Welcome Aboard

I was living on a station in the Taurean sector, working as a singer in a band that had a steady gig at a bar catering to the traveling salesman class. The money was decent, and a bad job singing is better than most good jobs. But doing the same thirty songs every night, including the same requests, was getting old. Besides, the lead synstrom player was developing a bugdust habit and had been making life unpleasant since I'd said I wouldn't sleep with him anymore. The cube player wasn't getting along with him either, and the dissension on the stand was affecting the music—I was pretty sure that this gig wouldn't last much longer.

So when I got an email from my friend Ardela inviting me to come stay with her at her father's cottage on Danuta, my only thought was how to get there. Even though I was making 120 creds a night, station life is expensive—air bills alone ate up a quarter of my income—and I didn't want to arrive on Danuta broke. Besides, I don't believe in paying to travel. I'd made it halfway across the galaxy since dropping out of college without paying for passage more than three times, and I was sure I could find some way to get to Danuta, even though it was way off the major cruise routes. Getting a job as a singer, or at least a maid or waitress, on a cruise liner was easy, but regular passenger shuttles don't use so many support staff, and if you're not a pilot or a techie, it's hard to join a freighter crew.

Still, I got out my celcom and punched up the ship listings. There were six departures in the next two weeks with Danuta on their itinerary. I searched the crew openings: Computer Technician IV, Assistant Engineer Grade II (Drive Specialist), Food Technician III (must have license), Morale Specialist III, Communication Specialist V, Astrogator Level VI.... I could do the foodtech job—anybody whose waited tables has learned how to program, operate (and even to fix) a replicator when the kitchen staff are busy—but I didn't have the license and even if I could find someone to fake it for me, it would cost almost as much as first class fare to Danuta. And the bridge and engineering jobs were way out of my league.

I flipped back to the Morale Specialist listing:

“Title: Morale Specialist III

“Salary: FC 1253/sw

“Duties: Provide morale-maintenance services to ethnically and specielly diverse freighter crew.

“Qualifications: B.S. in exobiology, exoethnology, or exopsychology or equivalent training and experience; excellent physical and psychological fitness. Must be a creative and adventurous team worker with positive attitudes toward others. Experience preferred but not essential.”

I hesitated. It wasn't that I minded the work. It was just that I was on my way to spend a year with Ardela, daughter of one of the 400 families, and when her aristocratic mother asked me about my trip, I didn't want to say "Oh, it was great—I worked my passage from Taurus Seven as Ship's Whore on a freighter." Ship's Whores don't get any respect—everyone assumes that all it takes is to be willing to spread your thighs for anything with an oxygen metabolism. That might be fine for a planetside mattressback (something I would never be), but an M.S. III needs to know the sexual anatomy and sexual customs of dozens of species and cultures, and needs to be fit enough to be sexually active in the whole range of tolerable gravities and atmospheres. Not to mention being polysexual and free from species prejudice, as well as emotionally stable.

I'd been a whore before—on one of the cruise ships where I'd signed on as a waitress, an M.S. II had been caught in bed with a passenger. That's a major no-no. and she was immediately suspended and confined to quarters. The chief steward, who had good reason to think of me as talented in that field, asked me if I would replace her for the duration of the voyage. The pay was right, so I agreed, and enjoyed it more than I thought I would. But I'd always considered it an interesting episode, something to shock the grandchildren with someday, not a career.

Still, I was short on options. So I called up the

Zande Warrior

's application file and entered my specs; within a few minutes I had an interview set for the next morning. I was at the

Warrior

's docking berth 15 minutes early, and was greeted by the 2nd Mate, who is usually the personnel officer on the smaller ships. She was human, tall, dark-skinned, with a shaved head and a scarab tattooed on her right temple. She introduced herself as Ms. Delta, and led me into the ship. There the ship's doctor gave me the physioscan and psyscan, and sent me along to Ms. Delta's office to be interviewed while the computer digested my fluid samples.

Delta took my H-card and popped it into the slot on her desktop. "So.... You have a B.S. in exobiology with a minor in ethnology?"

"That's right." Actually, it wasn't—I had left school a few credits short of the degree, but had found a friendly techie on Vashti who had altered the card to save me the trouble of actually graduating. It took a week of blowjobs to convince him, but it was worth it.

"And you were an M.S. II on the

American Empress

. How did you like that?"

"It was fun—I took over the job mid-voyage, and had a great time."

"You'll find it a bit different on the

Warrior

—it's a small ship, only 47 crew, and we only have three morale staff. You'll be very busy sometimes, and others—when we're busy—you'll have nothing to do. We don't have the entertainment options that a big liner has. Apart from vids and games, you're it. And in those 47 crew we have...oh, twelve or thirteen species. Which have you worked with?"

I reeled off the list. She nodded, then looked back at her screen. "The doc says your scans are clean. I can't say for sure, but I don't see any reason why we wouldn't sign you on. Would you like a tour?"

I shrugged, nodded. "Sure, if you've got time to show me around."

"No problem. Right this way."

I followed her down past the officer's quarters through the mess and on to the recreation deck. There was a good-sized lounge with a big vid screen, half a dozen game terminals with VR suits, and even a shelf with a few dozen paper books. Delta led me through a hatch on the far side, then down a V-tube to a smaller lounge. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable, with soft lighting, couches, and an aquarium built into one wall. She smiled when I gawked. "Oh, yeah, they're real fish--it's a hobby of mine."

She pointed at four doors in the curving wall opposite. "Those are the morale suites--everybody's on shore leave right now, so they're empty." She punched in a code and opened a door. I stepped inside. The cabin was about four meters square. There was a large waterbed in the center, thick padded carpet on the floor, a net strung between the top of one wall and the floor about a meter out from the wall, and various rings and loops on the walls and ceiling. The ceiling and one wall were mirrored. The grav and atmosphere controls were neatly recessed in the wall at the head of the bed, and another open door led to a blue-tiled bathroom.

Delta smiled. "They're all like this--seem okay to you?"

"Sure--it's nice."

"Mr. Vaxt'ron, the first mate, said he might want to interview you personally before we make a decision. That all right with you?"

I knew what that meant. It was technically illegal, but to be expected, and there wasn't much point making a fuss about it if I wanted the job. I didn't mind anyway. I would have liked to meet Vaxt'ron first, but if I took the job it would all come out in the wash. "No problem." I was ready.

Delta tapped her com and spoke a few words in a language I didn't understand. "He'll be down in a few minutes." She reached out and touched my left breast. "We don't have to wait for him." I suddenly realized I was readier than I had thought. I grabbed the zipper of her skintight red uniform and pulled it all the way down to her crotch in one smooth motion. She wore nothing underneath. I pulled the suit off her shoulders and down over her arms. Her nipples were pale pink against her coffee-brown skin--I had assumed she was full human, African ancestry, but she wasn't, not with that coloring. A tattooed cobra twined from her hairless mons to her navel.

I took a nipple between my teeth and tugged gently, shaking my head slightly. She moaned and fell back against the netting. She raised her arms above her head, caught the net and pulled herself up. I slid the suit over her generous hips and knelt to release the clips that held the boots tight. As I slipped them off her feet, she raised her muscular legs into a full split, twining her feet through the net. She lay against the net like a starfish, wide open to me.

One of her parents must have been Be'erdun, I realized--her vulva was as bright pink as her nipples, and the clit that was swelling out from between the three sets of labia was nearly six centimeters long. I flicked it rapidly with my tongue until she began to make soft, whimpering sounds, then I moved in and sucked it with all my might, probing her cunt with two fingers. Her breathing slowed, long shuddering inhalations followed by gasping exhalations. Pussy juice was dripping down my wrist; I slipped in another finger, then another. Her juices had a sharp, fragrant, bittersweet flavor, almost herbal; I thought of rosemary and lavender. Her vaginal walls were quivering, her erectile outer labia throbbing against my hand. I was just considering whether to go all the way and give her a full fisting, when I heard the door open.

Out of the corner of my eye, in the mirrored wall, I could see the red suit with mate's stripes on the cuffs. I could also see the blue sagittal crest and knew he was Daneelian. This should be interesting. I decided not to stop what I was doing, but reached back with the hand that wasn't up Delta's cunt and flipped my skirt up over my back--I never wear undies. If he wanted more, he could pull rank and ask for it.

I pulled my fingers out of Delta and buried my face in her wide-open twat, sucking up her flowing juice and rubbing my face in the fragrant nectar. I heard the First Mate's zipper open, and just for a moment I pulled my face away from Delta's crotch to glance back at him.

I'd done a Daneelian once before, on the

Empress

, so I knew what to expect, but even so it was impressive. The Mate's cock was a third of a meter long, only a couple of centimeters thick--except for the pear-shaped bulb at the tip, which was about five centimeters in diameter and looked like it would be at least seven when it got to full erection. I knew from reading and experience that the bulb was the only truly erectile part of a Daneelian penis. The shaft was cartilage and muscle, and he could swish it around like a cat's tail--which made for some incredible sensations once a Daneelian got it inside you.

I wanted to get him in before he got to full size--it's an easier fit that way--so I quickly spit on my hand and rubbed it over my vulva. As soon as I touched myself, I knew I needn't have bothered--I was gushing. I grabbed his cock just below the bulb and pulled it between my legs. He was wet too--a Daneelian cock secretes its own lubricant, from a ring of pores around the bulb. I exhaled and focused, relaxing my pussy muscles as he thrust. Even so, it was pretty intense--I won't say painful, but taking a Daneelian cock isn't the easiest thing for a human vagina.

He was in--I turned my mouth back to Delta, and gave the Mate a good squeeze with my pubococcygeus muscles, just to let him know I wasn't a wimp about big dicks. He gasped in surprise, so I gave him another squeeze, harder, for good measure...then he started thrusting and whipping that thing around in me like he was beating eggs, and I was the one gasping. And then I was in that other place, the place you go when sex is unimaginably good and your whole body becomes a huge erogenous zone. I don't go inert or dissociate--I get more active, and in a way more alert--at least totally tuned into my sensations--and there's some part of my mind that's thinking about what I'm doing. But afterwards I'm amazed at myself.

The mate was stirring up my cunt, I was sucking frantically at Delta's clit as she squirmed in the net like a fly in a spider web. I suddenly realized that I had my whole fist up her pussy--when did I do that?--and she was clamping down on my hand like she was going to take it off. I heard moans, cries, panting, I couldn't tell who was making the noise, if it was me or them, and then there was a roar from Delta, a grunt from the mate, Delta's feet came out of the net and her thighs were squeezing my ears as she thrust her clit against my face and I felt the first gush of the mate's ejaculation, and then I was coming too, my hips jerking against him as his semen filled me and spilled over, flowing down my thighs (Daneelians come by the half-litre), and the thought of all that cum was so exciting that I pulled away--he came out with a pop like a champagne cork--and turned around to drink the semen that was still gushing out of him, taking as much of his bright blue cock-bulb into my mouth as I could and sucking so hard that he howled like a Terran wolf as Delta dropped from the net and began lapping up the semen from my twat and fingering herself as I came again and so did she, until the three of us collapsed in a damp, sticky heap on the floor.

"Welcome aboard," Delta said.