Stonerager Chronicles - Ch. 07 (Beta) (Patreon)

Stonerager Chronicles

By 2Charlie

This is a science fiction series that happens to include occasional erotic scenes. If you have not yet read previous chapters of this series, I highly recommend going back to do so before you read this chapter.

This is a Beta version and may undergo changes prior to final release.

All characters in this story are of the age of majority.

Chapter 07

Dutch was impressed at how much the Rigellians were able to accomplish in just over a week. The day after his initial meeting with the Chancellor and her staff had been the catalyst for a great deal of activities, both on the surface of Rigellia as well as in orbit.

Deciding to start this engagement by betting all-in, Dutch brought a portable data cell to the Chancellor’s Chief Director of Science and Engineering, Dresden Philson. On the data cell was information given to them by the Tao, including specs on the various upgrades to the Odyssey, information taken from the iShan’tal vessels, and from the Noraxi galleon. Philson’s excitement at the vast array of knowledge he was being given was clear and palpable, as was that of his staff.

By the end of the first hour, multiple copies of the data were made, including a centralized copy that was made available to other arms of the government for review and analysis. By the end of the first day, actionable recommendations were returned directing the best quick-turn projects that should be prioritized that would yield the most effective results.

Planetary defense was one such priority. Initial assessments all agreed that the various weapons systems of the Odyssey required a significantly greater power source than what was currently available on their current fleet of defense craft.

Instead of undertaking a massive refit of the existing arsenal of ships, the decision was made to design and deploy a defensive network of orbiting platforms capable of supporting the necessary power source to support both shielding and plasma and ion-based weapons. The building and deployment of the Quantum Particle Cannon were deprioritized pending revision of power generators, which the engineers and scientists all agreed would require additional retooling and additional study of the foundational physics behind the Odyssey’s power plant.

Parallel to the construction of the defensive satellites, the Rigellians took steps to return a mothballed portion of their ship-building facilities into service. The shipyards had long ago been hidden within Rogelia’s largest moon during the war, and major construction activities were curtailed for fear of discovery and reprisals. Now, with the advent of the Treaty of Ganymede, and humanity’s responsibilities under that treaty, it was certainly plausible that they would require starships capable of performing their duties.

Dutch and his crew kept busy during that initial week. The clones spent the better part of a day perfecting the hand-language primer for Prime, and Pheebs worked with Prime to develop a hypno-training course that could be used during sleep cycles to train Dutch literally overnight in this covert method of communication.

Dutch, meanwhile, spent time sifting through the data captured from the Noraxian galleon – a vessel designated as NRZ1152G, also named “Master’s Whip” – striving to improve strategies for future encounters with the syndicate. He’d no idea how long before a search was launched by the Noraxians to determine the fate of their ships, but he was determined to be prepared for the inevitable.

The remains of the ships were dealt with by the Rigellian Defense Forces. Not much could be learned from the scout ships and destroyers, due to the considerable damage they’d sustained during the battle. The RDF seized the galleon, and the few dozen survivors were interred – likely for interrogation or perhaps future prisoner exchange, Dutch postulated. The remains of all the vessels were jettisoned into Rigel to erase any indication of their presence along with any evidence of what had transpired.

***Cestus, Rigellian Moon, RDF Shipbuilding Facilities***

For their first ship-building efforts, it was determined that the Odyssey would serve as the template for a new class of vessel, capable of fulfilling all treaty-related obligations and restoring humanity to its role of exploring space.

Having been invited to participate in the Keel Laying Ceremony for the first new vessel, Dutch and Pheebs traveled by shuttle to the RDF shipbuilding facility on Cestus, Rigellia’s largest moon, sporting their newly-minted dress uniforms. Although both wore their personal shield generators, they’d left them deactivated and once again were unarmed.

The trip from the shuttle port to the shipyard was brief. As soon as they’d debarked from their shuttle, the two members of the Odyssey’s crew were met by an escort sent by Director Philson who led them to a waiting transport pod, which quickly and silently delivered them to the Director himself.

The Director seemed comfortably in his element, dressed in what appeared to be practical business attire beneath a lab coat – what appeared to be protective, if shined, footwear, slacks, and a button-up shirt – although modern fashion seemed to have done away with arrowed collars and neckties. Philson stood perhaps a centimeter or two shorter than Dutch, with a much slimmer physique, and appeared to be roughly similar in age, though his hair was thinning.

Dutch was very impressed at what he could see of the dock before him - a large slipway, 300 meters deep, one hundred and fifty meters wide, and another hundred and fifty meters tall. The space was crammed full of various gantries, moving booms, and mechanical armatures, and running more than half the length of the chamber was a three-dimensional image being portrayed of the skeletal framework of what would soon become the next Odyssey-class starship.

Director Philson turned to face the small gathering present to celebrate the Laying of the Keel of their first new ship in ages. “Ladies, Gentlemen, gathered associates, allow me to introduce what will become the Alliance Starship Aurora Dancer!” The crowd broke out into a smattering of applause and muted cheers.

As he and Pheebs looked on, a large circular grouping of nozzles began laying the initial foundational layer of the ship’s keel – the longest single spar of the framework, running from the bow of the vessel to the stern, a length of over two hundred fifty meters. The nozzles moved at a quick pace of about five meters per second, leaving behind a brilliant hot-white glowing stream of metal. A second set of armatures trailed immediately behind, manipulating the still-hot material to apply the fine-grained shape to the printed layer, with a third set of arms smoothly following the first two, bombarding all surfaces of the printed and shaped keel with high-energy photons, forcing the material to transition to its final, hardened state.

Dutch whistled quietly to himself, impressed at the mechanical wonder the process represented, while also amazed at the simple obviousness of the method. Multiple secondary printing rigs joined the first one, laying down various conduits and secondary systems, and the very essentials of the ship began to take shape before his eyes.

Reflecting back more than a millennium, Dutch remembered how his Odyssey had looked during her construction in orbit above the Earth. It seemed forever ago, although subjectively only a few years had passed for him. This new process was certainly faster, and he shook his head in wonder at all the changes he was observing. He stood and watched, amazed at the engineering behind it all, until Director Philson stepped up to him and cleared his throat.

As Dutch turned his attention to the Chief of Science, the man leaned in close to speak in a low, private tone of voice, “The folks in the lab think they’ve worked out the micro star reactor – they’ve got a test rig setup on an orbiting platform beyond the orbit of the Rigel Six’s moon, along with a newly built Quantum Particle Cannon. Would you like to come with me to observe the first test of the reactor and the weapon?”

“I’ve got a better idea, Director,” Dutch countered. “How about instead we shuttle back to the Odyssey and observe the test from her bridge? I can drop you off for your next meeting afterward, and you get a quick tour of the ship in the meantime.”

“That would be acceptable,” the Director responded pensively, “so long as you would be open to extending the invitation to include Fleet Admiral Cathrice Bearing. I’m told she wants to speak with you regarding a few matters of importance about her new fleet academy.”

“Of course,” Dutch consented, “the more, the merrier. Is the Admiral nearby, or must we swing past Rigellia to pick her up?”

The Director checked his small data pad before replying, “It looks like her shuttle has just docked at this station. She will meet us at your shuttle, Captain.”

****

“As I was saying, Captain,” the older woman continued, as the four of them stepped onto the bridge of the Odyssey, “the new Odyssey class starships, fully crewed, will be expected to hold a compliment of fifty officers and crew, including a detachment of Alliance Marines.”

The woman physically appeared to be perhaps a decade senior to Dutch, though she clearly kept herself in good physical shape. Her hair was dark, though streaked with silver, and she possessed an athletic build, though just a tad top-heavy. Her uniform seemed influenced somewhat by the maritime uniforms of the past. Navy blue trousers with gold piping on the seams, polished black footwear, a white blouse beneath a navy blue jacket, brass buttons on the jacket, rank insignia on shoulder boards, and something that resembled ribbons completing the package.

“Admiral, how do you envision the role of the Marine detachment aboard a starship?” Dutch wanted to know. “Will they be there strictly to serve a kinetic role, or will they rotate into the watch bill along with regular crew watch standers?”

“Excellent question,” she beamed, looking as if she truly relished the topic. “Of course, we shall reserve the right to get smarter, but I would think that the Marines’ skill sets would naturally lend themselves to certain watch posts, such as weapons control, ships’ security detail, perhaps even supplementing the ship’s medical staff, given that combat medics will be included in their detachment.”

Dutch nodded as he mulled this news over. His original mission began as a test flight, and he’d always wanted follow-up missions to be scientific explorations in nature. But, events forced him to yield to reason, and he knew that humanity’s very presence beyond their isolated pockets of survival was likely to face many challenges until the Treaty became better established as the ‘new normal’. The presence of armed and trained combatants aboard his own vessel would have been useful on at least two occasions in his own recent experience, and they would likely become more essential, not less, in the coming months or years.

Watching the thoughts play across his features, the Admiral guessed some of what Dutch was contemplating. “Of course,” she hypothesized, “it might be a good idea for the Odyssey to rotate through the yards for refit sometime soon, once she’s not shouldering such a huge burden by herself.”

The Admiral walked around the back of the bridge, inspecting the stations and control surface while considering her next thoughts with care. “It’s amazing what the Tao station did for you and your vessel, Captain, but there’re still a few opportunities that we could explore to make some improvements, not to mention revisiting crew quarters and additional service stations that the Tao did not consider, but that a human crew will require for long-term service away from home. It wouldn’t take us very long to bring Odyssey in line with what the other ships will be fit with from day one.”

“I appreciate your offer, Admiral,” Dutch acknowledged after a brief pause. “I’d like to take some time to consider my options, given the somewhat uniqueness of our situation.”

“How do you mean?” Director Philson asked, breaking his silent observation of their conversation. “What concerns you about ‘our situation’, exactly?” the man asked with sudden interest.

Dutch drew in a breath as he carefully considered his response, but the Admiral beat him to the punch. “He means his and his crew’s situation,” she replied knowingly, having already considered his predicament. “And frankly, his ship’s situation.”

The Director looked confused by her response, turning to Dutch for an explanation. “What does she mean, ‘situation’? What situation?”

Dutch nodded to the Admiral, acknowledging her astute assessment. “What she means, Director, is that I am not a Rigellian officer, nor are any among my crew, and this vessel is not a Rigellian ship.”

Philson shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the issue. “That’s an easy problem to solve,” he began, but Dutch cut him off.

“With respect, sir, it’s not as simple as you might surmise,” Dutch pointed out with calm assertiveness. “My ship is not allied with any of the Terran colonies, and in fact, is not even of Terran origin, having been originally built prior to the existence of the Terran Empire. For the present, I believe it is important for me to maintain that separation. No offense, but I believe it to be to all of our advantages, at least for the present, for me and my ship to remain unaligned with any specific colony of the old Terran Empire. My neutrality – for the time being – lends credibility to my mission, which is to get the iShan’tal to reverse what has been a century of doctrine and accept an alliance described in a document they never knew existed. My somewhat unique position in all of this is only helpful – at least, so I believe.”

The Admiral nodded her agreement to his analysis. “That being said,” she continued, “I would still like to ask you if you, your officers, and your ship can lend us assistance in getting our fledgling fleet up to speed. No one alive today on Rigellia has the knowledge and experience you’ve managed to amass in a relatively short amount of time, and you bring a unique perspective that I believe will be of great value if shared with our future starship commanders.”

“What exactly is it that you are asking of me, Admiral?” Dutch asked the woman cagily. He could guess that she needed someone to train her crew on the capabilities of the ship design and its systems, given that he and his crew were very familiar with them, but he wanted her to specify her request out loud.

The older woman was no fool, but she understood his position. She intuited that this Captain strongly desired to maintain his independence while, at the same time, he cultivated allies. However, she also needed someone with his level of experience, his unique gift for impartially assessing situations, to help her put into service a line of seasoned commanders in what could quickly evolve into a shooting war - something for which her officers were woefully unprepared.

“Captain, I need to get my new batch of officers trained up on what this ship – the class which they will soon command – can do. I need them trained by someone with your level of experience. Hell,” she swept her arms out wildly, “in a perfect world, you’d get them soaked in a horrible conflict, show them how to prevail in the face of terrible odds, and get them prepared to do the same on their own next time.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked her with a wry grin on his face.

“That should suffice, really,” she assured him, looking contrite in spite of the boldness of her request.

“Captain,” D’narius interrupted from the command chair. “Zed Station has communicated that they will be ready to test the new Quantum Particle Cannon in two minutes. They’ve brought the new reactor online, and it has achieved self-sustaining criticality. They are completing final system checks prior to test-firing the weapon.”

Dutch turned to Director Philson and asked, “What will they be using as a target?”

Philson grinned. He’d been looking forward to this question. “We towed that Noraxian galleon out about ten thousand kilometers from here and left her adrift. We intend to see what sort of damage we can do to that vessel, even though she’s unmanned, unpowered, and unshielded.”

Dutch thought for a moment, then turned to Pheebs. “Have you been able to perform a post-battle assessment of the damage we did to that ship?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” she replied confidently. She’d completed a full assessment of the damage they’d done while he’d been down on Rigellia with Alisia. “Do you want a breakdown of the damage by weapon type, or were you looking for something else?”

“Actually,” he corrected with a slight look of speculation in his eyes, “I was wondering whether or not their shields could be restored. I know we tore them down pretty quickly, but I wanted to assess whether or not the new cannon packs the same punch as ours.”

Pausing for a moment to consult her pad, she did some rapid mental calculations before responding. “I believe we could effectively restore the ship’s defensive shields with a minimal effort, but we’d need to take a few droids to assist if we want to get the work done in short order.”

“Define ‘short order’,” he asked her to clarify.

“I would estimate no more than twenty minutes to effect the repairs,” she replied unflinchingly.

Turning to Philson, Dutch asked the man, “What do you think, Director? Would your team like to test their cannon on a shielded target, just to make it a touch more realistic as far as challenges go?”

The Chief of Science considered the matter for a moment, then brought out his pad to open a communications channel with the weapon test team. Upon informing them of the plan and instructing them to hold their fire until further instructions were given, he closed the communications channel and replied to Dutch, “I think that would be a very desirable test, indeed, Captain.”

“Pheebs, assemble your team,” he instructed his first mate. “Do you need more than just the droids?”

“I’d like to take one of the triplets with me, if you don’t mind, Captain,” Pheebs replied after a moment’s consideration.

“Very well. Lieutenant Jjan’tira, please accompany Commander Pheebs on the away mission,” he turned to look at the other two clones. “Commander Alisia, please take the Operations station to monitor our evolving situation. Commander D’narius, please take the Conn.” He grinned before sharing the final piece, “I’ll take the helm. I’d recommend we pull alongside that beast and allow our team to transfer to her directly via the starboard access portal.”

Taking his old seat at the flight controls, he grinned to himself – he missed flying the ship, and was happy to take whatever opportunity came along.

D’narius turned to the two guests, “Director, please feel free to take a seat over there at the Science station,” she suggested to the man, pointing to the seat. “Admiral, if you’d like, you can take the seat just left of the Captain for a much better view. Helm, bring us alongside that wreck – position our starboard docking collar at their boarding hatch.”

Cracking his knuckles, Dutch swept his hands across the controls with a flourish, dipping the ship suddenly to starboard as he healed her over and quickly closed the distance to the target ship, slowing the Odyssey just before what looked to be an inevitable collision, before efficiently sidling his vessel alongside the Noraxian galleon, only a few meters separating the two ships. Checking his screens, he confirmed his position before reporting, “We are alongside the target vessel,” making sure to bring up the view on the main screen before asking, “Shall I close the distance to zero, ma’am?”

“Bring us alongside and establish a seal, helm,” D’narius ordered as if she’d done so a hundred times before.

Dutch’s fingers danced across the controls as the main screen showed the gap between the two ships close until it was gone, with a slight thud sounding off in the distance as he established a hard seal via the docking portal. “Docking seal established, ma’am,” he reported, keeping his eyes on his controls.

D’narius activated the 1MC by stabbing a button on the arm of her command chair, and called out across the ship-wide intercom, “Away team, you are clear to proceed. Maintain contact throughout your mission.”

“Acknowledged,” Pheebs responded over the speakers. “Away team is boarding the galleon… now.”

On the main view screen, they could see Pheebs and Jjan’tira going through the portal, wearing their new encounter suits and carrying tool kits, followed by a pair of security droids armed with rifles. The team turned right along the first passageway they encountered and hurried for several dozen meters before entering what appeared to be an auxiliary engineering space.

“So, those Marines I mentioned would provide the physical security on such missions instead of using droids,” the Admiral noted as they observed the away team from the bridge of the Odyssey.

Dutch nodded quietly, weighing the tradeoffs such a situation would offer. He’d enjoy having trained humans as they were much more adaptable in highly volatile situations. However, it was much easier to replace a damaged or destroyed droid via the synthesizer than it was to replace a dead or maimed Marine.

In less than five minutes, the away team packed their tools and retraced their steps to the boarding portal. In short order, they were back aboard the Odyssey, the hatches between both vessels were sealed, and Dutch was moving his ship away, returning to their previous observation position. Pheebs and Jjan’tira got changed out of their encounter suits and returned to the bridge, and the crew resumed their previous watch stations, with Dutch rejoining his two guests toward the back of the bridge.

Alisia, from her station at Operations, turned to address Dutch. “The shields are raised and at full charge aboard the galleon, sir.”

Nodding at her, he turned to Director Philson. “You may resume your test now, sir. Let’s see how the cannon does against a shielded adversary.”

Philson opened a comm channel via his pad and informed the test crew all was ready for them to conduct their test. Leaving the channel open, he turned to watch on the main screen along with the rest of the crew of the Odyssey as they listened to the test team count down to zero. When their countdown finished, the cannon belched forth a quick pair of energy bursts which quickly covered the distance to the target galleon, the first visibly dissipating across the surface of the shields, before the second penetrated the shields and punched a sizeable hole through the hull. However, the damage was not sufficient to destroy the ship, and after a few moments, the shields once again formed up, the gap closing once more.

“That was a fairly representative result,” Dutch assessed, looking at the energy output readings and checking against the shield level indications. “When we originally took out their bridge, I’d grappled them via a tractor beam and held them still while I pounded them with about ten shots from our cannons. The shields absorbed maybe the first two shots, then the rest did massive damage.”

“Interesting,” the Director noted. “So, depending on the desired outcome, we either need to factor in more shots, or be satisfied that we’ve only damaged our opponent, which may be sufficient, depending on the situation.”

“I agree,” Dutch commented. “I’d actually reserved using those weapons previously, as I was uncertain of the level of damage within their capability.” He grimaced slightly before continuing, “But, I’d decided from the start that I intended to destroy the Noraxi, so I didn’t hold back. Hell, the missiles I used against their engines were pretty fucking devastating as well.”

“Yes, I recall reading that in your after-action assessment,” Philson commented, tapping once again on his pad. “Quite the devastating warheads you improvised. Firing sub-atomic particles, each having a nano-angstrom of mass while traveling at four times the speed of light did some amazing damage, there’s no doubt about it.”

On the main screen, the cannon shot four balls of tightly cohesive energy in rapid succession toward the galleon, and this time, the end result was satisfactory. The shields failed after the first hit, and the three subsequent hits caused massive destruction throughout the hulk, leaving it so damaged that the shields never returned.

One final instruction tapped on the pad, and the cannon entered into a series of rapid two-shot bursts. After the fifth such emission, the galleon disappeared in a ball of fiery destruction, and the cannon ceased firing.

Alisia opened a new window on the main view screen, showing the power output readings from the test reactor. During the rapid fire test, it never crossed ten percent utilization. After reviewing the readings, she turned to Dutch and the Director, offering her assessment. “I would estimate that your test was not only successful, but your reactor is of sufficient capacity to power additional weapons while also supporting active shielding to protect this platform.”

“Your assessment agrees with that of my team, Commander. I believe we have a viable solution, and we will likely look to deploy similar defensive platforms throughout this system.”

The Director made another entry on his pad before returning his attention to his fellow observers. “This concludes our test for today, Captain, and I believe it reassures our team of shipbuilders that we have successfully addressed the reactor design issue. I am prepared to return to the shipyard when you are ready, Captain.”

Dutch was just about to order the helm to take them back to the shipyards when Alisia called out from her station at OPS, “Captain, I am tracking two vessels entering the system. Looks like our long-range sensors picked them up as they transited the outer edge of Rigellian space. They appear to be on a parabolic heading that will take them close to Rigellia.”

“Engage our Stealth Screens,” Dutch barked out rapidly. “Raise shields, bring our weapons online, and put us on an intercept course.”

The ambient light on the bridge quickly shifted to blue, and the starfield swung wildly across the viewscreens as the ship healed over and reversed her heading, speeding away from the moon of Rigel Six and heading toward the intruding craft.

“I can now make out that the intruders are a pair of Noraxi scout craft,” Alisia reported. “I’m not able to determine their jump point, but it’s possible they traversed a jump portal beyond the range of our sensor net.”

“Sir, these craft do not possess jump engines,” Pheebs advised as she consulted her pad from the command chair. “It is likely that they were brought here by at least one larger craft. Based on our previous encounter, we should continue scanning the edge of the system, as I suspect that at least one Noraxi destroyer has brought them this far.”

“Prime, are our jamming drones still active or available?” Dutch asked the ship’s AI.

After the briefest of pauses, Prime acknowledged, “Affirmative. All jamming drones remain active but will need to be revectored to the planned area of engagement.”

“Put them in the orbital corridor between Rigel Six and Rigel Five,” Dutch ordered the AI. “Launch additional jamming drones and place them back along the path these scouts took during their approach. I’d anticipate that any additional ships will follow that same approach vector.”

A series of beeps confirmed the launch of the additional jamming drones.

“Alisia, get me an open channel to the Rigellian Defense Force,” he directed his Operations Officer. “I need to apprise them of the situation.”

Admiral Bearing and Director Philson wisely remained silent, content to observe the activities unfolding before them and not distract the ship’s captain and crew.

“I’ve got Major Thorne on the line, sir,” Alisia informed him.

“Major Thorne, Stoenager here aboard the Odyssey. We are tracking two Noraxi scouts inbound – it looks like they are on a reconnaissance run. I am trailing them in Stealth Mode. I recommend you keep your new defense satellites offline for the moment – scramble your interceptors if they get too close. Otherwise, I recommend you let them pass by. I believe they may be searching for their missing raiding fleet, and if they cannot find any trace of them, I’d rather we not alert them to any of your new defenses.”

“So, Captain, you’d rather we do nothing?” Thorne sounded incredulous in his response.

“Thorne, I’d rather they discover nothing useful, rather than potentially alert an adversary to your new defense capabilities,” Dutch explained with a slight growl in his tone. “At this point, it’s only two scout craft. They didn’t get out here by themselves, and I’d rather they not be able to report anything useful if they manage to leave without forcing me to destroy them.”

Turning to face the two quiet observers, Dutch explained his line of reasoning to them quickly. “If these scouts had arrived earlier and seen our weapons test, or detected the remains of the galleon, I think we’d be facing a more aggressive and hostile response force. This strikes me as a probe, searching for ships whose whereabouts are unknown, as we’d prevented the previous raiders from communicating their situation. The less these scouts find, the better. There will be other raids – I’d rather they get surprised by your new defenses, rather than have intelligence as to their existence and capabilities.”

The Director nodded thoughtfully, and the Admiral voiced their agreement. “Good thinking Captain, but perhaps you should not be jamming their communications.”

Nodding, he called out to his ship’s AI again. “Prime, can you deactivate the jamming drones for now? If shit goes sideways, we can always turn them on again.”

“Jamming drones are now deactivated, Captain. For your situational awareness, I have not detected any attempted communications thus far.”

“I’d expect these scouts to maintain radio silence as part of their emissions control discipline unless they detected something of interest,” he agreed. “Let’s follow them to see what they do, but I am prepared to allow them to leave unmolested if they make no offensive moves. I’d rather their home command have no new information before they attempt their next slave raid.”

The Admiral shifted uncomfortably where she stood, but kept quiet, her face betraying her thoughts. Dutch guessed that she preferred to eliminate them but saw wisdom in his approach.

Minutes passed, until eventually, after more than an hour, the scout ships began to make their way back to the edge of the system. The Odyssey continued to shadow them stealthily, observing their every movement. As expected, beyond the outer edge of the Rigel system, a pair of destroyers lay in wait for the returning scout craft.

The tiny craft entered an open hanger bay on each of the destroyers. After taking aboard their scouts, the Noraxi destroyers slowly pivoted away from the Rigel system and established a ten thousand-kilometer separation before opening their jump portals and leaving the area.

Dutch and his crew sighed in relief. No violence was required from them at this time. Turning to Pheebs, he instructed her, “Commander, take us back to the shipyards. Maintain Stealth Screens until we are on approach to Rigel 6’s moon.”

Turning to his two guests, he went on, “Forgive me, Admiral, Director, I’ve been a terrible host. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take us where we can have a beverage and perhaps a light snack as we discuss today’s events.”

Turning, he took one final look around the bridge before leading his tiny group out through the port transfer hub, off toward the galley.

****

Dutch returned to his quarters to reflect on recent conversations and events after the Director and the Admiral departed at the shipyards. He grinned to himself as he recalled the excitement in the Director’s tome when he’d stopped mid-exit from the docking port to turn and inform him that the keel had just been laid for the vessel ‘Majestic Horizon’, and the next ship’s construction would be starting within the day, and her name would be ‘Noble Serenity’.

He approved of the names of the new class of ships. They did not communicate aggression, nor did they hint at passivity, but rather peaceful exploration. They were good names for a good mission. Now all they would need would be good crews. Good crews led by good commanders confident in the righteousness of their mission and inclined to talk before shooting.

Dutch sighed. He wasn’t sure his record exactly embodied that sentiment. But, he aspired to it. Hopefully, that meant something, at least in the grand scheme. Nevertheless, he’d allowed the Admiral to talk him into agreeing to take on a dozen fresh trainees beginning tomorrow and would begin training them on his vision of their mission.

Dutch fully expected some form of action involving the Noraxi in the near future. He hoped it would simply be another raid, rather than a reprisal attack. If he repulsed another raid, then next time it would be a reprisal. It was important that he seize the initiative before that happened – take the matter directly to the syndicate and confront them on their turf – convince them that it was in their best interests now and forever to stop predating on humans. And he desperately needed to hammer that point home. Stop. Fucking. With. Humans. Which meant that he needed to quickly expand his presence and observations to include other Terran colonies.

He needed more time, and he needed more of himself – short of that, he needed other individuals of like mind whom he could trust to act as he would, so that he could offload some of his commitments in order to begin to wrestle with others.

Eventually, he knew that he was going to have to confront the iShan’tal with the Treaty, get them to buy into it, and join the ‘Alliance’. The alternative was unacceptable. He wished he knew more about the Battle Masters – the clones did as they were told, and didn’t seem to be allowed self-awareness under the Hegemony. Alisia, D’narius, and Jjan’tira were each flourishing as part of his crew, each embracing their newfound autonomy while matriculating within their new group structure. He found them all excited at each new challenge as they rotated through the various watch stations on the bridge, and – truth be told – he looked forward to eventually having a larger crew that they could help him train and command.

His ruminations were interrupted by the hatch to his stateroom opening. He arched his eyebrow as he watched Pheebs hold the door for the others, as the three ginger clones entered first, with Pheebs closing the hatch as she entered last.

As she approached the lounge area of the quarters, Pheebs called out “Pizza Party for five, Janice, with soft drinks, please.”

The synthesizer unit, set into the bulkhead next to the lounge area, beeped an audible confirmation and set to work. A few moments later, the unit emitted a ding, and Pheebs opened the access panel and began removing several dishes and tumblers from within and set them on the table. D’narius pulled plates, utensils, and napkins from an adjacent synthesizer unit, and before long the table was set with steaming hot pizza, garlic bread, and iced cola. As soon as the food and drinks were all set out, and Pheebs and D’narius took their seats, the group dove in and began to eat.

The silence quickly became awkward, so Dutch opened up the conversation. “That was some nice work today, ladies, on all fronts,” he proclaimed, nodding to Alisia and adding, “Getting the Noraxi shields online before the test gave the Rigellians a better feel for how effective their new cannon will be, as well as reinforcing their assumptions about the reactor utilization during combat.”

“What do we know about the recruits that will be reporting aboard tomorrow?” D’narius blurted out suddenly.

Ah ha! He thought to himself. So that’s what’s on their minds!

Finishing the bite of pizza he’d taken, he washed it down with a swig of soda before clearing his throat. “Fleet Admiral Bearing has asked us to train the command crews who will be taking command of the new starships that are currently under construction. The Rigellians have no current crews who have experienced anything like what we’ve dealt with over the past few weeks. None of them have been outside of this system, ever.”

“Will they eventually become long-term members of this crew?” Jjan’tira asked with a slight edge to her voice.

“That is not in the plans, no,” Dutch replied calmly, trying to de-escalate whatever had them riled up.

“Are we going to find ourselves reporting to the Rigellian Defense Force from now on?” Alisia asked with a clear frown on her face.

“Absolutely not. In fact, I do not intend for this ship, her crew, or any of us, to be subject to the leadership of any of the former Terran colonies,” Dutch stressed to them.

“How do you plan to avoid them forcing that upon us?” Pheebs asked, finally joining the fray.

“I can’t help but harken back to old Earth history – during the age of Pirates – when independent captains were granted Letters of Mark, establishing them as independent contractors acting on behalf of one crown or another,” Dutch explained with a glint in his eye. “If we’re forced to define our role – our relationship to any or all other human colonies, that is the closest parallel I can conceive that approximates the kind of relationship I want us to have with other humans.”

“What about filling gaps in our current crew strength?” Pheebs pressed.

“I don’t have any immediate plans for that,” Dutch admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “We need to meet with more of the Terran colonies – perhaps eventually an opportunity will arise that allows us to add more to our roster.”

“How do you want us to behave toward the trainees?” Jjan’tira asked.

“What do you mean?” Dutch wondered aloud. “Aside from training them what this ship and her gifts are capable of, I have no other agenda for them.”

“I mean interpersonally,” she clarified. “When off duty. Are they off-limits, do we socialize with them, can we take them to our bed?  I’m trying to understand the boundaries.” The ginger clone explained with a certain edge in her tone.

“What would you like for them to be?” he enquired, sweeping his hands to include them all in his question. “I can only speak for myself. I have given myself to Pheebs, and I believe she has given herself to me as well. I am not interested in sharing my bed or my women with other men. However, that being said, I do not believe we have formalized our relationship as of yet, so if any of you, including Pheebs, feel the need to explore your options, then you are free to do so.”

“Will that have a negative impact on our relationship with you?” Alisia asked, and the others nodded, wondering the same thing.

“Professionally, no,” he clarified. “Personally, yes. I’m not interested in being cucked. If you wish to explore your options, you cannot do so and remain with me.” Dutch couldn’t help but scowl as he made this final point. He hadn’t set out to become a harem master, but damned if he was interested in being in an open relationship, either!

“And what about you and other females?” Pheebs pressed him.

“Hah!” he scoffed at her. “We wouldn’t have added these three ginger lovelies to our bed were it not for your instigation, you lusty, playful minx!”

Dutch closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts for a moment, feeling as if he needed to clarify his position. Opening his eyes, he looked at each of them, one at a time, before he began to articulate his position. “I haven’t made a claim on any of you, as of yet. I have been married before, back in my long-ago past, and that relationship did not work out very well. My ex-wife was as ambitious as I was, but was not interested in a long-term partnership, nor a life of adventure with me. Any woman,” he started, then changed his approach, “any of you who wish to have a life with me, to cleave to me, needs to make that clear to me. I fear that I am in a position that, were I to propose to any of you, or all of you, you might feel obligated to accept. I do not wish for any of you to feel pressured into a relationship with me.”

Steepling his fingers, Dutch sat back and waited for them to either ask more questions or whatever might come next. What he failed to anticipate was for the clones to all turn to Pheebs with their next remarks.

“Are you certain you do not possess some form of foresight?” Jjan’tira wondered aloud to the white-haired beauty.

“You did assure us that he would respond in this way,” Alisia commented offhand.

“Yes, yes, she is truly prophetic. But what do we intend to do now that he has confirmed his position? Are we all prepared to do as we discussed?” D’narius challenged the others.

“I am right here,” Dutch reminded them.

None of them so much as acknowledged him.

“So, we are agreed,” Pheebs clarified. “All of us?”

“Yes!” the three clones responded in unison.

“Agreed on what, exactly?” Dutch swallowed.

“And we’re certain?” Pheebs pressed the clones.

“Yes!” they all insisted again.

“Certain about what?” an exasperated Dutch snapped. He was totally lost as to what the hell was going on.

“Marry us!” Pheebs demanded, standing and adding a foot-stomp for emphasis.

“All of us!” Alisia added, standing as well.

“Make us yours!” Jjan’tira entreated, also rising to her feet.

“Only yours, for all time!” D’narius clarified as she joined the others.

Dutch slapped himself hard. He did not suddenly awaken. The women all just stared down at him, awaiting a response. He felt the blood drain out of his face as an irrational sense of panic tried to set it.

Suddenly, he stopped, pausing all reactionary impulses and taking a conscious survey of his physical responses. What the hell was wrong with him? He loved each and every one of these women. He’d toyed with hypothetical scenarios where he was with them, individually and collectively. Now, they were making their wishes clear – they felt the same way. These women were genuinely in love with him.

Taking a deep breath, Dutch calmed himself down, forcing his muscles through a relaxation routine, and only then, he gave careful consideration to what they were proposing – literally.

“Okay – let’s say we get married. Then what?” he asked them. “Do we go find some isolated planet in the middle of fuck-off-nowhere and settle down, start pumping out babies?”

“Why do we have to go anywhere, or settle down?” D’narius inquired, giving him a seriously sexy look.

“You mentioned you wanted to operate independently, right?” Alisia reminded him.

“We’re all equally invested in this adventure of yours, Stonerager,” Jjan’tira informed him with a fierce grin on her face, speaking for them all.

“Yeah, we’re not just along for the ride,” Pheebs quipped, getting giggles out of the others. “We’ve got a Treaty to sell!”

Dutch sat still and blinked owlishly at them for a moment, dumbstruck for what to say next.

“Well?” Pheebs prompted him. “Got nothin’ to say?”

Time slowed to a stand-still for Dutch. The slow Thump-Thump in his chest sounded like cannon fire in his skull. He glanced at each of their faces, looking at him with hopeful expectation in their eyes, and realized he needed to breathe. Shaking his head to clear it, he lifted his tumbler to take a drink, stalling for one more moment before he made his decision.

Done. Decision made.

Standing briefly from the chair he’d been sitting in, Dutch stepped out to the middle of the room and turned to face them all. Slowly, he got down on one knee, looking up to lock gazes with each of them briefly, then he slowly began, “Pheebs, Alisia, D’narius, Jjan’tira, would you marry me?”

*****

They recruited Prime to officiate the private ceremony less than twenty minutes after the women accepted Dutch’s proposal. He’d taken the time to synthesize wedding bands for each of them, having them fabricated out of titanium, with a Celtic knot pattern inscribed into each of them – Dutch half-imagined that at least three of his brides possessed a Celtic lineage, and even Pheebs, based physically on his ex-wife, Denise, was thereby part Irish, given that Dee had been part Irish. After having the titanium wedding bands made for each of his brides, as well as one for himself, he clothed himself in his formal dress uniform from earlier.

Each of the women worked with the others, or got help from Prime, with their hair and make-up, then dressed in fine gowns they’d synthesized for the occasion. Going over traditional wedding vows, they decided to keep six of the seven typical promises in their vows, leaving out the part about ‘forsaking all others’.

Dutch summoned two of two of the security droids to the bridge to act as witnesses. As soon as the brides made their way to the bridge, he stood tall and waited until they’d all lined up across from him.

Turning slightly to the main view screen, Dutch asked Prime if she would kindly do the honors. An image that resembled Pheebs appeared on the screen, and Prime began to read through the traditional wedding preamble. Dutch returned his gaze to the four women standing in front of him, and he was instantly lost in their eyes. Eventually, Pheebs nodded at him, and he realized he’d been asked to repeat after Prime.

“I, Bram Stoenager, do hereby take these women – Pheebs, Alisia, D’narius, and Jjan’tira, to have and to hold, from this day forward,” he managed to recite, “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do we part,” he finished, then placed a wedding band on each of them.

Prime then addressed the women, asking them to join Bram in those same vows, and – in unison – they recited the vows as prompted by Prime, and Pheebs placed the band on Dutch.

“Then, seeing no one here to object to this union, by the powers vested in me by the United States Space Force, and the Alliance, I now pronounce you man and wives. You may kiss the brides.”

*****

Pheebs lay atop Dutch, panting wildly until Jjan’tira’s sodden mons once again pressed against her lips. She’d decided to forgo the air-tight experience for the moment, determined to only take one of her partners into her mouth. That did not extend to her read entrance, however, as Alisia drove the strap-on cock deep into her bowels. She grunted sharply as Dutch plunged into her from below, pummeling her internals relentlessly while matching the same rhythm as Alisia. Suddenly, Pheebs seized up and let out a howl as her orgasm overtook her, and she clamped down on both cocks invading her with an irresistible grip, holding them both still for a few moments.

Eventually, her orgasm subsided, but her partners relented, pulling slowly from her orifices, as Dutch gently lay her down on the mattress beside him. Eagerly, D’narius took her place, straddling Dutch’s steel-hard shaft and impaling herself swiftly upon it before signaling to Alisia to lay on. Just as she opened her mouth to let out a deep groan of pleasure, Jjan’tira edged forward and covered D’narius’ mouth with her minge, joyfully humping her pussy into her former captain’s face.

The bouncing and thrusting began anew as the partners established e fresh pace, and D’narius reached around Jjan’tira to pull her hard against her face, plunging her tongue deeply into her sister-wife’s hot quim, lustfully drinking her juices as she tongue-lashed her clit.

Below her, Dutch reached up and grabbed her tender breasts, giving them a hard squeeze while rubbing his thumbs across her oh-so-sensitive nipples. Within moments, she howled with pleasure as her climax found her, making her stiffen as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Alisia withdrew her strap-on cock from D’narius’ backside and stepped back, removing the strap-on device before helping Dutch to lay his swooning partner aside, next to Pheebs. As soon as that was accomplished, Alisia thrust her palms against Dutch’s mighty chest to force him to lay back, and she straddled his cock as Jjan’tira settled onto his face. The two clones began kissing one another as Alisia began to ride Dutch for all he was worth, clasping and releasing at his cock with her pussy muscles as she tried to bring him to orgasm.

Before very long, she felt his hands upon her breasts and knew she was done for. As he pinched and twisted hard at her nipples, Alisia felt her pussy convulse mightily as she poured her girl-cum all over Dutch’s lap, and she went rigid, feeling her abdominal muscles convulsing as her back locked her in a rigid crunch.

Seeing her opportunity, Jjan’tira helped Alisia to lay across the others, then she hopped off of Dutch’s face and hurried to mount his still-hard cock. Setting a hard, fast pace, Jjan’tira began to bounce rapidly atop Dutch, grabbing ahold of his pectorals and gripping them hard while giving him a hard stare.

“I want a baby, Stonerager. I want you to put your baby into me! Give me your seed, my love! Ohhhh, please! Give it to me!” the young clone wailed as she bucked and bounced on his rod, driving him as deeply as possible into her channel, right up against the entrance to her unprotected womb.

Overcome with pleasure and taken by Jjan’tira’s intensity, Dutch felt his balls clench up as he spewed forth rope after rope of his cum deep within her, triggering her orgasm as she felt his potent seed splashing against her cervix. Collapsing onto his chest, she lay there, feeling him emptying his balls into her. When they both came down from their orgasmic peak, they lay together, him holding her in his mighty arms, and eventually sleep overtook them.

*****

The Odyssey pulled alongside and hard docked with the RDF’s Antares orbital station in geosynchronous orbit high above New Concordia. Fleet Admiral Bearing and an assistant were waiting just inside the docking gantry as Dutch and D’narius crossed onto the station, along with a dozen trainees awaiting the beginning of their training voyage onboard the now-famous Alliance Starship.

These were not fresh-faced midshipmen just out of some military academy. Even though Rigellia was starting up their fleet academy some 37,000 kilometers below, these dozen men and women were former RDF pilots and crew who’d previously flown interceptors but were being groomed for service aboard the new starships currently under construction in the shipyards. They were junior officers, to be sure, but not wet-behind-the-collar midshipmen.

Dutch sighed – unlike raw, green newbies, these men and women would have already formed habits that would need to be broken. Saluting the Admiral, Dutch followed her to the assembled trainees and listened as she introduced them, noting that each conveniently wore a nametag on the right breast of their flight suits. At least he wouldn’t have to try to recall their names from scratch.

Following the brief introductions, the newbies were dismissed, with instructions to muster in the briefing room in 60 minutes.

After they’d all popped to attention and departed the area, Admiral Bearing let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Angels and saints have mercy upon me. That group is not ready,” she muttered, following the last of them with half-lidded eyes. Turning to glance at Dutch, she spoke up, with forced cheer in her tone, “But that’s where you come in, Captain!”

Dutch chuckled at her discomfort, understanding her trepidation. “Admiral, I can’t promise to fix anything that’s too broken in those kids, but I can promise that they will be far more familiar with the capabilities of the Odyssey-class starship.”

“Let’s head over to the briefing room, Captain. I’ve some refreshments awaiting us there, and I’d like to go over the training itinerary with you one last time,” the Admiral suggested.

Once inside the briefing room, they each helped themselves to the refreshments carts. Along with a variety of beverages, several large bins filled with assorted cheeses and meats which – to Dutch’s surprise – were covered in a glaze that tasted very much like barbecue sauce. Sitting at the head table, with the Admiral and her aide on one side, and D’narius on his other, Dutch scarfed a few bites of the food before they began chatting in earnest.

“So, just to reaffirm your plans,” the Admiral began.

“We will conduct a mission briefing today,” Dutch continued for her, “followed by one final night of liberty, then depart tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred station time. We’ll be out for about two weeks, running them through an assortment of familiarity drills.”

“During those two weeks,” the Admiral’s aide – a young woman named Doherty with lieutenant’s bars on her collar – interjected, “we will be finalizing the training of the junior officers and crew of the first three ships via training simulators and classroom lectures.”

“By the time you finish your two-week cruise,” Bearing added, “the remaining crew will be ready to be assigned to their ships upon the return of the senior officers. And after that, time and events permitting, we’ll look at some additional fleet-level coordinated activities.

“Assuming we don’t have to deal with the Noraxi or the iShan’tal in the meantime,” Dutch muttered.

“Yes, of course,” the Admiral admitted. “Everything depends on us having the luxury of time, which I am well aware is not guaranteed.”

D’narius spoke up at that moment, adding, “Unless a iShan’tal patrol happens to be in the area while we are engaged in a battle with the Noraxi, I wouldn’t expect a visit from them. Their patrols usually limit their activities to simply ensuring the Terran Jump gates are still secured and disabled. They don’t actually enter the system to investigate the colony worlds themselves.”

“At any rate,” Dutch interrupted, “the Odyssey still has its own patrol schedule to resume. I respectfully remind the Admiral that I intend to continue to contact the other human colonies. I need to evaluate where they are societally, in order to determine whether or not further contact and broadened relations is warranted.”

“I understand, Captain,” Bearing assured him, “I was merely hopeful that you would be open to continued cooperation with us.”

“I most certainly am, Admiral,” Dutch reassured her, “but I need to continue to reach out to the other colonies in order to better prepare us all for what may happen once we are forced to deal with the Noraxi – don’t forget, they have previously raided other human worlds in the past, and are free to continue to do so unless and until we deal with them decisively. And, I strongly suspect that, upon doing so, we will have tipped our hand to the iShan’tal, so we will need to be prepared for that phase of this whole venture, which is why you need to keep pumping out more starships, and I need to continue to vet potential allies and re-establish communications between us all.”

“Agreed,” Bearing nodded reluctantly. “Is that why you intend to visit the Horseman System next?”

“Correct,” he confirmed. “It is my hope that the big brains reputed to be there will have some means of real-time, or near real-time communication that we can bring back here, as well as spread to the other colonies that we add to the Alliance.”

“I assume you plan to have them make ships as well?” Bearing posited.

“I didn’t force you to, but I gave you the information needed to do so. I figure I’ll do the same for them, assuming I trust them sufficiently,” he responded cautiously, “and we’ll see if they have the means and desire to do as you have done.”

Dutch let out a heavy sigh, sitting back for a moment as he considered how candid he was willing to be with these new allies. Fuck it, he thought to himself. I can’t do this alone, and I don’t really want to try.

“It really comes down to this. The Odyssey is just one ship. Alone, I can kick over ant hills, but I don’t really think I can make the difference I… no… we need to make. We need to stop the Syndicate, we need to keep the iShan’tal from ramping up for round two of Operation Annihilate Humanity, and we need to make sure we can all get on the same page, legally, if not morally,” Dutch confessed to the Admiral. “For us to be able to do all of that, we’re going to not only need to re-arm, and re-enable interstellar travel, but we need to be able to communicate in order to collaborate. And I don’t really mean some sort of sci-fi pony express – we need live communications – ship-to-ship, system-to-system, and everything in between.”

“I agree, so what are you proposing?” the Admiral pondered.

“I don’t really want to have to square off against the iShan’tal – hell, maybe not even the Noraxi Syndicate – before we can make sure we’re not playing a game of galactic whack-a-mole,” Dutch explained.

“I’m sorry. Galactic what now?” Bearing questioned, a skeptical look on her face.

“Whack-a-mole. Never mind, it’s an old Earth saying,” he brushed her unfamiliarity with the phrase aside. “What I don’t want to happen is for us to be busy in one system, while our enemies are doing bad things in another system,” Dutch tried to explain, a look of anxiety crossing his features. “At least once you guys get your starship program on track, you’ll have your own defenses to stand a better chance against future Syndicate raids if I’m not here.”

The Admiral looked like she wanted to further pursue the matter, but the doors to the briefing room burst open just then, and the trainees filed quickly into the room, data pads in hand as they took seats around the room, looking expectantly at the Admiral and Dutch.

Well, Dutch thought to himself as he strode toward the podium, time to take these kids to school.

*****

Aboard the Odyssey, Pheebs was running down the checklist, making sure to address all that Dutch had requested they take care of while moored to the station. Along with Jjan’tira and Alisia, she’d spent the better half of the morning getting quarters set up for the trainees. She’d planned to assign them berthing partners, so that a pair of trainees would be assigned to each stateroom. There were sufficient unassigned rooms in the lower section of the forward hull, so she’d decided to make that part of the ship newbie-land.

It took until almost mid-afternoon to get all the arrangements finalized, including programming uniform patterns for the trainees into the synthesizers, so that each of the new trainees could be assigned a functional wardrobe appropriate for their role, as well as for them to wear while serving aboard the Odyssey. She didn’t doubt that each would take the initiative to create a unique style in some way for their own command, once they accepted their future duty assignments. For now, she simply wanted to show them the art of the possible.

At lunch, the three women who’d remained aboard the Odyssey gathered in the galley to eat and compare notes on their progress before discussing their next assignments.

Alisia blew on her dish of pasta to cool it a bit before sampling a bite, smiling in satisfaction at the flavor. After swallowing, she jabbed her fork in the air while reporting, “I’ve completed programming the acclimation routine that will introduce each of the trainees to the basic functionality of everything aboard, ranging from the cleansing unit in their stateroom to the operation of the shuttle craft. The pads that we will be issuing them will serve as an interface to the routine, as well as a progress tracker,” she explained. “The program will not only let them see their progress, but also keep us informed of what they have learned, and what additional topics drew their attention, as well as which ones they skipped over.”

Pheebs nodded in comprehension, speculating, “that should help us to determine their aptitude for various roles, which could prove useful in determining where they should begin their journey once aboard their designated ships.”

“Exactly my thinking,” Alisia concurred.

“I’ve completed the fitness center,” Jjan’tira volunteered next. “The health monitoring systems embedded in their uniforms will continuously transmit health information telemetry to the ship’s medical systems, and the various exercise stations in the fitness center will recalibrate dynamically to ensure the trainees are being optimally challenged by each form of exercise they engage in while doing their daily exercise routines.”

“I’m looking forward to giving those systems a try myself!” Alisia admitted. “I’m starting to feel a bit out of shape, and life aboard a relatively small starship can leave one’s muscles attenuated if care is not taken to maintain good strength and flexibility.”

The other two women nodded, each of them consciously aware that their health and personal fitness, as well as Dutch’s, would benefit from the system Jjan’tira described.

“After lunch,” Pheebs continued, pivoting to the next topic, “I plan to put together an initial duty roster, breaking the trainees into three teams of four, so each group can rotate through a standard eight-hour watch rotation. Each team of four will be able to rotate through the primary watch stations on the bridge, while one of us will be assigned as the ‘Duty Officer’, essentially commanding the ship and supervising the trainees as they go through their learning exercises.”

Jjan’tira poked thoughtfully at her food, before pointing out, “With four trainees per team, we’ll be able to run the ship around the clock for the first time, which means we’ll have to alter our shifts as well, so that at least one regular crew be in charge of each watch team.”

“That’s true,” Pheebs agreed, nodding as she considered the matter further. “How would you propose we approach that scenario, Jjan?”

Pausing to think it through, the young clone hesitated before responding. “Well, we could statically assign one of us to each group, or rotate through at a different cadence, which would provide multiple benefits…”

Alisia nodded in agreement, already guessing where this was going. “It would expose each team to multiple perspectives and approaches to training,” she began, “while allowing us to rotate through who gets to sleep with our husband at any given time,” she finished with a satisfied grin.

“Excellent thinking! I’ll see what I can do to work in a retrograde rotation for us, while giving Dutch the freedom to choose what schedule he wants to keep,” Pheebs divulged, then paused in contemplation before continuing, “Knowing him, though, I won’t be surprised if he tries to pick an odd schedule of his own to be able to interact with each of the crews at some point.”

The other two women nodded their agreement at this last point.

Pheebs finished her lunch, then paused to look at the other two women. “So, while I am putting together the training roster, and working with Prime to develop an overall training plan, what did you two have planned for this afternoon?”

“I’m going to put together a combination briefing room and theater,” Jjan’tira imparted. “I figure mission briefings would be better delivered in a room fit for such a purpose, rather than the galley – which is the only room capable of seating many people right now,” she pointed out, before adding with a grin, “and I was thinking the same room could be used to watch some of those old-time shows Dutch goes on and on about.”

Alisia stirred her spoon in her tea for a moment before she replied. “I’ve been giving some thought to a smaller shuttle pod – something meant for short-distance, ship-to-ship transportation. We flew something like that back aboard the Celestial Rage 199 when I was still a combat pilot, and I think it would prove very useful to have one aboard the Odyssey.”

Pheebs nodded her head in agreement. “I like it. I’m pretty sure Prime can spare some cycles if you need her help to work up a simulation to test out your designs.”

“Thanks,” the oldest of the clones responded. “I’ll let you know how it goes later on.”

“Okay,” Pheebs added as she cleaned up the last of her lunch dishes. “Don’t forget – we get to go aboard the station this evening for a few hours of R-and-R, so knock off around sixteen thirty so you can shower and get changed. Dutch has promised to take us all somewhere on the station for a nice meal, and I hear they have a market with many different vendors, so make sure you’re in comfortable walking shoes.”

*****

The ladies of the Odyssey went to great lengths to look their best for Dutch. D’narius returned to the ship by sixteen hundred, and along with the others, went to great lengths to look her best. Each of the women did their hair up differently, and the three clones went so far as to add colored highlights to their hair to differentiate themselves from one another. Jjan’tira added bright golden streaks to her hair while drawing it up into a high ponytail.  Alisia blended broad swaths of silvery-white into her hair, gathering it up in a side part sweeping over her left shoulder. D’narius left her hair its natural coppery hue, opting to tease it up so it fell in ringlets around her bangs. Pheebs pushed her boundaries considerably by closely trimming the hair on the sides of her head, and then putting the rest up into a Mohawk Braid.

All four women selected elegant eveningwear, at least based on what passed for current fashion on Rigellia. After conducting some research on popular entertainment broadcasts, as well as searching the local multiwebs, Pheebs identified what appeared to be several appropriate ensembles from which to choose, and the four women made selections that appeared to offer a combination of attractiveness and simple functionality. They consciously avoided narrow skirts, long trains, or high heels that would make movement difficult or uncomfortable, opting for somewhat more practical attire.

In the end, after applying makeup, and donning jewelry, clothing, and shoes fresh from the synthesizer, the four women joined their waiting husband on the quarterdeck, which was just below, aft, and starboard of the flight deck, and connected to the docking tunnel.

Dutch opted for a simple, conservative suit, unadorned by standards of Old Earth, possessing no collar on the shirt or the jacket, no lapels, no breast pockets, and no buttons. Bland in comparison, though certainly simple and comfortable enough. The trousers were pleated but uncuffed, and beltless. The trousers and shirt used micro-hook-and-loop style fasteners to hold them shut but parted noiselessly and with little effort when opened. The socks were smooth and soft, yet heavily padded, providing soft cushioning when walking. Everything was black, including the shirt, making him a singularly imposing figure to behold, with his only jewelry being his titanium wedding band.

As each of his wives approached him, Dutch whistled in appreciation, overawed by their beauty, and impressed by the outcomes of their efforts. One by one, he took each of them by the hand and kissed them modestly so as to not disturb their makeup. After gathering, they all went single-file across the boarding bridge to the station and headed out for an evening of dining, entertainment, and shopping.

The Stoneragers intended to enjoy their evening in port, for tomorrow, the training would begin.

*****