Thursday, September 22, 2011


by Gil James Bavel

Mission Day 648: 02:40 hours
Ganymede Base mining station
First Shift

After loading in the cargo and putting it away, the crew refueled their shuttle from the hydrogen tanks and brought the waste out to the loading bay. Space Corps regulations were very strict: you leave nothing but footprints and shoot the waste into the sun on your way back to Earth. Space junk got so thick in the mid-22nd century that after an expensive and monumental effort to collect it from Earth orbit, it was decided that any waste that couldn’t be recycled in space would be added to the mass of the sun. All future missions observed this protocol on pain of discharge from the Corps. Even radioactive waste had been disposed of this way.

The station and shuttle crews had long since had dinner, and retired to their small but cozy quarters for the night. It was quiet in Ganymede station. The only thing the crew could hear was the sound of the ventilation fans breathing fresh, warm atmosphere into their quarters. The walls inside the installation were unfortunately stark white. There weren’t a lot of décor options due to weight and radiation shielding considerations.

John Biggs and Sondra Lawton were shacked up together in his quarters. They were spartan, as all company quarters were; clean, confined and boring. Biggs was an athletic mulatto, medium tall with close-cropped hair and young looking for his age of thirty-six. He was undressed save for his boxers and was playing with her hair while she kissed him. His rack was a plastic bunk bed, with an identical empty copy stacked on top.

They were in the bottom rack, which he’d outfitted against regulation with an extra mattress from the top bunk, even though in this gravity he didn’t need it. In fact, to have sexual congress in one-seventh G, straps had to be engaged, like any other form of physical exercise. But they weren’t quite there yet. The covers had been kicked off onto the plain white plastic floor.

Lawton was on top of Biggs, placing small, familiar kisses on his neck. “Hey, girl, we’ve got all night,” Biggs said, lifting her up to get a look at her. “You in some kind of hurry?”

She smiled and gave him a little slap. “I do want to get some sleep tonight. I just spent thirty-six hours dragging your damn radio here and taking out the trash! Twenty-four hours crammed in that shuttle with the Captain and another twelve powering down after unloading cargo. Now, are you going to do me, or do I have to beg?” Lawton’s long, brown legs nestled around Biggs, trying to find purchase.

Biggs felt playful. “So we’re getting serious now, huh?” he said, sitting up. He was going to make her work for it. “Talk about a long distance relationship!” He laughed.

“Ugh,” Lawton replied, falling on top of him. One hand on his chest, she grabbed his wrist and said “This is just casual sex. I’m dating a miner on Ganymede? Who I see once a week? Hey, it’s my job. You’re just a fringe benefit, and don’t you forget it, mister.”

Biggs pretended to be hurt. “What, you got some other beau now?” He twisted his wrist out of her hand and grabbed hers. “And I’m a mining engineer, not a miner, don’t forget.”

“No, I just like to keep my options open,” she said, falling on him again and breaking his hold. She moved her free hand down to his waist and presented him with a pouty look. “You’re not angry with me...are you, Doctor?”

“Oh, a lot of options for a gal that runs supplies in the outer system...” Biggs let her remove his boxers. He was evidently quite ready for her. She pressed him into her, slowly, and with both hands, grabbed his butt and locked him in for a very long moment. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Biggs made a small sound of satisfaction, then whispered into her ear. “Look, I’d get you transferred out here if you were qualified. You know I want to see you more than once a week”.

Lawton slowly began to twirl, up and down, back and forth. In between passionate kisses, she said, “John, I’d never work out here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“What dangerous? You mean the micrometeoroids? We’ve never suffered any casualties because of them. Pieces get damaged, you bring us new ones. That’s the job.” Biggs pulled straps out from under the bed with both hands and prepared to hook them around the small of Lawton’s back. “God, you’re beautiful.” He could smell the sweat coming off her body tinged with the light essential-oil scent she was wearing.

She arched her tummy toward him and allowed him to cinch them together. “Look, I’m a flygirl, I’m in the Corps. This is as good as it’s going to get for us right now. I’m on a forty-two month commitment and on track to make officer, if I stay in for the long haul. This is a good career for me.” She continued slowly screwing him, one hand on each side of the rack. “Besides, I love flying”.

John Biggs was evidently lost in her. He had stopped talking and was enjoying the feeling of her breasts moving up and down against his well-defined chest. “Lights” he whispered, and the computer dutifully dimmed them out. The two continued making love much longer into the night than either of them had expected.

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for Part V

1 comment:

  1. Thanks! I love the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction! Is it free and always will be? Par Excellence!


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