Commander Jane's Ordeal Part 1: Mission prep

The ability to eat breakfast before getting dressed is one of the perks to being the captain of a star ship. A perk Commander Jane Pegasus was taking full advantage of. That is to say, she was eating her bacon flavored protein brick wearing only the military issued sweat shirt and pants she had worn for her morning stint on the tredmill.

On the other hand, Lt. Wynn, the only other occupant of the officer's lounge, was in her uniform with her black hair in an obsessively ordered french braid, as she stood fidgeting more than someone standing on an ant hill.

"Lieutenant," Jane said with a sigh, "you've brought my morning communiques for the past 3 years. I know you don't stay this long unless you have something to say." She pointed her fork accusingly at the quivering comms officer. "Am I going to have to order you to speak your mind? Again?"

"No ma'am." The petite woman pushed her AR glasses up her noise for the 15th time since she brought in the comm report. "It's about the mission, ma'am."

The young commander let out another sigh; she was growing tired of justifying this mission. Yes, it was unorthodox and dangerous, but so was slingshoting around that pulsar last month, and half the other missions she'd led the crew of The Pale Horse on. "These slavers," Jane paused, trying to remember the budding organization's name. "The Galactic Shackle," she managed to blurt out before Wynn reminded her. "They **** Councilwoman Amare eight days ago. Securing the fastest hyper-lanes has only bought the agency six more days to find her. After that she'll be in the hands of The Sirus Syndicate." Jane paused for a moment, but saw no reason to spare the bookish officer from the truth. "Do you think they'll be gentle to the woman that cost them Alcyne Sector?"

Wynn's brown features stiffened in shock, but she quickly regained her composure. "With all do respect ma'am, I have concerns about the 'fishing line' so to speak."

"You know better than me that Enshmit entangled atoms are essentially identical to unaltered ones. The only way to detect them is with the pair atoms that you'll be using to find me. Corporal Smith is lacing the particles into my earrings and collar right now." Having finished her meal, Jane stood up. "Granted, you guys'll have to be in hyperspace to trace them," she placed a reassuring hand on Wynn's shoulder, "but I have the best crew flying. I'm confident you'll be able to find me on whatever asteroid belt or backwater space station those slaver scum take us to." The only problem Jane had with the plan was how easy her job was. Smith was building the detector; Slipshot, her pilot, would be tracing the signal; Dr. Ocelot had taken on the complicated task of setting up the undercover identity, but all Jane had to do was get 'sold,' find the councilwoman, and stay near her until the cavalry showed up. Maybe she'd borrow one of her Crusader's sidearms when they stormed the slaver's base; then she'd at least get some target practice.

The demur officer managed to smile back, and spoke again. "I'm honored, ma'am. But I've done additional research on the possibilities of Enshmit entangling." Wynn took a moment to breathe; she was shaking like a mouse about to enter a lion's mouth. "And I know this was an improper allocation of resources, so I fully accept whatever disciplinary action you deem necessary, but I simply wanted to..."

Jane couldn't help but chuckle as Wynn took another moment to steady herself. Only the adorable little Lieutenant would consider researching without permission worthy of a court marshal.

"Don't laugh," said a voice with sharp aristocratic accent. "I share the Lieutenant's concerns for the mission." Both officers turned with surprised expressions to the woman that had been evidently listening to their conversation. Dr. Victoria Ocelot had marched in unheralded and taken a seat across the table from Jane. She wore such an impressive suit the senior officer immediately wanted to run back to her quarters and change. It was tailored to fit the doctor's curves, with creases from a very recent ironing. Likewise, the woman's wavy golden-brown hair was perfectly splayed over one shoulder, and her subtle make up expertly highlighted the exotic face indicative of at least a partial Asian ancestry. "If you'll excuse us lieutenant, I'd like to talk to your commander in private."

Wynn turned to Jane and was dismissed with a nod. For a moment the strict officer had thought about prying out what the shy lieutenant was going to say but decided against it. Everything was planned out, and it'd be better to just have everyone follow her orders. After the mission Jane would ask about Wynn's suggestion, and explain why it wouldn't have worked. In the meantime, she'd have to make sure this civilian did her job too. This mission was too important for free-styling.

"My concerns are thus," the Asian doctor explained after Wynn left. "Being an undercover **** will present you with challenges that you may not fully comprehend."

Jane took a slow, deliberate breath in and smoothed her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair. She rarely lost her temper, but having her abilities questioned on her own ship usually only occurred during those holo conferences with the Federation's military oversight committee. However, she knew she should cut Victoria some slack; the psychologist and slavery expert hadn't even been on her ship for a week. She hadn't been a part of the Gelrock storming or the **** at King's breach.

"I propose that you allow me to treat you as a **** for several hours today to prepare you to handle the harsh treatment you'll be subjected to for several days." She held up her hand before the young yet surprisingly accomplished veteran could launch into a tirade in defense of her abilities. "At the very least it will allow you to better get in the head space of a weak kidnappee."

Jane sat back in her chair and conceded the point.

"Thank you," Dr. Ocelot placed a loose green sundress on the table between them. "Put this on and come to my quarters when you're ready."

Checking up on the completion of the quantum tracker took up most of the Commander's morning. The actual collection of atoms involved were no larger than a drop of water, but to properly monitor them, her ship's cloaking system, hyperspace nav-computer, and shield generator were being altered or outright cannibalized to amplify the sensor array. All of her staff including the small platoon of Crusaders under her command were busy getting everything ready. She felt tension like a string about to snap wherever she went, but despite her crew being pushed nearly to their limit, Jane could not find any faults with her thorough spot checks. Every single one was an expert at their own tasks, and they all would be overdue for some serious shore leave after this mission.

A perfect example of her crew's heightened stress was Bre's outburst. Though fiercely loyal to the commander, the mercenary was prone to acts of insubordination which is why she was technically only on The Pale Horse as a "weapons consultant." After all she shunned any professional clothing in favor of a leather crop top that showed a large amount of her tattooed skin. But today she was clearly pushed to the limit, having almost come to blows with Adrien over some weapon calibrations. Jane intervened, letting Bre scream out her frustrations at the Commander before sternly ordering her back in line. It was only a stop gap measure; Jane knew she'd probably end up doing shots with Bre at Bangers or another dive bar known for loud music and scantily-clad waitstaff before she got to the bottom of the issue.

Just after lunch, Jane put on the dress. It was short and of a thin cotton. She felt unnatural walking the halls of her ship in such a minimal and civilian outfit, but she guessed this was the discomfort Dr. Ocelot was trying to warn her about. Entering the doctor's private cabin, Jane found her sitting at the simple desk, it's glass top allowing her to see the woman's full body. In fact, Jane could see a lot more of Dr. Ocelot than she was expecting.

As strange as Jane felt about her own outfit, she was utterly startled by Dr. Ocelot's. The voluptuous woman wore a garment that seemed to be made only from leather bands and buckles. There were parts reminiscent of underwear: several straps wove together to form a bra, and garter like straps pulled up her stockings, but it barely covered her gentiles. A narrow strip of leather descending from her the ring encircling her belly button to widen into a vague teardrop shape was the only shield. Behind the half-Asian woman, two chrome spreader bars were anchored; one was threaded through a tie-down in the floor while the other hung from the ceiling by a short chain. "Commander," she said in a cool tone, "glad you could join me. Please bind yourself and we can begin."

Commander Jane Pegasus had slapped cuffs on many a criminal, but the thick beveled shackles on either end of the spreader bars were completely new to her. As such, she had to spend several minutes crouched and fiddling before she had her right ankle secured. The left ankle was a little easier; she only spent a few moments half huddled around the binder with her right leg stretched awkwardly out. Jane also had to stretch when securing her left wrist, extending her right foot until her toes barely touched the ground just to pop the latch into place. The bound woman was completely helpless at locking her final wrist in the rigid shackle, but she made a few twisting attempts before asking, "a little help doc?"

Dr. Ocelot finished whatever she was typing before standing up. "Say 'please bind me mistress.'"

"Please bind me mistress," obeyed Jane in a flat tone.

"Mmmmm," Dr. Ocelot's breast swelled as she took in an excessively content breath before prowling closer and locking the final limb. "The Commander Pegasus, no armor, no weapons, and all trussed up," she gloated while circling the spread woman. "How does it feel?"

"A little chilly," the soldier responded stoically but couldn't deny the vulnerability of the situation from herself. Uselessly spinning the spreader bar above her head was about all she could do. The simple dress was starting to feel very thin.

Dr. Ocelot gave a quick smirk before her expression became very serious. "The purpose of this is to ease you into the rigors of being a ****. I will be gentler than the Galactic Shackles, but by no means, do I intend to hold back. My extensive research into it and other criminal organizations like the Syndicate has provided me with a variety of cruel techniques. I will give you a safe word of sorts. If you need me to stop, say 'I am not a ****,' or touch your thumb to your little finger. Understand?"

Jane nodded, already knowing she wouldn't need to use it.

"Good, let's begin."