To Boldly Go

The year is 2257. 112 Years ago, human beings made first contact with a friendly alien race, and this was a very fortunate turn of events for humanity. You see, the human home planet of Earth was something of a backwater, technologically backward and located on the edge of what most of the Galaxy's population would consider civilization. Perhaps unfortunately for Earth, the ever expanding boarders of the Galactic Federation and their primary rival, the Vardan Empire, had expanded out to the Galactic edge and Earth was lucky enough to fall into the hands of the comparatively liberal and benevolent Federation rather than the cruel and oppressive Empire. The hastily made alliance with the Galactic Federation provided Earth with access to staggering new technologies and protection from the Vardans but other than a few natural resources (many species in the GF went WILD for coffee) and providing a port of call for Federation ships, humans found themselves hard pressed to give anything back to their new benefactors.

Truth be told, humans are looked down upon by most member species of the Federation. Humans are particularly derided for the commonly held pre-contact belief that they were the only intelligent life in the universe. Given their technological inferiority and the insignificant role they play in galactic affairs, this is thought to be an especially humorous example of humanity's overinflated sense of their own importance. This, combined with humanity's continuing struggles to adapt to being a part of a much larger Galactic society with it's own rules and customs has lead them to be the laughing stock of the Galaxy.

Enter our heroine: Julie Starr, the first human being to ever be inducted into the Galactic Federation's Space ****. As far as human beings go, Julie is the best of the best. A natural athlete (specializing in gymnastics and track and field) and a mathematical genius (by human standards) Julie trained her entire life to be worthy of the honor of attending the Space **** Academy on Tylar 3, and despite all of her talents and all of her grit and determination, she only just graduated by the skin of her teeth. Still, this was acknowledged as a significant accomplishment by the Federation government who offered her a nice cushy position as a propaganda piece, traveling the Galaxy to compel citizens to sign up for the Space **** under the tag line "Join Space ****! Even a Human Can Do It!" Unwilling to cash in her years of hard work to take on what she saw as a humiliating and pointless position, Julie fought tooth and nail to get herself assigned to a Federation Star Cruiser, and, despite the misgivings of several Federation higher ups, she was eventually successful in getting herself assigned to the Federation Starship: Black Talon under the command of legendary Federation Captain Z'arr Voosh.

Given all of that, you can imagine Julie's misgivings about finding herself sitting in the Captains Office under less than agreeable circumstance on her very first day of assignment. Julie was sitting on a small, backless stool face to face with her Captain for the very first time. Captain Z'arr Voosh was a Draconian, a large reptilian species that was something between a dinosaur and a dragon. She was enormous, though it was difficult to determine for certain how big she was as she was currently all curled up on the large stone slab that served her in lieu of a chair. Once Julie took her seat, however, the Captain reared up in her place, craning up her enormous neck to tower over the young ensign. Julie wasn't sure if this was done to intimidate her, or if the Captain was just trying to show she was paying attention, but given the disparity in size between them, she couldn't help but feel like a mouse locked in a cage with a snake.

"So, Ensign..." the Captain began, "Your supervisor reports that you've expressed some... dissatisfaction with your uniform."

That was putting it mildly. The Space **** was an eclectically manned organization, served by members of a thousand different races, all with different physical attributes, cultural beliefs and basic needs so settling on a standardized uniform was kind of a losing proposition to begin with. How could a formless acidic blob from Arogon IV wear the same uniform as winged canine from the moons of Boonari? With that in mind, it was common practice for a ship's Captain the set unique uniform rules and regs based on the needs of his or her crew, with the only required detail being that the Captain work the Space **** insignia into the outfit somewhere. Back at the academy, Julie's instructors had issued her a form fitting body suit to train in, and she'd expected to wear something similar during her new assignment, so you can imagine her surprise when her new Lieutenant handed her her new uniform.

Her new uniform (if you could call it that) consisted of three small adhesive strips of red material, two of which were intended to be placed on her chest in order to (barely) cover her nipples, and the third was intended to be placed between her legs to (just barely) cover her sex. As one of her nipple pasties bore the Space **** Insignia upon it, this outlandish outfit satisfied the basic qualifications of a Space **** uniform, or at least, that's what her Lieutenant said. Her Lt., incidentally, was a blue arachnid creature about the size of a dog who wore what appeared to be a skull cap bearing the SF insignia and nothing else.

"Yes, Captain..." Julie replied, squirming in her seat and finding it difficult to look the large saurian creature in her enormous eyes. Julie was attractive (for a human) a mane of curly red hair atop her pretty head, sparkling green eyes and a small, lithe body that was tight as a drum. She was proud of her body, for the most part, at least the parts of it that she'd worked hard to develop. If there was any part of her that she was in any way ashamed of, it was probably her breasts. Large and cumbersome on her small frame, they sometimes got in the way during her years of training and always proved a distraction to all the men around her, at least when she was back on Earth. She had spent an awful lot of time dressing to hide them over the years, but there was no hiding them now, and having to face her new Captain while essentially having her tits out was definitely throwing her off her game. Of additional concern for her was the fact that the "bottoms" provided to her only really covered the slit between her legs. Julie normally kept herself trimmed down to a neat little landing strip which, thanks to her current uniform, was poking up over the edge of her bottoms leaving an embarrassing amount of pubic hair on display. Last but not least, the outfit provided absolutely NO coverage in the back so Julie was essentially sitting in front of her Captain with her entire ass hanging out. If anyone walked into the office right now, or if anybody had seen her walking down the halls from behind, they've have thought she was totally naked! All of this coupled with her fear of making a bad first impression with her new Captain added up to Julie not being her usual confident, driven self right at this moment and she was struggling to get some semblance of control over her situation.

"And what, pray tell, is your issue with your uniform?" The Captain replied.

Julie thought long and hard before answering. Julie was the first human being in the Space ****, so there was no precedent whatsoever for what a proper uniform for her would look like. The decision had been entirely up to the Captain, so any criticism of the uniform could be taken as a criticism of her judgement, and that would certainly not make for a good first impression. Still, she couldn't imagine doing the job of a Space **** officer dressed like... this! No, something needed to be done, and she had to say something now, even if she had to be as gentle about it as possible.

"Captain..." She began, hesitantly. "Have you studied Earth culture at all?"

When Captain Voosh snorted derisively at the question, Julie could have sworn she saw smoke issue from her nostrils. "Yes, indeed I have, Ensign. Am I to take it that you feel your uniform does not accommodate your needs on a cultural level?"

Julie took a moment to think before responding, but decided it would be best to follow wherever the Captain was leading. "Yes, Captain. That's about the size of it. You see, humans..."

"Yes, yes." The Captain said, cutting her off. "I know all about you humans and your ridiculous body modesty. I can quote the relevant Federation Database entries by heart if you wish. 'Earthlings generally possess an acute degree of body shame, typically centered around their primary and secondary sex characteristics.... In the human female, this shame is centered around the breasts (primarily the nipples) and the genitals.' I designed your uniform based on that information. Are you suggesting that the Federation Database is inadequate, or have I missed something?"

"Well, no, Captain..." Julie began, knowing she was walking on thin ice "The Database is correct, as far as it goes, but humans typically... in professional settings, we would just... we would wear more clothing than this. I just feel... I feel much too exposed. I'm not sure that I can work effectively under these conditions, and I want to formally request that some changes be made to accommodate my needs."

The Captain fixed Julie with an icy stare and stood motionless for a few moments. It felt like an eternity to Julie as those great big icy eyes burned a hole directly into her soul and made her feel even smaller than she already did. At last, the great reptile spoke: "Do you know what a comfortable room temperate is for a Draconian?"

The question took Julie aback. She hadn't made much of a study of Draconians at the academy (most of the Xenoscience she'd studied in the academy had been related to the Vardans, their allies and how to kill them) and even if she had, flustered as she was, she probably wouldn't have remembered the answer to such a random question "I... I can't say that I know the answer to that question, Captain..." she stuttered.

"150 degrees Fahrenheit." The Captain replied. "65 degrees celsius. 49 degrees zilondat. Tell me, Ensign Starr, what would become of you if I heated this ship to accommodate my own personal needs?"

"I would die." Julie answered, honestly.

"Indeed. As would many members of this crew. You will note that the average temperature on this ship is significantly hotter than average for a Federation Starship, but well within the comfort and survivability range of every species onboard, other than myself. I suffer the cold, the rest of you suffer the heat, and we all meet in the middle. That is what it means to run a Federation Star Cruiser, Ensign, compromise in the name of the greater good. Now, I have another question for you, Ensign: What is the difference between a costume and a uniform?"

"Captain, I'm not sure..."

"A costume becomes a uniform when every member of a team wears the SAME costume. That's what makes it a uniform. It's UNIFORM. You will note, Ensign, that most members of this crew are non-humanoid in nature. Their body types would not easily accommodate a uniform you would likely find satisfactory, nor could they all easily share any other uniform as elaborate as the one you're suggesting. Additionally, while the warm temperatures we maintain on this ship are just barely adequate to keep me alive, many members of the crew find them oppressive, and welcome a less restrictive uniform type. They are not cursed by your sense of body shame, you see. For them, a simple patch bearing the Space **** insignia is all they need to satisfy the fleet's uniform requirements and get on with their work. You will note that MOST of the officers you've seen since your arrival wear ONLY the one patch and nothing else, save for the few species who require full life support suits to exist in this ship's oxygen based atmosphere. If I were to have followed protocols strictly, I would have issued you only ONE patch bearing the SF insignia and called it a day. But I took the trouble to read up on your species and provide you with what I felt was a reasonable cultural accommodation and STILL you come into my office and complain that I have not accommodated your needs?"

"I understand what you're saying Captain, but if you could try to see things from my perspective."

"...Ensign, I'll be frank. It is the prerogative of the ship's Captain to see to the uniforms of her crew. YOU have no say in the matter. The rather distasteful human delusion that you are somehow the center of the universe despite being a backwards fringe species does not change that. You ask for cultural accommodations, I explain to you that I have already made all of the accommodations I am willing to make, and yet you still persist in asking for more. I owe you one patch Ensign. I've given you three. Three times as much covering as any other crew member, and yet STILL you complain! This conversation is at an end. I suggest you get out of my office and return to your post before I decide to treat you like every other crew member and reduce your uniform down to the one obligatory patch. I don't want to have to do that Ensign, though I must admit to a small amount of morbid curiosity as I wonder where you'd decide to put it. Will that be necessary, Ensign?"

"...No, Captain." Julie replied, defeated.

"Good. Now, return to your station."

Julie hopped up off the stool and began to make her way to the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned to the Captain who'd just begun to curl back up on her rock. The Captain raised her head back up and asked "Is there something else, Ensign?"

"No, it's just that... would it be asking too much to just have something to cover my butt? I mean..."

"ENSIGN. OUT. NOW!!!!"

Ensign Starr did not need to be told again as she ran through the automatic door and down the hallway, her bare buns jiggling every step of the way.