Title IX ((LitShark & SwanLake))

[LitShark]

Kyle Fleener stepped through the sliding metal doors into the docking bay. He held a burning cigarette between his lips with his Deep-Space Stabilization Helmet tucked under his arm. He was on his way toward the three-stage deployment vessel to find the cryo-pod that would be his unconscious home for the next few weeks of hypersleep travel, when a mechanic in a grey jumpsuit halted him.

“Hey! You can’t smoke in here!” The mechanic was truly an oddity, a female in the male dominated field of deep-space machinery, moreover, she seemed way too bent out of shape over a dumb little cigarette.

“I’m almost finished.” Kyle answered dismissively, taking a long draw and blowing the smoke at her.

“Put that out! Are you nuts? There’s six metric tons of compressed rocket fuel in that rig just below your feet. Are you trying to blow us all to hell?”

“If you did your job right there shouldn’t be a problem. Are you trying to tell me that I’m about to step into a 3SDV with a fuel leak?”

“No… But—“

“Then relax, toots. See? All done.” Kyle smirked, stubbing out his smoke on the neoprene sole of his boot. “No harm, no foul.”

With the cigarette effectively extinguished, Kyle dropped the butt into the mechanic’s hands, ignoring the mystified and irritated look on her face. He was still exhaling smoke as he made his way into the shuttle’s cockpit area.

It seemed that Kyle was the first to arrive, so he began running preliminary diagnostics on the fuel systems, the hypersleep presets, the O2 gauges and guidance systems. This vessel was taking them well outside of the native solar system—Kyle wanted to be damn sure that everything was well in order before leaving the atmosphere and the presence of a female mechanic didn’t exactly inspire a wellspring of confidence in him that everything was done properly. Kyle wasn’t the sort to take things like his wellbeing lightly—but after some tooling around, he was reasonably satisfied that things were as they should be.

Just as he was getting settled, he was joined by a second male recruit in the cockpit, this one seemed bookish and weak—for want of a more accurate term. He wore glasses, his eyes were weak, he was skinny, his body was weak, and he spoke softly when he greeted Kyle, a weak personality.

“Um, hi. I’m Byron.” The weakling muttered faintly, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Walking tank specialist.”

“Kyle, hover drone.” Kyle replied curtly.

It wasn’t a secret that of the three sent to the forward recon satellite, two would be going back with broken hearts and shattered dreams. Forward Recon was one of the most legendary and exclusive groups among all assignments available for Space Marines—they didn’t take just anyone, and they never opened up spots unless someone retired or was KIA. Only one spot was available now, the spot of a beloved marine who’d been killed, and only one of them was going to fill it. Kyle recognized Byron for what he was at first sight—competition.

Just as Kyle was about to begin getting inside Byron’s head, the hatch on the cockpit hissed again, indicating that the third and final potential recruit was entering the cockpit. Byron didn’t seem like he’d be much trouble—it was time to see who else would need crushing under Kyle’s boot.

The minute she came into view, Kyle’s mouth fell open and a derisive laugh tumbled out. A woman! He couldn’t help himself. She was slender, young and pretty—none of the things that a Space Marine was supposed to be. She looked nervous already, which made Kyle eager to press his advantage.

“What are you supposed to be, the stewardess? Ha! I didn’t know that the marines provided fluffers on these long-haul trips. Why don’t you go ahead and suck me off one good time before takeoff Sugar-Tits.” Kyle laughed, rocking in his chair in his lavish derision. “Holy shit, what a fucking joke! Don’t tell me that you’re thinking of actually trying to join up with Forward Recon, that shit ain’t for little girls.”

After a final scoff, Kyle composed himself. He leaned back and buckled in, taking care to get one last jab in before they began protocols for launch.

“Maybe if you’re real nice I’ll let you share my cryo-pod. I can wake up with your mouth around my cock. Wouldn’t that be nice for both of us?”

*_*_*

Commander Collins looked somber and miserable, looking down at his jumble of hastily scribbled and unorganized notes on the podium in front of him. No matter how many eulogies he gave, it never got any easier it seemed. To Collins, this was counterintuitive—he was used to drilling and studying, repeating actions over and over until they became second nature, it was a skill he passed down to his team. But eulogies weren’t like that.

“Dan Wainwright was a rare sort of man. He was the sort that did whatever was asked of him—whatever was needed—even when the person who needed it didn’t know well enough to ask. He was quick with a joke, but never silly and his laughs always came from the heart. He believed in justice, equality and making sure that no one ever went without. He gave generously to charities and never expected any sort of reward or recognition for his kindness. A rare sort indeed.

“He was a talented soldier, a trustworthy friend and a reliable wingman. He was blessed with a keen mind, a steady hand and a giving nature. Dan never met anyone who wouldn’t love him within an hour of meeting him. Dan was more than a Space Marine, Dan was my brother.”

There was a pause. The silence laid heavy across the assembled group of somber looking men, all dressed in their formal “dress blues.” No one cried, but that wasn’t because they weren’t hurting. Each man gathered around the military casket felt the same weight as Commander Collins, each felt the weight of the loss of one of their own and the silence just seemed to make the weight that much heavier.

Collins cleared his throat, pushing down that decidedly un-masculine catch that had almost crept into his voice. This was the job. It was his duty to train his men and when the time came, it was his job to let them go. It never got any easier though.

“Each time we pass through the airlocks, we pass the caskets that each of us brought with us, because we all know that our life out here is defined by death. On a good day, it’s the deaths of our enemies, the threats to our home-world, the death of worry for all those vulnerable souls we left behind. On a bad day, on days like today, it’s the death of one of our own.

“The cost of transit makes it impossible to return Dan’s body to his family, who no doubt share this terrible burden we all must bear. Instead, we return him to the source of all life—out into space where all that ever was first began.”

Unable to go on, Collins threw the lever which caused the casket to sink a fraction of an inch with a loud thud. The hissing of the airlock followed as the casket passed through the specially designed egress to be jettisoned out into deep space, never to be seen again.

“There’s no replacing a man like Dan Wainwright, he’s one of the few people ever to live who is utterly peerless and irreplaceable. None the less, we are marines—semper fidelis—always faithful. We go on protecting the world we know from that which threatens it, and we always will. Hoo Rah!”

“Hoo Rah!!” The bass reply was shouted back in unison by those gathered around the now empty jettison pod.

“Dismissed.”

 

[SwanLake]

Nefertiti “’Pixy” Auvil
In her early twenties, anything more detailed and you’re just SOL
5’2 but don’t you dare call her cute.

Earth had been at war with itself long before Nefertiti was born and it didn’t stop or even so much a pause at her arrival, it was just another day of fighting and killing. In fact by the time of her arrival the war had stretched outwards in search of more battles, conquests and deaths.

Stationed on the far side of the moon, Nefertiti spent what little of her childhood she could remember with her parents and older brother. It was the last bit of happiness that she had of her family.

Sirens blared. It was pitch black. A thick fog drifted overhead tasting of chemicals that burned your eyes and carrying the tarry smell of a doused fire and stale smoke.

The attack was a blur for the four year old. Nothing made sense and even to this day when she tried to remember it came in fragments. Yet the fear that she felt that day still lived in her dreams.

Djoser, her brother, taking her by the hand, a gun I the other. Her father being shot down, crying at his said as Djoser took cover. Rage too complex for a child that young to fully understand only comprehending that he was gone forever and a discarded rifle. It was too big for her small frame, bulky and heavy but she pulled the trigger anyways. Blood in her eye, the hot trail of it running down her face from where the rifle had hit her right above the eye and the coppery taste. At least it was better than the chemicals that threatened to make her vomit.

The next moment she was in her brother’s arms. He smiled down at her, brushing a wild curl from her face, frowning at the wound. Buckling her in. “I’ll see you soon.” It was a lie.

The escape pod was small and the vastness of space only made it feel smaller. Space was also cold and quiet. Too quiet. It was then she noticed just how loud everything had been just moments ago. One last bass tone, turbulence and the silence once again. Lost in the time of space Nefertiti cried until sleep took her, repeating the process until all she could do was wait. It was the last time she would ever cry.

A command carrier picked her up. She didn’t know how much time had passed but the memory that stood now was the news that there were no survivors. There were no more tears to cry even though her heart broke and with her head held stubbornly high, Nefertiti accepted the new path her life had taken.

Nefertiti became the child of the military. The commanding officer took pity on the child and gave her shelter upon the carriership. All at once she became everyone’s sister, niece and daughter and they all took pleasure in teaching and shaping the growth of the orphan. What had been temporary became a life of long voyages, close calls and brief port docks until the day she came of age.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Sergeant.”

Silver stars sparkled on his collar but his smile was still the same. In fact much about him was still the same, aged nearly sixteen years but overall he was the same. “Major General.” The child in her wanted to hug the man, maybe steal like pen like the olden days but where he seemed much the same, she had changed. “It’s been too long.”

Major General Keener nodded his agreement feeling the years crash over him at the sight of the woman, no longer a frightened child.

“Are you waiting for the Commander?”

“You actually.” At that he opened the door to the Commander’s door, all trace of the smile gone.

Nefertiti wasn’t going to lie, having Major General Keener there waiting for her was either outstandingly awesome news or her life had just ended. Funny how quickly your life could flash before your eyes and point out every little flaw, hiccup and fuck up. Shit, she was done with.

“Sir.” She tried to sound confident but inside she was morning her life in the military, the four short years and the ass breaking days that it took make it as far as she had. Odd that it was the days that left behind scars that she would miss the most.

“Sergeant Auvil.”

“Commander Henriksen.”

“Ah! Major General Keener. Is that it?”

A manila envelope Nefertiti hadn’t noticed before was passed from Keener to Henriksen. Paper? Who still wrote things down on paper? The presence of paper was a big deal and Nefertiti honed her years of training and accessed the situation.

“New set of orders if you’re up for it.” The heavy thud of the envelope echoed in the silence of the offer.

Looking between the two men Nefertiti hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on that she didn’t like the feeling of the unknown. “New orders Sir?” If they wanted the envelope in one piece someone should have said something, or at least saved her the trouble of sealing the glue together. Neither men said a thing as bits of yellowed paper fluttered to the ground. The booklet of papers were about a few dozen thick but all she had to look at was the emblem on the front. “Sir?” Uncertainty filled her voice as she placed the half opened envelope back on the desk.

“There has been an opening within the Forward Recon.” Commander Henriksen started. “You’ve been selected as one of the three candidates for the spot. I’m needing an answer before the end of your shift.”

Nefertiti let that soak in for a moment before turning her attention on Major General Keener. “And you?” It was informally asked but to say that she was in shock was a bit of an understatement.

“Glorified mail boy.” Keener laughed, the smile back on his grizzled face. “As it so happens… I have to go.” He looked at his watch and nodded a quick farewell to Henriksen and gave her a solid thump on the back as he left.

Blinking back her confusion Nefertiti refocused on Commander Henriksen. “Yes.”

“No questions of why I picked you?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

Henriksen nodded.

“I just figured you wanted to piss people off before you retire.”

A chuff was a close to a laugh as Nefertiti had ever seen and that was almost as shocking as this whole Forward Recon drift. “Get your ass packed and get off my post. There is a bird leaving 0400 and you better be on it or I’m sending Jefferson.”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

>>18 hours later<<

Nefertiti wasn’t quite late and had made a point of not being early either when she boarded the shuttle. The presence of the two males already there meant she wouldn’t have to wait.

The stewardess? That was the best he could come up with? The next insult was marginally better but didn’t faze her in the least. “Fantastic! A fluffer!” Nefertiti smarted, an obviously fake smile on her face. “So which one of you are here to rub my feet? You?” She pointed to the quiet one with glasses. “Nah.” At that she turned to the mouthy one. “Must be you.” She nodded. “You look like a shrimper.” Nefertiti taunted.

It was a shame. The one with the mouth was a cutie but that limited mind of his was a complete turn off. How was it that someone so closed minded and arrogant was elected at a possible recruit? The Forward Recon was the best of the best, role models and heroes for the entirety of the military. What a poster child Mr Caveman would be.

“I’m not much for sharing but you’re more than welcome to try.” Nefertiti opened her mouth wide and clamped her mouth shut with a snap. “I should warn you, I bite.” The sweet smile was back.

On a normal occasion she would have introduced herself but with a welcome like that manors were all but thrown out the window. In this case she silently took her seat between the two men and strapped herself in. It was going to be a long flight if a certain someone insisted on talking.

 

[LitShark]

Byron covered his mouth to hide his outward laugh at the third member of their flight crew lambasted the loud-mouth in a matter of seconds. He pushed his glasses up on his face before turning in his seat to greet her more appropriately, only to remember too late that he’d already strapped himself in. The straps held him fast as he tried to turn and was rejected, thrust back into his seat abruptly. He quickly unbuckled himself and tried again, with considerably more success.

“I’m Byron, I drive the walking tank,” he greeted her, turning toward her seat, which like his was currently on the floor facing upward, “what’s your name?”

“Oh, look at that,” Kyle sneered, sucking on his front teeth, “the dweeb’s in love already. Looks like he wouldn’t mind rubbing your feet for you. I’m Kyle, the newest Forward Recon Marine, since I see they decided to send political, affirmative action bait instead of real recruits on this mission. See, he doesn’t realize that you’re a dyke yet, but I heard you loud and clear. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got the lesbian cure right here.”

Kyle grabbed the front of his launch suit lewdly as he continued to taunt his fellow recruits. He had no desire to be liked, at least not by them. None of them would be together for any longer than it took to decide which was destined to stay on the outer rim, anything he could do to speed up that process, Kyle considered a personal victory. If any of the stories he’d heard about the selection process were even remotely true, the three of them had several weeks of absolute hell ahead of them. The hazing rituals of Forward Recon were the stuff of legends during Basic Training. Any time some new recruit got bent out of shape because his crewmates gave him a boot party, or the Drill Instructor called them a “jizz-gargling, ass-fucking, dress-wearing faggot,” there was always some story about what some unnamed recruit suffered at the hands of Forward Recon to try and wash them out.

They were all going to get wrecked out there, Kyle had no intention of suffering through that hell any longer than absolutely necessary. In a way, it was like mercy. Neither of these two stood a chance in the face of that kind of torment, least of all with a deadeye specialist like Kyle in the running. Better that they wash out as soon as possible to avoid unnecessary misery for everyone.

“Either of you slugs been on a nap raft before?” Kyle continued to try and psyche out the competition, lowering his orbital helmet onto his head and strapping each of the hinged clasps into place, “the takeoff is so violent that it crushes your organs up inside your guts so much that some people piss or shit on themselves. It feels like your whole body is being flattened for almost a full minute, others go the other direction and puke into their helmet. I’ve done it before, but fish like you two might want to keep a towel or a T-shirt handy for cleanup.”

As Kyle chuckled over his own joke, the countdown began inside the cockpit and each of the onboard monitors echoed the count as it descended into final flight preparations:

T-10

Byron lunged back into his seat and rushed to strap himself back in with clumsy, gloved hands, visibly rattled by Kyle’s ongoing psychological assaults. Kyle, on the other hand looked ready, biting down on an athletic mouthpiece that he’d brought himself. It wasn’t regulation, but since he’d been the one who vomited into his helmet on the last deep space excursion he’d been on, he wanted to have something to bite down on when the G-forces flattened him on takeoff.

9

Byron was fumbling with his helmet, nervous hands and gloved fingers making it more difficult than it should have been to fasten the helmet in place.

8

7

6

5

4

By now, the cockpit was trembling and the heat from the massive engines below them were creating enough heat to make the cockpit suddenly sweltering hot. The sound of the engines was all but filtered out by the layers of insulation and metal that separated the vessel itself from the launch rockets, but there was a high-pitched squeal that managed to pierce the cockpit as the massive rockets flooded the blast chamber stories below them with fire.

3

Byron snapped the last clasp on his helmet into place and turned to brace for the massive G-Forces that were soon to be pinning him into his seat.

2

At the last second, Kyle reached over, grasping Nefertiti’s thigh through her launch suit, leaving her no time to shove him off before the launch.

1—liftoff!

In an instant, everything was forced toward the back of the cockpit, the pressure was immense and terrible. Kyle couldn’t have retracted his hand even if he’d wanted to. He couldn’t even close his mouth as the pressure from liftoff stretched his lips out around his gums and sent tears streaking down the sides of his face. His hand was practically welded to Nefertiti’s thigh and as they rose swiftly through the atmosphere, the pressure only caused it to creep higher and deeper between her thighs.

 

[SwanLake]

Walking tank. Nefertiti had studied The Forward Recon roster and kept from frowning. The Forward Recon already had a walking tank operator, sure he was older then dirt and had witnessed the evolution of mankind but that kind of thing didn’t matter to The Forward Recon.

“Nefertiti, Requisition Specialist .” She filled in when questioned about her identity. Her MOS was surely to be the next question and was answered before it could be asked.

Mouthy just had something to say about everything didn’t he? “I think the Shrimper over there is jealous.” Nefertiti pouted in a stage whisper. “Probably wasn’t liked much on the playground as a child and feels the need to assert his “dominance” by being a mouthy ass. We should include him before he sulks in the corner.” Being called a dyke was stale as it came and Nefertiti just rolled her eyes as she shifted in her seat to afford the third wheel a spot in the conversation.

“And here I thought you were a Shrimper because you were a toe sucker. Didn’t know until just now that it also applies to your standard issued piece of equipment there.” She smirked giving as good and she got.

Her whole life she had to deal with men life Kyle. Hot shot full of themselves assholes who in the end didn’t measure up to their perceived self importance. If it wasn’t some neglected father/mother issue it could be chalked up to a set of five or six different outcomes, all as equally pathetic as the last. In certain ways she could be measured by the same sob story of her childhood but she had tried to live pass it. Unlike some it seemed… Or maybe it was just nerves and deep, deep down he was an alright guy. For that she could hardly blame him. The Forward Recon was the boogie man in every fairytale, the ‘I once heard…’ to every horror story. Yet they were also the knights in shining armor that everyone wanted to be but few could survive being. It was hell, or as close as they could get to it. By the retelling of the stories hell was a holiday and The Forward Recon basked in the hottest fires of hell just for fun. Nefertiti expected to be shown another side to her that she didn’t know existed. In fact she had no doubt in her mind that they would break her to some degree but if she could overcome it and push past it there was a chance she could become one of them.

“Nap raft, what are we otters? Seriously who but the Navy calls them nap rafts?” She snorted. This wouldn’t be her first minimal shielding atmo-launch but Nefertiti was by no way a pro. Kyle was right, the hilo-force, a multi-compounded fraction of g-force, hovered near the limitations of human capacity. The body was forced into a false death and like in many true deaths the body purged waste in a last ditch effort to revive itself.

Byron looked like he was freaking out. Kyle was really getting to him and Nefertiti shot him a hard look before turning from him to calm Bryon down.

T-10

“Breathe.” Nefertiti coached. “Slow deep breaths. You need to calm down or you will end up like some fish.” She cautioned, slowing and deepening her own breaths. “On the third count take a deep breath and time it a moment before liftoff and scream it out. The tension in your lungs will help with the pressure, not by much but it helps.” Her first time she had peed herself. It wasn’t something she was proud of and she could have shared the story with Byron had she had the time. “Fight the pressure but don’t force it, relaxing your body only increases the chance of bodily evacuation.” These were all tips that had been passed on to her from a teammate long ago. “Worse that can happen is you blow an eardrum, burst a blood vessel in your eye and pass out with a bloody nose.” Nefertiti winked clipping her helmet in place. It was what had happened to her in her last flight and this time her goal was not to pass out.

3

Byron got his helmet secured and Nefertiti resisted the urge to shake her head at him. He was a mess. She took a slow deep breath in, gathering and filling her lungs full of air.

2

Looking forward Nefertiti smiled wide, as crushing as the takeoff was, there was something thrilling about the whole experience. At the same moment Nefertiti exhaled, Kyle’s hand found her thigh.

1- liftoff!

It was too late to do anything but let it happen. Nefertiti would have loved to sock the guy in the nuts but physics was a bitch and she was pinned to her seat. It was useless but Nefertiti tried to meet the force of takeoff, there had been a last moment jaw lock and a dip in her chin but little else to save her. In her mind a war cry tore from her lips, the pressure in her ears popped and a sharp jab of pain replaced the bogged echo that it had been. If her ears would stay clear they wouldn’t burst. Loosing, Nefertiti slid further into her seat, Kyle’s hand doing the same up her thigh as tears ran from the corner of her eyes straight back into her hairline.

The whole shuttle rocked, rattled and an outside heat penetrated the heatshields. Sweat never given the chance to collect, joined the streaked lines of tears on Nefertiti’s face. Fifteen more seconds. Her body was aching, her muscles were on fire and the air from her lungs felt thinned and used.

No…

Black dots danced on the edges of Nefertiti’s vision, eating up colors and shapes as she narrowed in. This was just like last time, once the dots blackened her sight she was out. It was a losing game that she was fighting.

No!

Like a wave before it broke, Nefertiti gathered the shreds of her being and melding them together. Wither it was the personal goal she has set for herself or the need not to be weak in front of Kyle or a mixture of both, she found a new strength and fought the shimmering black spots.

5

The dots buzzed around angrily.

4

Something clicked right behind her eyes and blood gushed from her nose, the coppery taste filling her mouth.

3

Dot turned to specks, leaving more darkness in its transformation.

2

Darkness…

1

With a violent jerk the shuttle came to a rapid deceleration. A new pain greeted a still conscious Nefertiti. Maybe being unconscious wasn’t so bad… She grimaced gently rubbing the back of her neck. At least unconscious her body had been relaxed and hadn’t whipped her into a major case of whiplash. The first full breath was a shaky one and she held it for a moment easing her heart into a neutral rhythm. The next handful of breaths were greedy and continued the burning within her chest.

“Anyone for a go again?” Nefertiti chuckled. “Maybe not you, Shrimper. Didn’t know you needed a hand to hold to make the trip.” Kyle’s offending hand was plucked and tossed from her thigh like a dirty napkin. “Next time,” She was shaky but she wasn’t going to show it as she unclipped her harness. “You get to sit next to Kyle and hold his hand.” The comment was directed towards Byron but the glare was just for Kyle.

 

[LitShark]

It was clear to Kyle that this woman, Nefertiti, was anything but a fragile little flower. Her tongue was sharp and her wits fierce, and it was well known that Requisition Specialists were tough as nails—their specialty requiring superb survival skills across a variety of climates and galactic systems. He decided that she was the only real competition they’d sent up with him—all the more reason to make her wash out as soon as possible. As the press compacted his organs during liftoff, a sinister plot occurred to him, but for now, it was all he could do to hold his stomach.

When the shuttle breached the atmosphere and rapidly decelerated in space, Kyle felt himself upchuck into his mouth a little, which he quickly swallowed out of embarrassment. When Nefertiti tossed his hand back at him, Kyle lifted his glove to his face and sniffed loudly into their coms system.

“Damn, Nefer-Titties, you got your pussy stink all over my launch suit. Good thing we’re not going to be needing it for most of the trip. I’d hate to have to make introductions reeking of wet, swamp-pussy stink—though I guess you don’t have much of a choice.”

----------Atmospheric pressure stabilized----------​

The shuttle’s automated system proclaimed into their earbuds and Kyle was the first to unlatch his helmet, still trying to shake the extra-orbital sickness he was still experiencing. He unbuckled himself from his seat and used the back of his seat to propel himself over to the Zero-G changing station where there were individual lockers for each of the occupants’ launch suits, as well as other accoutrements that might be necessary if something were to go haywire with the central life support systems. Kyle stripped out of his gear efficiently and hung it up, having more experience than the average recruit with zero-gravity movement—most of his experience had been gained in the Zero-G simulator, granted, but he was finding the genuine experience to be not that different from his practice exercises.

Free from the clunky and oversized launch suit, Kyle immediately felt better and once his equipment was secured he pushed off from the wall and made his way over to the meager mess kit that was provided for them. Since they were to spend the majority of their trip in cryo-sleep, very few necessities were provided: two liters of water for each of them and one-day’s rations of “Chicken” flavored nutrient paste.

Eager to wash the taste of his own upchuck out of his mouth, Kyle opened his water and squeezed it in the middle expelling several large, rotating orbs of clear fluid into the gravity-free environment. Ever the showoff, Kyle launched himself at the floating orbs and slurped them loudly into his mouth as he passed, rebounding off the far wall to come back and capture the little bits that he’d missed.

“You two going to stay strapped in all trip?” Kyle sneered, “If you’re not in your little ice blocks by the time we approach that black hole you’re going to arrive as a couple of geriatrics. Now I know that they say ‘black don’t crack,’ Nefer-Titties, but I doubt you’ll be much use to Forward Recon as a ninety-year-old biddy—then again, you won’t be much use anyway… but at least now you’ve got that body to help keep them warm at night.”

While Kyle continued taunting the other two over his shoulder, he was also logging into the rear flight-deck panel that charted their trip and monitored their vitals, movements and time in cryo-sleep. His work as a drone pilot consisted almost entirely of working with interfaces like this one, so it didn’t take him long to hack past the user presets and access the source code.

They’d never see it coming…

*-*-*

Byron was having a much worse time with the press than either of his compatriots, having never even gone through a simulation of a trans-system takeoff, he found himself losing consciousness, in spite of Nefertiti’s attempts to coach him through the process. He awoke at the deceleration push and immediately lost control of his stomach, spitting up the yellow electrolyte enriched hydration fluid they’d all been forced to drink before boarding. It was almost silent, and perhaps nobody noticed at first, but the way the yellow gunk floated around inside his helmet reminded him that there was no gravity to keep his sick contained in one place…

He would need to deal with this delicately.

Hopeful that her attempts to coach him through the liftoff were indicative of a kind soul, once Kyle pushed off, Byron reached over to grasp the arm of Nefertiti’s launch suit, his face all but obscured by the floating mess in his helmet, the smell inside of which was already close to intolerable. Not wanting to proclaim any evidence of his humiliation over the coms for Kyle to hear, Byron mouthed the words: “HELP ME”. Hoping that at least one of his fellow recruits cared more about being a decent human being than triumphing in their competition to join the Forward Recon Marines.

So far, Byron’s bid to join the deep space contingent was off to an inauspicious start. He hoped very much that he could recover, but he wouldn’t be able to do so without at least some help. And if that Kyle character found out that he’d sicked himself, his bid would be over before it began.

 

[SwanLake]

Nefertiti rolled her eyes at Kyle’s lack of imagination. “Shows you just how much experience he has if he can’t tell the difference between pussy and sweaty shrimper hand.” She dramatically sighed, shooting a pitied frown at Kyle. “I’m sure one day there’ll be a woman who can teach you the difference.” Unlatching her helmet she smiled sweetly at Kyle but her eyes said otherwise.

----------Atmospheric pressure stabilized----------

Kyle was the first out of his seat and the moment he was out of direct sight, Nefertiti attempted to ignore him. Which wasn’t all that hard until he started speaking. “And yet even as a ninety-year-old biddy, I’d still be more of a candidate then you.” She stage whispered unbuckling herself, letting the Zero-G float her above her seat.

Just before she was out of reach a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. Byron had yet to move and Nefertiti drew her brows together in question when she saw inside of his helmet.

“HELP ME.” He mouthed.

Nefertiti nodded and silently grabbed her drifting helmet and drew it close. It wasn’t attractive but she gathered as much spit as she could and spit it out in front of her. Letting it float for a moment she quickly upended her helmet over the spit and captured the liquid within the helmet. Next she dug around in the helmet and pulled the liner and absorbed spit out. It would do nothing for the smell but it would keep the mess to a minimum and leave little evidence for Kyle to prey upon.

Shrugging Nefertiti tossed her liner back into her helmet and somewhat drifted off. She was sure he was embarrassed, she would be in his place and she wanted to give him space and distract Kyle if at all possible. Nefertiti honestly felt for the guy, not even a full day off and he was having a bad go at it all.

Grabbing some water Nefertiti swam around Kyle like a seasoned professional. “So…” She started moving so that his attention would keep Byron to his rear and maybe give him a certain amount of privacy to clean up. “Are you really this much of an asshole or are you just playing it up for show?” It was doubtful that he was anything but surface deep but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wanted him not to be, well such a huge dick. Seemed like a waste of a handsome face and body. Everything about him physically drew you in but the moment he opened his mouth the effect was ruined. He was all jagged edges and sandpaper wit. One of those caveman grunts with just enough brains to function. His MOS gave hints at some amount of intelligence but she had yet to see it.

Whereas Byron was your typical cute geek, reads like a lost puppy and just as seemingly innocent. Like a soap bubble popping, it was going to be sad when he broke and he lost that adorable puppy vibe. Nefertiti wasn’t sure if he could survive it. He seemed like a smart guy but he was too soft and she didn’t expect him to be around long. Too bad because the last thing she wanted was to be stuck with this ape of a man for any amount of time.

Drinking heavily of her water, Nefertiti sighed happily at the cool refreshing taste. Keeping Kyle’s attention she drifted on her back towards the lockers. “If this is an act I’d tone it down, no one likes an asshole. If it isn’t, same advice follows.” She warned stripping down to the skintight metallic silver thermal layer and stowing her launch suit away. She knew just how snug the suit was on her, how well it accentuated the swell of her perky breasts, her toned midsection and the delicate womanly curve of her hips. If she were to turn around, which she did, to grab a small slim utility pouch from her locker, facing Kyle once again. Putting up her hair in a messy top bun as she looked Kyle over again trying to figure him out.

To be part of The Forward Recon was more than just being the best, you were the standard they hadn’t even measured yet. The dream achieved in every sense of the accomplishment. In the end The Forward Recon was a family, no unit was tighter. Kyle was too lone wolf, me first and only, airs that made you watch your back. Sure this was a competition but that didn’t mean you had to lose your sense of humanity to win.

She just didn’t get it or him and slipped on her looser flat black cryosuit, quickly strapping the utility pouch to her left thigh. “A shame because you really do have a cute face.” Nefertiti sighed, clicking her tongue and as she pushed off the lockers, past Kyle to the rear flight-deck panel.

Trust had her checking the auto read outs and stability corrections. Picking a pod to the far right and far from Kyle she hoped, Nefertiti called up the induvial control panel for that cryo unit and keyed in some overrides of her own. Adjustments were also made to the security of her chamber as she synced it to a series of biometric and vital measures, a trick she had picked up as a Requisition Specialist. At last she toyed with the duration. Unlike the loading of the shuttle, she wanted to be the first awake and gave herself an 18 hour head start post black hole exit point.

Finished with that Nefertiti claimed her pod, lingering at its hatch as she looked over at Byron, checking on him and his clean up progress. Her eyes then drifted to Kyle. That arrogant smirk on his face was annoying and again Nefertiti rolled her eyes. It was the last thing she did before loading herself into the pod she would spend the next part of her life in.

 

[LitShark]

Byron was more than a little confused by Nefertiti’s attempt to help him, spitting in her helmet lining and passing it off to him, but when he broke the seal on his helmet and his throw-up started drifting out in zero gravity he quickly caught on, using the liner to help absorb some of it and clean his face. It was a relief that she was so efficient at distracting Kyle, because it afforded him the opportunity to securely wipe up his mess without any escaping into the cockpit. He shuffled out of his launch suit and carried it with him to the lockers, making his float look lopsided and awkward.

Kyle meanwhile was well occupied watching Nefertiti changing out of her launch suit, licking his lips as he watched the metallic thermals captured and bent the low light in the cabin around her firm but generous curves.

“You think I’m cute, huh,” Kyle smirked, affecting one of his favorite abilities, to hear only what he wanted to hear, “you’re not bad either, you know. If you could learn to keep that mouth of yours shut for a few minutes at a time I might just let you sit on this cute face of mine.”

Kyle made a lewd tongue gesture in her direction after that remark, just before sliding his own black cryosuit over his head. He slammed his locker door shut, drifting after Nefertiti, now optimistic that he might in fact be able to repair some of the tension he’d created with his demeanor before. Sure, he wanted her out—but the program would do that on its own, especially if she thought that his playful ribbing was so intolerable. Maybe he could finesse the situation enough that she would want him, let her think she was manipulating him and use her as a cum rag until they blasted her back to Solar System Prime. Her body sure did argue in favor of diplomacy.

“Hey, listen… I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings back there or whatever. I’m not trying to be an asshole,” Kyle lied, “just, you know, Marines are built tough and we play rough—even with our brothers and sisters in arms. I’ll lighten up, since you asked me so nicely, but just remember that Forward Recon Marines are twice as nasty and three times as horny as anybody on this ship. You’ll probably be the first woman from the Prime System that they’ve seen in a decade—maybe longer. I just wanted to make sure you were tough enough to handle yourself, which clearly you are…”

Kyle grabbed onto a bar just above the cryobed that Nefertiti was setting up for herself, crossing his arms over is broad chest as his waist passed over the top of her head. He tucked himself into the high, rear corner of the cabin and spread his legs, letting the bulge of his manhood press out against his black cryosuit.

“Maybe even tough enough to handle me too… depending on the grip.”

“Hey! Why don’t you leave her alone?” Byron suddenly interjected, the blend of self-loathing and jealousy prompting him to sudden and premature rage at the other male recruit among them, “she doesn’t want you, shit-bird. Now get the fuck away from her.”

“Ohhhh, another county heard from. Alright tough guy. Don’t bust a blood vessel. She and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted after your sorry ass washes out,” Kyle scoffed, pushing off the wall and swinging himself toward the center cryobed to begin his own preparations, “but just know this, twerp. If you talk to me like that in standard gravity, I’m going to answer you with a fist. Got it? Good.”

Kyle thought better of his prior plans to try and sabotage the others’ cryobeds—it was much too risky at this point and there was already too much attention on him. If something went wrong he could kill someone and there’d be no doubt over who was to blame. So instead, Kyle just set up his own presets and lowered himself into the coffin-like chamber. He pressed a button and the lid slid closed, then there was gas… then… there……. was………………………….

—blackness—