Symbiosis Chapter 15

“How long to Eta Cass Cinco at ISS speed, Mr. Rougeau?” The Maria Mitchell still orbited above Cuatro; Jackson stood in the fishbowl and watched as they passed between the planet and one of its larger moons.

“Thirty six point two hours, sir, from our current location.”

“Very good.” Jackson returned to his center chair. “Plot the course to Cinco, Mr. Rougeau, and Mr. Lee, engage at the first opportunity. It seems we have no more business here, so let’s break orbit.” He picked up a reader but couldn’t help hearing his officers disagreeing over the plotted course.

“Why would you take us against the rotation, not with it?”

“It’s shorter.”

“But we’ll use more fuel and put a greater strain on the propulsion systems.”

“But we will be using it less time, so it balances out and gets us there faster.”

“Have you ever piloted anything outside of the solar system?”

“Yes, this ship when you’re not here. Besides, we’re in a solar system. The same laws don’t apply here as interstellar.”

“Precisely, here we have planets’ gravity to consider.”

“Will you two gentlemen be coming to a decision any time soon?” Jackson interrupted with no amusement in his voice. He leaned forward as if perhaps his energy might help deflate their little argument. He couldn’t see their faces, only the backs of their heads, but he was sure they looked something like his daughter’s when she was told to stop what she was doing.

“Yes, Captain,” Lee said obediently.

“Because I can ask Honey and Zalara to come up here and relieve you if necessary.”

“Understood, sir,” Rougeau said and he tapped a few icons and numbers, changing the course to suit the superior officer’s recommendation of a counter clockwise course around Eta Cassiopeia, which ran between stars A and B, and also flowed with the natural rotation of the system rather than fighting against it. “New estimate for arrival is thirty eight point nine hours.”

“Let’s go then. Break orbit.” Jackson glanced at Mr. Watson whose gaze was fixed on his instruments and nothing else. “Mr. Watson, please dispatch our mission log and statistics.”

“Aye, Captain, right away.”

“I’ll be in the doyen’s office. If you two up front want a glass of warm milk or a nap just let me know.” Jackson settled into his official desk behind a closed door and tapped the intercom.

“Sick bay,” Dr. Adams answered.

“Doc, is Rianya there with you?”

“I’m here.”

“Can you come up to the doyen’s office when you have a minute?”

“On my way.”

Jackson had noticed increasing friction between his two front men over the last several months, but that was the first time it had become overt at the command dashboards. Perhaps they needed shore leave, separately. Everyone needed shore leave. He looked up at the knocking on the door.

“Come.” Rianya came in and the door slid shut behind her. “You don’t have to knock, Love.”

“Everyone has to knock at this door.” Tom smiled and frowned at the same time. He motioned for her to take a chair.

“Not you.” They looked at each other for a moment.

“You called me,” she said.

“Oh, as long as you’re not too busy; I wanted some adult conversation.”

“What?”

“Never mind. What did you find out about the body?”

“Yes, the body. We didn’t do too much. We CAT scanned it, radiographed it, and Dr. Ferris cut the head open and took out some of the brain--”

“No, don’t tell me that kind of ugly doctor talk. You know I hate bodies and blood and death and all that.”

“You asked. What did you want to know?”

“How old is it? Is it human?”

“Dr. Adams has to run the tests yet. Dr. Ferris is still playing with it. But it is at least half human according to the skeletal structure and organ placement. But we did find something so odd! He has air sacs, like a bird.”

“It’s male?” She nodded. “A bird?”

“Dr. Ferris thinks they are an evolutionary adaption of a species that evolved on a planet with a low oxygen atmosphere.”

“How curious. Well, I did have a question for you biology people: when we get to Cinco what’s the protocol for protecting us from the same plague they have?”

“I’m not certain. Dr. Ferris said something that we should bring a sample aboard and examine it before we go down, but that’s all I know. I wasn’t going to be on this team, at least not on the planet.”

“Who told you that? I decide who disembarks and who stays aboard.”

“Dr. Adams.”

“I’m leading this landing party. I’ll talk to him.”

“I don’t want the other crew members thinking I’m getting special treatment from you. That will make life harder for me.”

“It works both ways. Taking you off the team is special treatment. You should be going down. Besides,” he said, coming to where she sat and taking her hand. “You do get special treatment from me.” He pushed some locks of her thick hair out of her face and kissed her, with affection but holding back on the passion. He was tempted to lock his door and get intimate with carnal intentions. If he let the passion surface, however, he’d be in big trouble mostly with himself.

They sat in silence, pressed close and face to face, the emotional telepathy deepening the longer they stayed that way. Her heart seemed unusually strong to him, like a little current of electricity reaching out from a plasma ball toy.

“York to Jackson,” the intercom chirped. The interruption was uncomfortably startling; he tapped the button.

“Jackson.”

“Oh, good afternoon Captain. I was looking for Rianya Jackson. Dr. Adams said she was there?”

“I’m here Cat, I’m sorry I’m late, I’ll be right there.” Rianya tried to back away from Tom but he had clasped his arms around her and wasn’t letting go. “Tom…”

“I’ll go babysit. I’m not going back on the bridge today. Go take a nap. I know you never seem to have enough sleep.”

“If I sleep this late in the day I won’t be able to sleep at night time,” she said, reaching behind in an attempt to unlock his hands behind her waist. He smiled off to one side.

“That’s kind of the idea,” he said. Someone knocked at the office door. “Come,” Tom said. Anne Wallace stood on the other side.

“Excuse me, Captain, Ms. Jackson, I can come back later,” she said quickly. “I, uh, I thought you were off duty at 15:00.”

“I’m off duty, Anne. Come in, do what you came to do,” Tom told her, unapologetic for embracing his wife in private. Her discomfort wasn’t his concern. “I’ll go be the sitter for a while, and see you at dinner,” he told her.

“A hundred thank yous, Tom,” and she scurried out; he followed her to the bridge then stopped, leaving Ann with her robotic vacuum and dust cloths.

“Captain on the bridge,” Mr. Watson announced and the three young officers stood promptly.

“As you were, boys.” Tom felt a twinge of guilt at making his men uncomfortable but on the other hand, they had deserved a rebuke. “Anything going on?”

“Actually, yes, Captain,” Mr. Watson said. “I was about to contact you. There’s an alien ship several thousand kilometers ahead. It’s heading will intersect with ours in approximately twelve hours at our present speed.”

“Kiians?”

“I’m unable to define it at this distance.”

“Keep sensors on it and let me know as soon as you can confirm its identity.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Watson said quickly.

“Chen, Jean, everything copacetic here?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Very good. Be sure to brief Lieutenant May on that alien ship before you leave tonight.” Tom left the bridge and headed down to the gym where two young ladies were waiting.

~~~

“Mr. Harchett, please ask Chef Campbell to drop in when she has a moment.” Tom enjoyed having a private mess on Maria Mitchell as opposed to a having a secluded table in the mess hall as the former science ships. He enjoyed time with his crew but from time to time dining alone, not in his quarters, was like going out somehow.

“Indeed, Captain,” the young man said, setting a carafe of coffee and two cups on the table. Tom poured a cup of coffee for himself and Rianya.

“Can I try coffee?” Zalara piped up.

“You won’t like it,” Rianya told her.

“I wanna try.”

“Here Pet,” Tom said, unable to resist her pleading eyes. He poured his customary quantity of sugar in, stirred it, and pushed it to her. “It’s quite hot, wait until it cools off a minute,” he told her.

“You’re hopeless, Tom. You have me addicted to this awful drink. Are you trying to hook her too?”

“I don’t like this,” Zalara said, frowning. “Papa, how you drink it?”

“By the time you’re old like me you’ll like it.”

“No,” she said. Rianya smiled at Tom out of Zalara’s line of sight.

“Good evening, Captain, Rianya, and Zalara, look at you!” Bailey Campbell said when she came in from the kitchen. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“I only wanted to tell you that you have outdone yourself tonight. Everything was perfect, from start to finish.”

“Well, thank you, Captain, I’m glad you all enjoyed it. I don’t often hear that.”

“You should hear it more often, I think we’ve just been lax in speaking up,” Rianya said.

“I have something for you two,” Bailey said suddenly, heading back to the galley. She returned promptly with a bottle of desert wine. “I’ve been keeping this cool since we left Earth. We’re almost at our destination, so you should enjoy it soon.”

“Thoughtful as ever. Thank you,” Tom said. “Goodnight.”

“I’m ready to go to bed. What a long day. Are you tired ‘Lara?”

“No.”

“You’re never tired. Come on,” Tom said and stood, picking her up from her chair and carried her face to face. The trio left and headed back to their quarters. By the time they arrived the small girl was nearly asleep, too tired for a bath or a story. Tom tucked her in and retreated to the great room where Rianya had collected two wine glasses and a cork puller. It wasn’t long before the walls came down.

Tom breathed deep and closed his eyes while the wine released the anxiety of the mummy. Finally, after many long weeks of puzzling about it, they’d picked it up. The wondering and speculating about its age, or how it got there, or why it died wasn’t important now. Their mission hummed along and would soon take the stage again, taking time away from Rianya and Zalara, his new life that had taken a back seat for too long.

Modern melodies from the early 22^nd century hummed quietly, something his mother would have liked that she called Mod. Notes from electronic instruments that duplicated classics blended like a live orchestra with meandering riffs and subtle percussion, crescendos and piano softs. Although their conversation had ceased verbally, their communication hadn’t. He took the empty wine glass from Rianya and set it on the table next to his.

Her eyes were an astonishing indigo in the subtle lighting. He’d not mistaken her invitations for the last couple of days. In fact, she welcomed him into her personal, physical space. He suddenly couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d made love to her. That alone revealed it had been too long.

He pushed his face into her heavy mane, tasting her neck and her skin, finding the small ridge buried in her hair where he no longer expected to find ears, but knew his kisses there would make her smile, curl her shoulders, and stretch away to encourage him more. He kissed the other side to be sure he didn’t miss any delicious bite of her, breathing in the lemon flavor of her cashmere-soft tresses.

She breathed soft sighs of luxury as he made his way down her neck, stopping to pull on the laces of her red dress and free her body that he could lay his affection on. He slid off the divan and slipped his arms under her knees and waist, picked her up like a big pillow then carried her to the bedroom. The freedom of the big bed, the smooth sheets and intimate privacy drove him into a primitive scheme that he didn’t want to rush.

They didn’t need words. He pulled on the skirt of her dress and slid it off her graceful body. Although she’d  adopted many human customs she still never wore any undergarments. Rianya appeared as Venus, his savory virgin, the brightest object in his universe. He had to shut his eyes if he wanted to treasure this reward. The little shots of serotonin and adrenaline battled fiercely with his desire to slow down. How he’d missed the mornings on her home world when they lingered in bed for as long as they wanted, with barely a reason to rise at all.

He stripped, fast, ignoring the conspicuous sounds of buckles, zippers and snaps, and the air of the room cooled the sweat on his skin. A glint in her eyes reflected the faint glow of the ceiling lamp, her feathery lashes calling him closer. Her skin’s natural blush blended with the muted rose sheets in the dim light. Where should he start? She was his, completely, to love, possess, and adore.

Chirp, chirp. “Bridge to captain!” 

Rianya groaned. Tom froze before dropping his forehead to her pillow.

“Are you kidding me! It’s zero thirty in the damn morning,” he shouted into the pillow. Rianya gently pushed Tom over and slid aside. He rolled away and threw his legs over the side of the bed, feet on the floor, dropping his face in his hands.

“Bridge to Captain Jackson, please respond.” He banged the button with his fist.

“What is it? This better be important, Mister,” he groused, almost shouting. His loins writhed in agony.

“So sorry to disturb you, Captain, but we’ve identified the alien ship.” The voice paused. “It’s Pegasi.”