The next chapter of your favorite smutty scifi space opera!
New to Orbital Academy? Get some spacey sauciness from the beginning.
Want to get straight to the dirty business? Jump right in.
Inside of Jackson's head, a small reminder alert pinged, and he took a breath. The ping was vaguely musical, and for the nanosecond it lasted Jackson enjoyed and appreciated the fact that he had a snapshot of music that only he could enjoy. The breath ended and he returned his focus to the problem at hand.
Very occasionally Jackson would wonder what it would be like to have a normal human brain. He would probably be lazy, perhaps absentminded, maybe talkative. Perhaps he might've even had a say in how his personality developed. His mother had taken that choice away from him with her extensive use of cocaine and critz and alcohol. When he was born his mind was so malformed there were only two options; augmentation or no augmentation. Without a CPU he would be a ward of Orbital Minera, his brain running a single function where a normal human could handle several, barely classifiable as alive much less intelligent. So really, the social worker hadn't had a choice either, giving the techs and medics permission to use him as a test case for their latest augmentations.
The alert pinged, and Jackson took a breath. There were a lot of items stored in his long-term harddrive, but the currently focused goal was to get food. In theory he could switch goals, thumbing through the items in his mental to-do list, but choosing a different goal wouldn't help him obtain food, so he dismissed the thought. If he ever bothered to inform them, the techs would probably be embarrassed about that serious flaw in their design. A chip designed to force his single-function-brain into achieving a goal wouldn't ever allow him to willingly choose a different one. The only time a goal changed was due to outside factors, like someone talking, or a change in the environment.
Jackson stepped down from the pod's ramp, absentmindedly helping Missy and Aimee off as well. The crowd parted for him as he made his way towards the doorway leading to the mess hall. They think I'm mourning my fallen comrades, the information registered to him, but he couldn't empathize with it. What possible use could moaning and wailing have in accomplishing any of his goals? Of course, they're important, Jackson admitted, mentally scrolling through his tasks to make sure goal 11125 still had a high priority, but who can spend so much time not doing something?
He had reached the mess and was filling a plate when the goal priorities shifted with a click, goal 87546 stashing away like a satisfying piece in his mind's puzzle as soon as he successfully acquired food. While he looked for a table, he enjoyed the leisurely process of flipping through his tasks to select his next goal. Goal 11125 was one of the highest priorities at the moment, since the sooner he mounted a rescue attempt the more likely it would be to succeed. That one will have to be divided into several subgoals though… He set his tray down and browsed through for smaller goals that he could quickly complete before tackling that one, pausing only to breath when the alert ping reminded him.
"Jackson!" Even in the crowded and bustling mess hall Jackson recognized Cynthia's voice; it was one of the most attractive things about her. It was silvery and light, almost musical. Like the breathing alert, he realized, I wonder if that's why I like it so much. Her voice was concerned now, and he liked the thought that she worried about him. Deeper, more instinctual feelings stirred in him at the sound of her voice, and goal 71609 slid upward in priority by several places. Part of him was slightly ashamed as he selected it, that he was prioritizing such a animalistic goal over saving his squadmates, but it had been a few weeks since he'd last satisfied those urges, and he always planned better when they were satisfied.
He almost winced when he turned. Just behind Cynthia, Samantha was also approaching, glancing at the other girl with confusion. A guy just can't catch a break around here, Jackson mentally sighed, as the CPU in his head whirred with the incoming data. His goal split into subgoals in a picosecond, and he immediately felt disoriented until he could translate them into words. Seeing the two girls next to each other highlighted their differences and brought them into sharp contrast. Cynthia had clearly just come from the hangars, since her face was still smudged with carbon stains and engine grease. Her red hair was tied back with a piece of black ribbon, and Jackson spared a moment to appreciate the single strand that had fallen out of the tie. Samantha had also clearly come from the hangars as well, but her work was far more clerical. Smooth unblemished skin and soft hands set her about as far apart from Cynthia as she could be, but with the proximity Jackson realized that the ringlets around her face were almost the exact same shade of red. I guess I have a type after all, he pondered, cute red-haired scrubs. The alert ping reminded him to breath, and refocused him on the task at hand. Right. Don't want to end things with Cynthia. Don't want to end things with Sam. Don't want to lie to either. You can never give me a simple goal, can you? Jackson scolded the chip. On the next ping, he took an extra deep breath.
"Cynthia! Sam!" he gave a small smile and stepped forward, putting one arm around Sam's waist and using the other hand to pull Cynthia forward. He kissed Cynthia on the forehead, Sam on the cheek, and then turned back to the table, "Fuck have I missed you! Come on and join me, please!" He indicated the empty seats at his table, smoothly sitting and hoping the ice in his stomach wouldn't show on his face. To his relief, both girls sat, though both now looked unsure of themselves.
"I heard about your planetary," Samantha said cautiously, breaking the slightly awkward silence, "Jackson I'm so sorry."
"They're not dead yet," Jackson began eating as he spoke, "their beacons are still lit."
"Jackson…" Cynthia reached across the table to place a comforting hand on his, an action that Jackson noticed made Samantha frown.
"It's okay, I'm not in denial or anything," Jackson chewed thoughtfully, trying to decide how he would handle his current goal, "if their beacons go out I'll deal with it at that point, but until then there's still hope."
Samantha opened her mouth, and the highest priority goal demanded that he interrupt her. If he could stop them from addressing the elephant in the room, there was a chance that he could simply keep them both by pure inertia. Both girls were a little off-balance, and the chip was telling him to keep them that way. Instead he kept quiet, letting her speak. He knew it was his imagination, but he sometimes felt like he could hear his CPU screaming and grinding as he ignored the route that would technically work the best, but he would much rather opt for open communication than for manipulating his way to his goals.
"Jackson, I know this probably isn't the best time," Samantha said, unaware of the conflict in Jackson's CPU, "but…who is this?"
"I'm sorry, that's rude of me," Jackson apologized, "Sam, this is Cynthia, she works in fuel processing. Cyn, Samantha, she's in ship transfer admin." He took another bite as he waited for the inevitable follow-up questions. Cynthia's hand was still on his, which was a good sign, and he idly ran a thumb back and forth over it as the girls exchanged glances.
"Pleased to meet you," Cynthia murmured, looking at Jackson instead of Samantha with narrowed eyes, but a half smile playing around the corner of her lips.
"Likewise," Samantha sounded unsure of herself, and Jackson's CPU informed him that his chances of goal completion would increase vastly if he simply played to her unsureness.
"You two are my two best friends on the entire orbital…" Jackson continued. The techs told him the chip couldn't actually form commands, that it simply allowed him to focus better, but he could swear he heard it talking to him; "Confuse her! You're so close if you can just keep her on her toes! Lie!"
"…and in answer to the question neither of you are asking, yes, I'm sleeping with both of you." Jackson powered through the chip's instructions.
Samantha's mouth dropped open in surprise. Cynthia folded her arms and leaned back, but she was grinning.
"The balls on this one," she chuckled.
"You…you're just going to say that? Just admit it to both of us?" Samantha spluttered.
"Course, why not?" Jackson took another bite, "it wouldn't be very nice to hide that information would it?"
"But it's 'nice' to sleep with both of us at the same time?" Samantha almost exploded. Jackson shrugged,
"I suppose I didn't assume we were exclusive," he said, "that's why I didn't mind you banging your co-worker on the side." Samantha blushed bright red, and Cynthia threw her head back and laughed aloud. She not only didn't realize I knew… But she also thought we were exclusive at the time? Jackson considered whether or not to be offended, and finally shrugged it off.
"I didn't…I wasn't…" Samantha stammered. She turned to Cynthia, no doubt hoping to find someone to back her up, "and you're okay with this? With him just going back and forth between the two of us?"
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1vnjmh/orbital_academy_xi