Written by Dumano1r :: [Tuesday, 26 September 2017 22:51] Last updated by :: [Wednesday, 27 September 2017 11:42]
Brennan was bored. So bored that it almost pained her. It had been nearly two hours since the assassin had gone back into deep sleep, three hours since her last proper fuck. Brennan had stood and watched the assassin's awesome muscles shrink away, fading back to insignificance as her power was drained to allow the deep sleep unit to take hold of her, until Brennan could stand it no longer. Now she was alone in her quarters, alone except for the dozen or so humans working to repair the damage to her walls and furniture. The humans were steering clear of her, sensing her bad mood as she stood idly twisting the metal frame of her old bed into contorted shapes. She stood before the mirror, looking into her own ancient eyes and feeling strangely empty.
She scanned her eyes over her naked body, as ever noting her own flawless skin; toned and slender legs; curvaceous hips; miniscule waist; tremendous, firm breasts; graceful neck; perfect face; radiant golden hair. She was as beautiful as she had been since she reached puberty, and, as she crushed the metal into a lump between her dainty fingers, every bit as strong.
She turned side on to the mirror, admiring her profile. “I look so fucking hot,” she purred to herself.
“Pardon, ma'am?” One of the repair crew asked.
Brennan was suddenly angry. “What the fuck is taking you so long? Why is my fucking room still not ready?” She stamped across the room to where six men were lifting the broken remains of her bed. She grabbed it with one hand and lifted it easily above her head, then with a flick of her delicate wrist she hurled it across the room to shatter against the wall. “That didn't take long, did it? Sort out my room, or the next thing hitting a wall will be one of you.”
The repair team visibly began to work faster and Brennan smiled to herself. She could smell their fear and it turned her on, a least a little bit. She crossed over to her wardrobe and selected a figure hugging red uniform, cut dangerously low across the chest and with a skirt that barely covered her cheeks. She slipped into it quickly, checked her reflection in the mirror, blew herself a kiss and laughed.
She selected a human at random. “You. Yes, you, come over here.” The man came over. He was a large man in his mid twenties. She knew he was corporal Parish, but that didn't really matter to her. “How do I look?” she asked.
“Amazing, ma'am,” he said instantly.
“Oh, corporal,” she said sadly. “That was a bit automatic, wasn't it? Now look at me. Start at my feet and work your way up.” She watched his eyes travel up her body, pausing at obvious points, before they met her eyes. “Now, how do I look?” She repeated.
“Amazing, ma'am, really hot.”
“That's better, it sounded like you meant it this time. Now, do you like my cleavage? Isn't it wonderful and deep? Put your hands down it.”
For a moment Parish hesitated, fear fighting other instincts, but then he did as commanded. She could feel his calloused hands against the soft skin of her mammaries. “Do my tits feel good?” She whispered.
“Yes,” he gasped.
She tensed her pectoral muscles, pushing her breasts together. Even with her hands on her hips, she relished the satisfying crack as his bones began to break. “I do love my tits,” she purred. Parish was gasping, trying not to scream, tears running down his face. “They’re so big and hard. Did you know, most human women couldn't even lift them? Look at the damage that they're doing to your hands and I'm barely even tensing my pecs. Watch this!” She laughed, tensing harder and this time bringing her hands up to push her colossal breasts together even further. Parish was screaming in agony as Brennan playfully ran her fingers around her nipples. “I do love being superior! Just the feeling of the softest part of my body crushing your fingers is making me so hot! You'd better take yourself down to sickbay before I decide to turn myself on any more!” She relaxed her mammoth grip, giggled as Parish snatched his shattered hands free and ran from the room.
Brennan smiled at the other stunned humans. “There, that was fun, I'm a bit less bored now.” She started to leave the room, but paused at the door. “The next time I ask any of you how I look, I expect you to mean your reply. That's not unreasonable, is it?”
As the doors to her quarters slid shut behind her, Brennan decided it was time to check out the cylinder that had been recovered from the vault.
Rowe was lying in bed in sickbay when corporal Parish came staggering in, escorted by the deck sergeant she recognised from the shuttle hangar, Mack. “Doc, we've got a crush injury here!” Mack shouted.
Doctor McCall hurried over. “Hold out your hands. Yes, they've been crushed alright! Quite some force on them! Heavy machinery?”
Parish gasped as he tried to speak, the pain choking his words. Mack spoke instead. “Brennan's boobs.”
McCall winced as he touched the damaged tissue. “Our captain is bored again, I take it.” He looked closely at the damage, gingerly prodding it with a delicate metal probe. “Well, the good news is that you aren't going to die. Here endeth the good news. Nurse! Nurse! Ah, good, there you are, we’re going straight into theatre. If we're quick, we may be able to save some of this young man's hands.” McCall hurried Parish through a set of doors, gesturing to Mack that he should wait outside.”
Mack shook his head wearily and slumped down in a seat opposite Rowe's bed. It took a moment for him to notice her and first lieutenant Pascoe in the adjacent bed. Pascoe spoke first. “Deck sergeant Kormack. How nice to see you.”
“First lieutenant Pascoe, it's good to see you too. How are you feeling?”
“Like I'm dying. Did Brennan do that to him?”
“The fucking spoilt bitch. We shouldn't put up with her anymore!”
Rowe glanced around nervously as Pascoe spoke, knowing the dangers of bad-mouthing a superior. Kormack nodded, but said nothing. Pascoe looked at them both and chuckled hoarsely. “It's okay, you don't need to talk, either of you. Let me talk, then it's only me she can hurt, and what can she do to me now?”
“That fucking bitch runs this ship like her personal doll’s house, with lots of things she can play with until she gets bored. All the superiors are like that, spoilt creatures who live for their power over everyone else. If it wasn't for her personal psycho in the deep sleep unit we’d have a chance of getting rid of the bitch.”
Kormack smiled grimly. “That personal psycho killed Ramirez.”
Pascoe closed her eyes sadly. “That's a shame, I liked him. He was a good man. He could see past all this class bullshit.”
“Bullshit?” Rowe asked, surprised to hear an A class deriding the system.
Pascoe laughed bitterly. “The cleverest thing the superiors ever did was introduce the class system. Now we all have something to aspire to or someone to look down on. I'm an A class, so I can look down on sergeant Kormack here, with his slovenly B class ways. He in turn, can look down on a lowly D class like yourself, whilst aspiring that maybe his children could become A class. We're all so busy looking at each other that we forget who our real enemies are.”
Kormack grinned, though when he spoke his tone was serious. “That's treasonous talk,” he said, though he winked to Pascoe as he said the words.
“Then they can fucking kill me!” Pascoe laughed, though it dissolved into a coughing fit as she struggled to breathe. When she managed to stop herself she smiled. “Look at me,” she said, wiping a smear of blood from her lips. “I'm the A class here and I'm the one who's fucking dying! That's what the class system is worth, when all is said and done.”
“You might pull through,” Kormack said.
“Fuck off, Mack. I'm dying and you'll be lieutenant when I'm gone. It's written in stone. I go, Jones steps up to first, Chan to second, you to third. Simple, and on the whole, I'm glad. Jones is a good man, you're okay, I suppose, just a pity that Chan is a cunt,” said Pascoe.
Rowe smiled at this and Pascoe noticed. “You don't like Chan, my dear? I don't blame you, I bet he speaks down to you. Belittles you for being a D class?” Rowe nodded. “He’s an idiot to believe his genes are better than yours. After all, I've got A class genes and I'm dying, whilst your inferior D class genetics seem to be thriving.”
Rowe smiled at this. She did feel good, much better than she had expected. The pain and dizziness were gone, her stomach was settled, her heart beat steady. She was still hungry, but the feeding tube was keeping her satisfied, at least for now.
Kormack spoke, “You do look good, ensign. I'd heard you were ill, but you look like you're well over it.”
“Thanks,” Rowe said with a blush.
Pascoe laughed. “Just kiss her and be done with it!”
Kormack laughed, stood up and crossed to Rowe. He took her hand and kissed it.
Then something unexpected happened. Rowe reached up and grabbed Kormack, pulling herself up to kiss him firmly on the lips. He held her embrace for a moment before she let herself drop back onto the bed. “I'm so sorry,” Rowe said, “I don't know what came over me.”
Kormack smiled. “It's okay, I don't mind. I'm flattered.”
Rowe blushed, deeply embarrassed by her own actions.
The nano-controller transmitted a brief message. Control established, continue upgrade.
Throughout Rowe's body the nanobots were working. The nano-controller, deep within her brain, was taking instructions from Rowe's subconscious and passing them out to the nanobots. Rowe was worried about many things, not least her immune system, but the nanobots were no longer concerned about that. They had enhanced it so far that Rowe would never get sick again.
Now they were working on other areas of her body that caused her concern. Nanobots were bonding themselves to her bone and her bone marrow, reinforcing, strengthening, improving. Lying in sick bay, Rowe didn't even realise that her bones had gone from being dangerously weakened to stronger than average, and were still getting stronger.
Blood vessels were carrying more blood carrying more oxygen and nutrients more efficiently than ever before. Weakened muscles were being tightened and rebuilt. Weakened eyes were being refocused and enhanced. Weakened lungs were getting more efficient with every breath. Throughout Rowe's body the nanobots were upgrading, using colossal amounts of nutrients from her diet to rebuild her whole body.
Rowe lay in her sickbay bed, listening to Pascoe's laboured breathing, marvelling at how much better she felt. She didn't realise it, but she was now in better condition than any other human aboard the ship. But her subconscious still wanted more…
Brennan looked at the cylinder curiously. She weighed it in her hands. It was very light. She didn't need superhuman muscles to pick it up.
“Why would you put this in a vault that could survive the destruction of an entire world?” She asked, as much to herself as to the science team around her.
Professor Kalinoska watched the captain nervously, afraid that the superwoman might choose to crush her precious relic between her powerful fingers or squeeze it into a mush between her fantastic breasts. Kalinoska had studied the cylinder for several hours, recording detailed scans of its surface, analysing the metal from which it was made, looking for clues as to what it might have held. She wanted desperately to scan it at a microscopic level, but the captain's unexpected arrival had caused them all to wait.
“We don't know, captain. We will begin to look for microscopic residue on the internal surfaces within the next hour,” said Kalinoska.
Brennan gently placed the cylinder down and smiled as she heard Kalinoska's heartbeat slow down. She ran a thoughtful eye over the professor's body. “I like your accent, professor. It's sexy. Russian?”
“Of course, but a Polish name? You needn't worry, I won't damage your precious cylinder. I'd like to know more about it too. I'm not just a pretty face and a fantastic, superhumanly powerful body, you know?” Brennan smiled sweetly.
“Thank you, captain.”
“Let me know what you find, in person. Come to my quarters, alone, when you finish your shift.”
Kalinoska blushed, “Yes, captain.”
Brennan placed a hand delicately on Kalinoska's wrist. “I love your accent. I'm willing to bet your tongue can do some fantastic things.” She winked playfully.
But then a siren rang, a sudden roaring noise across every single speaker aboard the Magellan. “This is lieutenant Jones to all crew. We have detected an unexpected hyperspace jump! All crew are to beat to quarters. Weapon systems are hot, shields have been raised. Captain to the bridge! An unidentified vessel has been confirmed and it is closing on our position!”