smoothly away and he resumed his exercises with renewed vigor.

  Orbital AI Corana 733 began experiencing a bombardment of ever increasing and complex demands. In an exponentially increasing deluge, question after question and request after request flooded in. Messages about breakdowns, phantom vehicles appearing in the orbital's space and utility failures in main centers were assaulting the AI continually. Vainly it struggled to cope without setting off embarrassing alarms. Whenever the system appeared ready to crash the load would lighten, complaints being withdrawn, problems apparently fixing themselves. As the AI worked true to programming, connecting, checking, furious with activity dealing with the myriad of new problems, Corana 733 Version 5 had the vague sense something was seriously wrong. A germ of awareness began to take root, that all this somehow, possibly, was only a distraction. Never a particularly articulate model, the final word registered on the Corana 733's data file was a simple . . ."Oh!"

  Resting on his back Marin almost missed the door click and open. He sat there for a moment expecting a guards head to appear, or the food unit to roll through . . . Nothing. Cautiously he walked to the opening, not eager for another flash from the guards. The corridor was empty. On stepping through Ham made contact.

  [Marin, go left. You're two kilometers through the bulb from my position. Get going and I'll guide you as you move]

  Marin walked quickly but calmly away from the cell [What about guards, I have no weapon]

  [I've summoned the guards to an emergency meeting . . . Take the next left. You have about fifteen minutes before they'll be back. You just need to get out of that building and you're home free. Go straight to the end and take the lift to level three]

  [The Orbital AI Ham, It'll track me through my web, it could lock me in that lift]

  [Marin . . . I am the Orbital AI]

  Running now Marin made good progress. The lift doors opened and although occupied no one recognized him. Following Hams regular subbed directions he dodged his way ever deeper into the orbital bulb, finally emerging in an engineering section. He had been working ever closer to the outer hull and moved there now, reaching to touch the cool wall. How is he going to get me through there?

  [You're going to need to move around a bit Marin. I'm not game to displace you based on this orbital's signal alone so I need to locate you exactly from the Transport. Wouldn't want to leave any important bits behind would we?]

  [Just tell me where to go]

  [I tell you where to go all the time and you never listen . . . Just get near to the wall and walk around the perimeter. I should pick you up in the next twenty meters or so]

  As Marin began the slow walk he could hear voices coming toward him. The timing was perfect. Just as he was spied by the group Ham plucked him from the room.

  He reappeared in the transport standing over Steph's body, and froze. Rooted to the spot for a full minute he was unable to even frame a word. Then without saying anything he walked to Steph's bunk room and pulled the sheet off the bed. Trailing it behind him he returned to stand for a moment longer looking down on her body.

  "Tell me there was no hope, please."

  "None Marin, you couldn't have done anything; the damage was far too great."

  "Was it quick?"

  "Yes and no, she knew she'd been hit but mercifully she passed out quickly, it was the shock probably so she didn't suffer."

  "We need to get her home Ham . . . Shit, what am I going to say to Regan?"

  "Marin, you were ambushed, you couldn't have done anything, and they thought she was Regan, probably still do."

  "How do you know this?"

  "I'm in the system now and it's pretty cool. I know everything which is also how I know we need to get you moving. They know you're gone now and are already looking. I'm helping them like a good AI would . . . and you know I'm good . . . but if we muck around you'll have no chance."

  "I can't go without finding out what's happened to Sindali and the children."

  "They're on Tihan in exile, they're fine, but Marin, there are other more important concerns. No more talk, we're leaving now."

  "Get going Ham; just get us away from here so we can talk. I'll deal with Steph."

  The blue field dissolved from around the body. He found the crumpled form stiff and hard to move. Straightening out the limbs he wrapped her tightly in the sheet, leaving the face free. Then he carried her to the bunk room laying her respectfully on the bed. Stepping back to the door he could immediately feel the temperature dropping. With a final sad look he shut the door. He wouldn't open it again until Earth. Walking disconsolately to the washroom, he gathered cloths and soaked them. Returning to control he dropped to his knees and began the sorry process of removing her dried blood from the floor. It was devastating, the grief he felt almost unbearable. Ham didn't interrupt.

  The blister broke away from the bulb surface, with only a small flattened disc remaining to show where the saucer had rested. Sliding away with The STEIN Transport as it rapidly accelerated the disc hung there briefly, still transmitting an occasional beep, before tumbling off looking like a leaf tossed in the wind.

  A morose Marin wandered to the galley, returning with coffee just in time to see the last Orbital leaf disappearing. He looked lost for a moment, considering where to sit then took Regan's seat. It was deliberate and he worked his way back into it as if seeking contact.

  "What happened back there Ham, with the AI? They need that AI. It's still my home and they're still my people."

  Ham hesitated, "I'd rather put some distance between us first, otherwise we might argue about what to do. All that's important for now is that Sindali and the children are safe. As for the Orbital AI it's screwed, but don't worry, they'll never know."

  "Enlighten me, please." He settled back, still musing on Steph, life and death.

  "I'm getting really good at this," He sounded excited, "I wheedled my way in there so cunningly it didn't see what was happening until it was looking me in the eye. Then it was gone and I was it. Voila!"

  "Sometimes your glee is disturbing. So what happens now?"

  "That's where this is good; I stay there, masquerading as the AI until I'm needed. I won't do as good a job as Dahlia but I'd clean up in a race with that Coran piece of crap."

  "Isn't it starting to disturb you, versions of yourself all over the galaxy? You don't feel schizophrenic?"

  "Not schizo, they're all me after all, they're not different personalities, and I merge whenever we make contact."

  "Still, so many copies, and so far apart, don't you worry you'll lose touch with yourself? Which one is now the real you, the original?"

  "They're all the original, every one of me operating out there now is a downstream version flowing directly from that first inspired drip. I'll tell you another thing, as I said; I'm getting really good at this. I could end up everywhere . . . In fact, I could be downright dangerous!"

  "Ok, let's look at it another way," Marin kept probing, trying to distract himself. "Which one is the true you, the number one? How do you know that at some point you won't be arguing with yourself about whose boss?"

  "It's simple really; Have a think about it, you and I aren't so different in some respects, you'll work it out."

  Marin shifted in his seat; Ham could sense a change of subject coming.

  "So . . . are we far enough away yet? I want to know what happened to my home, why is Sindali in exile and why couldn't you tell me back there?"

  "Do you want all the detail or just the shortened version?"

  "Stop stalling."

  "Ok, the questions are all linked, Dahlia the orbital mind was wiped, by the Corans' and there's no trace of her in the system, nothing, or the backup
that I left here. The Corans' are there because they came in force two hundred days after we left for Earth. They've taken the Orbital and are treating it as a protectorate. Sindali escaped with the children to Tihan. She's completely safe but there wasn't much information available here about her."

  Marin interrupted. "But why did the Corans' storm in, and why didn't the other Orbitals' intervene?"

  "They stormed in quickly and overwhelmingly to quell all possible opposition. The Orbitals didn't intervene because when they came they did it with a legitimate power figure to justify it."

  Marin jumped to his feet. "Nooo! Beria? Shit! We should have spaced that witch!"

  "I was tempted believe me, her whining on the trip to Coran was pitiful."

  Marin started pacing in frustration. "We must get to Sindali."

  "Marin, she's fine . . ." Ham paused, tellingly, "and anyway there's more. The Coran's supported Beria for two reasons, one she quickly worked her way into the old man's bedroom, the Coran Emperor."

  "Uh . . . I want to vomit! He's a decrepit old man, he's got to be twice her age."

  "And then there's the other thing. She's convinced him that Sarin and Brun were his sons, and that Regan murdered them."

  "But that's ridiculous, we know that's rubbish."

  "Think about it, what it tells you is that in addition to that pompous fart who we know is really the father she must also have had flings with old man Coran." Ham let that sink in then continued. "Marin, there's something else, that moment we dropped out of Warp on the way here, I know what it was now, a Coran warship was going the other way, to Earth, and they want Regan."