Male Jumper Ch. 02

Art by Jonathan Chanutomo and

Huy137

Karch Koffler, newly promoted captain of the Swordfish, had just embarked on his first mission for his Capo. He sat in the captain's chair and watched the image of the star base disappear and be replaced by a vast field of stars in the black void. The mood on the ship was good because the previous unpopular captain was gone, replaced by Karch who was respected and liked by the crew of 20 men. The short R and R on the base also helped morale as the guys were all given a chance to whore, gamble, and intoxicate themselves along with other immoral activities favored by sailors for thousands of years.

The Capo had been generous with the men because the mission was going to be less than pleasant. No mortal danger, just the one born of the insanity of being cooped up in a small space for three times longer than the usual jobs they had. It was simple, just carry a cargo that the Capo didn't want inspected or taxed, so the journey was to be longer without any breaks. The Swordfish had been modified to carry the extra fuel necessary for such a journey and the crew members were to be paid a premium rate for their efforts. For security reasons, nobody was told the contents of the cargo and nobody was allowed to touch the container at any time. The cargo container itself only took up a quarter of the space in the hold which hinted at something of great value. The Capo's instructions were that no crew would be allowed off the ship at the destination until his representatives had inspected and unloaded the container. If anything was amiss, they would all die horrible deaths.

Karch got out of his seat giving the bridge to his second in command and went on a tour of the ship. It wasn't necessary, but he had a lot of nervous energy and thought this was a good way to burn it off. He stepped down the ladder from the bridge and went to inspect the various parts of the ship and chat with the crew before finally retiring to his quarters. Being captain he had a room all to himself which was a wide and luxurious 10' by 10'. It had enough room for a bed, workstation and a closet. The most important thing was that it offered privacy, something nobody else on the crew had. The four sub officers shared a room with four bunk beds and a table. The rest of the crew had bunks throughout the ship. A sign of a crewman's seniority was whether he had a real bed or if he slept on a torpedo.

Life inside a metal box was not for anyone who suffered from mental illness. It was not unheard of for someone to crack under pressure and kill themselves. Most trips would be broken up with stops at star bases or if they were lucky, planet side. This made on board entertainment a great importance and all officers made sure the crew was properly distracted through videos, games and intoxicants which were rationed out as part of the internal rewards system. Some officers believed that if the crew was busy, they wouldn't notice the passage of time. Most experienced space crewmen understood that if you finished a task quickly, you would be given another. Karch knew that it was impossible to camouflage the reality of the situation in a mountain of tasks, so he linked it with a points system that gave rewards of game time, movies, extra intoxicants or time with Rhonda.

Life could be lonely as well as stressful for the crewmembers. The lack of female companionship made some men have sex with other men, others rubbed themselves raw watching porn. The other option was time with Rhonda, unofficially called the ship's morale officer. Some of the larger ships employed real professional women to relieve male stress. Others had sex droids, but the Swordfish only had Rhonda, a silicone love doll. She was stored in a locker and appointments were made using the points earned over a week. Her pimp would then warm her up before the date and set the timer. He would inspect the doll for wear and tear and penalize anyone who misused her. For extra, a crewmember could choose an outfit for her and the color of her wig. Most dates lasted only 10 minutes, except for the cook who loved to dress her up and talk with her for hours on end.

The system worked well at first but in a short time the more cunning crew members learned how to con others out of their credits. There were always a few guys that just never seemed to get out of the hole and were never able to pay for anything, so the captain paid for a subscription to a popular drama that was shown for free every evening after dinner. The program was a fictional history that featured violence, beautiful women and plenty of hardcore sex. The whole crew enjoyed the show and spent much of their free time discussing it with each other. Karch was also entertained by the show but had a hard time believing so much sex was going on in the Eisenhower Whitehouse.

No matter what, there really wasn't much to do. As long as the ship's engines and life support were functioning properly, there wasn't much to do but sit and wait. For him, it wasn't that bad because it allowed him time to sit and read- one of his favorite activities shared only by his best friend Gunnery mate Johnson. On his desk there was an engineered plant called a Thulgia. It was designed to thrive in low light and little water. Besides being a soothing green, it produced small red fragrant flowers. Though it had been produced under tightly controlled conditions, it still had managed to produce a mutation of cream colored swirls on its fat wide leaves. The idea made him curious and he delved deeper into the ship's library reading about how plant/animal genomes were constantly producing such things in spite of human efforts to control it. He thought about how in societies all throughout history, there had always been those who were different. Maybe the ship's cook was one of the gene abnormalities. Of course nobody made fun of the guy that prepared their food or dispensed the daily grog ration.

It was the 7^th day of the trip when something happened to break the routine. It was during the showing of a new episode, so everyone was in the galley watching. The captain and Gunnery mate Johnson were on the bridge discussing ancient history, when the sensors picked up an object on the port side of the ship.

"It's WWN -10 on the z axis" Johnson read from the screen.

"Let's drop in behind it and follow it for a while." Karch suggested.

"Scan it?" Johnson asked.

"Of course. Maybe it's something interesting." Karch answered.

"A courier ship of some kind, crew of 4-8 people." Johnson read the details.

"Seems awfully slow for a courier." Karch said.

Karch switched on the intercom.

"Jackson and Smith to the bridge now" He ordered.

"Really?" Was the answer with the distinct sound of Lulu, the main character, moaning in the background.

"Yes now, you can catch up later." Karch replied.

The number 2 and 3 in command arrived quickly and were assessed of the situation.

"We've got a few hours of leeway in the delivery time and our cargo hold is mostly empty. It's worth a look at least." Karch explained.

"Why is it so slow?" Smith asked.

"Don't know, but it makes our job a lot easier." Jackson said.

Karch ordered a course change and the Swordfish turned a wide arc and slipped in behind the mystery ship, gaining distance quickly.

"How much time left in the show?" Karch asked.

"About 5 minutes." Smith answered.

"Alright let them finish then we'll put them on alert." Karch said.

As they closed the gap, their sensors began to show more detail. It was indeed a courier ship, but an old, obsolete one. Stranger still was the complete lack of contact. Karch opened the ship's intercom and ordered the Swordfish's crew to prepare for possible combat.

Let's hail them, maybe they'll surrender without a fight." Smith said.

"Shields are up to full power and all phasors ready. Shall we load a torpedo?" Jackson asked.

"That would be overkill." Karch replied.

"This is the Swordfish, you will stop and prepare to be boarded. All who resist will be killed." Karch announced to the other ship.

Everyone on the pirate ship waited, but no response. The courier ship made no efforts to evade or speed up.

"Attach tractor beams." Karch ordered.

A loud metallic hum started amidships and two ghostly pale beams of light struck the courier ship on its sides. There was a jolt as the faster pirate ship and the slower courier matched speeds. Karch sent the same message on all known channels and in as many languages as the ship's computer could handle, but still there was no response.

"Smith, you and three others prepare for boarding. The weapons locker code for the next few minutes is 44QS1. Don't take any explosives." Karch ordered.

Smith left the bridge barking out the names of other crewmembers. Suddenly a small phasor on the courier ship opened fire on the swordfish, harmlessly splashing its energy across the pirate ship shields.

"Jackson aim one phasor shot at 50% power and neutralize that pea shooter." Karch ordered.

The side phasor spat out a shot that hit the offending gun and blew it right off the ship exposing a hole about six feet in diameter.

"Damn, that was only one shot at half power." Jackson exclaimed.

"That ship must be made of cardboard. Any more shots will be done with the point defense phasors." Karch said.

The ship's communication channel finally crackled to life and the image of three bald human men appeared on the screen.

"This is the sisterhood ship 'Unicorn' Cease fire." The tallest one intoned.

"We have nothing of value to you and pose no threat. Release us." He continued.

"That's for us to decide. Open your airlock and allow the boarding party to enter unmolested." Karch replied.

"I'm afraid we cannot do that." The bald man continued.

Karch cut off the communication and leaned over to his second in command.

"Could we poke another hole in them?" Karch asked.

"I'm afraid the stupid thing would fall apart." Jackson answered.

"Screw it, have the boarders enter through the hole we made." Karch said.

While they waited for the party to don their suits, Karch asked Johnson about the courier.

"The name Unicorn did indeed ring a bell. I did a quick search and found it belonged to a famous rich philanthropist named Marc Johnson, no relation to me, over 100 years ago." Johnson answered.

"Oh yeah, he went around and tried to improve the lives of people he deemed in need of his help." Karch said.

"Yep, like most he ended up causing more problems than he solved." Johnson said.

"Probably ended up as dinner in some native's pot, I guess. More useful that way than digging a well that nobody needed." Karch added.

The ship got quiet as the men prepared for a spacewalk and possible combat. The others assisted them and offered words of support. A live feed of the action was broadcast throughout the ship, though there seemed to be no reaction from the other ship. Hopes of a rich booty buoyed the men's morale, but there was an undercurrent of concern about the silence.

Not wanting to inflict any more damage to the ship, they chose light and small weaponry. Each man was experienced in this type of situation and were confident. Each man had cameras, microphones and monitors that fed data to the Swordfish.

The airlock opened and four figures exited. Careful of their momentum, they shoved off lightly to cross the void between the two ships. The crew watched on screens what the boarders were seeing while listening to the chatter between each man. Smith reached the ship first and waited for the others before cautiously peering into the hole that was once the cupola. Inside was a small room with various debris scattered around. The door to the room had been shut with a bulkhead and there was a flashing red light on the control panel next to it. Smith crawled through and the others followed.

"I see what happened. The bulkhead didn't seal completely. The next room is probably empty too." Smith said.

The others readied their weapons as Smith worked to override the door's safety mechanism. The door finally opened to reveal a corridor that had been sealed off by another bulkhead. There was an open storage locker and several survival bags had been strewn about. Smith and the others poked the bags and found that one was currently occupied.

"Survival bag. Looks like someone is inside." Smith reported.

"Send it over." Karch ordered.

They picked up the bag and shoved it out the hole. A smaller beam from the Swordfish picked it up and guided it to their airlock. The boarding crew went back to the corridor and closed the bulkhead behind them. The debris cleared, the bulkhead was able to seal completely and a green light lit up. Smith fiddled a bit with the control panel and the corridor pressurized.

"This is a small ship. We just need a left turn and a right one to reach the bridge." Smith told his men as they prepared for action. The door opened to another corridor that appeared to be empty. They quietly went left then right and found the bridge. The three bald men were facing them as if they were expecting visitors.

"Welcome to the Unicorn, Galactic thieves." The tallest one said.

"We've got one of your crew as hostage." Smith announced.

"That's good." The tall one said looking relieved.

"Surrender your ship." Smith ordered.

"Again, that is not our option." The tall one said with a smile.

There was a grunt coming from Lee, who was guarding the door, and his life monitor went blank. Bloodcurdling screams announced the arrival of two figures in black moving at super human speed. The crew on the Swordfish could only see movement and the sound of weapon fire for a few seconds before the life monitors of the remaining three went blank. The screen of Smith filled up with the image of the bald headed man.

"Now will you release us?" He asked.

"We've got one of your crew who will pay the price of your stupidity." Karch said.

"Of course. May I recommend her as a potential upside to all this?" The man said.

"Her? We can have fun with her I guess." Karch threatened.

"Yes indeed, it's just that you have lost four experienced crewmembers. You'll need replacements and I think you find her much more valuable alive than dead." The man said.

There was a harsh sounding female voice in the background speaking a language Karch didn't recognize. The man replied in a quiet obedient tone before turning back to face him.

"Milady will not allow surrender. You may send more boarders but the same results will occur." With that the man stood up. Looking at the monitors it appeared as though the bodies were being dragged to a corner and being stacked like firewood.

"Jackson, open fire with the main phasors." Karch ordered.

Two phasors shot energy that caused the courier to practically disintegrate. There was no rejoicing on the Swordfish.

"Jackson, return us to our original course. You have the bridge." Karch said as he left. In the airlock there were several crewmen surrounding the bag that lay on the floor. Survival bags were designed to be the very last chance for people in a ship undergoing catastrophic damage. You jumped inside and were sealed. To prevent panic, a mild sedative was mixed with the air supply to make the person sleep. There was enough air and heat to last 24 hours. A beacon would activate in hopes that rescuers would find it before the time was up.

The crew seemed unsure of what to do next, fearing the unknown. Finally Gustafeson, the burly ship's engineer, located a small control panel on the bag. He inspected it, then clicked a button which caused the bag to split open and reveal the contents. Lying on the remnants of the bag was a woman. She was tall and athletic wearing a black form fitting suit that showed off her nice figure. Her bosom was above average in size and well balanced. Her complexion was tan and her hair was jet black and past her shoulders. Her face was pretty but most of the crew was transfixed by her ass. The men looked at it like pilgrims worshipping in front of a famous relic. They immediately began speculations as to whether its perfection was due to natural genetics or a skilled technician. Could such a wondrous butt belong to a real woman or was she an android?

Before the speculation could lead to any attempts to test their theories, Karch stepped in and spoiled the fun.

"Bind her hands and feet." Karch ordered.

This elicited some chuckles from the crew as she was bound like an animal heading off to slaughter.

"Take her to my quarters." Karch ordered.

The crew grumbled a bit about the unfairness of the system and they looked longingly at her behind as she was slung over the shoulder of a crewmember and carried away. Karch followed trying hard not to stare at her inviting tush. At his quarters she was unceremoniously dumped on his bed. The crewman shook his head in mock disgust and closed the door. Karch activated his monitor and checked for any messages. The only recent one was from the pimp asking if he was still planning on using the services of Rhonda or should he open up her schedule.

"Yeah you are jealous aren't you?" Karch said out loud.

He turned to regard his prize.

"She's hot, but is she worth a hold full of cargo? I could buy time with a sex droid and have plenty left over." He said to himself.

He leaned over and shook her. Still no response. He turned back to his monitor and started dictating a report verbally turning to check every once in a while. Once finished with the drudgery he again tried to wake her.

"Shit, how strong was that sedative?" He asked.

He turned up the lights and leaned over her face. Her breathing was slow and regular indicating a normal sleep. He touched her face and caressed her cheek. "A real woman in my bed?" he asked nobody in particular. He moved on to her hair sniffing and stroking it. It was clean with a light scent that he did not recognize. His breathing increased and his hands trembled a bit as he moved down to her chest. Cupping her tits in his hands, he realized that they were indeed completely natural. He pulled at the fabric of her outfit and squeezed in his hand. His brow furrowed in curiosity as he saw a fresh bruise. He fondled her nipples and then withdrew intent on moving his hands down past her taut belly. Before he could complete his examination, his computer beeped indicating someone wanted to talk to him. Cursing the lousy timing that ruined the mood, Karch reluctantly turned and touched the screen. It was Johnson.

"Check her right forearm." He said.

Karch checked and found a row of 6 one cm circles tattooed on her arm. He held it up so Johnson could see.

"Wow, I can't believe it." Johnson said.

"She's real or an android? Karch asked.

"Oh she's a real woman alright. That's not what I find amazing." Johnson said.

Karch tilted his head in puzzlement. He turned to look at her.

"She's a Soror." Johnson said.

"Shit I should have realized it when the bald guy said 'sisterhood' ship." Karch reacted.

"All this time I thought they were a myth. They live on the butt end of the galaxy with virtually no contact with the rest of civilization." Johnson said.

Johnson looked down at his notes and continued. "All I've been able to learn is that they have a militaristic society similar to the Spartans of ancient earth. Surprisingly it is a female dominated matriarchy with men being subordinate. They shun contact and are considered to be about 200 years behind Galactic standards in technology. What little we know is limited to whatever people have learned from their twice yearly trading missions."