Our story started here.

Once Dane was certain that Dale was heading back to the Ad Astra he cut ahead of her so that he could run a discreet scan as she came aboard. The package she carried was definitely an encrypted data chip of the kind designed to avoid official scrutiny.

All the way back from the Rusty Bucket, Bradley Dane had felt sick. Dale’s defection felt like a personal betrayal. Sure he had been counting on it… he sighed and sat back in the command chair.

The bridge was empty as it usually was in port, but Dane cast a look back over his shoulder as he had suddenly been transport to enemy territory, no that wasn’t it; he was disappointed. But why did was he so angry? It didn’t make sense.

In any case the mission was on. If it all went according to plan, he would use Dale to lead him to the targets. He had to focus. Somewhere a hormone regulator pumped something to calm him down. At the same time emotion inhibitors cleared his mind. Or they were supposed to. Instead, as usual they just washed it out a little, like converting a colour photograph into sepia tones.

However, he felt a little better and it all made sense, he supposed; once he had ignored his personal reaction it did anyway. He had pressurised Dale into taking desperate measures and she had reverted to type. It had been as he had been briefed and his plan had worked. Now he had a line in to the targets.

*

The data chip was like a hard accusation in her pocket. It was just like the old days when Dale didn’t ask questions. Only it wasn’t. In the old days she got a buzz out of it. In the old days she hadn’t had Jen to worry about.

“We might be able to work something out,” Marcus had said easily; too easily perhaps. “You run a little message for me through the customs at Maelstrom and by the time you get back I might have a buyer for you.”

“Might have?” Dale had countered.

Marcus had frowned then and made as if he was sucking a sweet.

“Okay, I am pretty confident, you do this and I’ll buy at least… a quarter of your cargo at 150 off my own bat,” he said casually, “Suit you?”

Dale had seen salvation in the figures and her judgement had gone south. Now she was already regretting her agreement.

*

The bridge was dark and cold. The deep blue lights that were the only illumination only served to emphasise this, setting a gloomy mood for the preparations for the voyage on to Maelstrom.

Most of the crew were concerned with the cargo and Dane had headed down to check on various delays for himself leaving only Dale and Gail on the bridge. The ship’s cook shot an eager glance over at her friend, Gail had hoped to engage the first officer in some conversation about Dane, but for all the attention she was getting she might as well have been in galley or the medical bay.

As she watched her Dale appeared to be absorbed in the console, but Gail knew that look, prepping the ship was the last thing on her mind. Her friend had barley spoken since slipping away planet side and the medic-cum-cook had a feeling of serious foreboding about it. Gremlin was too close to the port not to think about how much of Dale’s life had gone awry there. Damn, she wished they hadn’t come to Rigel Nine of all places. The sooner they lifted off for Maelstrom the better.

Meanwhile Dale played her encounter with Marcus over and over in her head. The ever present data chip weighed heavy on her and it was all she could do not to toss out of an airlock. But that wasn’t even an option now.

Once upon a time she would have been bound by smugglers honour to follow through on a deal, but these days she cared little about that. It had taken years to extract herself from that life for Jen’s sake if nothing else, and now here she was up to her neck again. But one didn’t cross Marcus, not ever.

Besides he had offered to help bail her out of debt and after all it was just one little job…

“Have you had a chance to…?” Gail cut into her thoughts.

“I haven’t had a chance to do anything,” Dale shot back with some vehemence, “Just do your job and leave me to do mine.”

*

Michelin hadn’t been spanked in days. No more than just days. Not that she had done anything wrong, it was just that it was overdue and she was getting antsy. Usually Dane would pick her up on some small matter and haul her off to the ‘woodshed’ for a workout to set her right. But lately he had been preoccupied.

Nominally she was the second officer, but she hated being in charge. But so long as her equilibrium was level she didn’t care, she was perfectly happy to share her skills and offer suggestions for the smooth running of the Ad Astra. But now it seemed everyone demanded something from her and she wasn’t coping.

Suddenly there was a crash and Michelin looked over in time to see a spilled ore crate and one of the loaders tottering as if it might fall. Jen was at the controls frantically trying to regain her balance while a torrent of choice words tumbled out of her mouth onto the deck.

“Damn this cargo, damn this… why didn’t they just stack it more efficiently in the first place? The captain must have known he wanted to take on ore here. And why the hell would he do that anyway? Given the price and freight costs it was almost worthless to a small ship like theirs.

Tammy who had initially started laughing at Jen’s struggle made her mouth form a tight line. Her friend had a point. They had been labouring all morning and if she didn’t get a shower soon people would be turning up their noses all the way to Maelstrom.

It was this moment that Dane chose to enter the main hold and one look at the tottering loader got his hackles up.

“What the hell is wrong with that loader? Are you pranking again?” he bellowed, “And why isn’t that cargo stacked yet?”

Jen who had only just averted a near disaster dropped down from the loader and rounded on the captain.

“I’ll tell you why the cargo isn’t stacked… because some…” she spluttered to a cough to mask her next words, “didn’t give orders for the cargo to be stacked for ore when we left Little Sister. Now we have to stack the whole damn lot again and some of us are tired,” Jen’s yell tapered off to an uncommitted mumble.

Dane fixed her with a stare that could kill.

“What Jen means, captain is… I mean she does have a point,” Michelin began.

“I know exactly what Cadet Hanson means Hollister,” Dane said sharply.

Michelin made a pout and folded her arms indolently.

“Come on Captain, she’s right,” Tammy groaned and say down in a silent protest.

Dane’s gazed swivelled to include his favourite cadet and she suddenly took a keen interest in her feet. She knew better, much better.

“I’ll blister the arse of the next one that whinges,” Dane hissed.

Tammy launched herself upright and even Michelin ducked her head as if avoiding a blow.

“Let’s get this cargo stacked,” she announced with a feeble authority.

Things might have ended there but just then a flustered Luna chanced into the loading having been bollocked by Dale for pitching up on the bridge instead of the hold where the work was being done. I didn’t know did I? It was a bitter thought and she added aloud, “I have had it with that bitch and I have it with this ship and I if I hear one more order…” Then she saw Captain Dane looking at her and she froze. “Eh… hello Sir… I was…”

His red prosthetic eye seemed glower all by itself and Luna could have sworn she could hear synthetic muscles and servos straining to explode. Then as a cold smile launched itself onto his lips Dane crooked a solitary finger at her and beckoned. Luna gulped.

*

The women tried to work efficiently as they could without watching the action at the end of the loading bay, but it wasn’t easy. The precious dark-haired Luna Price was ungainly draped over Captain Dane’s lap with her coveralls and shorts resting on her boots while he belaboured her shapely polished bottom with a vigorous paddle-like hand.

At the moment her face was as red as her bottom, but Dane aimed to change that happenstance as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. So far his efforts had drawn only sharp yips and squeals from the girl, but from the way she was bucking and kicking the small audience knew it wouldn’t be long before she really expressed some distress.

So it proved. One minute she was hissing and groaning through clenched teeth and then she let out a true yell. It was all downhill from there and pearly little tears splashed pell-mell onto the bulkhead.

As amusing as she found it, Tammy couldn’t help feeling a pang of resentment at Luna’s treatment. Dane never gave her a paternal spanking like that; usually he just had her bend over for a prolonged taste of his belt. Not that she couldn’t take it or didn’t realise that Luna wasn’t yet used to such treatment, but all the same did he really have to spank her like he was her dad? Couldn’t Dale have done it or…

“Never mind that, get on with your work,” Michelin hissed, “Or you’ll be next.”

Tammy glowered at the second mate for a moment and then angrily turned back to address the cargo. But she couldn’t miss the almost wistful look Michelin gave Luna’s ever sorer bottom.

*

The moment Dane walked onto the bridge Gail found an excuse to leave. Not that she went very far. A confrontation had been coming for a long time and it seemed to her that the moment had come.

“Hanson,” Dane barked, “Hanson, I am sick and tired of the slapdash way you are handling this crew. That little brat Price seems to have stuck around but doesn’t yet know the first thing about her job…”

“How is that my fault… sir? She doesn’t know the first thing about anything,” Dale countered. “As for sticking around, are you so surprised? What would she do on Rigel Nine?”

“I don’t give a shit, she’s crew now so make her work,” Dane snarled. Damn the woman why was he arguing? Why was he so mad?

“She’s working isn’t she?” Dale snapped.

“Only after I spanked her bare arse for her,” Dane said exasperation. “That’s your job too.”

“Fine,” Dale said bitterly, “Have her report to the woodshed and I’ll blister her bottom so raw…”

Dane sucked in air through his nostrils and put his face in hers. How dare she? How…?

Neither knew how it started or who started it, but suddenly they were locked in an embrace. Their tongues interlocked as Dane tipped Dale into the sweep of his arms and pressed his face to hers as if he wanted to mash their heads.

Then abruptly as it had begun they broke away.

“Umh,” Dane coughed and looked away. “I… eh… a grizzled old cyborg like me is probably not… yes well… that was…”

“Inappropriate, yes Sir… I’m sorry,” Dale spluttered.

“No I… I mean… I am the captain after all,” Dane found a line of responsibility he could deal with.

What the hell was that? Dale’s inner turmoil overwhelmed her, damn the man, he must have used some sort of implant or…

Dane was no less clear about the event. Did I start that, he thought? It has been a while. He had to make sense of it, he just had to. Damn, it would look a fine thing in a report. They warned me she was tricky and… damn that’s it, she is an expert… she is on to me… or wants her ship back and… damn, damn, damn, that must be it… you fool. The only women he was sure of were the ones you bought and disposed of. He wasn’t used to women like Dale Hanson.

Just outside the door Gail replayed the unlikely scene over and over while her dampened eyes danced back and forth in her head. She had been blind all this time. Well it had only been a matter of time, she supposed, Dale wasn’t the girl-kissing type, not really. She hated being top dog and was always going to fall for the first man with authority.

Then Gail looked again, no, not the first man, but the grizzled old hard case of a captain was just her type. Strangely she wasn’t as mad as she should have been. But all the same as she slunk off alone to the galley she felt as empty as the corridor.

To be continued.