*Since y’all liked the first one so much–I couldn’t help coming again (hah). Here’s another original tale I wrote just for Reddit!*
**ALERT** “Unidentified Earth gas scraper, this is the Martian orbital defense core. Shut down your main drive, and prepare to be boarded.”
“Why would they be boarding us?” One of the passengers asked from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and examined the innocent-looking woman whose long black braid dipped down her mid back. My eyes glanced to her tits in spite of our current situation. Though obfuscated by a modest chaplain’s getup, I couldn’t help imagining what those beauties looked like underneath. What can I say? I’ve got a type:
Short, stacked, brunettes with impenetrable personalites.
The fact that she was forbidden and innocent made her even hotter. Stop the presses. A smuggler who’s a sexual deviant, fuckin’ unheard of.
“Hey, I’m,” I chuckled, pressing in the reply on channel button. “Really sorry, boys. We’ve got a medically fragile patient on board. It’s crucial we get to Titan medical complex ASAP. She has—”
My mind searched for some medical intervention an imaginary patient might need that couldn’t be provided by Mars.
“Her heart is too weak to survive a landing. She’s, um, going to require orbital care.”
The radar lock began to flash a threatening orange, first displaying one projectile in the display, then a second.
“identify yourself, unknown vessel. Your transponder is malfunctioning. We are dispatching the Ticonderoga to your location for immediate medical assistance. You will still need to take your main drive offline and prepare to be boarded.”
“We can’t!” a younger passenger spoke up. The airman looked right out of flight school. Her cute pigtails were obscured by a raised flight helmet. “The patient is allergic to—zero g!”
I took my finger off the reply button.
“Really, kid? She’s allergic to zero-g?” I groaned.
Mars was going to board us no matter what, but the sexy little pilot’s terrible excuse was likely to make it happen faster. What the hell was I even thinking? It didn’t matter how much I wanted to yank those pigtails down and force her to the floor. I had a job to do. I pressed reply again and cleared my throat.
“Hey, orbital defense, this is the gas scraper Louisville. We are going to power down our drive now, so there’s really no need for a missile lock anymore.”
Three more tubular projectile indicators popped into the top right of the radar display.
“Shit,” I groaned. My ship was ninety-eight thousand clicks from the belt. I was definitely getting poor performance reviews from my passengers. The least I could do was get them to their destinations in a hurry. I buckled my restraint and activated seat gyros, raising the pilot’s chair into the air.
“Alright, ladies and gents, this is your captain speaking. I’m gonna need everyone in flight restraints, like—now. We’re going to pull a high-G maneuver in about thirty seconds.”
The chaplain shook her head and held my gaze.
“Be careful, flyboy,” she whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Keep your hands on the sticks and your feet on the throttle.”
Fucking hell, the way that woman talked to me. I felt like my dick was going to tear a hole in my vac suit.
I flipped up the point defense countermeasure switches and disengaged the g-safe maneuvering system. The ship was about to buck like a bronco who’d just received a surprise castration.
“Ninety-eight fucking thousand clicks,” I grunted. “Couldn’t they have caught us a little bit closer to cover?”
A voice came over the ship intercom. It was that dirty-hot chaplain.
“All secure in the passenger hold, captain. We’re just missing one. Inertial compensation struts engaged.”
“Well if you’re missing one,” I began. “Then you’re not exactly all secure.”
Three very rapid clicks drew my eyes to the co-pilot’s seat. The cute little airman was buckling herself in with a wide smile. I got the sinking feeling it was the first time she’d rode bitch on a real live ship, not just a simulator. As she buckled the tenth strap, she engaged the gyro and one side of the chair lurched upward, sending her careening at a forty-five-degree angle.
“Jesus, what the hell?” she objected.
“Never flown on a real live ship?” I asked. “Real live ships have kinks. They got shit wrong with them. Disconnect the main hydraulic control on your left and replug it.”
The girl fiddled with the tiny red and black wires at the top of the control and pressed it back with a grunt. Her chair elevated to my height a moment later. I hammered the intercom.
“Alright. We’re gonna start with an 80 percent burn. She’ll hit harder than a sledgehammer, so make sure you got your mouth guards in!”
I drew the multi-axial control panel forward, locking my closed fists into the gauntlets and clicking my mag-boots into the throttle controls. I turned to my co-pilot.
“Listen, gorgeous, what’s your name?”
She smirked, despite looking a little miffed that I referred to her as *gorgeous*. It was possible to feel flattered and objectified all at once.
“Grace,” she replied. “Private Grace Leon.”
She grabbed the oxygen tube from the co-pilot’s chair and hooked it into her helmet. I did the same.
“Alright, Grace, first time you’ve flown with a boosted ship, I’m sure, right?”
“You’ve got secondary boosters on a gas scraper?” she wondered, her voice sounding muffled through the mask.
“Not a gas scraper,” I chuckled. “Anyway, keep your head straight back. Do not try to look too far to the left or right. You’ll pass out. Check movement with your eyes and keep your arms tight to your body. You’re on starboard PD cannons.”
I clicked a pair of buttons on the right side of the control console and a blue-white display illuminated on her visor.
“They’re not AI-controlled?” she gasped.
As I eased the throttle forward and up to fifty percent, it felt like the ship was trying to tear my head from my body. I leaned back and let the control gauntlets come to me. The orange-flashing radar lock suddenly illuminated a bright red, and an alarm rang out in the cockpit.
“We’ve got multiple launches!” she shrieked.
“No shit?” I muttered, gunning the engines up to seventy percent. “I thought they’d be fine with us rabbiting. They seemed like good sports!”
My arms felt heavy as the ship eased past 3200 meters per second. We were still a long way from the belt.
“Okay, Grace, we’re about to break off the gas scraping façade. Let me know when the missiles are 5500 meters out.”
“They’re going six-thousand meters per second!” she hissed.
“Well,” I groaned, pressing past eighty-five percent. “Then shout really loud and make sure you do it on time.”
I watched the display tick down out of the corner of my eye, but I needed to keep eyes forward, ready to spin the ship in case of stragglers. Torps eighteen kilometers out meant—six seconds or so.
“Come on, baby, do this for me! We’ve got a lot of money in the hold that I’d like to keep.”
The Airspeed Indicator read 4.5 KmPS. The forces began to ease on our bodies as my ship, actually called the Leiaan, reached the speed I wanted to top out at. Of course, that was, until I needed to turn.
“Now!” Grace yelled.
I pressed the strut release and my sexy little ship shrugged off her cosplay like a drunken furry during a rave. The bits of metal drifted outward, hanging around the ship by their own momentum.
“Hang on!” I ordered.
I hated maxing her out. The ship didn’t like it. Turns took forever. No one was happy, but it was that or die. The throttle flattened and a blue boost gauge at the top illuminated as secondary thrusters fired all over the ship’s perimeter. My vision darkened around the edges as we zipped away from the debris, the ship quaking like a junior on prom night.
The missiles impacted the fake gas tanks and two of them detonated, triggering the other three. A wide plume of reddish flame exploded outward before fizzling out into a smoky mess.
“You did it!” Grace shouted, reaching for a high five and immediately dropping her arm as she felt its weight.
The radar lock flashed red a second time.
“Fucking how?” I growled.
“There’s a—” Grace pointed at the radar screen and her dark skin seemed to somehow look paler.
Two Martian destroyers sat directly in our path. It was random, awful, chance. We were going pretty quick, though. It would be up to the point defense cannons to take them out.
“Look, gorgeous,” I began, “We’ve got one on each flank. Two torps from each battleship got off. We are going at 5500 meters per second which means I can’t turn for shit. They are only going 500 meters per second faster, in comparison to us. You can do this!”
“Can’t you take over?” her voice trembled.
“Who do you think is controlling the port cannons?”
Grace shook as she zoomed in on what looked to be nothing on her display.
“Ten seconds out,” I called, staring at empty space that I knew would have tiny pencils of death visible in mere moments. “Five!”
The first torpedo came into my vision and I led it using the visor’s targeting protocol. The AI-assist provided me with a tiny red circle to shoot within. I fired with both cannons, staggering the blasts. The streams of white lead shot outward, like trying to hit a needle going five-hundred meters per second, with a super soaker. The tiny point exploded, and a second ball of fire followed.
“Two down!” I cried out, as Grace’s cannons hummed from the right side of the ship.
“Shit!” she gasped. Another burst of fire sprang forth from her guns and she stomped a foot. “I can—”
Grace felt her breath leave her body as the whole ship rotated in a flat spin. She blacked out.
I turned the ship in place to face the other torpedoes and they looked a hell of a lot bigger than the tiny pencils had been on my side. I think I could have read the manufacturer if I took a moment. The cannons blasted and both missiles exploded just before they impacted our hull. The debris peppered the Leiaan’s thin armor plating and caused some menacing hissing to echo throughout the ship.
“Helmets on!” I ordered into the intercom, springing from my seat. I hoped someone was awake in the passenger compartment to hear it. The ten-G maneuver was nothing to shake a stick at. Were it not for my past, I would have blacked out too. I clicked a small oxygen tank to the side of my helmet and tried not to look out the window at the still-spinning stars.
“JIL, what compartments are still pressurized?” I asked, zipping through emergency airlocks that flashed warning lights.
“Mess hall, crew quarters, armory, and cargo 2 are not leaking oxygen,” she informed.
That meant that the passenger compartment was compromised. It was a lot of people to move before they asphyxiated. The reverend was already stacking unconscious bodies in the airlock which lead to crew quarters as I reached the compartment. She was turning a Wonka-like shade of violet as she fought her own body’s need to breathe. I unclasped three more guests and tossed them toward the tiny room that was built to accommodate two. When it was full, I hammered the cycle button and disconnected my air canister for the Rev.
Her eyes were distant as I placed the tank to her mouth. She wouldn’t breathe.
“Fuck, no!” I hollered, waiting for the airlock to empty its contents via pressure exchange into the next compartment. I pressed the re-cycle button and it began to depressurize. “Come on, come on!”
She still wasn’t breathing. Frost that formed on the exterior of my visor let me know how quickly the air was dissipating and freezing. Just as the airlock doors parted, I dragged her inside and tried to force her to breathe in vain. Her body loosened in my arms. She was dying.
I unzipped her protective gear and revealed a black tank top as soon as we were inside the crew area. Some of the guests had begun to regain consciousness as I performed CPR. I tried to use the tank to give her oxygen, but without a pulse, she wouldn’t breathe in. I took a deep breath, tilted her head back, and expelled it into her waiting mouth. I counted out chest compressions for a solid thirty seconds before I breathed into her again. It was not the way I had fantasized about kissing the Rev and fondling her chest.
“Come on!” I ordered, thumping into her sternum.
Grace crashed down beside me with a small briefcase and lifted the Rev’s tank top to reveal a toned stomach. She placed a sticky yellow pad on the right side of her abdomen and slipped a red pad underneath her left bra strap.
“Evaluating heart rhythm,” the briefcase chirped, “please stand clear. Shocking in three, two, one.”
I removed my hands just before her chest thumped upward.
“Please continue chest compressions. Deliver rescue breath now.”
I obeyed and breathed into her mouth, pulling the back of her neck toward me to ensure airflow.
“Remove pads now,” the box ordered.
As I pulled back, her open emerald green eyes looked into mine. It was almost romantic, until she curled sideways and vomited.
“Grace,” I whispered. “Without you, we would have lost her.”
“Just one of the many services I can offer the Leiaan,” she sighed, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied smile.
“Well we’re glad to have you aboard, that’s for sure,” I nodded, rubbing the rev’s back.
“Obviously,” she chuckled, “I want to be part of the crew.”
___
I knew Mars would be after us. I found the biggest asteroid I could track, which was hurtling in the correct direction, and went full dark. That meant grappling in place and using batteries to power air and water filtration only.
Battery powered lights illuminated the few pressurized compartments dimly. The passengers were less than thrilled, but then again, they were getting a ride with me for a reason. My ship asked a hell of a lot less questions than riding along with a standard mercantile charter.
There were ex-Martian military aboard, UN spies, illegal ordinal refugees, and probably more sinister things that I didn’t want to know about. The less I heard the better. That said, maybe some questions would be a good idea. Mars patrols were on top of us in a second as we passed the station running semi-dark. That was almost plausible, but the two destroyers that were directly in our flightpath was an entirely new level of awful serendipity.
The only passenger I felt like I could trust, was the one I had been ogling since she boarded.
As I entered the crew compartment, it felt like I was stepping into a shower. Air filtration did not mean air conditioning. Fourteen people breathing air in a compartment designed for ten heated up the place, fast. No one was able to wear a flight suit. It was too damn hot. If we got shot with another torpedo, we’d all be screwed.
The Rev was patching up one of the escaped ordinals from Earth. It was this that let me know she truly was as trustworthy as I had guessed. No one gave a shit about refugees. Many of them spoke different languages. They were universally poor, so unable to provide any kind of reward, and they tended to keep to themselves. As the stunning woman cinched the plastic strips on the suture-matic bandage, I looked over her shoulder. She spoke into a tablet that translated her words into the creole spoken by the undercity refugee.
“If that is uncomfortable, let me know. I can provide you with a local anesthetic.”
“You’re an angel, Rev,” I smiled, watching her act of goodwill.
The black-haired woman spun about to face me.
“Listen, flyboy, we’ve got four passengers over the age of seventy. If we don’t get full life-support back on soon, I’m concerned their health could deteriorate even farther.”
“It’s Jakob,” I laughed. “Captain Jakob Reclaus, at your service, and I’d love to, but I very much enjoy keeping this boat in one piece.”
She ignored much of what I’d said and focused on the most embarrassing part about me.
“Reclaus?” the Rev asked. “Like—reckless?”
“Ha ha,” I chuckled. “Wow, you are the *very first* person to make that joke. Totally original, I swear.”
She let a sly smile slip through her icy exterior and squirted a bit of sanitizing spray into her hands before standing to her feet. The black tank top was by no means extremely flattering, but she was unreal. It was like someone had gone into my deleted search history and drawn an image from the amalgamated images of every woman I’d ever fantasized about. The worst part was, she wasn’t even *trying* to be sexy. The Rev just was. As she turned to face me, my years aboard a ship and away from social expectations began to show.
“God damn, they let women like you into the clergy?”
The exasperated sigh and eye roll let me know just how thoroughly I’d fucked up.
“Like me?” she repeated. “Now I wonder, are you referring to my ethnicity, or my breasts, or the fact that I’m kind-of bitchy, or that I’m willing to touch ordinals, I could keep guessing all day, Captain Reckless.”
I deserved that. I definitely did.
“Listen, my mouth does this thing where it says dumb shit that enters my brain,” I explained. “I swear, I didn’t mean any disrespect. My gut reaction clearly caught me off guard.”
She continued eroding my soul with a gaze that could have burned through sheet metal.
“Okay, if you really want me to explain myself, I was—surprised—by,” I groaned. Why did I have to be a dumbass with a chaplain, of all the options aboard? “You are extremely attractive. It was wrong of me to—”
“Right,” she groaned. “Okay, so what did you need to see me for, Captain? I’ve got several people that need my attention right now and you are quickly descending my list of priorities.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, remembering why I had approached her. “Come here.”
I gestured to one of the bunkrooms and waved for her to follow me. She seemed hesitant to obey, especially after my lewd and unwanted comment. Nevertheless, she stepped into the room, just barely clearing the door. I looked up to the ceiling.
“JIL, door.”
The opening hissed and slid shut, nudging her ass on the way by.
“Captain Reclaus,” she mumbled. “What the hell do you think you’re—”
“I’m gonna keep this short so the passengers don’t get any ideas,” I whispered, stepping close enough to feel her body heat. “Space is big, fucking huge, so I don’t grant it any leeway when it comes to chance. There’s no way two battle cruisers were sitting in our flight path by crazy random happenstance.”
“Well, maybe it’s a shipping lane,” she replied softly. “Ships do generally travel along the same routes—”
“Which I purposefully avoid,” I completed. “They were hanging out in the middle of fucking nowhere. They knew my flight plan. I’m thinking someone wanted the bounty on my head.”
“You’re wanted!” she hissed. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous for the captain of a passenger ferry?”
“Sweetheart, does this really look like a passenger ferry to you?”
The Rev looked around the room. She had been around the world long enough to know it wasn’t.
“Blockade runner,” she whispered. “That’s why the refugees chose you.”
“Yeah, anyway,” I grumbled. “Someone aboard stole the flight plan from the ship’s computer and sent it to the Martians. Maybe it was for money. I don’t know, but that means they know where we are going. We’re gonna have to transfer ships at a buddy of mine’s place and enter Calisto quietly. In the meantime, I need you to keep an ear to the ground for anyone who seems out of place.”
“And why should I help you?”
I furrowed my eyebrows and then let half of a smile rise up as I leaned against the bulkhead.
“Because I’m a devilishly handsome ex-military bad boy? You always wanted to try a little bad, but the other ladies at the convent wouldn’t—”
She reached for the door panel and turned around.
“Fine, fine!” I chuckled, pushing her hand away from the release. “C’mon. One, if I get caught, so do you.”
“And why would that be a problem?” the Rev asked.
“You tell me, Rev,” I replied. “It’s a hell of a lot cheaper to fly to Calisto on an eco-barge.”
“Slower too,” she explained.
I dragged my sentence out as I replied with a sinister grin.
“I didn’t want to have to say this, but I did save your life.”
“Grace saved my life,” she grumbled.
“And who the hell dragged your lifeless body into the airlock, Rev? Who delivered life-saving medical aid until little miss defibrillator arrived?”
The reverend crossed her arms and I managed not to glance at her pressed-together breasts. She let out the longest sigh possible before turning to me with a smirk.
“Alright. I’ll watch for anyone suspicious, flyboy.”
I put my hands together in a praying position and gave a nod as I uttered a sincere “thank you!”
The Rev chuckled and flashed an adorable smile. What the hell was I doing to myself? If I was Superman, she was a Kryptonite effigy. Every bit of that woman was exactly what made me weak in the knees and the mind. I needed to keep sharp. I needed to take care of a serious problem.
___
Let me preface this next bit by saying, I never claimed to be a good guy. Sure, I provide aid to refugees, but it comes at a price. Yes, I’ve flown in support of civilian vessels being assailed by pirates, but I then looted the thieving ships afterward. No, I should not have had surveillance in the armory showers. Hell no, I had no right to watch the Rev as she took a moment alone. Fuck, no, I couldn’t turn it off as she began to disrobe. I did close the cockpit door. She was entitled to only one set of eyes ogling her. Plus, I was in no mood to share.
“Je—sus,” I let a whistle drag out. “Now that’s enough to elicit a conversion from an atheist.”
Looking at a woman’s bra-clasp was a good early indicator for just how sizable her breasts would be. The Rev was sporting a quadruple hook clasp. It was like Christmas in October aboard the Leiaan. She stepped to the top edge of the camera display as the brassiere dropped to the floor.
“Oh, come on!” I objected. “Fucking really?”
I had not come that far to have my show stolen from me. Her delicious tits, the ones I had imagined the exact shape and texture of, were mere inches from my sight. I grumbled as she remained there, almost seeming to hide herself on purpose.
“Why that shower?” I shouted at the screen as she leaned in to turn on the farthest stall, the only one I couldn’t see.
The show wasn’t without some benefit, though. Though her juicy melons were hidden from view, she dropped her panties and the ass that could have launched a thousand orgasms was showcased in beautiful, grainy, low-def. My leg slammed into the console as I undid my fly.
The cockpit door bleeped and opened behind me.
“Fuck!” I called out in shock as my hand flew forward to the monitor and shut it off. “That was locked.”
“Co-pilot,” Grace’s voice called, stepping into my filthy sanctum. “I put in an override.”
“That is,” I grumbled, trying to spin my chair away from her view, “completely unacceptable. This is a very bad time, Grace. I’m going to need you to come back—”
Her hand shot forward and turned on the monitor I had been watching. She stepped forward and placed her hip in-between me and my bounty.
“Wow, Captain,” she giggled. “This is wrong on so many levels. You’re a real shithole.”
My vain attempts to stuff myself back into my pants failed as she took a seat on the armrest of the captain’s chair. I just sat there with “Sherman the One-Eyed German” at full mast, hoping she wouldn’t turn around.
“God *damn*,” Grace laughed. “I will admit it’s quite a show. Those are—outstanding. That’s enough to cause a self-loathing complex in a lesser woman. Luckily for you, flight school is just about an all-you-can-fuck-buffet, so I don’t really discriminate based on sex. I’m enjoying the show as much as you would have.”
I tried in vain to sit forward, feeling teased beyond reason. She slammed her palm to my chest and forced me back to my chair.
“No, you don’t get to see it. That’s part of the deal. I won’t turn you in, but this is for my eyes only, now.”
Her hand traced down my brown nylon shirt and past my stomach.
“’Course, if you sit nicely and follow the rules, I might be persuaded to do something very nice for you in return.”
“Well,” I sighed, leaning back into my chair. “This isn’t going at all the way I had planned, but I suppose the best nights never do.”
She grabbed ahold of my dick without warning and began to slowly stroke.
“Fuck, Cap,” she laughed. “That’s not bad.”
I took my right hand and slid it up her shirt from behind. Grace let out a low *mmm* as she slid off the armrest and between my legs. I wanted a clearer view but decided not to push my luck. A tit in the hand is worth two on the screen.
“She’s toweling off,” Grace whispered, gyrating on her own hand. “We have got to convince that woman to stay.”
I kept a hand playing with her nipple as I slipped my left around her waist and pushed aside the hem of her shorts. Grace was far from my usual type, but what she lacked in tradition, she made up for in enthusiasm.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” I whispered. “You’re soaked.”
Grace groaned and leaned her head back as I took over playing with her pussy. She let out a frustrated sigh as the Rev apparently left the screen. She turned off the monitor and stood up.
“Well, that was fun,” she whispered, turning to leave.
I’m ninety percent sure the co-pilot took her time on purpose with lazy steps away from a frustrated captain. I caught her wrists and pulled her ass back down to my lap.
“Should have known,” she complained. “You’re no rule follower.”
I lifted the tiny woman and shifted her shorts to the side. She offered very minimal resistance.
“I can stop,” I whispered, perching her hips just at the tip of my dick. “I’m not gonna rape you.”
Grace let out a low, hot breath, sliding her slick lips along my member. Words seemed to drip from her open mouth as she turned her head to face me.
“You can’t rape the willing—” she muttered, barely touching her clit to my head and gently rocking back and forth. She spoke up again, her words flooded with sex. “—But, fuck, I wish you’d try.”
That was all the encouragement I needed. I withdrew my hand from her shirt, wiggled my dick into just the right spot, and dragged her down onto me. Grace leaned back into my lap and bit along my jawline as she swung her hips, letting out a slight exhalation every time I plunged deep within her.
“Don’t come in me, alright?” she groaned. “Or do. Just don’t stop!”
I had not expected Grace to be this straightforward. Flight school had a lot of hookups when I went, but I didn’t remember it being quite the way she described it. Maybe it was a generational thing, or perhaps I just attended the wrong parties.
Grace was a poor choice. How does that saying go? Don’t shit where you eat? Fuck if I cared in that moment. The private laughed as I pushed forward and began railing her against the console. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken a woman in the pilot’s seat. There’s a reason it’s called a cockpit.
I’ve been a captain for seven years, and she was the weirdest woman I’d ever been with on the Leiaan. She cried out, gripping the controls like it was her birthday, and then dropped to her knees, determined to finish the job. When I asked her if she’d finished, she didn’t even reply. She just kept sucking like she was trying to down a molasses milkshake.
I didn’t usually feel dirty about my choices of who to fuck, but this girl was filthy. As she flailed, throating me over and over, I began to wonder if I’d accidentally taken a sex-bot aboard. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a gag reflex; it was like she had never even heard of the concept.
Despite how my feelings were mixed as she began to emanate the same sound a wet dry vac makes when you suck up engine lubricant, her physical effort was bewildering. She broke down my resolve a minute later and forced me down her throat as I finished. Honestly, I was thankful she didn’t bite it off.
Shit you not, as soon as I was done, she stood up, wiped her mouth, and said, “pleasure doing business with you, cap.”
I marched to my bunk and resolved to take a rest. That she-devil fucked like I’d never seen. I was exhausted.
When I woke, it was to a very displeasing sound. The docking collar was whining as someone snapped the locking pins. I sprang from bed, retrieved my pistol and coat, and stuffed an oxygen tank in my pocket for good measure.
When I reached the aft airlock, the passengers of cargo bay two had all crowded around to see the mess. A breaching pod was attached, and fully armed Martian soldiers were facing me with guns drawn. I stepped close to the door and put on my best smile.
“How can I help you boys?” I smiled.
The one in the front took the butt of his rifle and drilled it into my skull.
“Fuck!” I cried out, my head blaring, as I slammed to the ground.
“By order of MDC bounty hunting laws, we are seizing your cargo. It has come to our attention that a fugitive is aboard this vessel carrying smuggled goods. You are under arrest for harboring an enemy of the state.”
“Enemy of the state?” I shouted back, holding my bleeding forehead. The world was fuzzy and distant. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, officers, thank God!” The Rev piped up, running to meet them. “My name is Phillipa Dox. I’m a chaplain with UNESCO and a medic. *That* man is a wanted fugitive!”
“Can’t trust anyone these days,” I groaned, frustrated with the woman who was my weakness in every way.
“I don’t know what this cargo you’re talking about is, but I’d feel much more comfortable with Captain Reckless in custody,” The Rev continued.
“Reclaus!” I called to her, pointing my cylinder in her direction.
One of the Martian soldiers kicked the canister from my hand, and it went floating over the refugees heads, clanging against the rear bulkhead.
“He’s crazy!” she gasped, stepping into the pod behind the soldiers. “Someone cuff him, or shoot him, or something!”
“Captain!” Grace called out, tossing a bottle at one of the soldiers. He dodged the projectile easily and the leader threw it back in her direction.
“One more move like that,” the helmeted man barked, “and everyone is getting tased.”
“Rev?” I asked as the woman behind the commandos jumped into the air.
She drove a pair of rectangular boxes into the membranes of the soldier’s suits, where the helmet met the protective armor. The sinister clicking of a stun-stick sparked and hissed as the two soldiers behind the leader went rigid.
“Hey!” the leader roared, spinning with his rifle pointed toward the reverend.
I used every ounce of strength in my dizzied head to power upward as I activated my mag boots like a smooth criminal. I grabbed the meaty man’s helmet and slammed it to the bulkhead. He tried to defend himself, but I kept smashing it over and over until I saw blood spray the front of his visor. I released the stunned man and he floated freely.
“Oh my God, is he dead?” Grace asked with a nauseated look.
“Nah, he’ll be fine,” I groaned, tossing the man’s unconscious body into the breaching pod, “probably.”
I looked to the Rev and she had a gash in her forehead. It looked deeper than mine. Getting whipped by the barrel of a rifle with a muzzle break was likely to leave some lovely scarring without medical attention. Lucky for her, I owed her that much. I could dip into the good stuff for the woman who saved my ship.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, holding her eyes shut and stretching her jaw. “Told you I had your back.”
I shook my head and stared at the woman who had just paid back her debt in full. If anything, I was the one who now owed her.
“I’ll treat that cut myself, and shit— all you can drink, er, that is, whatever chaplains can drink.”
“I’m not a priest,” she smiled. “I can drink. I’ll take you up on that. I think this headache is going to be a nasty one.”
I raised her arm into the air as we marched back onto the Leiaan in victory. She tapped the cycle and disconnect button inside the pod and popped into our airlock before the process could start. As the pod moved away, I realized that it was actually a Martian shuttle. There was no ship launching it. We got *very* lucky. Then again, so did they. I couldn’t imagine how they had managed to find the one chunk of rock we attached ourselves to at full dark running. The odds were astronomically low.
Too low.
___
I sat in my quarters that night, pondering the events of the day, and a light rapping came from the door.
“Come in!”
Rev. Phillipa Dox stood in the doorway with a bottle of champagne and a wide pre-gamed grin.
“Okay, don’t judge me. This is bottle two, but I wanted to share it with the man who owed me a shit.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“A ship. The man who owed me a ship,” she corrected.
“I didn’t think chaplains could get drunk,” I smiled as she crashed down beside me.
“Well, um, only, hah!” she snickered and stretched a pouch over the mouth of the bottle. She swung the strange apparatus over her head and held it tight as she released. She handed me a newly-filled juice-pouch of champagne and I nodded to her.
“Cheers!”
“Cheersy cheers,” she winked, sucking against the bottle.
This woman was a bit too charming for my sensibility. I had a thing for short, stacked, women who were otherwise good but willing to make bad choices with me.
“Oh!” she smiled dropping to the bed and disengaging her magboots. “Hey, so I caught the sabo tour. You know, the nasty lay-dee who was leaking our position to Martian Defense Core?”
“You—did?” I wondered.
“Yeah!” she smiled. “Remember how that cute little private was *so* worried about the guard being dead? I thought that was auspicious.”
I gathered that she meant suspicious.
“So, I checked her comm when she was out of the room. You know that *bitch* was about to send our new flight plan to the MDC? What a cocksucker.”
You have no idea, I thought.
“Anyway,” she continued. “I suffocated her with a pillow.”
My hand dropped the champagne and it began to slowly drift upward.
“What?” I gasped. “You *killed* her?”
“Um,” The Rev warped her face a bit. “I feel really bad about it. That’s why I’m drunk. But—yeah. I waited ‘til she was asleep and then I climbed on top of her and suffocated her.”
My eyes were still wide. I truly thought I understood the Rev.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I mean, c’mon. You’ve seen that movie, right? We keep her alive and confined to quarters, then she calls for help by hacking some terminal or something, then the bad guys come, and we kill them all. Yay!”
She took another swig.
“But it’s not a fuckin’ movie, though, right? So, when Mars finds those operators, they’re gonna be *really* mad. We’re going to need new identities by the way. They’re just going to shoot goddamn torpedoes, like—”
She made a swishing sound with her mouth and made her finger spread wide. She slammed her hands together and made a “pshw—boom!” sound which I assumed was supposed to be the Leiaan. I swallowed a swig of juice-packet champagne. I draped my arm around her waist, though with a bit more trepidation than I might have ten minutes prior.
“Well,” I began slowly. “You’re not wrong. I’m just—I’m kind-of in shock. I mean, aren’t you a chaplain?”
She looked up at me with incredibly sad eyes.
“No,” she mewed. “I wanted to be one as a girl, and it turns out that no one suspects you of fucking *anything* if you say you’re a chaplain and wear the—thing. Collar!”
That made me feel so much better about watching her in the shower, creepy as it was. I thought up a response and continued.
“You did the right thing, Phillipa. She would have gotten us killed. I can’t believe I was so blind to it.”
“Oh, yeah!” the woman continued. “She was totally trying to get busy with you so that she could access different parts of the ship.”
I nervously chuckled.
“Imagine that.”
“Anyway, is it okay if I sleep for an hour or five? I don’t wanna puke in zero-g and fucking die.”
I laughed at the woman’s honesty.
“Yeah, I’ll keep watch,” I smiled. “Go for it.”
She nodded, shut her eyes, and engaged her mag-boots on the back wall, anchoring herself to the bed. She sat up and grabbed my arm.
“Oh, shit! I almost forgot! My name isn’t Phillipa. I’m Sadie; Sadie Schultz, from New York State—not New York City. I’m from Syracuse!”
I nodded, steadying the woman who bobbed like an inflatable man in front of a car dealership.
“Well, I’m Jakob Reclaus and I’m from Tranquility settlement. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sadie.”
She opened her mouth wide in shock and reached for the bottle. I steered it away from her mouth and into mine.
“Oh my God! You’re a mooner! I’ve never met a native mooner! Hah! Mooner…that’s great.”
I couldn’t help myself. Her top was a bit more open as she floated in my lap. I stole a fleeting glance as she giggled and tried to contain herself.
“Oh, my shit!” she gasped, slapping my face from below. “You just looked down my shirt, you fucker!”
She shook her head, completely and totally plastered.
“Good thing I’m drunk.”
She winked at me and dropped her tank top down to reveal the most perfect tits I had ever seen. I was in shock. It wasn’t what I was expecting, it was about a thousand times better. The Mona Lisa was six-hundred years old and had lines for miles at times. I wanted to shout out—“*Have you seen this? It’s way better!*”
She smiled and stuffed them back into her tank top as quickly as they’d been revealed. I tried to keep a mental snapshot for all of eternity. They were perky, with adorable brown nipples, and the way they rippled in zero-g would be something I would treasure for the rest of my life.
“If you try to touch me while I sleep, I swear to God I’ll suffocate you.”
Her smile was quicker this time, entirely false. Her gaze looked distant. I stroked her hair for some reason. I just felt like she needed it.
“You’re a good person, Sadie Schultz,” I muttered softly. “Sleep well. I’ll keep watch until you wake up.”
She nodded and shut her eyes.
I did keep watch that night. I just stared. I couldn’t help it. Sadie was the most enigmatic woman I’d ever met. Just when I thought I’d figured her out, she threw a nasty curveball that struck me out in a single pitch.
This was *not* typical Jakob shit. I should have been copping feels, or trying to get shots for my personal collection, but I just sat. I watched her because it was what I said I was going to do. She deserved it. She saved my ship, was utterly charming the entire time, and even revealed the promised land.
She was by no means a good girl. I had never been a good guy.
Why did I feel the urge to play one, now?
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gxsm5p/is_it_a_sin_to_watch_a_chaplain_shower_mff
Great writing !!!