His Mothers Diary
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Space Diary Year 2 free porn video
Chapter 2, Year 2, Head Cargo Handler.
When a mere sixteen-year-old John Smith awoke. The first thing he did was close his eyes tightly before taking the blindfold off.
He wasn’t a captured prisoner in the conventional sense. But the bright constant glare from his room was always hard to get used to first thing in the morning.
The ship was lit by glowing plants. Dwarf Cave Vines that now grew all over the ship and drank the excess moisture from the air. Unfortunately you can’t turn plants off so you needed a blindfold to get any sleep.
Slowly he sat up and drank heavily from a two pint glasses of water he kept next to the bed, his mouth always felt so dry every time he awoke now. The next job of the morning was putting on a generous layer of skin moisturiser all over his body.
Still at least breakfast from the matter recycles was much nicer now a days, with the vines taking so much work of life support the food had improved ten fold but still was far from perfect.
The young lad had been in space on and off for a year. Now he only very occasionally got hyper space sickness.
He now had taken time to get to know the whole crew, both of them.
The ship was an old Orach freighter called the Haifhiu. In human it meant Full Pocket. It was certainly designed for cheapness rather than quality.
The captain was an Orach lady who despite her green skin pig, looks had a very sexy sounding voice and an expert business manner. She was called Captain Carla Camode of the Imperial Orach Merchant Navy.
The other member of the crew was a Dwarf engineer he now knew a Turn Cog, from a long line of famous Dwarf Cog clan.
John himself was just a mere human, a short lifer as many other races called his kind.
After eating he put on a dry comfortable flight suit. It was a nice navy blue one with white stripes.
John was only paid 12 credits a day but got bonuses for finding good deals for buying and selling cargo sometimes. Since discovering the vines (that by now were well over due for pruning) he had found he had a knack for bartering and finding markets.
Then he prepared for another routine day.
His job was mostly lifting and unloading cargo and then (as he discovered in his first space trip) look after it once it was aboard. Still his body didn’t seem to ache all over the way it used to.
He had to turn sideways slightly to get though his rooms door, and gave a quick stretch, and moaned in his head, as he realised his suit was getting to tight again. He was getting fed up with having to buy new ones.
He just assumed they must have kept shrinking in either the wash or this dry environment.
‘ So much for hi-tech fabrics’ he thought to himself.
John then made his way to the bridge.
Carla was there in her favourite mouldy bathrobe. The last thing any human wanted to see first thing in the morning was a naked female Orach.
She was smiling.
‘Good morning Head Cargo Handler,’ wafted a sensuous voice from the jutting green jaw.
‘Sorry?’ said John rubbing his eyes.
‘Good morning Head Cargo Handler’ She repeated,
‘What?’
‘I’m promoting you,’
‘What?’ said John again.
‘I, the captain of the Haifhiu, am promoting you John Smith to Head Cargo Handler,’
John started at the pronunciation of the ship’s name, it was only when she spoke Orach that she sounded like one. It was a language of sniffing and blowing of a full Orach nose, using the vocal cords very rarely to give intonation to the meaning.
‘So great, thanks, really, I get to be head of a department of zero excluding myself,’
‘Don’t’ be silly,’ said Carla puzzled, meaningless titles for the ego was strictly a human habit that most other races couldn’t comprehend.
‘To be head cargo handler you’ll have to hire one or two people on the next planet,’ she continued.
John quickly awoke and took an interest.
‘Do I get pay rise?’
‘No you get command experience and help. And I will apply for you to join the Imperial Merchant Navy if you wish.’
John said nothing. He had started to learn that silence had a habit of sucking more information out of people than a series of questions.
‘You’ll have a 25 credit budget, and there’s room on ship for about seven other people but I would like you to save space for super cargo,’
‘I’d be lucky to get two people on that budget!’ John exclaimed.
‘Yes but your daily budget may well increase in future, It’s because of your trading savvy that we can afford more crew, its because of you discovering these vines, ‘ she said pointing to the glowing flowers ‘ that we can afford the life support. We almost need more people to add moisture to the air.’
This was the first compliment John had been given since entering space.
‘Thank you.’
‘What for’ again she seemed puzzled.
‘Just thanks,’ and with that he smiled and left.
The planet was an industrial one. Thick with pollution, almost all city. It was once of course a rich green planet a thousand years ago, but planets tended to specialise and this one specialised in mass manufacturing.
The Baron’s of planet Goms were historically ruthless and greedy.
Apart from the palace gardens of the Barons there was no greenery.
There were no unions, or knowledge of what a union was. In the lower levels where even the sick yellow sunlight never reached, was rife with street gangs and crime. Those inhabitants who could afford it carried filter masks. Those who couldn’t died in their middle twenties. It was almost a hive world, and home to some of the greatest stock of Imperial soldiers. Which explained allot about the temperament of your average imperial soldier.
A person wanting off this planet could read the bulletin and could read all the ships details. Not that many came however because of the Haifhiu being an Orach ship. Orach ships were notorious for their lack of comfort and reliability, so there was not the best selection of possible crew waiting in line for inspection that evening.
When John had been in this line a year ago back on his home farming planet, he had been the only one in line. Here there were three in line.
Despite lack of unions there was an Imperial Directive (and no planet Baron openly disobeyed an Imperial directive,) that a persons scientifically measured health level affected their wage. It was the reason the Captain had to increase John’s wage twice this year. The healthier the person was the more they had to be paid. It was the Empires way of encouraging people to stay healthy and help insure a healthy stock of possible soldiers. Each candidate had their medical pads in front or them to prove their fitness level. The average was a rating of ten.
Out there were three prospects. A young girl in purple gang colours, a young man in red gang colours and a larger hairy creature in a loincloth.
There are two main muscle creatures (discounting undead and the like) known. Large hairy creatures called shaggy’s who were all muscle, hair, and brute force, (your classic sci-fi creature found in so many alternate realities) and there were Bigony’s who were less hairy, bigger, from the highest gravity worlds. With an average IQ of about sixty.
The creature in the line was a Bigony. Average for his race but a huge eight-foot to a human. There wouldn’t be any problem with him getting around the ship because Bigony’s preferred to travel on all fours anyway.
John quickly looked at his health chart. He was very healthy, again just over average for his race but to a human he was super fit. He had a minimum wage of 15 credits a day.
The second was a thin young man slightly older than John was. His gang red colours were made up of leather and openly showed his collation of blades. He cost 11 a day.
The last was the girl in her tw
enties. Her long blond hair, the little purple gang cloths she wore, and a nice body made a young naive John gulp and feel suddenly shy. But there was something about her eyes, a desperate viciousness perhaps that unnerved him in the opposite direction. It was like an instant cold shower on the soul of passion. They were the eyes of a scared killer. Her health rating would of normally also given a wage of 11 a day, except for one additional fact on her chart.
John looked at it again.
‘You’re not an Imperial citizen,’ John read, to avoid that eye contact.
This meant she had no rights under law. She could be killed openly in a crowd of policemen and there would not be a conviction. The health wage laws certainly didn’t cover her.
‘You belong to yourself?’ John asked, with his eyes still down. Trying not to notice her cleavage.
He did not want to get convicted of stealing if she was a slave.
She handed over self-ownership papers, which proved that for now, she did own herself. But as she was not an imperial citizen. Anyone who could capture her could claim ownership of her, and do what they wanted with her. No citizenship equalled no rights.
John hadn’t really decided how he felt about slavery yet.
He could offer her any wage he wanted, or even just room and Board. By the feel of it she would probably accept any terms to get off this planet. At the end of the day it came down to one thing in his mind.
This would be his first command position.
What sort of commander did he want to be?
‘If chosen you’ll get the 11 credits a day like everyone else,’
No sign of gratitude or lessening of hardness in her expression.
Then he turned his attention to all three.
‘One word of warning, your job is NOT just to load and unload cargo. It is also to look after the cargo while it is on board. Understand! That includes passengers. Any questions?’
The girl’s hand went up.
‘Yes?’ Asked John.
‘I’m not a whore’
‘Umm. Ok. Thank you for that information,’
‘You said we had to look after passengers,’ she continued ‘I’m just letting you know that I am no whore.’
‘By look after I just meant protect,’ John could feel himself going red ‘They feed and bathe themselves. Just let me know if they are ill, break up fights and don’t let them fall out of the airlock.’
He turned back to the line.
‘Any more questions?’
The line was silent.
No John had to make his decision with his 25 credit daily budget.
He could afford only two of the three candidates and he definitely wanted to hire her. He didn’t explore to deeply why he wanted to hire her in case he did not like what he found. He told himself that it was because she showed moral courage despite how badly she might want to get off the planet. This meant he wouldn’t be able to afford the Bigoney, which was a pity. Something that strong would have been an asset to any crew.
So that left her and the other fellow human.
At least it left 3 credits on the daily budget. Perhaps he’d very slowly save up for an Exeo skeleton for the ship. If he found anyone who could pilot it.
Her name was Lisa with no second name. His was Less Ruther but his street name was Blade.
It wasn’t long before the captain had some cargo arranged. She did not buy the cargo but instead was being contracted to carry it for someone else. It was beer to be carried off planet along with a passenger as super cargo to look after it. She was small young lady, who would sell the beer at the other end.
Carla also bought five boxes of cheaper beer in case she had to bribe her way past pirates.
The first question Carla had to ask John was, ‘Why not the Bigony?’
‘It’s my first ever command decision, must it be questioned.’
‘No need to be so defensive,’ Carla replied ‘I wasn’t so much questioning as being curious,’
‘We never carry anything that heavy that needs a Bigony,’
‘That’s because we haven’t got one to do the lifting,’ Carla stated.
‘I better get to looking after the new crew,’ John said to excuse himself.
The nasty thought that he might have screwed up by thinking with his groin was sneaking upon him.
In the bay he saw the super cargo the pale young lady elf calling herself Green Willow.
‘Welcome to the Haifhiu,’ John smiled.
Green Willow just stared in response.
‘May I show you to your quarters?’ John continued.
Still saying nothing, the super cargo nodded. John could plainly tell that she was simply being arrogant and rude. It could have been because he was a short lifer (being only human) or it could be because he was a spacer. Either way he had learnt by now not to let it bother him.
She couldn’t hide her surprise though when she found that the Haifhiu wasn’t the dark damp space hulk she had expected from an Orach ship. She still, however, said nothing.
John went back down stairs to the cargo bay to secure the cargo, but it had not been fully loaded yet.
Lisa was struggling with rolling barrels up the ramp and at first Less Ruther could not be seen.
John soon spotted him sitting down for a break.
John shouted over,
‘Hay Less, give Lisa a hand,’
‘I’ve done my share,’ came the reply ‘The rest is hers,’
This took John aback, he notice Cog watching out of the corner of his eye.
He hadn’t ordered anyone before, and felt awkward as to what he should do next.
He thought back to the days on the farm when the crops came in.
There was never any talk of ‘My share of work’.
Then he thought of his Mother when she wanted him to do a chore and he was a bit slow in putting down what ever childish toy was preoccupying him at the time.
And he heard himself say in very much the same way she used too, the word ‘NOW!’
There were several things that John was not truly aware of. The first is that while he was thinking about what to say his eyes had glazed over during his very brief daydreams, But while they where glazed they were still staring straight at Less Ruther. To Less Ruther and anyone else watching this looked not like a glaze of a day dreamer but the stare of a physical threat. The Second was that Johns clothes had not been so shrinking, instead John Smith had been growing. The better conditions and the constant lifting of heavy objets repeatedly had made him a very large young man. The misunderstood stare, large build, the shouted ‘NOW!’ and the presence of witnesses had put Less Ruther in line.
But Less Ruther, otherwise known as Blade was a recent ex gang member, and would not forget this imagined insult. Nor the insult of that stuck up Bitch that wouldn’t talk to him either. And there was a rival gang member on board. His fingers played over his holstered knife collection.
Less Ruther went over to help Lisa with a barrel.
From Johns point of view he had just given a friendly boss type, verbal prod. He now proceeded casually to pick up a barrel under each arm and carry them through.
Once in space three blips appeared on the edge of sensor range.
Carla got the inevitable pirate call.
‘Dump or die,’ came the radioed voice.
‘Hi Ashol,’ replied Carla ‘Today we have beer, two barrels do you for passage,’
‘Hi Carla. Make it three, I have a party to cater for on the week end,’
‘Go on then, enjoy yourself. Give us a moment to put the stuff in the air lock.’
Meanwhile Green Willow heard a gentle wrapping on her door. She got up with an expression of exasperation and pulled at the wheel lock.
‘CLOSE THE DOOR!’ she heard a female voice shout.
Green Willow went to but someone or something was pushing back and winning. Then suddenly the resistance gave, slamming the portal shut. Green Willow quickly span the wheel to a locked position.
Outside Less Ruther was
on the floor while Lisa stood up passage of him. She had just caught him by surprise and kicked him down.
‘Typical Reds,’ Lisa spat ‘Always going for the weakest target first,’
Then she flattened herself against the wall as a throwing dagger was thrown past her. By the time she turned into the corridor she could just see him sliding over the railings towards the cargo bay.
She was not silly enough to give chase.
John Smith had just lowered the gravity to next to nothing and put on some magnetic boots. He was preparing to load the cheaper barrels into the airlock. Why give yourself more work than you had to?
Less Ruther went through the door and into the cargo bay. He had never encountered low gravity before and suddenly found himself leaping into the room much further than he intended. In panic he grabbed a roof girder and dangled for a bit. Then he heard laughter. Laughter from that big bossy bastard at his expense.
John had meant no harm and was about to get him down and lend him some magnetic boots.
He was not expecting a throwing dagger to stick deep into his arm, hurling blood floating into the cargo bay. He was shocked, surprised and pure lucky that the second one missed. John turned off the boots and dived behind some of the cargo.
He had experienced enough light gravity now to do this effectively without bouncing off the floor. If he could only reach Captain Carla and get help.
Less Ruther floated down and clumsily pulled at the cargo restraining ropes until he could get to the airlock. He took out his ‘special knife’. It was made of supper dense metal and was powered to vibrate at an incredible speed. The overall effect was a knife that could cut through most mundane things, like sheet metal without much effort. Such knives were expensive and this one was obviously stolen.
As Less Ruther went he cut the ropes that held the cargo in place and kicked at them as he went.
As the ropes loosened and barrel knocked against barrel soon they were all floating around the cargo bay like some alcoholic asteroid field. Although lacking in weight the barrels kept their mass. Being hit by one could easily kill. John was loosing places to hide from Less Ruther while not knowing where he was and trying not to get hit by the beer. Even the throwing daggers that had missed continued to spin dangerously around. John had to keep his boots turned off to order to move fast enough.
John had been only lightly hit so far when his luck ran out. He managed to deflect the barrel with his good arm, dislocating the shoulder. He span helplessly in the air, kicking another barrel away from him.
Less Ruther had got to the safety of the airlock alcove. This gave him cover on all but the one side leading to the cargo bay. As long as nothing headed for him at a perfect 90o angle he would be safe.
At the same time he couldn’t get a good enough view to take another throw at his ex boss.
Reaching for the controls the turned the gravity in the cargo bay back on to maximum. The barrels fell their normal 1 G weight multiplied by ten.
Cog was the ships engineer. He noticed the huge power drain from the cargo bay and that the gravity had been turned onto maximum. It was a measure only use in emergencies to secure cargo at difficult times. Mumbling to himself the Dwarf picked up his tool box and ambled off to see what that boy (John Smith) was playing at.
‘What is the delay Carla?’ Asked the pirate Ashol
‘I don’t know?’ Captain Carla replied.
‘We are getting impatient and paranoid here!’
Carla turned to the intercom.
‘John, what the hell is going on down there?’
But there was no reply.
John fell harder than he had ever fallen in his life. He rolled to avoid the now VERY heavy barrels that split open around him. One hit his square in the shoulder blades while a previously floating throwing knife hit the back of his leg.
Gleefully Less Ruther reduced the gravity to normal and sloshed his way through the beer with his favorite Vribrating Monomonecular knife in hand. It was unfortunate that he would have to kill him almost straight away.
John convulsed in pain as he felt a swift kick land into his right kidneys. This was followed by a second then a third. Finally the foot pushed him over onto his back. John looked up to see the leer on Ruthers face. Then Ruther wasn’t there any more.
Rowan
- 21.06.2020
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