Merak II - [NS]

[Note: No Sex In This Chapter]
As the 5-EX neared the planet, Second Officer Lieutenant Moonwatcher sitting at the Communications and Navigations console was swamped with incoming messages from the planet surface. But this was far from his first rodeo. With the consummate skill of a professional juggler, he responded to the signals that needed immediate answers, shuffled off those that were routine to the bottom of the stack, and filed others to review later.

However, one new communication with the A-1 priority designation caught his immediate attention. As he listened to the communique' through his ear-piece, his brow knitted and he sat up straighter. There was an exchange between himself and the sender. He would wait until the ship had touched down before relaying the information to Commander Smith.

The 5-EX slipped through the atmosphere at a near-perfect angle, resulting in the outer hull heating up well within the accepted parameters. The ship touched down with the slightest jolt and the whirling hydraulic noises of the access ramps/stabilizing legs being lowered filled the Control Room.

While the Captain and First Officer were busy securing the main engine and shifting the craft over to auxiliary power, the Second Officer interrupted them to announce, "Sir, the Port Captain has placed the 5-EX in quarantine."

"Standard procedure," Smith replied, not even looking up from the array of switches, meters, and knobs. "We'll be cleared soon enough when a Medical Officer boards and signs off on us."

"No, sir," Moonwatcher responded. "It is not a quarantine to protect the planet from us. It is to protect us from the planet. There is a raging pandemic. Practically the whole world is in lock-down. The hospitals are overflowing. More than one hundred thousand confirmed deaths."

Now Smith did look up. Merak II was not a heavily populated planet. One hundred thousand was an astounding number of deaths.

When the customs team came onboard a few minutes past 9 A.M., the Doctor set up an inoculation station on one of the tables on the mess deck and began injecting the personnel of the 5-EX. Back in the corner, at another table, the Port Captain, another Doctor (this one a female from the Planetary Health Service), and Commander Smith discussed the situation in hushed tones.

"It was fairly simple to develop a combination one-shot vaccine and cure," the PHS Doctor, Rhonda Birks was saying. She was an attractive woman. Her blonde hair immaculately coiffured, eye make-up skillfully applied, wearing a well-tailored business skirt-suit with a scarf tied jauntily around her throat. If he had to guess, Smith would put her in her mid to late forties.

"It's Zenite based," Doctor Birks continued. Smith nodded his head at that. Like everyone in the Galaxy, he knew of the healing power of that mineral. He also knew that it was found on only one planet - Ardana. The Doctor continued, "The problems are three-fold."

"One," the Physician held up her slender index finger, "Even though a person has been vaccinated and is immune from the disease, he can still be a carrier and infect others."

"Two," her middle finger joined her forefinger, "We are only able to produce a limited amount of dosages per day."

"Three," she lifted her ring finger. It had, appropriately enough, a ring on it. But not a wedding band. Rather some sort of stone. "We will soon exhaust our supply of Zenite. We will run out by the end of next month."

"It will take years for a message to reach Ardana," the Port Captain chimed in. "And another set of years for a standard sleeper ship to arrive. We have an annual shipment scheduled, of course, but it will not be near enough and will not arrive anywhere soon enough."

Smith's eyes flickered back and forth between the faces of the PHS Doctor and the Port Captain. "So you want me to make an emergency run to Ardana?" When they nodded their heads, Smith pointed out, "But the EX's have extremely limited cargo capacity. Five hundred tons, maximum, and we are already at two-thirds capacity."

"We don't need that much," Doctor Birks leaned further across the table. Her large, pale blue eyes staring pleadingly into Smith's. "Fifty tons, seventy-five tops."

"And part of that is to replenish our normal supply of Zenite, right?" the Port Captain asked, looking at the PHS Doctor who nodded her head but still maintained eye-contact with Smith.

"Well, this really isn't much of a 'command decision', is it?" Smith mused as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Either follow orders and stick to my schedule and let a few million people die. Or . . . Say to hell with orders and do what is right." He glanced towards the men gathered in the Control Room who were trying to look like they were not attempting to over-hear the conversation. "I just dread telling my crew that after a three-week voyage to get here, there will be no liberty and we lift-off as soon as I have the funds to pay for the Zenite."

"Maybe not," the PHS Doctor replied. Turning to the Port Captain, she asked, "When can you turn the money over to Commander Smith?"

"Well, we had no way of knowing the ship was going to arrive today," the Port Captain answered. Looking gratefully at Smith, the man said, "You are like a saving angel descending from the heavens."

"How long, Paul?" the PHS Doctor pressed.

"We'll need to hold a quick vote in an emergency session of the Council. The treasury department will have to draw up the documentation, then the funds will need to be taken out of the depository. . ."

"How long?" the Doctor Birks demanded, using her 'addressing an intern' voice.

"I'll have it onboard by 8 A.M."

The PHS Doctor nodded and began scribbling something on the back of one of her business cards. "Paul, give him a hover-craft to use." She handed the card to Smith. "This is my address. My personal home. Bring everyone on your crew over at seven. How many are there?"

As she turned around to face the Control Room and tried to count for herself, Smith answered, "Five."

She frowned, "I count six. You know, including yourself."

"Someone has to remain onboard," Smith replied.

"Paul, can't one of your men stand . . . I don't know. Guard? Sentry?" Doctor Birks asked.

"Watch," Smith grinned, supplying the correct military jargon while slipping the card into a breast pocket.

Chief Wallace was behind the controls of the hover-craft and Lieutenant Moonwalker was sitting next to him in the passenger seat, reading a roadmap. Pointing up ahead, Moonwalker said, "The next right, I think."

"Holy . . ." Wallace gasped when they pulled up in front of two-story, granite house. "Even on a Doctor's salary, that is some joint."

Inside, beside Doctor Birks, were five women. All, including Doctor Birks, were dressed to the nines. Low-cut A-line gowns for some, tight clinging column gowns for others. Elaborate piled-up hairstyles. Perfect makeup. The women continued setting out serving dishes and trays as introductions were made. One broke away to act as bartender, serving up whatever the Spacers requested.

Catching Doctor Birks alone for a second, Commander Smith asked her in a whisper, "I assume these 'working girls' are all vaccinated?"

"But of course," the Doctor answered as she scanned the dining room and living room. Then her eyes blinked and she snapped her head to stare at the Captain of the 5-EX. "You don't mean 'working' as in having a job but as in . . .?"

She threw her head back and laughed heartily. Then, pointing to various females, she said, "Those two are Doctors, Internal Medicine. She's a Radiologist. Those two are Intensity Care Unit Nurses. But don't worry," she tilted her head to the side and grinned at Smith. "They are here to take care of all your needs."

From his facial expression, Smith looked more confused than ever. Smiling a wide smile, she continued, "As soon as I got back to the hospital, I started spreading the word about you and your men. By lunch time I had over a dozen volunteers." Then her voice and face became serious. "You don't know what it's been like. Fighting this disease. Watching patients dying alone in isolation. And knowing that in a few weeks we run out of our only hope of survival. . . And then your ship shows up. . . Spending the night with you off-world saviors is a privilege. An honor."

"But I only count five and there are six of us," Smith replied.

Smiling again, she placed one hand on her hip, slid her other foot forward, and arched her back, shoving her bosom out. "And what am I? Chopped liver?"

Before he could respond, one of the women called out, "Dinner is ready, Doctor Birks."

The food was excellent, the conversation lively, and once dessert - or desserts, to be more precise, were finished one of the women started to clear away the dishes.

"Leave it, Olivia," Doctor Kirks told the woman. "The housekeeper and the cook can take care of it tomorrow." Smiling at the room in general, she added, "I gave the staff the night off." Pushing back her chair, she arose and asked, "Shall we adjourn to the Library?"

There was a certain amount of suppressed giggling from the women as they headed down the hall to the double doors. They knew what was inside.

Spread out on a large square coffee table flanked by three sofas, were dildos, strap-ons, corsets, bustiers, cuffs, gags, eye masks, lubricants, butt plugs, clamps, ropes, floggers, riding crops (but no canes. They are too dangerous in inexperienced hands).

"Now everything will be consensual, agreed?" Doctor Birks asked, slowly turning her head, making eye contact with each male who in response nodded his head. Glancing at her watch, she announced, "Well, Ladies, these men have to be back on their ship by eight o'clock tomorrow morning, so let's get started, shall we? I've shown you all where the bedrooms are upstairs."