A Scanner Deeply Ch 01

Outer Ring Region – 7-692B System – Orbital path – Hel Supercarrier-class ship

First day on base and he was already running late. He had gotten a text message on his NeoCom from Cal, his assigned wing commander, welcoming him on board the carrier class ship and asking for him to set an example to his squad by being prompt. Emerson didn't want to disappoint him. He knew that the carrier was a maze and had planned ahead, making sure he had plenty of time to get from the officer quarters to the briefing room. But the sheer size of the ship and its complexity hadn't sunk into his head at the time and he was sure he had counted too short, now. All he was feeling at present were first-day-at-school butterflies in his stomach and a growing feeling that he was going to be very very late, making his legs leaden and his intestines feel like slithering ice in his abdomen.

"... Starboard line to. Aft Deck Observatory. Servicing. LQ 3. LQ 4. CA 1. CA 3. FD 1, CC and Aft Deck Observatory. Boarding. Please mind the gap. Stand clear of the closing doors. Starboard line..."

He ran through the rapid transit turnstiles, flashing his wing commander badge to the attending guard. This automated transport would shuttle him, along with scores of other pod-pilots and ship staff to the flight decks. As he piled into the train car, barely making it before the automated door swished closed, he was crammed between a couple of burly guard and a few other pod-pilots, recognizable by the same off-green shimmery jumpsuit he wore that they used to climb in their pod. One of them was a woman. And quite beautiful at that, even in her unflattering suit. Beautiful auburn curly hair and dark brown eyes was all he saw at first glance. She was leaning against the wall of the train, her back pressed against it and her arms gripping a vertical support bar.

The train slowed and jerked silently to a stop, entering the next station. More people. However was everyone going to fit in here? Some people got off the train, the two guards among them. They jostled Emerson as they did so, buffeting him close to the woman. Then all the other passengers came in. Pushed in. Squeezed in as the train door forced a few to suck in their bellies and press against the mass of people. Emerson quickly grabbed an overhead support bar and was pressed to the side of the female pod-pilot. His arm was still vaguely upward, now pressed against the woman.

Emerson looked apologetically at her and around him. She didn't look at him. She seemed totally unconcerned with anything happening, as if she were very accustomed and weary of the whole sardine thing.

Emerson realized, though, that his elbow was about level with the woman's sternum and was therefore cradling the woman's breast. That realization brought a slight stir to his pants. He tried to repress it but the more he thought about it, the more insistent the idea was.

The train jerked back into motion, throwing Emerson slightly away from the woman, maybe a fraction of an inch, for a few seconds, then jerking him back into his position. He felt the heavy brush of the woman's breast against his arm and forearm. He started to enjoy the rhythm with which the train was making his arm move against it. He stopped resisting it and lost himself for a moment in the warm sensation of serendipitous proximity with what felt like a very well formed breast. How long had it been since he last had sex. He feared to count. His officer rotation had taken weeks. And there had been no woman contenders in his group...

Eventually, he came out of his reverie and glanced at the woman. He noticed she was now looking at him. Her gaze was indecipherable. He chose to ignore it for the time being. The next few stations saw a decline in passengers and eventually, Emerson had no more excuse to be leaning on the woman. The next stop was his. He disengaged himself, turned towards the door and followed the crowd out onto the platform. He hoped his hard-on wasn't too visible in his jumpsuit.

The station was huge. Lighted placards were indicating directions by acronyms he wasn't quite familiar with yet. This was so different from station time... The excitement tingled in his brain, making the butterflies flutter wildly.

As he stood baffled on the platform, waves of passengers pushing slightly at his back, the woman appeared by his side.

"You look new here. Where are you going?" she asked offhandedly.

"Command Center. Briefing room corridors."

"Follow the CC signs after the elevator to the 74th floor until you get to a hall with two clear glass reception desks. They can tell you where to go, based on which briefing you are supposed to be in", she answered with a crooked smile, almost a chortle. "You shouldn't dilly-dally; it's still a long way to go. Follow me, I am going there too."

She turned and started towards an elevator lobby. He locked step with her. Of course, the elevator was going to be packed as well. She told him the first groups of express shuttle elevators served all the flight deck areas and weapons command centers, directly up to the 24th floor. After that, he would need to take the "executive elevators".

As they squeezed in, he ended up being sandwiched between a briefcase of some kind at his back at the level of his butt (he felt better than others might, particularly those stuck against the spiky sample of some kind that one of the mechanics in orange jumpsuits was carrying) and the woman's back at his front. Now she had her butt firmly lodged against his groin.

Had she done it on purpose? Nevertheless, he enjoyed the heat of their proximity again. He had no doubt that she would feel his growing erection as the firm cheeks of her ass pressed on his cock. Was she swaying from side to side? It seemed her ass was rubbing against him, making him harder by the second. Now he was almost sure she was grinding ever so minutely against his cock. He hoped she was enjoying this as much as he was and discreetly brushed a hand against the top of her thigh and her waist.

The elevator dinged at the 24th floor. Everyone hastened out. The woman grabbed Emerson by the wrist and tugged him towards another cluster of elevators where many less people were waiting. Her crooked smile still on her lips and a glint of lust in her eyes. Emerson's butterflies had settled. Now all he felt was an intense desire blinding all other intentions. They took the third elevator. No one in it besides them.

Their portfolios clattered to the floor. The woman swiftly parted her jumpsuit shoulder to crotch to reveal perfectly formed breasts, a flat stomach, a slightly fuzzy navel and a smooth pubic area. Emerson did the same and squirming out of his jumpsuit at the same time as her. The woman gazed longingly at his firm chest and hard abs, glided her hands on his large shoulders and pressed herself against him, her other hands already stroking his very firm cock.

"We have but moments." she whispered in his ear.

She turned her back to him, spread her legs, parted her pussy lips with one hand and said "Fuck me."

Emerson was only too eager and plunged his cock into her, making her gasp with pleasure. He leaned bodily against her and thrust his cock in and out, enjoying the sound of her breath against the plated glass of the elevator.

Glass?

At that moment, bright light erupted into the elevator. It was continuing its ascension along a vertical transparent tube, taking them far above the open space of the huge flight decks and hangars where rows of fighters were being prepared for launch. The view was breathtaking, but Emerson and the woman were more involved in enjoying the heat of each other's body rubbing against them. He pressed her firmly against the glass panel and put a hand on her pussy, swirling her clit faster and faster as he increased the rhythm of his hard cock up her pussy.

Their moans became frantic and she gripped the banister as her moans almost disappeared under the wave of pleasure. He came hard and spurted hot sperm into her pussy. Gallon after gallon in each intense spurt, it seemed. She spasmed at each one, riding the wave of her orgasm.

"... 69... 70... 71..." The numbers on the digital screen of the elevator started slowing as the elevator swished upwards into a dark shaft.

They scrambled back into their jumpsuits, rearranged their hair, smoothed the front of the suit, grabbed their portfolios and stepped out onto the landing as the door opened.

"Good luck. Fly safe." said the woman as she walked swiftly past the clear desks and disappeared into a wood-paneled corridor, waving her badge at a guard.

Emerson gathered his senses and stepped gingerly up to one of the attending guards at the desk, showed his badge and asked where he should be going. The guard pointed him towards a corridor and gave him a room number.

As he entered, he noticed that he was one of the last ones and took his place towards the front of the small amphitheater. A map of the solar systems in their current constellation was flickering on the back screens. A middle-aged man, probably no more than 35 years of age, broad-shouldered and thick-framed, stepped up to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen of itchy trigger-fingers, welcome to Fleet Beta. You might all know Wing Commander Sanka, by reputation if not personally." This elicited a few chuckles among the pilots, as they glanced towards a crew-cut veteran, smirking in a corner, a parrot perched on his shoulder (a parrot?) "And myself, your Fleet Commander".

"For those of you who are new here, you will quickly get familiar with the rest. We have a tight knit family of fighters and you'll find we can be quite welcoming, as long as you have credits to lose to cards and crude humor when it comes to squids." More chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to a newcomer in particular. This very talented person was just assigned to Wing Command and will take the place of Xal Terveris while he is on 'sabatical'. Please welcome Wing Commander Calixte, aka the Deadly Whip of Faurent."

The pilots gave her the golf clap, even a few whistles, and the woman that Emerson had just moments ago filled with his semen stepped onto the platform and walked to the pew.

Calixte. Cal. Cal was not a man. Oh god... He had just fucked his Wing Commander....

Incongruously, he noticed that somehow there was not a single wet trace on the crotch of her jumpsuit. She must, indeed, be very talented to keep all that inside her for so long...

"Thank you FC and thank you all" she glanced at Emerson "for a warm welcome. I believe we are going to have lots of fun together in the coming missions."