Chapter 2: Debriefed

Debriefing took place in a modified auto-doc, a medical center in a drum. I didn't know how long I was in debrief until someone told me. It could have been just fifteen minutes. I could have been in there fifteen days. While in the auto-doc all restraint, all internal censorship is removed. Does it all come out as babble, which must be filtered and processed for sense to emerge? They had my report to compare against the stuff produced by deep interrogation. Unfortunately for me, auto-doc debriefing left me with a drug-induced hangover. I was going to be non-functioning for hours. Hopefully I could sleep it off.

Bright light flooded me and gentle hands pulled me from the auto-doc. They helped me to my feet and guided me to a couch. I smelled apples. Cider, warm. It helped the nausea but the vertigo remained. At the moment I had trouble remembering which names I was supposed to use. Three questions used by gropos to determine if a casualty is still switched on and recording: what is your name, where are you and what is the current date time group? Out of luck. I guessed that we might be in jump space—just a guess, and it allowed me to claim that we were nowhere. As I said, I could have been in the auto-doc for fifteen minutes or fifteen days. My name. I have a name.

"Finished coming up with excuses?" someone said. I managed to peek through one eye at the speaker. Bald. Flat chest. Brown eyes. Nobody I remembered.

"Yes, sir," I slurred. "Excuses off, sir."

"I'm a woman," she said. "Medical Technician Wright."

I thought that the name was appropriate—if I was injured or ill, MT Wright would make it right.

"Stop with the jokes," Wright said gently. Did I vocalize? "Stop thinking so loudly. It hurts your head. Sip your cider."

Cider Zheeyad, I presumed. The effects of the auto-doc deep interrogation were still with me. I'd have to be careful. At the moment I was quite helpless. Any enemy could get me to make damning utterances that would at the very least end my career—and could result in conviction for treason and execution. Never mind that my medical records had a warning that deep interrogation had a severely negative effect on me—that's not how political warriors won their turf wars. I drained my cup, set it down, closed my eyes...

"Is he awake, yet?" another voice asked.

"I'm so sorry, Manny," this voice was familiar, if only I could place it. "I need him. I love you, Manny, but I need him."

"Part of slave conditioning," Wright observed. "Ashley was partially bonded to this man. We can complete the process or you can watch Ashley waste away."

"Please," the familiar voice implored. "He will be good for us."

I opened my eyes and stared at the source of the familiar voice. She was blonde, about a meter and a half tall, estimated mass forty-five kilos, eye color: blue. She wasn't really my type—her breasts were huge on her short, petite frame. At the moment I didn't want to hurt the poor creature. Ashley? Her name was Ashley? My penis stood to attention and all but saluted. Funny, I used to be a furry fellow, but my skin was smooth and hairless at the moment. Ashley—it was coming back to me. Concubine Yums. Her skin was also hairless except for eyebrows, eye lashes and her long, blonde hair. Why was she so appealing at the moment? Why was I drawn to her? Why was I questioning a good thing?

Ashley was a good thing. Scratch that—she was a good woman. The most desirable woman in the galaxy. My nausea and vertigo were still with me but I was too full of Ashley to notice them. I looked into Ashley's eyes and my head swam. The rest of the universe went away. We kissed. I was a rutting animal, kissing and licking and sucking her lips, her neck, her breasts. We were copulating on the floor in full view of the rest of the crew. A part of me noticed that there were four of them. They were not important. They were not a threat I had to defend against. I wasn't seeing them, not really, just noticing their presence. One woman fled, weeping, and another woman followed the weeper. I didn't have anything left to follow them because Ashley filled me as I filled her. I was close enough to marvel at how large and firm Ashley's breasts were. How perfectly the petals of her labia framed her vaginal opening. Ashley's scent intoxicated me. She was eager to envelope me in her arms, her legs, her hungry cunt. We merged physically and emotionally—and we merged on deeper levels.

I discovered the 'fireworks' some writers described during passionate intercourse.

When I woke, Wright helped me to my feet and to the cleansing station. She had to help me bathe because I was exhausted. Gradually I noted that she was also naked.

"Yes," Wright answered my unasked question. "I'm naked. This is the normal shipboard uniform—skin only. You'll get used to it."

And a few minutes later I was sitting at the dining table being served breakfast by Constance Cormorant, ship's steward. I learned that the rest of the crew was Captain Manchester and Engineer Solace Harmon. There were two couples—the engineer and the steward were one, and Captain Manchester and Navigator Ashley Londoner were the other. No wonder "Manny" fled in tears! Kelsey Wright was 'unattached' at the moment.