Dinner With Dr. Birks - [C]

When Commander Smith left the Spaceport's Administration Building, he saw that there were cargo operations on both sides of his ship. Zenite ore was being off-loaded from the upper number two cargo hold, while the 'left over' diamonds and platinum bars used for the purchase of the ore were off-loaded from the lower number one cargo hold. Before boarding the 5-EX, he checked on both undertakings.

The Stevedore in charge of removing the ore said that his crew would have the hold stripped by sundown. Which was considerably faster than it had been loaded. But then, on Ardana, everything was done manually. On Merak II, they were using machines.

On the other side of the ship, Guardian Gladden gave about the same time estimate. For although the tonnage of the remaining funds were far, far less than the ore, this evolution was being done by hand. With the contents being placed in armored vehicles of the Centralized Banking Commission.

The first two things Smith's crew wanted to know when he stepped onto the deck of the Control Room were,
A) When was lift-off?
B) Would there be liberty?
There was no hesitation on the Captain's part. He answered immediately.

"We could be underway by 2000 Hours," he said, "But I'm going to wait until noon tomorrow. We're going to wind up thirty days behind schedule, anyway. Another sixteen hours won't matter. I want everyone back onboard by 0800 Hours. Lieutenant Hammer, you have the Conn until 1600. Boats, you take over after that. And Lieutenant Moonwatcher, you relieve the Boatswain at midnight." He looked at his wrist-watch, but that was more for dramatic effect than actually checking the time. "Everyone not on Watch . . . Liberty commences now."

When the men started hurrying towards their Cabins, the Captain called out an addendum to his orders. "Petty Officer Dawson! Prepare 'box lunches' for the Watches before you leave."

A couple of hours later, as Smith sat at the drop-down desk in his cabin, there was a knock on the frame of his open door. Looking up from his paper-work, a smile spread across the face of the Ship's Captain when he saw who it was.

"Doctor Boyce," Smith said, "Missing us already?"

The Doctor in turned smiled and offered the Captain two binders and a manilla envelope. "Remember the night those two men were shot in Ishlass's Palace? Of course you do. Before the 'house-Trogs' could clean the floor, I blotted up some of the blood with one of my handkerchiefs. I also . . . borrowed . . . coffee cups that Ishlass and Darcina had used. And two napkins from the Mess Deck of you ship. One was used by Lavella and the other by Miss Farasha."

Smith looked down at the as of yet unopened binders and envelope before grinning up at Boyce. "This looks like a lot of documentation for such a small amount of petty larceny. But if you insist on receiving punishment, I revoke your entertainment center privileges for one week."

"I just had the lab run DNA tests on the items," Doctor Boyce continued, although he did smile at Commander Smith's joke. "It is like I suspected. Troglytes and Sky People are the same species. They are not even sub-species of each other. The differences are based purely on nutritional, health care, and educational disparities. Not biology."

Now Smith did open the binders, saw that they were duplicates, and began to scan through one.

"I figure you could pass that information along to the Disruptors," Boyce explained, still standing in the doorway due to the smallness of the Cabin. "I have also included electronic copies in the envelope."

After flipping through a few more pages, Smith looked up and offered one binder and the envelope back to Boyce. "I will keep this copy for my superiors on Earth, but I can not relay that information to anyone on Ardana. I have already exceeded my authority by getting involved as much as I have, but my justification is the **** urgency of the medical situation here on Merak II. Now," Smith continued, "If you want to send this information from your government to the government of Ardana, I would be more than happy to deliver that. Like I would any other communications between planets. Just get it to the ship by ten o'clock tomorrow morning. No later."

Boyce accepted the items, nodding his head. "Fair enough. I'll be back in the morning, but rather than dealing with bureaucratic red-tape, I'll send it as a medical report from the Planetary Health Service to the hospital on Stratos with the heading, 'Attention High Advisor', and a copy to the Department of Health, Sons and Daughters of Freedom."

"Is there such a thing?" Smith asked about the latter.

Doctor Boyce grinned with a shrug, "Who knows? Deliver it to their Chief Negotiator and let her figure it out." He started to leave but stopped. "Oh. When I do deliver the reports, do you mind if I present a copy to Lieutenant Hammer. It will explain how Miss Farasha, who would probably score higher on an I.Q. test than Darcina, has, as he put it 'such a remarkable vocabulary for a Trog'."

"I don't mind," Smith grinned. "I don't mind at all."

Around 1700 Hours, Smith was in the Main Control Room, waiting for Doctor Birks to pick him up for dinner. He was chatting with Chief Wallace, the Watch Officer, when they heard footsteps on the access ramp. It was Anderson.

"This must be Alumnus Day," Smith said to Anderson. "First Doctor Boyce and now you, Commissioner. What's up?"

He did not understand the Boyce reference, of course. Nor did he pursue it. Instead, he handed Smith a folder of his own. As the Captain opened it to see a sheet of paper inside, Anderson explained. "I did not show this to you on the voyage home, as things were tense enough as they were. And I did not show this to you until now, because unless I got the Centralized Banking Commission's approval to release O'Connell from his contract, it would not effect anything, anyway."

Smith read the paper three times. After the first time, he was frowning in concentration. At the end of the second read, he was smiling. And the third time brought a chuckle. Then a laugh. Then a long series of loud, heartfelt bursts of merriment. He passed the folder to Wallace so that he could see what was so funny.

"Well played, Commissioner, well played," Smith nodded repeatedly at Anderson. "You once told me I should have been a Diplomat. I think I'll stick with Astrogation. That letter from Ishlass," he pointed to the folder Wallace was holding, "which grants full citizenship of not only Ardana, but Stratos as well, to O'Connell paints me in a corner. If I do not show up with him, it could appear that I am snubbing the High Advisor. The situation is unstable enough as it is. Zenite is far too important for me to risk the negotiations over one person."

The Captain reclaimed the folder, tapping the edge of it against his open palm. "I think you are making a mistake. This is going to ruin that man's life in the long run, but . . . The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. Or the one." Smith struck his palm one last time and said to Anderson, "He has already left the ship with his gear. Get hold of him and tell him to report back onboard no later than 1000 Hours."

When Anderson turned to leave, Smith stopped him by asking, "One last thing. This letter . . . You got it when I suggested you and Doctor Boyce go back to Stratos to say your final good-byes?"

Anderson smiled sheepishly and nodded, "Afraid so, Captain."

Smith just shook his head and said aloud, "Shot myself in the foot . . ."

When Smith slid into the passenger seat of Doctor Birks hover-craft at precisely 1800 Hrs, she asked, "So how did you spend your afternoon?"

"Five wins. One tie. And one loss," he answered, kissing her on the cheek. "And looks like you spent yours getting dressed. You look gorgeous. Absolutely stunning."

Doctor Birks, instead of her earlier skirt-suit, was wearing a dark-blue, short-sleeve, velvet maxi-dress with a surplice neck-line. The dress had a high thigh split over her right leg. She normally wore high-heels, but these open-toed sandals with ankle straps were even higher than her normal ones. Her blonde hair, instead of being done up in a French swirl, flowed down in waves to her shoulders.

"I am glad you approve," she answered, sincerely flattered by his compliment. But a minute later she slapped the back of his hand, saying, "Not while I'm driving. You'll cause me to crash, naughty boy."

He removed his hand from her bare thigh and sat back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, saying with a mock-pout voice, "You never let me have any fun."

Dinner was served by Doctor Birks's maid and after the meal, as the domestic was removing the dishes, the Doctor said, "Let's take our coffees into the Library."

Smith followed, his head slowly pivoting as he looked at the book-lined walls. "I still can not get over the size and style of this place."

"Like I said," she answered as Smith sat down on a leather-covered couch, "My ex-Husband was very successful. As was my Divorce Attorney."

Rather than joining him on the couch, she sat down in an ornately carved wooden armchair with embroidered cushions. After carefully setting her cup and saucer on a nearby end-table, she made eye-contact with Smith. "And now, Captain Smith," she said as she slowly lifted her right leg and draped it over the arm of her chair while flipping back the left side of her dress. She slid her left foot to the side, spreading her legs wide, "About dessert."

As he had suspected, Doctor Birks wore no panties. In this impromptu gynecological exam position, her labia were slightly parted, revealing the pinkness of her insides. The elegance of the Library, the elegance of her, made her promiscuous display all the more licentious. Pornographic, even.

Walking over and standing in front of her, still maintaining eye-contact, Smith knelt down on one knee, as if about to be knighted. He grabbed the back of her left knee and hefted her leg aloft, draping that long limb, made even shapelier by the stiletto heels, over the other arm of the chair. Reaching under her thighs, he grabbed the insides of them and pulled her towards him, causing her to sink lower.

The fuzz of her pussy rippled when Smith blew across her crotch. She responded by closing her eyes and gripping the arms of the chair, bracing herself to be serviced by her younger lover. He lay a long, lingering lick on her snatch. All the way from her taint to her clit. He did that repeatedly, lapping her vulva, leaving a trail of saliva along her slit.

Moving his head in closer, he covered her muff with his open mouth and began to gnaw on her now puffy lips, swallowing her juices as her insides began to moisten. With her hands still clutching the chair arms, she pulled herself forward and lifted her hips, shoving her twat tighter into his face.

"Oh, yes, Richard," she murmured while rotating her bottom. "Eat me . . . Eat me . . ."

Willingly, happily, eagerly he complied. Making love to Rhonda with his mouth. Slurping her honeypot. He began to use a finger on her, sliding it inside and rotating his wrist so that he could reach her 'G-spot'. Crooking his finger, he pressed against her inner wall, rubbing it as his mouth sought out her clitoris.

Her hands left the arms of the chair to grip his head, holding it tightly as she started to shake from the waist down.

"Oh, Richard!" she gasped when his tongue flicked lightly and rapidly over her little clitty, pushing her over the edge. "Richard . . . Richard . . . RICHARD!!!"

Rhonda bucked and thrashed, lifting her upper body and wrapping her arms around Richard's head. Twitching and quivering, she climaxed against his face. His mouth, and tongue, and finger getting her off.

With a loud sigh of relief, she released his head and fell back in the chair. From her half-sitting, half-lying posture, she stared up at him with droopy eyes as he straighten. His mouth and chin glistened with her juices.

"Let's go upstairs," she said, "Although you might have to help me walk."