Date: January 6
Location: Lindbergh Spaceport, San Diego, California
This was it! Washington thought excitedly. The day he'd been waiting for!
He recalled how enthused he'd been the previous night, when he'd gotten the call that the Space Relations would be arriving at approximately one o' clock the next day. He called up every single one of his brand new crewmembers and had spoken with most of them directly, while leaving voice mail messages for the couple that were still traveling to San Diego. He'd hardly been able to sleep last night!
And that morning, he'd been so eager and jumpy as he'd laid out his uniform down on his bed, which he'd just recently had cleaned and pressed. His form-fitting gray long-sleeve shirt, with the official SCS insignia over the left breast, his slightly looser black slacks, and his short leather boots were all beckoning for him to put them on. With great expectations, Washington hurried into the bathroom to shower and shave.
Once Washington was thoroughly clean, and splashed over with one of the trendiest colognes on the market, he donned his uniform and started practicing his walk before his full-length mirror. He looked sharp, he thought. He looked good. He looked like a real starship commander!
Brimming with both hope and zeal, Washington made tracks from his rented room at the academy. He drove over to the downtown spaceport and the long-term parking garage, even though he still had several hours before his starship arrived.
Washington had been to the spaceport before, on a number of times, to gaze at the starship arrivals and departures. As he strutted down the familiar halls of the Space Corps wing, he bumped into quite a few people he knew from the academy. Once these acquaintances noted the air of confidence Washington exuded, and the sharp snap in his step, these people stepped over to him and asked how he fared. He proudly told them about his new commission and received many congratulations and wishes for good luck.
At the spaceport cafeteria, Washington purchased a quick combo of fried chicken strips and fries, and an extra large soda, diet. Afterward the lieutenant carried his meal into the indoor patio that overlooked the landing field. He hardly paid attention to any of the other people eating or drinking coffee in the vicinity, as his focus was completely taken up by the sight of the dozens of starships waiting their turn to launch. Soon, he knew, The Ship, His Ship, would be arriving.
About a minute later, a big and burly lesbian of a woman, with short-cropped hair tinted with purple edges, several tattoos on her brawny shoulders and arms, and big D cup titties, stepped over beside his table. The woman's name was Margo Muldren. She was slated to be the starship's cook. Margo had an extra large backpack hoisted over one shoulder, which she allowed to drop heavily on the carpeted floor.
"Lieutenant." She nodded.
"Hello, Margo." Washington greeted, now noting the dark purple lipstick the woman wore, which perfectly matched the edges of her hair. She was a butch Goth chick, as you might be guessing by now. "I thought I'd be the earliest one of my team here, but I guess I was wrong. Please, have a seat."
Margo took a seat across from him. As soon as her oversized butt hit the chair, she reached over and slid Washington's little cardboard tray to the middle of the table.
As Washington watched, Margo started helping herself to his fries. If there was one thing the lieutenant hated, it was when somebody started messing with his food. He tried to convey his irritation with his glare.
By way of an explanation, Margo said, "My girlfriend kicked me out of her house last night, after I told her it might be my last night on this planet. I ended up spending the night in the back of somebody's pick-up, in the parking lot here."
She casually reached over and plucked out another handful of fries from the small basket. After just two scoops, Washington saw that almost half of his fries were gone.
This infuriated him to no end. "Bitch, why don't you go and buy your own?"
Margo merely gazed at him and kept chewing.
"How about this, then?" Washington threatened. "If you take one more of my fries, I am going to jump over this table, and I am going to fuck you right here in front of everybody. That'll teach you to take a black man's fries!"
Margo kept munching. "Just make sure I don't reach my backpack."
"Why?"
"I have a strap-on dildo in there." She admitted, and winked at him. "If you fuck me here in front of everybody, I'd feel obligated to return the favor."
Washington suddenly found himself wondering if you could manhandle the powerful looking Amazon, as he watched her reach over and grab yet another handful of his fries.
"I didn't want those fries, anyway." He finally stated.
"Look, I'll make you a fresh batch once we're on the ship." Margo said. This was probably as close to an apology as Washington thought he'd be getting. "And good ones, too. Not this over-oiled and over-salted garbage. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon when my girlfriend kicked me out. On top of that, she kept all my cash and tore up my currency card."
"Oh." Washington's anger lessened considerably. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Shit happens." Margo shrugged.
"Listen. If you're still hungry, I'll lend you my currency card."
"If you lend me your currency card, I'll give you a blowjob later. Captain."
Washington was about to refuse out of politeness, when he realized exactly what the big woman had offered. Instead of keeping up his gentlemanly ruse, he nodded and said, "That... That sounds like a pretty good deal. Just bring me back another basket of fries, will you?"
As soon as he'd set his card down on the table, Margo snatched it up. A moment later, she was leaving the table and taking wide strides toward the cafeteria line.
Washington was still staring at the woman's big, beefy buttocks, when he spotted another familiar face entering the patio.
"Mary!" He called out, standing up and waving the obviously nervous woman over.
Mary was wearing a red Space Corps shirt, similar in style to the lieutenant's, as well as Space Corps issued black slacks and boots. As she walked over, she had her arms anxiously crossed over her chest. When she took a seat, she positioned her body very close to Washington's, as if she were hiding her petite but curvy shape from public view behind the black man's much larger frame.
"I got so used to dealing exclusively with small children." The agitated woman admitted. "They're so easy to block out and so different from adults. In this place, it feels as if everybody is screaming at the top of their lungs."
The unusual predicament wasn't one the captain had foreseen. "Maybe we should go somewhere quieter, if that will help?"
"You don't have to do that for me." Mary replied. "You can stay here. I'll just go and wait outside..."
"Yeah, baby!" The voice of yet another crewmember bounded across the patio.
Both Mary and Washington, and several others present, turned to watch the Hispanic man confidently strut through the patio.
Brazenly, Cruz pointed at one of the more attractive women present. "Hold on to your blouse, baby, because right after I say hello to my lieutenant, that thing is coming off!" He walked on until he stood next to Washington's table. That's when he took in the gorgeous blonde sitting behind the man. He did a double-take. "And who is this ravishing dish?"
"Ramiro De La Cruz, meet Mary Wattakunt." Washington introduced them. "She will be joining our crew as a science officer, the same as you. She is also a telepathist."
"A telepathist?" Cruz asked. "Really?" He leaned forward to get a better look at her. "Tell me what I'm thinking, baby?"
Within a few seconds, Mary's eyes widened and her cheeks blushed. She quickly turned toward Washington. "Can you put me in charge of him?"
Cruz stepped around the lieutenant and held out the crook of his arm. "Let's take a walk, baby. Maybe we can get this other woman to join us, and we can have ourselves a nice little threesome before we lift off."
Much to Washington's surprise, Mary scrambled over to join Cruz. The two of them walked off together, just like that. Whatever else his voyages were going to be like, Washington mused, they sure as hell weren't going to be boring.
About forty-five minutes past the appointed time, the SCS Space Relations could finally be seen hovering over the spaceport. As it started touching down, the excited members of the crew rushed out to meet it.
"It reminds me of a giant, silver shoe." Cruz commented, as he walked along with the others, all of them at a brisk and expectant pace.
"It's an old, F-U class ship." A newly arrived crewmember, the engineer Brad Cummings informed the lot of them. He was chubby, with big cheeks and an unshaven face. His greasy fingers always seemed to have a hamburger or a bag of chips in them. "Ships like this one were originally designed for use in short, training jaunts by students. The command center is up front, as you can see, and a centered hallway connects it to two separate classrooms. Living quarters are on the top half. If the ship is set up with two beds per sleeping quarter, it can easily accommodate up to fourteen people."
Washington didn't really care what the craft looked like, as long as he could sit in the command chair and direct the damned thing into space. He was the first person to reach the airlock door, and he enthusiastically greeted the two transport pilots as they stepped out. As part of the formalities involved transferring control of the vessel, a few forms were passed around and signed. Right after this, the pilots took the crew on a quick tour.
All was laid out as engineer Cummings had described, except for the remodeled two classrooms. One had been converted into a casual dining area, but still managed to look official enough for use as a conference room. A modest, open kitchen area was situated on its far end. The second classroom had been redesigned into two parts: a larger, open lounge with several couches and an entertainment center, and an exercise nook near the hatch with a couple of multi-station workout machines.
Washington was nearly drooling with anticipation when the pilots finally exited. He directed his crew to follow him to the command center, where he finally took his rightful place in the captain's chair.
He could fly the ship, he knew, and so could Cummings. He was still waiting on a couple of other personnel who were also capable of doing so, but they hadn't yet arrived. "What do you guys think? Should we take this bird out for a practice run or what?"
Cummings finished off the last of his burger. After hastily wiping his hands on his pants, he quickly made his way over to the navigation chair, which stood to the captain's far right hand side. "I'm ready when you are!"
