Chapter 4

In the morning -- well, day watch, since morning or afternoon was more or less irrelevant on Rhea or in space -- Tom took a couple of minutes to get organized and found Tania had coffee replicated when he got up. They didn't discuss the displacement of the previous evening; a bunk was a bunk to Tom, and the sexual interlude made the whole thing more than worthwhile. Tom was beginning to see the benefit of having a more or less permanent female companion, although he wasn't ready to make admissions to that effect. Tania had apparently queried the AI about his breakfast rotation, because the waffle was on the console when he emerged from the head. She didn't seem to be inclined to drape herself on him or ask for love words -- she seemed to be happy to be coolly efficient, removing tasks from his morning routine so that he could press forward with other things. She hit the head for her shower while he ate and checked the status of ship and factory repairs, then came back and had a waffle of her own. At some point, she'd replaced the bed linens, because his bunk was freshly made when he entered his quarters to dress.

Tania was making a serious effort to avoid a conversation over having displaced Tom from his bunk -- a conversation that she assumed could only start with a complaint. Instead of just letting him sleep, she'd insisted upon occupying his bunk -- and the sex, while clearly mutually satisfying, had been a drain on the energy levels of both participants. He probably hadn't enjoyed sleeping on her, or waking up sticky, or having to move ... So she was keeping a low profile and 'being useful, instead of merely decorative.'

Finally, she couldn't avoid things any longer, so she started a different conversation to stave off the one she was dreading. "So, what is the plan for today?"

"We're linked by transporter to the habitat pod," Tom reported. "I had it open a secondary port. You go on down and get your exo and collect the transport pads for the excavator. I'll take a pod and feed Replicator One some parts of Replicator Two, then we'll go back and forth working on the integration of the transport pads with the conveyors at the first unit break on either end." The current system wasn't one conveyor, but a series of units that passed material to each other. Where one belt ended, there was a housing to collect the material and drop it on the start of the next. These could become clogged; Don Baxter had apparently been thrown down one while servicing it when the disaster hit and got sucked partway into the replicator before it shut down. The current run to the excavator had a dozen conveyor links in it; Tom planned to change this to two -- one just behind the excavator, and one set of two at a switching junction just before the replicators. That removed about ten points of failure from the input flow.

"Okay." Tania got up and headed for the hatch.

"Hey, wait a minute," Tom forestalled her, "What's up?"

Tania sighed. "I insisted on coming to bed with you and ended up dumping you out of your bunk."

"I got laid and a bed is a bed," Tom retorted, grinning. "I'm not going to get pissy over a wet spot in my bunk that I created -- particularly when I enjoyed doing it."

"Okay," Tania mused. "I'm just trying not to be a bother."

"Draining my balls tends to put you on the plus side of things," Tom declared.

Tania smiled crookedly. "I'd do it eight times a day, but you'd get bored."

Tom chuckled. "I'm going to put a message drone out -- do you need to send anything?"

"No."

"Hang out. I want you to hear this and help me tune it. AI, begin recording..."

Tom made his report twice before he was happy with it, then Tania offered further suggestions, most of which had to do with protocols and what you could and couldn't say to a superior officer and get away with it. The result went something like this:

"Chief Foster reporting from Rhea base -- the Baxter Memorial Manufacturing Facility. Repairs are underway -- basic services are restored and Replicator One is operational, making parts for Replicator Two. According to our tests, forty seven percent of the assembled stock can be cannibalized and converted to functioning missile clusters -- the rest will have to be remanufactured. We're working on Replicator Two and the raw materials feed and hope to have it working using transport pad technology by tomorrow. Long-term, we need an automated mining railway -- request plans and any parts that can be shipped rather than replicated in order to speed operations. Request replacement base commander and staff -- I need to return to flight duties as soon as possible. We will hand off as soon as we can train replacements in plant operations. I have taken on the concubine -- she will be accompanying me when I resume flight status, so plan on replacing her on staff at the base. Foster out."

That last bit was an addendum that had not been rehearsed at all; Tania was surprised to hear it. Tom eyed her and said, "I STILL think we'll either kill each other or come to a parting of the ways, but I don't think it will happen next week. In the meantime, I can't leave you here with some new jerk who will add to your inferiority complex, so I guess it is the easiest thing if I keep you around to yell at myself." Standing, he added gruffly, "Let's get into skinsuits and do some work."

Tania nodded tightly -- she didn't trust herself to speak and she knew that crying would upset Tom, whether sadness or happiness was involved. She just headed off to get into a suit. Tom, however, didn't miss the fact that she was affected.

'Silly bitch, ' he thought, 'She'd probably be better off with the new guy.' Shaking his head, he went to get into his skinsuit.

They went to work -- Tania in her exoskeleton loading parts of Replicator Two into Replicator One to be remanufactured while Tom ripped out several runs of conveyor belt and mounted the transport pads on the remaining ends. Material dropped down a chute from the end of the conveyor at the excavator end, and Tom angled the pad on the receiving end almost vertically so that gravity fed it to the input conveyors at the replicators. By the time Tania needed help with the assembly of Replicator Two, Tom had the conveyor system operating with the transport pads. But by the time Replicator Two was close to being online, twelve hours had again elapsed. The pair of them again retired to the Mississippi Queen and Tania was too wasted to get into varietal dinners -- neither of them had much left in the way of energy. The assembly work was much harder than anything either of them was used to and they'd been at it a couple of days; the reserves of energy were low in both of them. Bedtime arrived and Tania eyed Tom.

"I won't start anything -- I promise! I'm wasted!" she begged.

"We would probably sleep better apart," Tom replied.

"Kick me out if things don't work," Tania proposed. "I'll go quietly. It's just..." She REALLY wanted the companionship.

"Yeah, okay." Tom waved her at the bed. Sticking his cock in the crack of her ass and cuddling up with a tit in his hand was just too damned pleasant to pass up -- it seemed ... natural. She settled in and he cuddled up and exhaustion claimed them both.

Tom woke once to go to the head, and he was vaguely aware of one time that Tania got up. He was on his back when she came back, so she put her head on his shoulder, so Tom woke up to find his right arm was asleep. Something was amiss...

"AI, what time is it?"

"Ten thirteen a.m., ship's time," the AI replied.

"I should have been up three hours ago!" Tom howled, sitting up and dumping Tania off.

"No, you should not," the AI insisted. "Both you and the concubine Tania were well beyond being effective. Additional rest was required to bring you to your full capabilities. If you and the concubine had deployed yourselves on your normal schedule this morning, then chances that one of you would meet a fatal accident had reached the point where intervention was required. If the pair of you eat well and deploy at twelve p.m. ship's time, and then return at the usual hour, you will have attained as much as you would have operating on reduced capacity and the chances of an accident are within the normal range for this kind of operation."

"You take a lot on yourself!" Tom growled.

"This is protocol. You agreed to it because you do not control your own schedule adequately. The action was taken to improve your safety and that of the concubine," the AI replied reasonably.

"Fine..." Tom knew the AI was right, but it rankled. "I'll hit the head first," he told Tania. "Don't spend twenty minutes when I hand off -- I want to be ready to go out at noon." Tania nodded and said nothing, spending the time she had to wait redoing the bed linens and picking up.

Breakfast wasn't as hurried as Tom presented things, as they needed to look over what work needed doing and how it was to be accomplished. The top priority was assembly of Replicator Two, with a secondary mission of missile cannibalization, testing and repair. Tom delegated the Replicator Two re-assembly to Tania over some internal misgivings -- but she would have needed to work on the missiles in her exo and she couldn't tolerate a lot more radiation, while Tom was comfortable piloting a pod remotely with the AI's assistance. They made serious ground and would be ready for the African Queen when it arrived to pick up, but the AI had to stop them again -- and this time, it added an admonishment that embarrassed the Hell out of Tom!

"The concubine Tania is exhausted," the AI noted. "She has been actively working in an exo for six hours while you have been concentrating, but working in a shirtsleeve environment."

Tom flinched and grimaced. "Shit, I never thought..."

"It was the most efficient deployment of resources, and thus was the correct decision, but the implications should be dealt with. The concubine needs rest."

"No shit," Tom grunted. "Any other suggestions?"

Tania dragged herself onto the bridge and asked, "What do you want for dinner?" a few minutes later.

"I've ordered Number Eight for both of us -- but in an hour or so. Let's go down to the habitat pod."

"Why?" Tania asked.

"Because I hear it has a tub -- and you need some tub time, I think."

Tom was right -- thirty minutes in the whirlpool tub that Don had ordered installed in the habitat pod was Heavenly, and allowed Tania to relax and dredge up brain power to remember what Number Eight was -- a beef burrito dinner. It wouldn't have been something Tania ordered on her own, but she discovered that it was true stick-to-the-ribs food. Tom did his usual checks afterward, then said, "Okay, let's hit the sack."

"Um, Tom..." Tania muttered.

"Yeah?"

"I really don't have it in me tonight."

"Yeah, I know -- you had a hard day -- harder than mine, for sure. I've been living off the fat of the land, so I can do without for once. Want to crash in the other cabin?"

"No," Tania shook her head. "I still like to cuddle. I can always move if things don't seem to be working."

"Okay." Tom didn't argue. Tania didn't complain when he turned on the video to watch reasonably current events, putting her head on his belly and drifting off without allowing the flickering screen to bother her; Tom got the audio feed via his implants. Tom managed to drift off himself after a while without discomfort -- and awoke sometime later curled over her back. He got up to piss, which roused her, and they ended up spooned in the opposite manner to their 'usual' position in that Tania plastered herself to his back.

He awakened on his back, though -- not to the AI's alert signal, but to the feel of Tania's hot mouth sliding up and down his already erect cock! "Damn! What time is it?" he croaked.

"Zero six forty," the AI responded. The Concubine Tania asked for an estimate of the amount of additional preparation time that you would require in order to be able to begin work at zero eight hundred if a sexual bout was inserted into your schedule."

"Oh, she did, did she?" Tom wanted to sound disapproving, but Tania had a magic mouth and it was just too hard to sound cranky while watching her cheeks hollow around his shaft -- and, more importantly, FEELING the results! "Bring that butt of yours in reach..." Tania scooted around, but didn't change the direction that she was facing, because she knew from her training by Don that while deep throat was easier, a true 'sixty-nine' position put the most sensitive underside of Tom's cock against her hard palate instead of her tongue. Tom had to reach -- and her crinkle was easier to get at than her pussy. After a moment, she released his cock.