Chapter 2: Indian Spring

Is the secret of happiness, being ignored? Left alone, in peace, to work out your own fate, at your own pace, on destinies spinning potter’s wheel, the revolutions counted as a lifetime of unique days?

A small motor launch with an armed crew, is headed toward us from the sub.

“Sybil honey? Can you shape shift to something menacing? If it becomes necessary?”

“Bebe? Please contact Ava and ask her to stand by, in case we need her appearance in work clothes. You judge if, when to call her assistance.”

“The crew is all women, calm yourselves,” Lou informs us. “Only You might be raped, boss!” Lou chortles.

“Lou? I need you to defend us, if it’s SHTF. Yeah, I can’t ask you to be violent, but you can be intimidating! What they don’t know, works in our favor. You don’t volunteer this information! They don’t know I can’t have you murder people at my behest! Keep them ignorant!”

“Both eyes wide open and alert, everyone!”

“I am only seeing the world through a button hole.” complains Bebe.

“I’m planning on getting you a port hole to look through.” I promise.

The boat crunched and grounded on the shore. The crew leaps out, and some labor to drag the boat higher on the beach. Most point their weapons at us.

“Prisoners, boss?” Same throaty contralto I heard earlier across the water. I assess it’s owner. I address the big strong looking woman.

“Boss is short for Bosun, a middle management position. Address me as Captain. I’m the Man with the plan!”

Don’t yet know her name looks questioningly at Lou. Lou jerks his thumb rudely at me, and says,

“El Supremo!” All lower their muzzles and look expectantly at me.

“Sling weapons! Form a line on your crew leader. Sound off! Name and position!” Inspecting the troops? Nah, introductions and jobs titles.

Never been in the military, but I’ve watched lots of war movies. Any hope I can pull it off is rapidly evaporating. Dissension in the ranks,

“FATSO!” is heard muttered sotto voce, under-breath, aside mouthed. Eyes cutting to sides to wink at each other.

“EYES FRONT!” then “SILENCE!” I bark twice. Obviously very few of them have any military training, but they too, have seen movies!

Mentally, telepathically, I speak to Bebe. I have just remembered Bebe is a psychic power house without equal.

“Bebe, can you hear me? Can you read my thoughts?”

Affirmative reply.

“I’m playing a remembered movie scene clip in my mind. Can you see it?”

“Cool!” Bebe directs to me. She also thinks we can re-enact this scene,, or do something similar. Turning my back to hide my hand movements, we shift and rearrange Bebe so she is facing outwards and the bib-front is hooked under her armpits supporting her. Slicking down her red-gold curls with our abundant fuck juices, she recreates an infantile Siamese twin Mutant Mastermind.

In a stiff robotic pose, I about face. Bebe faces the astounded troops.

“Which one of you dick-less wooses called me a FATSO?” Bebe’s voice is high and thin, but her delivery is perfect! I am feeding her the lines.

(A man coaching an insult, insulting to men, for a woman to say to a group of women, defaming their masculinity, because they called tiny her a FATSO? Is supposed to be funny in it’s total miss-application!)

We now have their rapt attention. They obediently sound off as ordered.

“What did you name the ship, Lou?” Bebe demands. “Enterprise? No, No, No way! That’s a hallowed name and your bunch aren’t fit to use it. ‘EROS’ is the new name. Captain Laura? You are demoted to First Officer. You are no longer Master of the EROS! I AM! I am Captain Bebe. See to it, EROS replaces ENTERPRISE anywhere it’s named. Vacate the Captains quarters. In fact, vacate all personnel from the entire Texas deck and clean it. I will have it, exclusively mine!”

“Chief Engineer Marsha? You are now merely engineer Marsha. The engine-room is no longer your private fief. It is only a small part of MY ship, and I am Master of all of it. The whole damned thing!”

“Former Mate Nancy is now just helmsman Nancy. Gwen and Jean are now hands, not deckhands. You work wherever you are assigned to work!”

“Who is left on board? Lindsay the cook? Lindsay remains our cook only if she can demonstrate she can cook well. And is clean about it!”

“Let’s get aboard! My alter ego, CMFIC Phill is actively in command with MY authority! Why is everyone still standing there dunderstruck?

I want to see Assholes and Elbows! Move it, people! Get us aboard!”

Bebe drops down back inside the bib, and I return to apparent consciousness and dominance. Lou fumes into his bottle once more.

We shove off for the EROS, crowded into the launch.

I am so proud of Bebe. She is too! Bebe wants to play this role frequently. She likes the adventure, its fun! Wants more fun. Little people like playing Napoleon. Bebe is pleased she is Captain Bebe. Wants to know what my title, CMFIC stands for. How is it I seem to know so much about ships and what things are called?

“Reading sea stories, I picked up some of the jargon. I’m sort of married to Flor, since my clone is, so you are my mother-in-law, too. I’m the Chief Mother-Fucker In Charge! “ Bebe has a delightful giggle.

The engine-room and bridge are slovenly. Crew needs some training.

“I’m hungry!” Sybil announces.

Fortunately, the galley is where we are headed to next. I instruct Lindsay to cook breakfast for us all. It’s mid-afternoon. Ordered eggs over-easy. She complies. Lindsay has dedicated unscratched egg pans. Eggs came out perfect. Lindsay knows her craft. Cares for her equipment. She’s clean. She can stay and welcome.