The Voyage Home - [EC]

The inbound trip to Merak II was more somber than the outbound leg had been. O'Connell spent much of his time in his cabin. When out on the Mess Deck, he did not mope or heave deep sighs, but everyone knew he was heartbroken. However, time passes, and a ship piercing through hyper-space does reach its destination.

Once the ship passed through its Deceleration Point and all of the people onboard had recovered from the effects, Commander Smith announced they would be reaching the planet in four hours. Once landed, rather than twenty-four hour tours as Duty Officer, they would be standing eight hour watches to insure everyone had an opportunity for Liberty.

Leaving the 'Port Watch', consisting of Lieutenant Moonwatcher and Chief Wallace, to run the ship until time to enter the atmosphere, Commander Smith retired to his Cabin to try to rest up. The knock on his door put that plan on temporary hold.

It was Guardian Gladden. Smith did not get up from his rack, the space was extremely small and only by staying in his bed would Gladden be able to sit in the sole chair in the cabin. Smith asked Gladden, "What's up?"

"It's about O'Connell, Sir," Gladden answered, "What do you intend to do about him?"

"What do I intend to do?" Smith repeated the question. "I do not intend to do anything. I did not make an entry about the incident into the Ship's Log. As far as I am concerned, it never happened. But he is your man. You are the Senior Guardian. If you need a report from me, I'll be happy to write one. If you want me to keep quiet, I'll do that. . . . Your call."

Gladden nodded and thanked Smith, the Guardian rising from the chair. Pausing at the door, he stared down at the supine Smith for a few seconds before saying, "It was an honor working with you, Captain."

Smith smiled. "You, too, Brett." With a broader smile, he added, "Especially the part where you gave the Bartender three seconds to come up with a better answer or his brains would be splattered on the ceiling."

As soon as the 5-EX touched down, people swarmed onboard. Doctor Rhonda Birks and others from the Planetary Health Service clustered around Doctor Boyce. The Port Captain and Stevedore spoke with Lieutenant Moonwatcher about off-loading the ore. Government Officials conferred with Special Envoy Anderson.

Anderson waved Smith over, introducing him all around. There was much deflection of credit to the other person.

Smith: Commissioner Anderson is the one who could keep Ishlass calm and placated.
Anderson: The Captain was the one who was able to make contact with the striking miners.
Smith: Commissioner Anderson set up the meetings.
Anderson: The Captain's 'gunboat diplomacy' paid off.

During all of this, Smith's and Birks's eyes would occasionally meet. When the Control Room began to empty out, the good Doctor made her way over to the Ship's Captain. "Welcome back, Richard," she smiled up at him. "Care to join me for a drink?"

"Good to see you, too, Rhonda," he answered, his eyes running up and down her form, openly appraising her. The forty-something woman had her blonde hair swept back in a French swirl, wore a tailored sky-blue skirt-suit with matching shoes. The white blouse beneath her jacket was open at the throat, with a dark blue scarf tied around her neck. Chuckling, he asked, "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"I know how you Rocket Jockeys are," she replied. "Always in a rush to blast-off."

Was it just Smith and the fact that he had been in space for fourteen days, or was it the aroma of her perfume that made him think she was not referring to a space-craft lifting off from a landing pad?

"Come on," she said, not waiting for an answer. "There is an office over at the Spaceport Administrative Building. It is used by a PHS physician when one has to come out to clear a ship after landing. We didn't bother sending one this time, as you had Doctor Boyce onboard and he could sign the paperwork."

Smith followed her down the access ramp of the 5-EX. Her pencil skirt with the slit in the back accentuated her full, womanly bottom. The material hugged her form tightly, displaying every curve of her ass.

They crossed the concrete landing pad and entered the Admin Building where she unlocked a door and grinned wickedly, saying, "We just . . . happen . . . to keep a bottle of Scotch stashed."

The office was nondescript. A desk with a chair behind it. Two chairs in front. A filing cabinet against one wall. A water cooler in the corner. A clock over the door. Only the cabinets with glass doors and medicine on the opposite wall and two anatomical posters on the wall next to the filing cabinet gave any indication that the room was a medical office.

Doctor Rhonda Birks pulled open the bottom drawer and bent over, looking for the bottle. This caused her ass to stick out, broad and round. Her high heels lifted her butt and firmed up her buttocks, thighs, and calves. As she dug through the contents of the drawer, she repeatedly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Naturally, the swaying of her derriere caused Smith to get hard.

"Hmm, I know it is in here somewhere," she said. "Richard, why don't you come over here and help me look for it?"

When he stepped up behind her to peer over her shoulder, she stepped back, pressing that fantastic ass of hers into his crotch. He did not pull away, of course, and she continued to wiggle her rear-end around, grinding it against his erection. After a few moments of that, Smith grabbed her waist with both hands and started moving his own hips from side-to-side, dry-humping the woman.

"Oh! There it is," she said at last, finding, or pretending to find, the bottle. Straightening up and turning around, she reached out with her free hand to grab his crotch, rubbing over it while staring up into his eyes. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her to him and covering her mouth with his. It was a long, drawn-out kiss, with much tongue action. She was the one who pulled away and went to the water cooler, pouring a shot into two plastic cups. They both belted them back but when she went to pour another round, Smith took the Scotch from her and placed it atop the large plastic bottle of water in the dispenser.

There was more kissing and groping followed by Smith gripping Rhonda's upper arm and leading her to the desk. She allowed him to bend her over it and lift the hem of her skirt up over her rump. He snatched her white panties down to her ankles and she stepped out of them.

"Oh, Ronda," he sighed, admiring the sight of her bare ass. Framed by a white garter-belt and its straps holding up her flesh-covered stockings. She spread her legs and he slid his hand in between her thighs. Her pussy was moist, the fine blonde fuzz covering it damp. He petted and stroked it, eventually slipping his middle finger inside her. She moaned and closed her eyes, her hips rotating in slow circles as he finger-fucked her.

After several moments he removed his finger and quickly opened his pants, pushing them and his boxers down past his knees. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes smokey with desire. Placing his left hand on her hip and gripping his cock half-way down the shaft, Smith lined up his boner with her pussy, pushing the lips aside and pressing forward.

Rhonda let out a loud gasp and threw her head back when he entered her. With her elbows and forearms on the desktop, the blonde twirled her booty around as before while Smith slid back-and-forth within her. His eyes briefly closed from the pleasure of her tightly clasping vagina. The snug, velvety walls clutched his member, enveloping and embracing his prick.

Opening his eyes, he leaned forward, his left hand moving to the desktop. With her back arched, her torso was lifted and Smith used his right to unbutton her blouse. He did not try to remove her bra, just shoving it up over her breasts instead. He grabbed the full globe, squeezing and fondling it. She craned her neck, turning her head with parted lips, seeking out his mouth.

Moving his own head towards her, he kissed her again, their tongues entwining as he hovered over her. His pelvis slammed against her caboose, causing her fleshy backside to bounce and jiggle. The shock-waves of each impact sent a ripple through her plump fanny.

"Richard!" she shrieked when she broke the kiss. Her legs shook and her fists clenched. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!"

Her spasming vagina gripped him even tighter and he felt his own orgasm rapidly approaching. A few more short, rapid jabs and he was ejaculating. His body shaking and jerking as he fired out blast after blast of his thick baby-batter deep within her snatch.

Collapsing on top of her, the weight of his body **** her to fall forward as well. The couple lay there panting and gasping, catching their breaths. After he had recovered somewhat, he kissed her cheek, then her mouth, before pushing himself off her. As he was pulling up his pants, she stood up, shoving down her skirt.

"Well, that was fun," she said when she turned around to face him. She patted at her hair before pulling her bra back down into place. Pecking him on his lips, she glanced at the clock. "I know we both have things to do, so why don't I pick you up at six for dinner at my place?"

"Just me or the rest of the crew?" he asked, thinking about the party she had thrown when they were last on Merak II.

"Just you," she answered. "When I learned that your ship had returned, I called the others and gave them the phone number to the Spaceport and their calls can be 'patched through' to your craft."

"Assuming they call," Smith said.

"Assuming they call," Rhonda agreed.