Love at First Sight
Outpost 23
The hard blow fell across her back from behind. “Get fucked by a Beluvian tocar!” Luna swore at the offender. Her electric orange outposter splashed down her shirt and onto the data pad she was reading. She turned to locate the dead grinter who’d doused her in her favorite beverage, only to find a trembling waitress backing away from the chaos of a brawl, wearing the tray of alcohol she’d been carrying. Luna didn’t recognize the poor girl shaking like a captured moon in front of the group of burley Tresicans, but she couldn’t handle her own yet; she must be new. She grabbed an upset stein in each hand and slammed them on the table, demanding their attention.
“Hey, assholes! You wanna take that shit outside? People are trying to work here.”
The ruffians ceased their wrestling and focused instead on Luna. Half a dozen tusked snouts pointed at her, daring her to believe she had miscalculated. She made tight fists around the glasses, prepared to whack any of the seven-foot-tall hairy males upside the head if he tested her.
Without warning, the table of drunkards broke into laughter. Where they had been ready to fight, they clapped each other’s shoulders and guffawed at the audacity of the angry human female. In an instant, the situation defused.
Luna retook her seat and reached for the napkins. The slight waitress turned to her, wearing a massive grin despite the streaks of moisture and foam tracing down her. “Wow, you were great,” she gushed. “I can’t imagine standing up to that many thugs. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You can start by bringing me a new drink,” Luna growled without looking up.
“Oh. Of course.” Her tone went from neutron star to ice giant.
Luna shook her head. “I’m sorry. Don’t mind me; I’m just cold.” She finally met the woman’s gaze. Sapphire blue eyes locked onto hers. “You don’t have to bring me anything. I think I’ll go home and change.” She picked up her tablet. “This is probably ruined, too.”
This earns a small chuckle. “You’re reading in this noise?”
“Yeah, you really are new.” She dabbed everything with the napkins available to her, but wasn’t able to make a difference. “I read in here all the time. Just duty rosters and systems briefings. Nothing fun.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were having any fun,” she waved to indicate their surroundings, “in a bar.”
It was Luna’s turn to laugh. “It’s work,” she explained. “I can’t shut it off.”
The locks of her golden hair glowed, as if lit from within, like a nebula, and shone on her face. “Why not?” she teased. “Are you the station commander?”
“I’m the second officer,” Luna clarified.
A delicate o formed on her lips while she blinked away the surprise. Somehow, she was cute in that pose, too.
“Yeah,” Luna smirked, “that’s what everyone says.” Despite her impromptu shower, tonight was turning out to be more enjoyable than usual.
“Sorry,” she stumbled.
Luna shrugged. “I’m not out of uniform very often. I’m Luna. Welcome to Outpost 23.”
“Thank you. My name’s Astor.” She beamed another smile that glowed like the tail of a comet as she scooped up the empty glass and set it with the others. “Well, you looked great tonight. Before our unfortunate collision, that is.”
The expression was contagious. “It’s feeling less and less unfortunate.”
“Are you sure you’re too cold to stay?” her long lashes beseeched. “I can bring you another round.”
“I guess I don’t know why I’m complaining,” Luna admitted. “You’re the one who has to finish working the rest of your day after you got doused with a tray full of drinks.” Her thin uniform plastered itself to her skin, revealing even more of her curves than when it had been dry.
“Oh, I get off in half an hour,” Astor divulged with a flick of her wrist. “At least it happened at the end of my shift.”
Luna squirmed on the barstool. “You know what? I think I will have another outposter.”
“I’ll be right back with it.” Astor’s eyes twinkled with the intensity of a supernova, as if she’d just talked Luna into some mischief.
Astor turned and walked into the din of the crowd. Luna watched her hips maneuver past the closest set of chairs. Beautiful women weren’t commonplace around a backwater outpost in the far-flung arm of the galaxy. And those that appeared usually went to bed with Dunnagan, the insufferable first officer. At times, he seemed to have bimbos shipped in from more fashionable regions so he could use them and send them on their way. She had no idea how the girls might benefit from the arrangement. An incident on the bridge involving a Rosarian trader, a Hogarich razor beast, and Dunnagan’s apparent propensity to go commando gave her enough information to rule out an anatomical explanation.
Her favorite waitress returned with a second cocktail, larger than the first. With a flourish, she placed the fluorescent orange concoction in front of Luna. “A replacement, to make up for the one we lost.”
Luna’s eyes grew as big as red giants. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”
“It’s a start,” Astor agreed, shrugging a shoulder, her voice impish. “I have my rounds, but I’ll come by to check on you.”
The outposter was strong and her pad was toast; Luna’s only option was to relax and watch the patrons gathered around the joint. Junior officers filled the barstools, flexing their egos. At the tables sat the higher ranks, groups of residents, and traveling crews passing through. The unruly Tresicans stood to leave, shoving each other as they went. A sharp cry rend the air. “This challenge must be met! We will go to the arena and test your mettle there!”
A much quieter trio of Omarites took their place, their long necks swaying as they sat. Her pulse quickened as she anticipated Astor stopping by soon to take their order, but a different server came to their side. Then she caught herself looking for Astor out on the floor. She thought she glimpsed her waiting on some officers, but a fourth Omarite joined the group and by the time its bulbous lower body had passed her field of vision, the person in question was gone.
“So, how’s that drink?” From out of nowhere, she appeared, without her usual paraphernalia.
Luna looked and found she’d drained the glass in spite of herself. “It was great.”
“Need another?” Astor’s hand brushed hers. Her eyebrows arched. “Or would you rather get out of here?”
“I’m ready to leave when you are.” Luna stood up, interlacing their fingers. “Where do you want to go?”
Astor pressed herself against Luna. She leaned in until her lips were almost against her ear. “What about your place?”
A chill went down Luna’s spine and she tried not to shiver.
She led the way out of the bar and onto the plaza. They passed the rows of shops, their muted mauve store fronts shut for the night. The naked majesty of space shone through the thick glass of the ceiling, raining starlight on them from above. Its magic tickled the dried alcohol on Luna’s skin and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The hour grew late, but the decks were not empty yet, so they weren’t alone until the lift doors closed.
Astor wrapped her arms around her waist. Luna’s breathing hitched. She ran her fingers through Astor’s silky hair. Held so close, Luna fell into the gravity well of her sapphire black holes. She bent her head and kissed her, feeling giddy with the effects of her crimson lips. Astor sprang to life in her embrace and began searching her soul with her mouth. The chime of the opening door barely reminded them to continue their trek.
Luna’s quarters were just a few turns down the green carpeted hallway. With their hands clasped, excitement mounted as Luna struggled to maintain a sensible pace the rest of the way. Astor’s hungry expression had her fumbling with her own keycode.
Once inside, an instant pang of embarrassment at the messy state of her quarters hit her. Pads overflowed her desk. Clothing, books, and other objects she had not bothered to pick up piled high atop the living room furniture. Astor didn’t seem to notice, however. She simply drew her in for a second long kiss, pressing their bodies together so she felt all of her curves.
Only after they finished did Aster pull away from her, “Would you mind if I use your bathroom to clean up a bit?” She touched the stain on her shirt. “I’m still sticky.”
“Of course,” Luna answered. She led her to the small room she realized wasn’t tidy enough, either. “Don’t worry about the other door; it leads to the bedroom. Call out if you need anything.”
With a wink, Astor disappeared, and soon she heard the sounds of running water. She paced the living space and picked up litter in an endeavor to make it presentable. After fifteen minutes, with a sizable pile of laundry draped over her arm, the idea dawned on her to change as well. She made her way into the bedroom.
Luna deposited her clothes in the hamper, preoccupied by what type of garment to put on. Out of her periphery, she noticed the computer screen was active. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, cognizant of the sensitive information that her access codes would display. She didn’t even remember working in there. She logged out and closed the terminal. Then her thoughts regressed to their chief conundrum.
She settled on a low-cut tank top, the single sexy shirt in her wardrobe, having decided that pajamas would be too suggestive. Upon her return, she realized the water had stopped. While she waited, she reminded herself to breathe.
Moments later, the door opened and Astor stepped out, her skin still damp, dressed in Luna’s loosely tied bathrobe.
***
Luna strode onto the bridge the next morning to a full array of flashing yellow lights. Despite the indication of a minor emergency, the grin remained plastered on her face.
“What’s gotten into you?” Dunnagan demanded.
“Fuck off,” she replied.
“That’s the Knolls we’ve come to expect,” Captain Mathers agreed.
“Sir, the Antarian ship is protesting the embargo,” a crewmember reported from the computer station behind the command post.
“You tell Wesic that no one is going anywhere until we sort this shit out!” the captain bellowed. “As far as I’m concerned, that giant slug of a trader could’ve had his slimy tentacles in this mess.”
“Y-yes, sir.” Luna almost laughed, curious what message the timid ensign would actually transmit.
“Now, in case you children are wondering what this is about,” Mathers waved his arms to indicate the alert status, “we had a security breach last night. Someone infiltrated our server and got ahold of some high-level access codes and raided our major systems. They downloaded personnel files, mission logs, ship manifests. It’s not clear yet what they were hunting for.”
Luna’s heart sank, remembering the computer screen in her bedroom. All of those directories were accessible with her codes. “Do we have log-on details? Can we trace the unauthorized activity?”
“They used an encryption sequence to disguise their point of entry and cover their trail,” the captain snarled. “Almost crashed the whole system. We can’t even determine which codes were stolen.”
Dunnagan crossed his arms. “So change your passwords, dipshit.”
“Everyone needs new security data,” Mathers ordered. “You two will investigate every asshole who’s shown up on this station within the past month. I want the names of whoever’s involved, how they gained access, and what their objective was. We’ve never had a breach this serious. Traffic stops until we know what happened. So help me, when I figure out who’s responsible, someone’s ass is getting ground up finer than ring dust.”
Editor: Michelle Naragon
