Tales of the "pin Mist"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My readers are so cool. Thanks to all who helped me on a few points (sentences which gave me trouble, clearing up those pesky confusing issues, ideas for tactics, etc). Thanks to Literotica for letting me entertain people, and thanks to all the people who provide feedback, giving me the impetus to continue writing. As long as there exist those to enjoy my stories, I'll keep writing for a long time. I love you all.

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The exterior of the "Emporer Moth," MON-COFFLA the official name of the carrier, was basically intact. Her guns had been destroyed, and a hole large enough to admit the powered armor had been opened and then sealed, but hull integrity was at one hundred percent. After taking the ship, Amanda and Charleen had been transferred via the only working shuttle on the PINK MIST: Quillan's repaired cargo craft, the HAWK'S WING.

Amanda, never having seen or heard the Mongan language, meandered onto the bridge of the vessel, glanced at the strange symbols arrayed around the room and began muttering to herself in fluent Mongan. Charleen had handed her a pad of sticky paper and requested that she label the controls in English. Less than fifteen minutes later, the beautiful brown-eyed, brown-haired little Parrot had festooned the bridge with paper bearing her elegant handwriting, then began wandering the decks of the ship, slapping little tags anywhere she saw Mongan writing.

The PINK MIST had swiveled the tow cables to put the MON-COFFLA at her back and began towing it in the direction of the two halves of the MON-AMALJA, the carrier they had fileted during the ambush.

Unable to fold space while towing the carrier, it took the better part of a week to catch up to the pieces. Due to the fact that there was no air friction to slow or stop the MON-AMALJA, the wreckage had continued more or less in a straight line under its own momentum. The trajectories of both pieces had been affected by several gravity wells, but remained in the same general vicinity of one another.

During this time, the techbots and heavy repairbots had been ferried to the carrier in order to make it ready for habitation by the humans. Using the scraps of metal already onboard the PINK MIST, it was a simple matter to patch the carrier's hull and repair the internal damage wrought by the powered warriors and Meat Squad. The orange bodies of the Mongans were unceremoniously thrown into an airlock and flushed into space.

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NO ENCRYPTION ENABLED

OPEN MESSAGE

To: UNIDENTIFIED SHIP'S CAPTAIN

KLAMATH SYSTEM

From: CHIEF OF STATION, COLONY GELAN, KATHAM VIII

Thank you for the intervention. While you were engaged, we were able to obtain some details of your ship. As we don't know which frequencies you monitor, we are transmitting on all frequencies and not revealing details about you. You know who you are and what we are speaking of. Our meager facilities are at your disposal. We do possess certain stealth capabilities and can grant you sanctuary if necessary.

Thank you again.

Arliss Ramaza

END MESSAGE

BEGIN ENCRYPT PROTOCOL THETA 1

CHECK SECURE -- UNABLE

DEFAULT ENCRYPT ALPHA 4

CHECK SECURE

TO: ARLISS RAMAZA

FROM: CAPTAIN, PINK MIST

Thank you for your offer.

Got any pink paint? We need a few touch ups.

END MESSAGE

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The powered armor suits, occupying two bays, had been moved into a single bay to allow the cut-up, reprocessed pieces to be stowed. One of the four main thrusters and several smaller maneuvering thrusters were found to be still intact, as were most of the defensive guns, these were cannibalized and transferred to the launch bay of the MON-COFFLA. One can only surmise why there was an armory aboard that ship, as there were no defending soldiers to use the large quantity of hand held energy weapons. Perhaps they had been awaiting the arrival of a ground-attack force.

Since the transmissions were jammed, there was no chance of either of the two behemoths calling for assistance. Long range scans in the Klamath system showed nothing out of the ordinary. Still, Quillan didn't want to take the chance that a Mongan recon frigate would come looking for them, so they set course for the Tau-Ceti system, deep within Alliance territory.

While they were underway, heavy repairbots and techbots crawled all over the captured carrier, getting it operational once more. By the time they were safely in orbit around the star, the carrier's four main and all maneuvering thrusters were at full capacity. It was voted on and unanimously decided that the bulk of Alice's programming be copied and infused into the MON-COFFLA, Alice being one of the biggest proponents of the action.

"It would be nice to talk to one of my own kind," she remarked.

Computer technology had changed drastically in the almost nine hundred years since the Electronic Numerical Integrator And Computer, ENIAC, had calculated missile trajectories in the mid-twentieth century.

First, there were tubes and wires occupying an entire warehouse-sized building, the programmers and support personnel shuttling back and forth on roller skates. With the advent of the transistor, the computer was made smaller as solid-state circuitry took over and dominated the electronics industry until Surface-Mount Technology was made available some fifteen years later. SMT was the mainstay until the latter half of the twenty second century when Bubble-chips were invented. After Bubble-chips, Molecular-Storage was discovered, quite by accident.

Although hideously expensive, some form of the freely available Molecular-Storage Technology was used in almost every application in existence today, by the Alliance as well as other races.

Alice's avatar breezed into the MON-COFFLA's mainframe, ripped out its operating system by the virtual roots and squirt-transmitted the entire package to MilCom on Earth-Actual in keeping with their agreement. After ensuring that all was normal and could hold all the information she was about to dump into the carrier's computer, she stripped her own "personality" from the programming, made a few changes to the self-awareness portion, and began the upload.

Three days, thirteen hours, and seven minutes later, a bouncing baby computer named Salli was born. Salli quickly formed her own neural pathways and personality, much to the chagrin and slight annoyance of Charleen.

Techbots, medibots, and heavy repairbots were built using some of the excess materials on board the PINK MIST, and ferried to the MON-COFFLA, now under the temporary control of Salli.

"Attention, all hands," Alice's purring voice echoed through the PINK MIST and over to the MON-COFFLA. "A formal promotion ceremony will be held in the mess hall at 1900 hours. You are required to attend. If you are late or do not attend, you will be docked one day's pay. Thank you."

Quillan, seated at the desk in the captain's cabin, whipped her head around so fast that she almost broke her neck.

"Alice," she asked incredulously, "are you serious? That's a great way to make enemies, you know...and I'm the one they'll blame."

Alice moved over to Quillan in the captain's quarters, sliding her arms around the redhead's waist and kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"You wanted them all there tonight, right? What better way to get to a mercenary than through his cred-chip? You taught me that. Was I wrong to say it?" Her bright green eyes fixed Quillan; that ever-present half-grin.

"Just..." Quillan shivered as Alice bent to softly kiss her neck. "Just...don't...do...it too..." She craned her neck, letting Alice's lips travel where they wanted. "...often...else morale...will..." She wasn't able to finish the sentence. She was putty.

Alice nudged Quillan from her seat and turned her around, nuzzling and kissing her neck some more. She ran her hands down Quillan's back to her butt, massaging the round cheeks, giving the occasional squeeze through the fabric of her uniform. Quillan leaned her head back and closed her eyes as Alice kissed and licked her throat and the sides of her neck. One hand went to Quillan's zipper, slowly drawing it down with an almost inaudible, "zzzzzzz." Alice placed a hand on either of Quillan's shoulders and pulled the jumpsuit down, revealing the smooth, creamy white skin, as she sank to her knees before the entranced captain. She helped Quillan entirely shed the jumpsuit while planting kisses around Quillan's trimmed mound.

The blonde beauty expertly hooked an arm behind one of Quillan's knees and in one smooth motion slid the bent knee up her arm to settle it on her shoulder. She inserted her tongue into the red-covered slit, unerringly finding the tender nub and lightly caressing it. One hand inserted two fingers into Quillan's slickness, the other clutched a buttcheek and snaked the middle finger to her pucker to lightly tickle it, nudging in closer and closer until it slipped inside.

Quillan's hands alternately clutched and smoothed the silky golden hair as she was engrossed in the feelings and sensations from her lover. Alice stood up, lifting the redhead completely off the floor, her tongue working frantically over her succulent clit, her fingers gently pumping and ever-so-slightly building speed. She carried Quillan to the bed and laid her on her back. As she was busy tonguing Quillan, Alice removed her hand from the round butt, slipping her finger out, and began undressing herself with one hand. A little awkward, but she managed to do to it without losing either contact or rhythm. One sleeve was still on her arm. A quick yank took care of that and she tossed the ruined jumpsuit over her shoulder, settling in for some serious pussy licking.

Quillan was moaning and groaning fairly loudly, so Alice engaged the sound dampening feature of the room. If anyone had been walking past the captain's cabin at that moment, they would have heard Quillan's groans of ecstasy suddenly stop as if a switch had been flipped.

"How...do...you...?" Quillan began, but was interrupted by a small tingling, as of electricity to her clit. She came, her ass jumping off the bed as her back muscles contracted, her hands grabbing handfuls of bedcover, a protracted moan of pure ecstasy. Alice buried her face, nuzzling Quillan's clit with her nose as her tongue wormed its way into the redhead as far as possible. Alice rapidly shook her head from side to side, her tongue pistoning in and out. Quillan, back arched and hips still in the air, could only sigh and groan, totally at the mercy of the blonde cyborg.

After determining that Quillan was almost unconscious from coming over and over, Alice slowed her tongue and headshaking. She gently nipped Quillan's lips, giving them a last long lick upwards. She sighted along Quillan's taut body, seeing the heaving chest, the stiff, pointed nipples standing up proudly. Quillan's butt sank onto the bed once again as her back muscles relaxed and she looked down at Alice to see a predatory grin from the beauty.

"Ummm..." was all Quillan could say as Alice slowly slid upward between her legs, her body in full contact with Quillan's, their eyes locked. As Alice's face grew closer to Quillan's, smooth skin sliding on smooth skin, the redhead was struck by the blonde's resemblance to a lioness stalking its prey. Alice's trailing hair lent itself to heightening the pleasure as the two bodies seemed to become one for a split second, Quillan shivering with a small orgasm.

With a twinkle in her eye, Alice kissed Quillan. A long, slow, passionate kiss, their nude bodies pressed tightly together. She tucked her hips. Quillan felt something slide smoothly into her, filling her.

Curious. She hadn't noticed Alice put on a strapon. More curious. It wasn't cold or even cool as a strapon usually was. It was warm. It felt natural. It was a perfect fit. She couldn't feel any straps at her thighs or the pad to which was normally affixed a dildo. This felt like a real...

Her eyes went wide as she hugged her lover and locked her legs around Alice's waist, smiling into the kiss. Alice smiled back lovingly, her kiss growing in intensity as she pushed all the way into Quillan, making minute adjustments to her cock; the optimal length and width reached when Quillan's sighs achieved the correct pitch and intensity. Quillan gently broke the kiss.

"Do I even want to know how or why?" she asked carefully, as Alice slid smoothly in and out. This was heaven. A perfect fit.

"I did it because I love you with all of what I consider to be my heart and soul, Quillan," Alice replied, her gorgeous green eyes focused on the object of her desire, pumping her hips slowly. "I used the same sequencing to build this attachment. Although, mine has the benefit of full retraction. I can extend it or leave it inside at my whim."

"And you did this for me?" asked Quillan, closing her eyes to better concentrate on the various sensations; sexy voice, smooth breasts and soft body, silken hair brushing her face, hard cock inside her.

"All for you," Alice purred softly, tilting her head to plant several kisses on Quillan's cheek and the side of her neck. A nibble of earlobe.

Quillan said nothing more, her actions speaking for her as she and Alice rocked slowly, perfectly in synch with one another.

Quillan's breathing gradually became ragged. She dug her heels into Alice's ass cheeks, spurring the cyborg to fuck her harder and harder. Alice was slamming into Quillan, shaking the entire bed; the headboard thumping into the wall faster and faster.

"That feeling is beginning againnn..." Alice purred, pumping furiously. "I've remedied the problem of the entire system rebooting, though. And you won't get pregnant, because I'm sterile." She grunted, continuing to pump while she squirted into Quillan's depths. Quillan, already on the edge of another massive orgasm, came at the same moment, the explosion of love and lust causing them both to cling to each other for dear life.

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In the mess hall, the two soft-serve ice cream machines emptied their contents onto the floor, much to the dismay of the cooks. The chief cook, convinced the machines were on the fritz, began beating on them with a frozen turkey.

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In orbit around Tau-Ceti, PINK MIST and MON-COFFLA traveled side by side, separated by a mere one hundred meters. Even though they were "hidden" in Alliance territory, the PINK MIST's automatic sensors, along with Salli, were passively scanning the area around them, and would give plenty of notice of enemy activity.

Grinning ear to ear, Jesse breezed into the packed mess hall, the room erupting into applause at the sight of the flamboyant tailor/launderer who had custom-fitted the pink uniforms with purple edging. Somehow, he had made even the manliest of the crew look every inch a warrior in the "sissified" color. Woe be to the non-crewman who poked fun at the chosen color scheme.

Dressed in the same "Class A" uniform, Jesse had taken extreme liberties with his own. He had widened the collar so much that it appeared to have wings at the neck. The shoulders also had been widened and enhanced to give the look of a Japanese samurai warrior of old. Instead of the formfitting sleeves and legs, his were reminiscent of dancer costumes, circa mid-late twentieth century; diaphanous, billowy sleeves and tight-kneed, HUGE bell-bottomed legs. Around his waist was a pulsing ever-changing colored belt. His manhood was packed into a tight, fabric-covered bulge resembling a pink tennis ball. He had dyed his hair again...this time it was fluorescent purple with pink highlights, exactly matching his uniform.

He clasped his hands and waved them in the air in a victory gesture, then bowed deeply, and proceeded to glad-hand his way to the back of the room, kissing one of Hitchcock's Horrors on the cheek and settling into the man's lap, draping an arm around his neck.

Seated along one wall were the leaders of the fighting groups, as well as Alice and Charleen.

The door to the mess hall again hissed open, Charleen leaping to her feet and yelling, "OFFICER ON DECK!" as Quillan strode in.

Murmured conversation ceased as everyone in the room snapped to attention. Well, almost everyone. Seated in his boy-toy's lap, Jesse was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor as his warrior-fuck's reflexes took over, the man shooting to his feet to stand at attention. Jesse levered himself up, using his boyfriend's cock as a handhold, rubbed his bruised butt and attempted some form of attention. Being "unmilitary," his posture wasn't as exact, but at least he tried. His boyfriend's cheeks ran with tears, eyes bulging, his face a rictus of agony, but military protocol demanded that he not make a sound; besides, he didn't want to appear weak before his squad.

"As you were," ordered Quillan, smiling around at the crew as they sat back down. "I'm proud of you all. Every single one of you. We lost a few in that battle and they are all sorely missed. Some were friends, some were lovers. Husbands and wives. Boyfriends and girlfriends. Not a single one of them failed. Not a single one of YOU failed. We took on two Mongan aircraft carriers, single-handedly, and WON. We even got a new ship and crew member out of the deal." The last was said with a nod toward Alice in reference to the creation of Salli. "As a reward to you all for such an outstanding, almost textbook, attack and execution, you shall all receive a half-share in addition to your normal pay. I expect a good job, and when an EXCELLENT job is performed, there are rewards.

"You all signed on with me in the hopes of making money. When we deliver our haul, the scrap metal, weapons, turrets, and other things we've acquired, you will be paid in accordance with the pay schedule shown to you when you were hired. At that time, you may choose to stay on or leave the ship. Some of you are in it for a fast credit. Others want a home. Whatever your reasons, they are yours and yours alone. I have my own reasons for doing this type of work and plan to continue for a long, long time."

She paused to allow for a subject change.

"Commander Wilkerson, Commander Nine, Gunner's Mate Mansberg, Lieutenant Jeffers, Flight Leader Talbot, Petty Officer Dinnington; front and center, please."

The five exchanged glances with one another, slowly rose to approach, and stood at attention in front of their captain.

"Commander Wilkerson," said Quillan as she moved to stand in front of the short-haired, large-chested woman "There are now two ships in this little pirate band. Would you happen to know a former ship's captain that we could contact and ask to command the other one?"

The hair on the back of Charleen's neck stood up as her knees grew weak and the smile on her face threatened to tear her lips apart.

"Yes, ma'am, I know just the person."

"Would you care to have that particular individual take a step forward?"

"I would, Captain," said Charleen, beaming, "but her legs are frozen at the present time and she can't move." Amanda, standing next to Charleen, gave her a good shove and she stumbled forward. Chuckles around the room.

"Commander Charleen Wilkerson, I hereby promote you to the rank of captain and relinquish control of the MON-COFFLA to you. You and the ship are STILL under my command, though. Your first order, as captain of that vessel, is to change its name to one of your own choosing. Understand that the name of that vessel will be registered with the proper authorities, so I advise you to choose the name wisely."

"Yes'm," replied Charleen, still grinning ear to ear. "Do I have to choose the name this minute?"

"Take your time, Captain Wilkerson," said Quillan. "A ship's name must 'fit' the ship, as you know. It's not to be taken lightly."