Harry's notes: I had a hard time getting this one to finish like I wanted. Thanks butters for your editorial help, sorry to make you work so hard. :o Thank you readers for your comments on previous writes. It makes all worthwhile.
*****
Voyages II:
Arrival:
The Hoochie Mama entered real space well off Portsmouth Prime; there was no fanfare, no grand approach best accompanied by majestic theme music heralding cinematic events of note, just a rapidly expanding opaque area that winked out to reveal the battered, 4th hand, D-class Ford SpaceExplorer(tm) unmoving in the star-filled view. Its sides rippled as if some wind or current moved over fabric in the nothing of space.
An outside observer might wonder at the reason for its arrival so far from sentinent interests; there were three: firstly, because their last planet fall had been so disastrous. They'd dropped out of wiper drive in the middle of a war between Asshola and Crapola and had been labeled enemy by both. It was the worst 15 minutes of real and wiper time any of the current complement would ever experience.
Secondly, this was where 68 sets of pilfered MKVII Banger(tm) combat armor, neatly racked, freshly sanitized and wiper sealed in the hanger bay, were aquired just prior to the ships hasty departure some one hundred real time days ago; they had proved worth every hour of grift, recon, meticulous planning, and sheer ball breaking labour needed to nick them. :) They were a liability here where they'd simply disappeared in transit.
And lastly, on the skin of the Hoochie Mama moved their battle flag; a stylized Jolly Roger, mimicking some obscene fishermans nightmare, still undulating on the sides of the ship. Piracy was no joke anywhere near English space. Hoochie flickered, vanishing to become a distant gleam in the star scattered view.
Field Day:
The Captain's cabin-office faded from the dim, foggy grey of wiper space to a cheerful command center where he sprawled unmoving beneath a neatly turned duvet. The sexy computer voice of the A.I. that operated the ship's systems spoke.
"Lit date, 1221, Wake up Captain, honey, (kiss sound) standing well off the Prime solar system, no contacts. The crew and Toi are awake, gally serving as ordered breakfast's for watch standers shortly."
Harry curled in a ball, pulling covers over his throbbing head. A tray slid in seamless silence out of the wainscotted wall accompanied by SALLY's peverse penchant for adding sounds found in the ship's extensive library of movies. A groan for the whirs and hums, then a hand extended from under the duvet and felt for the blue capsule beside the steaming cup.
"To the left, Captain sweetie. (kiss sound)." The voice belonged to a Self Autonomous Long Loving Yetzburg(tm) canibalized from the memory/software of a sexbot to effect emergency repairs. The bot, now remotely controlled by SALLY, sat on the foot of the bed watching the lump under country quilts painfully extend a hand.
Fingers scrabbled left, took the blue capsule and retreated under, returning a moment later to retrieve the mug. A sigh came from beneath the covers as the pill dissolved instantly, giving immediate relief for the debilitating effect of wiper acceleration.
He bleakly examined his sheet covered existance, contemplated his carefully cultivated Wa laying in shambles. He needed fresh Intern strippers and the Royal mail, real coffee instead of the synth Shipboard(tm) brand A new bottle of Colman's(tm) (hang the cost) and mass quantities of polyunsaturated fast food were all to put him shipshape again, but first there were chores waiting.
Harry rolled up on a pillow before turning the duvet back, letting the medicine counteract the worst of the wiper drive's effects except for a dull headache. Sallybot's eyes moved to priority one as Harry's nude form lounged in the post agony relief of medication.
Stretching, he noticed that the Sallybot was unclothed and wondered just what went on in wiper space that caused the removal of the maid's costume worn pre-jump. He began to rise under the rapt gaze.
"How did our test go?", he asked, wiggling a little while enjoying the flicker of the bot's eyes as it followed a roll of his enlarging penis.
"As expected, I was able to jump much faster this time." Sallybot's eyes moved to his and spoke in tandem with the ship's voice, "Furl the colors, Captain?" The last word was hot breath on his loins. It was a moment before he replied.
"Yes, quickly, let's take them down before every jump from now on. You can put up the 'Bon Voyage' identity that we used last in port here." He became quiet as a super heated mouth and fluids drew the last chill of wiper space along with a shuddering climax.
Bluegrass music began playing from the ship's com, Foggy Mountain Breakdown if he remembered correctly. Maestro was up and in full form.
"Is Chyna moving yet?"
"Yes Captain, you should be moving too. (kiss sound)"
Harry sat up, rotated feet to the Vacfiber(tm) floor, setting the empty mug back on the tray; it moved within the deep confines of the tray then returned, filled and steaming.
"Chyna is on his way to the hanger bay now. His second has begun shifting the shuttles and lifting deck plates in preparation for hiding contraband."
"Good man," Harry said. "Hank right? Give me something to wear and mute the music please." A pink frock zipped out of the wall. "No." It retreated within and something hummed angrily. He sipped, waiting to see what else would be offered while glancing at the ship's chronometer filling the screen of his desktop; 05:09:43, time for breakfast.
"Henry, Captain darling, (kiss sound)." Clicks, whines and whirrs brought a selection of clothing from more hidden recesses in the wall. Harry took grey fatigue pants, t-shirt and a Cotton(tm) hoodie from the proffered appendages setting them near to hand.
"Henry, right, add his name to the awards ceremony this evening. Breakfast in-cabin, scrambled eggs, bangers, toast and some of that good peach jam. I'll take the ship's manifest at my desk after. Pass the word, field day before entering port. Now I'm going to take a shower." Sallybot followed him in and began soaping his back.
"(Boson's whistle) Now reveille, reveille, reveille, all hands heave out and trice up, sweepers man your brooms. All section leaders, field day."
Harry let the flood of hot water wash away the thought of wiper space and the bot's fingers massage away knots of apprehension preceeding this planetfall.
A breakfast tray was waiting on his desk when returning from the shower. Sallybot dressed him, combed and dried his hair and beard, making small talk in the form of ship's gossip that was something of white noise while he ate and began going through every item stored within the ships inventory.
It was not going to be a very profitable planet fall. The seafood that was guaranteed to sell at top prices at the ecologically wrecked planet of Assholes was not going to fetch half that here. He detested assholes in all their forms. On the plus side there were plenty of consumables and even a case of his favorite liquor taken in the punitive raids on the two warring factions.
Accoutrements and Strays:
"Chyna calling, Captain."
"Very well, on screen please." Lines of information winked out, replaced by the concerned face of the armorer.
"Toi, do you have a minute to spare?" He put down a jam-dripping slice of toast, wiped his mouth and replied.
"I'm trying to find something to sell or barter for fuel. We've been out a long time without replenishment; the Thorium bunkers are near empty. SALLY, Thorium available? I may have to sell some beer or frozen pizza to make ends meet."
"There are 537.7252 wiper hours of Thorium currently on board, Captain."
"Won't make any difference with the Hoochie impounded and us in jail," Chyna replied morosely. "Come take a look; tell me what I'm missing."
Harry made good time to the hanger bay. Sallybot walked beside him reciting the manifest log item by item during the short journey there. He closed his eyes before entering, then stepped through, opening them to form a first impression.
The dusty deck in the warm comfortable compartment, covered in foot and glove prints, sparked a thought. Harry explaned his idea to Chyna, adding that an extra ration of beer would accompany early completion of the task. The grin on his face was ample reward for the interuption.
He returned to his desk, burying himself in the search for something to barter or trade for fuel. Hours later he was still at it, amazed at the variety of goods and material filling the seemingly empty ship. Late in the ship's afternoon SALLY reported.
"Time to dress for the ceremony, Captain sweety. (kiss sound)" His blue #3 uniform zipped out from the wall.
"Dont know what I'm going to do, not without selling beer or frozen pizza." He spoke more to himself but SALLY answered.
"I'm sure you'll find something, perhaps that beast that Nonny went back to get."
Harry had forgotten Nonny's 'rescue' of some horrid foul-smelling creature, yowling and slinging fetid mud from Emptied Bowel swamp all over the hanger bay, leaving scratches on the armored arms of the suit in it's struggle to escape her grip.
[indent]"No, Nonny, Nu huh, take it back." He'd retreated as far as the central corridor lift when it slipped free of her grasp and fell to the floor, squalling pitiously. She'd bent to stroke the animal.
"But Toi, I'll take care of it, give it a bath, clean up its poop; besides, it's hurt." It was busy licking a scorch mark on its buttocks where there once might have been a tail.
