Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 15: Close to the Edge Part IV - Seasons of Man
Scene 4: Song and Chance
As song and chance develop time…
15.4
Song and Chance
Private First Class Guz Maxwell was duetting with Phillip Gorman, the planetologist from Sierra Leone. Both were so skilled on their instruments, Maxwell with the electric guitar and Gorman with a golden flute, that they were simply improvising, alternately leading each other in a very jazzy, laid back, mutual composition.
The U.S.S. Beagle included a lecture hall that doubled as performance space. This was part of the original vulcan design of the ship. A recognition of the importance of community in a society noted for valuing their privacy.
So it seemed odd to Commander Rhonda Carter that her newly appointed superior officer considered this room, with about 40 people of various races attending a very quiet public performance, to be an admirable place for a word in private. Captain Skip Howard accomplished this by leaning over and whispering into Carter’s ear during the rare moments of applause.
“I want you to take the next three days completely off, out of uniform, out of sight, out of mind, completely hidden from everyone. Relax. Enjoy civilian life. That’s an order…”
When Carter tried to respond, Howard held up a finger to his lips, then pointed to the stage, where Maxwell and Gorman were beginning another song. This time both Maxwell and Gorman were singing, in Arabic. Both had beautiful voices.
And were exquisitely beautiful young men. Guz Maxwell, although from Idaho, was of Mexican extraction with dark skin and a brush of coal black hair. Phillip Gorman was about a decade older, in his late 20’s and was a striking blend of west African and Arabic heritage. Both were rakishly handsome, slim and muscular, in the peak of physical training.
By custom, all communicators were set to silent operation, so there was no simultaneous translation of the lyrics. But Carter knew one Arabic word: “Habibi.” “My Love.” It was clearly a love song. She had started the song impatiently awaiting her chance to argue her case with Captain Howard. This was a critical time for the U.S.S. Escort. Her ship was being held together with baling wire and prayer beads.
But Carter found herself caught up in the song. It was clearly a love song. The two gorgeous men were singing it to each other. And they clearly meant every word of it. Rhonda Carter was unaccustomed to finding men erotic in any way, but the passion these two exceptionally fit, handsome and talented young men were expressing for each other had her unusually aroused.
She joined in the applause at the end of the song, wishing it had not ended. And Captain Howard took this moment to whisper in her ear. “I won’t hear any argument on this, Rhonda. Both you and Escort are my responsibility and I need to get both of you fixed as soon as possible. You’ve just been through a month of hell, not to mention a first class dressing down by our commodore. It’s time for you to let go of the wheel and let someone else drive for a little while.”
He silenced her again with a finger to his lips as Maxwell and Gorman were introducing their final song. Only a few minutes into the song, Howard started in his seat as his communicator vibrated. He squeezed Carter’s shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry, got to go,” to her before getting up and leaving.
Carter seethed for only a minute before the soaring sound of Phillip Gorman’s flute drew her out of herself. At the end of the concert, as the other audience members were mingling in the hall, each waiting their turn to congratulate the arousing musicians, Carter slipped out of the lecture hall, intent on tracking down Captain Howard.
She didn’t make it 10 meters.
A door opened and the most beautiful creature Commander Carter had ever seen stepped into the hall, causing her to stop in her tracks, uncomfortably close to the tall, unbelievably slinky trill who had stepped into her path. Yellow and brown leopard spotting stood out against her milk-white skin. An arrogant expression made her face only more alluring, framed by long, silky black hair that seemed to have a blue shine to it. Black leather skirt, leather bodice and thigh-high leather boots…
And by far the most captivating, eyes a color of hazel that she had never seen before.
Carter thought she was having a heart attack. It took a moment for her to realize she had simply forgotten to breathe. It only then struck her that she was looking at an ancient personality wrapped in a beautiful young body. This was a joined trill.
Akri Dexx slowly and elegantly extended her arm and twined Rhonda Carter’s collar in her elegant, perfectly manicured fingers, gripping it firmly. She drew Carter closer to her with a jolt. Her voice was deep, strong, powerful: “Just where do you think you’re going?”
“Into your quarters?”
Dexx fixed an aggressive glare onto her prey and backed into her quarters, her fingers still entwined in Carter’s collar, drawing the small, blue-haired woman in with her.
“Apparently I owe you a serious and heart-felt apology…”
Captain Skip Howard had returned to his office, located ahead of the U.S.S. Beagle’s bridge. Lieutenant Commander Gregg Clark was relaxing on one of two lounge chairs in front of Howard’s desk. Instead of sitting behind the desk, Howard had thrown himself into the other chair.
“Honestly, Gregg, I didn’t realize I was behaving badly toward you. Although in retrospect, I was clearly being more than a little…”
“Dismissive?” Clark suggested. “Snarky? Passive-aggressive?”
“All of the above,” Howard admitted. “I reviewed the recording from the bridge when you took command of the Puppy. Guilty as charged.”
“Just for the record, I never complained to anyone about it,” said Clark.
“You should have,” Howard rejoined. “And you didn’t need to. Apparently the commodore regularly reviews fleet communications. I really don’t know where it was coming from and I am sorry.”
“Well, I wasn’t very nice when I first boarded this ship more than a year ago. You might have heard about a few snide remarks I made about you at the time. I think I was a little, um, envious.”
“Envious of me?” Howard asked.
“Who wouldn’t be, Captain?” Clark asked.
“In this room you can call me Skip,” Howard replied. “And what do you mean?”
In response, Gregg Clark reached over and tapped one of Skip Howard’s glossy, black fingernails. “You are so much your own man. You don’t give a flip about what anyone thinks about you. I turned down being promoted because I didn’t want to be a soldier. I wanted to be what you are, an explorer. And while we both like bears, I’m 51 and alone, while you’ve managed to find the prettiest bear in the woods…”
Howard laughed. “You are a very smart man, Gregg. Smarter than most people think you are, and most people think you’re smart. Salutatorian of your class at academy. I’m lucky to have you as a first officer, and, hopefully, as a friend.” Without getting up, Howard extended a hand.
Gregg Clark shook his new captain’s hand. “Your secret is safe with me, sir. But I do want to know something…”
“You already know the big secret,” Howard observed. “I suppose I could let go of one of the smaller ones…”
“What have you done with Captain Cart… I mean Commander Carter?”
Skip Howard laughed again. “I fed her to one of the most ravenous carnivores in my little menagerie. Rhonda’s been in command far too long. She’s going to rediscover the joy that comes with submission. She’s about to be rode hard and put up wet…”
It was Gregg Clark’s turn to laugh. “Oh, that’s a mental image I really didn’t need…”
15.4