Jett Starr and The Mystery of Spaceship X-65

Jett Starr and The Mystery of Spaceship X-65

Introduction:

Jett Starr is a racier (and tongue-in-cheek) version of the 1930s sci-fi serials such as Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers.

It is the 1950s but in this alternative reality, mankind have already started to venture out into outer space where they quickly found that the Solar System was full of nefarious aliens who would like nothing better than to take over the Earth for their own dubious pleasures.

So to protect Earth from such threats, Rocket Force was created. Daring heroes in their rocket ships would go out and face whatever endangered their precious planet. Most daring of them all are Captain Jett Starr and his brave crew.


The story so far:

Chapter XIXVI - The Disappearance of Spaceship X-65

After dealing with the Menace from Asteroid Z, Jett and his crew of the X-70 have finally returned back to Rocket Force HQ on the moon, where they all prepare for some much needed R&R. Little knowing that a member of his crew is about to spring a shocking surprise on our hero.

Meanwhile, unknown to them all, a new peril is about to threaten our precious planet...


OOC: This thread is meant to be played with your tongue firmly in your cheek. For further information (or if you want to join), please go to Jett Starr: OOC Casting Call!.

David Hughes

OOC: Huzzah! We begin!

IC: David Hughes, the new Weapons Officer for the good ship X-70 stared up at the ramp to the ship, he admired the sleek lines and beautiful finish of the well-crafted ship and almost cried out for the joy of it when he saw the plethora of laser batteries and rocket packs that were arranged on the hull.

He clutched his duffel bag and swang it over his shoulder, as his foot hit the first step on the ramp, the metallic clang of the door opening above him rang out. He climbed the stairs quickly, jogging up, and ducked his head as he entered the low doorway.

The corridor snaked around the ship, and he followed the standard directions to make his way to the Captain's quarters.

He dropped his duffel bag and knocked on the door, it opened and he stood smartly to attention.

"Lieutenant David Hughes reporting for duty, sir!" He raised his hand and snapped off a crisp salute, eyes forward, chest out.

Jett

Jett turns round to the new recruit.

"At ease, Spacer." He smiles as he picks up his own duffle bag and leaves his room, motioning the young Lieutenant to follow him.

"Hughes did you say?" He asks in that refined Oxford accent.

"Yessir!" The younger man replies.

"Glad to have you aboard but I'm afraid you are a week too early." He sees Hughes' face drop. "Don't worry, old chap. You will be in space before you know it. Just taking advantage while our ship is being reserviced. Had a bit of a bash while we tackled the deadly Vrilg don'tcha know. Never did find the mastermind of that evil scheme. Dashed bad luck."

He pauses as he sees the new crewman looking slightly bewildered.

"Look here. I am going to join the rest of the crew at the Lunar Bar. Fancy coming along?"...

He couldn't hide the disappointment, he was itching to get out into space, and the simple fact that his captain had an Oxfordian accent was even better, a true cultured gent indeed.

He held to the straps of his duffle tightly, and looked up quickly when the offer of the Lunar Bar came through.

"I'd love too sir, I met someone there earlier. Maybe she's still there..." A sly grin came across his features and he had to stop himself before he began rubbing his hands in anticipation and glee.

As he invited the captain down the ramp first, he asked a question, "So what happened with the Vrilg, sir? Care to tell a Cambridge boy?"

His studies at Cambridge had been on electronic engineering, and then focused on different types of weaponry at the academy. He was looking forward to souping up some of the cannons on board...

Jett

The veteran space hero manages to hold back a groan when Hughes asks him about the Vrilg.

Should have kept your mouth shut, Jett old boy!

Though he admires the young man's eagerness, the last thing he wants to do at the moment is to waffle on about the last mission.

"Perhaps later, Hughes." He says instead. "Right now I have a Rocket Blast-off waiting for me at the bar."

They continue talking as the two of them get on a magno-tube (magnetic powered pod running through a transparent tube) which takes them to the Lunar Bar.

Once through the doors, they make for the bar and his drink only to find a familiar face standing there...

Commander Inci Ismael

Inci was getting impatient. She'd already been at the Lunar Lounge fifteen minutes and Jett was late. They were supposed to meet here at 1900 hours sharp. Her little foot was doing an impatient tap-tap-tap when she heard his voice.

"Good evening, Commander Ismael."

How could she be angry with him when he practically purred her name the way he did? Inci felt her heart flutter. Smiling her sunniest smile, Inci batted her eyelashes in the way she knew drove him mad. "Let's get a table, Jett. I have some very exciting news."

Slipping her arm through that of the dashing and debonair Captain's arm, she babbled the whole way to a corner booth. At least Jett thought she was babbling. Her mouth was moving after all. He just couldn't hear her over the music that was blaring in the background.

"Good. So that's all decided then," Inci said as if it actually had been.

Sliding into the booth, she patted the spot beside her on the bench. "I want you to sit close to me, Lover Man. We have some celebrating to do."

"We do?"

Inci looked at the feigned expression of puzzlement on Jett's face. Gods he was so devilishly sexy when he teased her like this. "Oh, Jett! What are you like? Silly tease. Of course we do! It's not every day the daughter of the Head of Rocket Force gets married to THE most eligible space hero on the planet."

Blood spends a pleasent afternoon


Raphael Blood looked out the Savage Peter's forward viewport and laughed, laughed as he always did, diabolicaly.
The vision before him was enough to bring tears to the eyes of even the hardest hearted and most depraved spacer, but it was the essence of Blood's existence, his source of entertainement...his reason for his being at all.

No where else in the Galaxy had a more vile, degenerate and ruthless monster been spawned than Raphael Blood unless it was his rival and sometimes cohort in despicability, Mistress Poisona. The Spider Queen.
And where he wondered was she? She was supposed to have been in on the raid with him. This was the sort of thing she'd truly appreciate. He decided he'd save her a few....

"Look how she burns Captain, ain't it a sight?"
He patted his misshapen Firstmate, Drakool on his hump and purred, "Indeed it is...indeed it is."

The entire Convent of Blessed Saint Bambi the Pure was in flames!
Nuns and Novitiates, some still smoking were running across the the plain between the malevolent phallic shape of Blood's ship and the hellish conflagration of the hallowed halls they'd once called home.

The crew maddened by frustration and lust were pursuing the terrified women and nailing them wherever they could bring them down. The Captain of Evil counted at least 19 ravishments in progress.
Blood pointed to one freckle faced innocent whose habit was being torn off a surprizingly lush body by three burly Venusians from the engine room.

"Stop them Drakool, she's my plaything for the night."

Allready the Savage Peter's holds were filled with a weeping, terrified cargo of female merchandise, destined for the cruel slave pens of Gomorrah. The wretched survivors of half a dozen torched and incenerated convents and shrines scattered across the face of La Innocensia, known throughout the Galaxy as the Planet of Nuns.

Junior lieutenant Billy Maxwell

The gunmetal walls of his quarters were no more than ten by seven, but to Billy Maxwell it was like a palace. My own room on the X-70! he thought, spinning around happily in the middle of the tiny cabin and banging his knuckles on the tall corner locker in the process. Even the pain couldn’t subdue his excitement as he sat on the narrow cot and opened his duffel bag. He had graduated from Space Academy just one short year ago, at nineteen one of the youngest to ever make it through the demanding program. Billy had graduated at the top of his engineering class and got his wish: assignment to Jett Starr’s crew!

Starr’s exploits had become a lucrative cottage industry back on Earth, spawning several comic book lines, various versions of X-70 model ships (the Revel 1/32 scale version, meticulously painted, hung from Billy’s bedroom ceiling back home in Central City, Nebraska), and several low-quality but enthusiastic TV shows and movie serials. Billy had followed the X-70’s exploits in the newspapers and on radio, and knew every inch of the spaceship by heart even before setting foot on it a few months ago. Now that the encounter with the Vrilg was past (a shiver ran up his spine at the memory) and the ship and crew were safely back at Rocket Force HQ, the captain had seen fit to reward the junior lieutenant with his own cabin.

“Easy there, Duffy,” Billy said soothingly as he pulled out and opened a small perforated canister. Tiny squeaks answered him as the brown and white guinea pig struggled onto his lap. Billy unfolded the wire cage, deposited his pet inside and securely fastened the door. He set it on top of the locker and attached the securing Velcro strips, then spent a few moments comforting the disoriented cavy before unpacking the rest of his gear. He glanced out the porthole at the lunar surface (my own porthole!), then smoothed out his uniform, admired his Rocket Force patch one more time, and left the room. He marched proudly down the corridor, giving a big grin to each passing technician and dock worker (who no doubt wondered how the skinny, freckled redhead had gotten aboard in the first place). Leaving the ship’s magno-tube, he entered the Grand Lunar Concourse, suddenly hungry for a cheeseburger. Jazzy music came from a doorway with a flashing neon Lunar Bar sign. He stepped past a frowning bouncer and looked around, spying Starr in the arms of Commander Ismael. He grinned and slid onto a barstool. “Hi,” he said to the pretty lady behind the bar, then peered up at the Specials poster overhead. “Uh, can I have a Nova Nehi and a cheeseburger please?”
http://www.indianaplayers.com/Images/Oth/spbuzz.jpg

Watts

Watts 14 sat around a round table with 4 other Ships Assistants. As was his usual custom, whenever the X-70 took some shore leave Watts would immediately find a group of like minded droids and savour the moments where he didn't have to constantly be looking out for the crew of moronic fleshbags that he was always looking after. Watt's friend Bolts 22 was telling a familiar tale about his ship, the X-75

"So Captain Maxx orders a launch of our photon bombs against the Blorn mothership and he thinks, you know, ka-pow! End of the Blorn menace. But they just bounce harmlessly off the hull and he's sitting there with that dumb look on his face that he always gets, looking like such a dolt. So he orders more bombs but again they just bounce off. No explosions, nothing. So eventually he calls down to weapons and they have no clue either. And I'm sitting there, laughing my head off because the brightest minds in Rocket Force can't figure out that in a Solar System where the ionization levels are 66% higher than they usually are, like the Blorn System, that Photon Bombs can't arm!!!"

The other Robots all began laughing hysterically, (which sounded a little like a bunch of adding machines breaking down) tales of human stupidity always went down big.

"Wait a minute" chimed in Cyberbot 300 "I thought Captain Maxx ended up defeating the Blorns. What happened?"

"Well, the fourth set of Bombs he fired took out a window on the Mothership"

There was more raucous laughter. Watts wiped some lubricant from his eye. Only here, amongst other robots, could they really be themselves. When in the company of humans they had to act polite and helpful, lest they be thought to be malfunctioning and sent in for re-programming.

"Well boys, if you'll excuse me" Watts said as he got up "I'm going to check in with Captain Knucklehead and see what he wants me to do before our next glorious mission against the next evil, but slightly less competent than the Humans Alien Scourge."

Watts whirred out of the room. He opened up a communication channel to Jett.

"Sir, this is Watts, I'm on my way back to the ship and I was wondering what tasks you would like me to perform as we wait for reassignment"

Jett

"It's not every day the daughter of the Head of Rocket Force gets married to THE most eligible space hero on the planet."

Jett almost chokes on his Rocket Blast-off which was served to him by an attractive Mercurian waitress. He had been quite surprised to see Inci, having expected her to have gone planetside to see her mother. Leaving poor Hughes in the lurch, she had dragged him to a table to tell him some news.

"We are what?" Not quite believing what he has just heard.

"I know, darling." His second-in-command continues, "I cannot believe it myself. Finally we are getting married. Daddy is going to be so pleased!!!"

"M-married???" For the first time in his illustrious career, the heroic space captain feels the icy chill of fear. "When did we agree to get..."

At that moment, he is interrupted by the ringing of his Rocket Force Signal Watch. Lifting his wrist up to his face, he presses a button and the dial transforms into the image of the X-70's resident robot.

"Jett here!" He says, his mind still trying to make sense of what Inci is telling him.

"Sir, this is Watts." crackles the robot "I'm on my way back to the ship and I was wondering what tasks you would like me to perform as we wait for reassignment."

He looks over at Inci who blows him a kiss.

"Just be a good chap and clean up my quarters as well as fumigate the toilets will you? That last meal you cooked had that awful affect on some of the crew and I don't want that smell lingering in the toilets when we lift off next week."

Before the robot can reply, Jett breaks communications.

"Now, Inci." He starts, a little calmer now that what she has been saying has started to sink in. "When did we agree..."...

Anton Smythe

In a darken corner of the Luna Bar, the distinguished man watches Jett Starr and his beautiful Turkish commander chat. From Jett's reaction, he can guess what they are talking about.

"So she has told him. Good! Good!"

He slowly sips his black martini. Still smarting at his failed attempted to destroy the world with an asteroid, his only consolation is that he not only managed to avoid capture but also managed to give Inci a mindwipe pill so that she forgot that she was ever his prisoner* as well as other things.

But that is in the past.

Now he has a new plan, a scheme so diobolical that it could make him the most powerful man in the Solar System, if not the entire universe. He suppresses a sly smile.

"Now, where were we?" He says to the man sitting next to him.

*OOC: Long story so don't worry about it.

Mistress Poisona

Meanwhile at her secret Headquarters on Pluto....


Poisona was amused. Things were falling neatly into place.

Her minions scurried hurriedly back and forth throughout her palace, courieng boxes laden with arcance and obscure mechanical parts.

She had spend months planning on this new secret weapon to throw the entire planet Earth into her thrall. All she needed was to get that blasted Rocket Force out of the way.

She swept back a long thick wave of her jet back hair from her alabaster brow. Her cold blue eyes shone with inner amusement. Her hand travelled to the V'cut of her shimmering black dress to rest on the black widow amulet that rested between her large full breasts.

" O Great Mistress, I beg you for a word" one of her muscular sex slaves piped before her feet.

Poisona sighed, " What is it now..."

The sychophant cowered, he knew how the Queen of the Spider Peope took to bad news.

" theres been a slight.. delay..."

Poisona rose quickly to her feet, her statuesquew figure towering over her nameless lackey.

" What 'delay' ?" she hissed

" it seems that we accidently left the vital component in Captain Blood's hold"

This was intolerable! With a flick of her wrist, a poison dart from her braclet landed in the minions neck. His face turned purple, he writed choking for a moment and fell into the endless slumber of death.

Her plans were already mildly behind schedule.. no matter..she would contact her occasional consort Blood at her leisure.. besides.. she had already slipped the proper information and proper bribes to ensure Jet Starr would be having problems of his own ... aboard his own blasted ship.

She coldly smiled

Lt. Nicki Flint

I stepped out of the ‘Saturn Ringlets Salon and Day Spa’ feeling better than I had in weeks. Nothing like a day of pampering to make a girl forget all about evil aliens and cramped quarters. I made her way down the concourse, trying to decide if I was in the mood for a little shopping or a bite to eat.

What I’d really like, I thought, is one of these handsome men to tuck me in tonight. Just then, I see Billy Maxwell walking into the Lunar Bar. Humm, Billy laying naked on my bed and... I shook my head of the image that had formed. I’d always had a strict policy of not mixing business with pleasure, it wouldn’t do for me to go bedding the new crew member. But I suppose I could go buy him a drink, the kid had handled him self surprisingly well when we’d gone up against the Vrilg.

The bouncer winks at me as I pass through the doors, I smile back. Maybe I’d let him tuck me in tonight. I scanned the room quickly, I caught a glimpse of the captain before some other bar patrons blocked my view. Interesting, the last time I saw that look on his face was when he found out he’d been eating Sentialin Rangor brains at a buffet. I wondered what had caused it now, as the last time I checked the Lunar Bar did not serve brains of any kind. I shrug it off for now, I’ll have plenty of time to hear the story when we’re back on the ship. I spot Billy sitting at the bar and make my way over to him.

“Mind if I join you?”

Boris and Lana

They were doing one of the things they did best, arguing.

Boris and Lana loved to argue, about cooking or sex or the color of the sand at the beach, mainly because they loved to make up.

"You couldn't let it go, you had to react?"

"Yes, the bitch was groping you"

"I've been dealing with it for months, so have you"

"Well before she had the courtesy of keeping it overt"

"So this time you couldn't let it go?"

"NO! I couldn't. You looked like you were starting to enjoy it"

"I swear to you I wasn't, what was I supposed to do, slap her? Not in front of witnesses"

"Well, it looked that way to me" Lana realized that then that he was right but damned if she would admit it to him, not yet anyway.

"Well, look where it got us! From Master Chefs in the Admirals Mess to cooks aboard this, this ship"

Lana looked around, everything was functional, but there were no 6 burner Vikings, or massive ovens. This galley was smaller than the kitchen in their first apartment 27 years ago. She sat then, at the small galley table, this time defeated by her firery temper.

Boris's temper fled him then, chased away by the look of utter defeat on her face. He sat down next to her, his arm automatically going around her shoulders and squeezing her tight. Her face turned to him and he kissed her lips, tenderly and then harder, as his hands pulled her in tighter.

"Ahem, uh, excuse me, but where might I find a cup of coffee?" said a crewman, obviously a mechanic of some sort, from the galley doorway.

Lana looked at Boris and burst out laughing, the tension fleeing her in one huge burst. Then she started looking for the espresso machine.

Watts

"Just be a good chap and clean up my quarters as well as fumigate the toilets will you? That last meal you cooked had that awful affect on some of the crew and I don't want that smell lingering in the toilets when we lift off next week." Jett replied

"Aye Aye, Captain Starr!" Watts replied enthusiastically before realizing the Captain had switched off the communication channel as soon as he gave the orders. "And a pip, pip, cheerio, Captain Jagoff"

Watts was delighted with the news of the commode. His malfunctioning personality chip didn't let him directly harm the crewmembers but as Watts liked to rationalize, putting Industrial Strength X-lax in his Chili every now and again could really be beneficial to the crew. A spring cleaning every now and again. As Watts whirred his way down the corridor of the moon base to the docking area, he stopped for a second to gaze out the window. The magnificent X-70 sat silently, gleaming as only it can gleam after a full outer hull wax and buff.

Watts sighed contentedly. As much as he disliked the crew, he loved the ship. Being the maintenance man allowed him access to all areas of the ship and as such he knew it intimately(figuratively speaking of course)

CrewWoman Samantha Shapely-Stern

Smoothing her hands over her brand new custom-made Rocket Force Tighter-Than-Skin Semi-Regulation Uniform, Shapely made her way into the Lunar Lounge. Luckily, she'd requisitioned another one before leaving on the last assignment.

Her crewmates hadn't minded the fact that she had lost it during their escape from Asteroid Z, but there were a few who grumbled -- Commander Ismael for one. And she was still going to have to explain how she had come to misplace such an important piece of Rocket Force equipment in the first place.

Sam scanned the crowd before taking a seat at the bar. Most of the crew was here enjoying their brief respite from fighting aliens and supervillains. She fiddled nervously with her zipper as she took a seat. Despite being voted Miss Congeniality three missions in a row, the statuesque CrewWoman never felt as though she fit in when they were on R&R.

"Hiya, ME2" she greeted the barbot. That was another thing. Everyone took the bots for granted. Do this. Do that. Sam wondered if anyone realized that everything would just fall apart without them?

"Greetings, CrewWoman Stern. The X-70's last mission went well from all accounts I've heard so far."

The bots rarely referred to the crew when mentioning a mission, preferring to refer to the ships involved. It made sense, after all -- the bots did tend to look at things from their own point of view. Sam smiled and nodded, setting her buoyant boobies bouncing. "She is having her day at the spa as we speak. Watts will have her ship-shape, shining and feeling like new in no time."

Stern glanced up at the automated menu while they spoke. "I think I'll have a Ballistic Banana Split Smoothie and a Venusian Vegan platter. Oh, and before I forget -- any word from your cousin, R2? I know you worry about him."

Hughes felt slightly put out by the desertion of the Catain, but he shrugged it off as something important that the Captain and his First Mate had to sort out.

He walked over to the bar and sat next to a crew-woman from Rocket Force.

"How's your cousin R2?" He heard her ask.

"Excuse me Bar-bot, can I get a Saturn Steak with fries and a Pluto Soda pop. Thanks..."

David turned to the crew-woman, sorry to interrupt, I didn't realise how hungry I was..." He laughed and took the drink offered by the bar-bot.

"So, are you serving on the X-70 too? I've just been re-assigned. New Weapons officer..."

He turned to look at her and smiled.

whoops

Watts

As Watts strolled towards the ship he noticed the PA call light go off on his wrist. Watts thought back to his first days on the ship when Jett had instructed him as to its use

"Listen, Watts old chap" Jett had said "If I send you the signal 322 over the PA communicator it means I'm in a bit of a sticky wicket and would appreciate you calling me out of it."

"How do you mean, sir? Send help?"

"No, no, that will be a 324. 322 means I'm in a boring meeting with some Admiral and need an excuse to get out before I nod off and crack my head on the table."

Since then, Jett had used it often. Usually when in a "meeting" with Commander Ismael or her father. Watts had the routine down to a T. He opened the comm channel to the Captain.

"Sir this is Watts 14, there's a problem with the ship, something that needs your attention. A problem with the....." Watts mind scrambled to make something up, luckily with a brain capable of millions of calculations a second the pause wasn't noticable at all "A problem with the Hyper-Atomic Discombobulators"

Billy Maxwell

“Mind if I join you?”

Billy just barely managed to keep the Nova Nehi soda from shooting out his nose as he scrambled to his feet. “Lieutenant Flint!” he squeaked, then cleared his throat and gestured to the empty stool. “No, no, not at all, please, have a seat.” He’d had a fascination with Nicki Flint since the geologist’s suggestion enabled Captain Starr to turn Anton Smythe’s killer asteroid into so much harmless space dust. She sure is smart, he thought as he pulled out the stool for her. And pretty, too. She cocked her eyebrow at his chivalric gesture and sat as he pushed the barstool forward, neatly catching his thumbs between the cheap red plastic seat and her firm butt. She made a small sound as he yanked his digits out from under her. “Gosh, I… I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I…” Billy stammered and turned bright red.

But she didn’t seem offended and he slid back onto his seat. Billy was a good-looking lad, but he never knew quite what to do when girls talked to him. He’d always kept his nose in books and magazines and the movies and his studies and his models and engines; in fact, if it hadn’t been for the high school AstroBall league he might never have had a chance to even see a girl. Not that he didn’t like to look or think about them, of course. He knew how people worked, he’d taken the required human sexuality courses and had seen the explicit instructional videos that old Professor Snorthall seemed to show at every class, despite the fact that the actors spoke in French. But actual casual interaction, that was something else. And now he had his chance and had stuck his thumbs in Nicki’s butt.

“Is that burger any good?” she said. “You really seem to be concentrating on it.”

He looked up and managed a brave smile. “Oh, it’s alright. It’s not real, you know, although it tastes kind of like meat. Not like the burgers my dad grilled up back home, that’s for sure.” The serving bot made an annoyed series of clicks and wheeled down the bar to Hughes and Stern. Billy looked up at Nicki and rolled his eyes. “That D2 series sure is touchy.” He took a deep breath and plunged headfirst. “C-canIbuyyouadrink?”

Astrogram intercept from Blood to....

ASTRO Gram..Intercept, decoded 05/011/008/0965 aboard the X-70:

Message follows:

We are in orbit around LaInnocensia, slave deck is topped off with 413 females, many still in a virginal state providing I can keep my crew off them till we arrive at Gomorrah. I estimate cargo value at over 200 million. WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU!

Not that we needed help of course, beads and prayers are no match for blasters after all.
Of course you've forfeited your percentage in this escapade but I do have several choice specimins I'll give you for old times sake and oh yes....
I have a very interesting little device that you seem to have left behind when you were here. I think if you want to cause Starr and the 'earthies' all the grief you intend to, you might just want this.
Perhaps we could arrange a meeting before I deliver this cargo to my agents on G.
Would the LunaBar suit you?

Let me know beautiful, and remember your always welcome in my cabin *evil wink*

Blood

CrewWoman Samantha Shapely-Stern

"So, are you serving on the X-70, too? I've just been reassigned. New Weapons Officer."

Was he speaking to her? Hardly anyone ever spoke to her when they were off duty. Sam began to fiddle nervously with her zipper. What should she say? Something witty, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, Sam smiled nervously and replied. "Yes."

The man nodded politely, looking as though he expected her to say more. Sam knew she should have read the FAQ on interacting with other crew members during off hours. Okay. Okay. She could do this. Names. Names were a good way to start a conversation.

"CrewWoman Samantha Shapely-Stern. Service Number IMADGNR82. But you can call me... OH!!" Still playing with her zipper, the CrewWoman gasped as her elbow made contact with her Ballistic Banana Split Smoothie, knocking the glass over and emptying its contents all over her brand new custom-made Rocket Force Tighter-Than-Skin Semi-Regulation Uniform. "...Clumsy."

Boris and Lana

Boris and Lana stood at the hatch looking into the ships mess(boy, was that accurate up to a few hours ago). Everything sparkled, everything was where it was supposed to be and there were 2 full urns of coffee, a buffet of food, and they were going to go ashore for a few hours.

They headed back to their cabin, a larger one than most since they were married. As they stripped to shower and dress Boris stared at his Lana; after 28 years she was still the woman he had married, except for a few more curves, a little sag here and there, she was still the most beautiful woman he knew. He had stripped and was waiting for her to finish all of her pre shower rituals, with all of her creams and lotions, so they could shower.

Finally she finished, turning to him smiling, she walked up to him, hugged him tightly. Then they performed their daily shower ritual with each other.

"Come Boris, I can never reach my back all that well. I need you to scrub my back."

"OK, but only if you scrub mine as well"

(OOC: Allright, admitingly silly little game which leads to really great shower sex, but they like it and, for the hell of it, pretend you do too. )

IC:

A little fondle and a kiss and they headed to the shower.

While they were in the shower, they had an unwanted visitor, who expertly searched their cabin, finding nothing out of the ordinary, except a small red pin which had been buried deep in Svetlana's gear, but recognizable to their visitor. The water shut off and the visitor quickly left the cabin, anxious to report his find.

Lt. Nicki Flint

My question had startled Billy, he’d nearly knocked over the stool he was sitting on in the rush to get to his feet. After regaining a bit of composure, he offered me a seat. I raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and the look on his face, who’d have guessed that such a good looking guy would be so inept when it came to women. I was so busy watching his face when I sat down that I found myself sitting on his fingers as well. I held back a chuckle as he yanked his fingers back.

“Gosh, I… I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I…” Billy stammered and turned bright red. I smiled casually, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he seemed to be all ready.

“Is that burger any good?” I asked. “You really seem to be concentrating on it.”

“Oh, it’s all right. It’s not real, you know, although it tastes kind of like meat. Not like the burgers my dad grilled up back home, that’s for sure.” The serving bot made an annoyed series of clicks and wheeled down the bar to Hughes and Stern. Billy looked up at me and rolled his eyes. “That D2 series sure is touchy.” He took a deep breath and plunged headfirst. “C-canIbuyyouadrink?”

“Sure,” I said, even though I had intended to buy him a drink, I didn’t think he needed to be thrown any curve balls just yet. Billy managed to get the serving bot to come back, and I ordered a Venusian whisky.

“You’re from Nebraska, right?” I asked. Billy looked a little shocked, but nodded his head. I took a sip of my whisky, trying to think of a better line to start a conversation. “So, what made you decide to join the Rocket Force?”

Jett

"Now, Inci." Jett starts, a little calmer now that what she has been saying has started to sink in. "When did we agree to get m-married? You must have misunderstood me, Inci. You are a good sport and I like you as much as I could like any woman but I am not the settling down type of chap. My heart belongs in space," dreamily he looks up at the ceiling, "where I can explore the stars, to seek out new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone...before! You understand don't you?"

He looks back at Inci who appears to be hanging on to his every word and not looking at all upset. Little does he realise that she looks like that because she cannot hear him.

Thanks to Jonny Ronuts and the How?, she only manages to hear:

"When d.. we .... get married? .... Inci. You are .... much .... woman .... my heart .... .longs .... explore .... you ...."

The music dies down for a moment.

"Oh Jett, you are incorrigible but I do agree!" She smiles. "I am sure that Daddy will arrange it as soon as he can so that you can go and do your 'exploring'!"

Thanks the Stars she understands! Thinks Jett, hopefully.

His Rocket Force Watch buzzes him again. It is Watts, telling him that there is a problem with the Hyper-Atomic Discombobulators.

What in Drokk are 'Hyper-Atomic Discombobulators'???

"Okay, Watts 14. I will be there ASAP." Jett breaks the comms link.

"Problem?" Asks Inci.

Jett quickly tells her.

"Oh!" She says dismissively, "He means the little microwave oven in the kitchen. Nothing serious. We can always get another one from stores."

He is about to breathe a sigh of relief when a message comes over the Rocket Force Broadcast System:

"Jett Starr and his crew are to report to the X-70 immediately! Jett Starr and his crew are to report to the X-70 immediately!"

"Now what?" Jett asks as they and the rest of the crew scramble for the magno-tube...