Triton New Year

Ass

New Year’s Eve on Triton- FlashNews- The faculty of the Shoemaker Science Station are dressing the halls all this week for an event that happens once every one hundred and sixty five years. At 4,496 kilometers out, the planet Neptune will complete an orbit of the Sun, and the crew of mankind’s furthest outpost yet is marking the occasion in a big way.

“We don’t get a chance like this very often,” Said researcher Christina Warner. “We haven’t done anything like this since we left Earth. It’s a once in a lifetime thing so, it might get a little bit crazy around here. We tried to save some provisions, like from the only time we received a shipment of steak so far. We put aside enough for the staff to have one each. I think everybody has a little bit of something or another put away for that special occasion.”

Including a potent micro-brew. The local favorite is called Triton Tank-Swill and it packs a mean punch. Station Commander Merrill Weston likes it that way, but he’ll have Gardenburgers on the grill with the steaks.

“The station family will be a Neptunian year old tomorrow,” He says. “Sure, we landed here eleven Terran years ago, but to have made it this far, is a big step for us.” In addition to his degree in Astronomy, he wears the title of station beer-meister, but won’t divulge the secret that gives his Triton-brand it’s impact. An amateur brewer in addition to his professional degree fields, he did say the ingredients were grown locally.

The party is set to start at the beginning of the station’s next orbit around it’s host world. The site for the party is going to be in the middle of the station’s massive greenhouse, filled with broad-leafed plants just perfect for sucking up Carbon-Dioxide and producing Oxygen.

“Mostly we’re scientists,” Merril said, looking on as decorations, made from scrap but still beautiful, cut the green sea inside the geodesic atrium with streaks of color. “We’re construction workers when they send us new modular units to attach to the main habitat, but we can’t forget that we’re also human. That means that we’re adults sometimes, and kids sometimes, and kids have to play. Being mostly self-sufficient has it’s advantages.”

When asked how his research was progressing, he had nothing but good things to say about the new Clarity-arrayed telescope installed here.

“What to say about our telescope? Wow, I wouldn’t know where to begin. We’re getting better shots of the Alpha Centauri system that we are of our own sun, it’s like we’re right next door. With the technology we’ve got, it would take us forty years to get there, and with Clarity it’s like… like looking in somebody’s window. We’ll get there someday. I’d like to be around for the fireworks display but I know I did my part.”

Done their part they have, and at the turn of the midwatch five rotations from now, the crew of Triton station will throw a party that, for most of them, will only happen once. Happy New Year from Triton.

1st Rotation

“What do you think, Merrill?”

The station commander lowered the hardcopy of the update I had filed, FlashNews those fucks. They never told me what I did to get sent so far from where anything was happening but I still filed my reports once every seven rotations. They were paying my way and the electronic credit transfers kept arriving so I’ve been here for a while. On the upside, this station is on the leading fringe of exploration and research, there’s a story here, I can feel it.

“This pretty well describes what we’ll be doing,” Weston said. “Yes, it’s a festival but it’ll be a working festival. We have several research protocols to cover this whole week. I think it’ll be fun though, I’ve got a list of book discussion groups if you want to sign up for one. You’re more than welcome to join in, of course. We like to think that we’re good hosts.”

“I’ll be happy to. I hope I don’t mess up your research by being a complete dullard when it comes to anything scientific, I just know how to craft words into something that everybody can understand.”

Weston laughed, he was a fifty-something NASA colonel who kept fit by spending hours in the exercise module on the treadmill, gut like a steel plate, he could do 350 sit-ups in a row in Triton’s weak gravity. He was the big man in charge when it came to station affairs and was a fair botanist. He pressed the talk button on the intercom mounted into his desk.

“Karen, will you come in here please?” Weston said, then he focused his attention on me as he stretched out at his desk. “That’s okay, this is one subject that I think everyone is an expert on. Besides, just remember that we’ll all be one year old again for a short while, not literally of course, but you can do no wrong when you’re a child, it’s all about exploration.”

“So what sort of protocols will we be testing?” I said. Everything I’d seen so far told me that this station would be the model for any settlements outside the system. The central geodesic greenhouse dome was reinforced illegal bahis by fibro-steel supports thrusting out of an artificial lake, deep enough for swimming and aquaculture. It was heated by natural, geothermal sources and steam it generated spawned floral growth as dense as it was at either tropic on Earth, a spot of paradise in a dark, cold place.

“Yes, Doctor?” The module door rolled open and Weston’s personal assistant came in with an electronic assistant, stylus poised over the sensor pad, ready to take notes. Strauss was a stunning example of humanity, a trim 5’7″ with shoulder-length Brunette hair and dark cats-eyes. She was the daughter of one of the longer terms stationers and the rumor was that she enjoyed considerable sexual control over than one man. Her feminine type, Jolie Angel, bee-sting lips and a body darkly tanned by the station’s lone UV projector. Fitted shorts and grey t-shirts under blue jumpsuits were the standard uniform and she wore hers to slay. Her legs merged smoothly with her firm buttocks and the t-shirt was tied above her midriff, she wore her jumpsuit unzipped to the panty-line and held it open with Velcro tabs. A bellybutton ring flashed from her smooth stomach but more interesting was the engaging way her nipples poked through her bra-material to indent the t-shirt fabric.

“You’ll be happy to know that our friend Maxwell has accepted our offer to join in the study starting today.”

“Fine, I’ll add his name to the pool list,” Strauss said curtly and lifted the electronic assistant (EA) to make a note. Her contribution to the team was as information specialist. “It’s good to have you on board, Mister Noble, and just in time to, this should make things a little more even. Still, we’ll be lucky to put together ten couples, we’ll still have a couple triple-groups though.”

“It shouldn’t effect the outcome of the study,” Weston said. “You can fudge the draw for him. We want to make a good impression.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Strauss said and gave me a once over. Despite several months among the crew of Triton station, I was still being accepted by some. “I think I could find one or two people to look after him, if he behaves himself.”

“Oh, I won’t be any trouble.” I said as she turned on her heel. I watched her ass cheeks shift under the elastic cloth, the cleft of each showed tantilizingly as she exited.

“In answer to your question, we’ll be going over the Bingham Fertility Protocol,” Weston said and took a pull off of the self-heating cup attached via magnet to his desk. It was filled with a greenish-sludge that I knew to be his latest batch of Triton Tank-Swill. “It was proposed back when we first started settling Mars. Basically, we’ll have round-table study-group discussions and workshops. Once we finish at the end of fifth rotation, there’ll be a reception in the atrium. Fun stuff, a cookout, swimming, you know.”

“What’s the first study group covering?” I said. I got a mental picture of a bunch of brainy-types sitting around discussing Proust as Weston leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. He wrinkled his brow with intense concentration on the screen as he tapped on the desk’s integral keyboard. “Here we are… the first study-group will cover the complete, unabridged Kama Sutra… the Herrod’s translation, I believe.”

“The what?” In all honesty, I had never heard of such a thing. It was clearly a title among the hundreds of millions that mankind had stored in electronic form.

“It was an ancient India educational text containing rules for spiritual copulation. It was quite a popular reference until about twenty-fifty until it was replaced by the Sexomicron, which we’ll be covering during fourth rotation. There’s also the Story of O on second rotation and the complete Joy of Sex series on the third.”

“Who?” I said, getting tired of hearing names and titles that ten generations of human-kind had forgotten about.

“These were another two guide-books that were considered advanced for their time,” Weston said. “We had to order them in data cube form from Earth but they arrived in plenty of time. You should sign up to lead a workshop, I think there are a few good ones left.”

“Sure, just show me the list and I’m in.”

“Fine, fine… just one moment here.”

A girl came in, none of the stationers carried identification and age was sometimes difficult to tell, but my guess was that the mature, tight-breasted human female with the orange Nomex emergency-suit on was between 18 and 26 Terran years old.

“Maxwell, let me introduce you to my workshop partner, Connie. I believe you’ve met her parents? They were sitting across from you during chow.”

“Of course, the Malone family, I met them over in the industrial district. They seem like good people.” I said and Connie looked at me blankly. I knew right away that I’d never play poker with her, but if she aged half as well as her parents did, Connie would be a stunner into her 50’s and a professional somebody illegal bahis siteleri if she ever went back to Earth, but she would only get to Mars. When only a fertilized embryo, her coding had been altered and Earth was closed to what was being fashionably called “genetic tampering.”

She wore her red-hair braided long in a ponytail that hung down to her waist. I could see that the zip-up was hiding curves that were young and strong, an animal bred to compete. She came to attention in front of Weston, the assistant-captain of the station zero-gravity gymnastics team, she practiced daily, now her cheeks wore the red streaks that indicated she’d been crying, her eyes were like Flint, hard but brittle.

“What’s wrong, angel? Are you okay? How did phase three go?”

“It hurts, it felt like I got stung by a bee when the piercing needle went through, now my tongue is all swelled up.”

“Say hello to Mister Noble.” Weston said. She turned my way and I felt a needle go through me, I was impaled on her eyes.

“Please to meet you, Mister Noble.” She answered automatically, those same eyes lacked any spark of interest that was more than passing, but her “S’s” sounded like “Th” and her “T’s” were blunted by a thick tongue having trouble with words.

“I won’t think any less of you, there are people all around this system that talk like that and it doesn’t go away, let’s have a look at it.” Weston said. Without hesitation, Connie sank to her knees, sucking on her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and put her head back, then opened her mouth wide. Watching her lips parts was like watching dawn break on the day you’d remember for the rest of your life. “Go on, don’t keep us waiting.”

The pink tip of her tongue trembled it’s way out of her mouth, followed by the thicker body, the cause of distress was immediately visible, a pea-sized silver bead atop a stainless steel post protruding through sweet spot, just perfect for dual-duty use.

“It’s not so bad,” Weston said and nodded approvingly. “The swelling should go down in a few orbits. We can stop if you like, but I would really be unhappy to see the protocols fall behind.”

“It’s Ok,” She said and wiped her sniffles away. “I’ll be alright. I trust you, Doctor.”

“That’s a good girl,” Weston said and stood from his chair. “If you’ll fetch the apparatus we’ll get started. I’ll set up the audio/visual gear.”

She jogged off to fulfill his orders while he moved to the portable video disk player on the floor next to a small therapy bench covered with a thick layer of reactive memory gel. It conformed to the shape of the body and could give comfortable support for hours, as Weston was about to demonstrate. Connie opened a storage locker beside the door and removed something phallic-shaped with lots of straps dangling from it’s triangular synth-leather support.

“My dear, you’ll have to forgive me, I’ve forgotten what number you watched last time.” Weston said as he half-turned and got her attention with a wave, but he had it all along. Her eyes never left him except for when she

“We’re on number eight.”

“Thank you, my dear, please carry on.” Weston said as he rummaged through mini-disk cases. He found the one labeled

6 and slid the disk inside into the player. I scanned the title as he set the case back into the rack. Cum-Eruption Finals 2120 was hand-written on the spine with a permanent black marker.

Connie laid her prize on the table and for the first time I could get a good look at what it actually was… a “penile-suppliment” to use station lingo. It was seven inches long and at least three in girth, made of flesh-colored rubber, and was held in place by a ring and several support straps apparently to keep it in place over whichever orifice it was being inserted into. She looked over her shoulder and backed toward me. “Unzip me please, Mister Noble?”

“Of course, Miss Malone, you had survival instruction today? I understand that some part parts of it can be pretty tough.” I said. The suit delivered partial protection from vacuum and sealed the neck with a collar that a helmet-locked onto. It would provide atmosphere in the event of a depressurization. I cracked the seal at the ring and pulled on the zipper-tab. The smell of a warm, young body rose up with the moist air with that of Lilac water, the combination made my nostrils flare, triggering a flood of Testosterone and Gonadotropics into my system.

“It was fine. We had micro-gravity practice today in the training dome. I was wonderful, I learned how to fly almost. I pulled off a triple-flip, double-twist during practice, micro-gravity kicks ass.”

“Does your instructor know you’re using that kind of language, young lady?” Weston said. “I assure you that it is quite unnecessary in this setting.” Then, in a lower tone, he turned to me and said. “I’ll show you what we to with potty mouths around here, Mister Noble.”

Connie cringed as Weston seized the dildo apparatus from the table. “Let’s get continue canlı bahis siteleri with phase four, assume the position please, Connie.”

He used the rubber phallus as a rod and pointed at the memory-gel chair. Connie slipped off her jumpsuit and climbed onto it, assuming a comfortable face-down position that would allow her to see the video-feed monitor. She looked at him with weepy eyes filled with utter submission as she opened her ripe lips.

“Ok, resuming at eighteen hundred hours, video number eight.” Weston spoke into personal recorder and started the video feed. The semi-final rounds were first. A blonde with elf-like features appeared, working her tongue around the shaft of a man’s cock.

Weston slid the rod across Connie’s tongue, pushing it deeper back into her mouth until it’s synthesized scrotum sac butted up against her lips. Once in-place, Weston used the straps attached to buckled the dildo into place.

“You should have seen what happened when we first started preparing for this,” Weston said as Connie opened her eyes and focused on the video. “The poor girl was gagging so much around the supplimental that I thought I was going to have to find myself a new workshop partner.”

He knelt at Connie’s side and dragged his hand down her back, then over her ass. “How’s it going, girl, are you more comfortable now?”

“Umm-hmm.” Connie mumbled and watched me reach for the door-switch with appraising eyes. I could see that the harness around her head was moving somewhat. She was working her tongue up and down the length of the prosthesis. Maybe I should excuse myself now. I wonder who my workshop partner will be.

“I gotta go, I really hated interrupting you in your busy schedule, sir, nice meeting you, Connie.” I said, Weston opened a bottle of Triton Tank-Swill. “I just wanted your ok before I sent it out.”

“On behalf of the staff, we do appreciate that.” Weston said. Connie was ignoring the video but what her eyes wanted escaped me.

“Doctor Warner said she was going to give me a tour of the oral-care facility. I want to take her up on it.” I said as Weston gave her ass a pat and got to his feet, he reached for me with the same hand. I shook it out of politeness. The door rose into the ceiling when I pressed the green “open” button.

“Now see, concentrate on just holding it in your mouth and running your tongue over it, let the bead do it’s work.

The fucking bead hurts. I heard it plain as I could hear Rachael chatting on her comm-unit at the desk beside the door.

“Where are you going?” Strauss said as she closed the channel and got up. She walked me across the compartment to the next hatch.

“I’m starved, I going to the cafeteria. I always feel like such a fifth wheel around here.” I said and it was true. Always on the outside, watching, recording, never participating-in truth I hated what I was in many ways, but it was paying the bills and taking me places. The auto-chef in the cafeteria was old but very reliable and it could do some interesting things with the limited components the station was supplied with. It was across the station near the hydroponic gardens. Doctor Warner wasn’t in.

I was surprised to find Connie Malone beside me before I got to the mid-section compartments.

“That was quick,” I said with nothing else to say. My mind raced furiously. “You weren’t in there for more than ten minutes.”

“I never am,” Connie said and shrugged, it was something she didn’t understand but had no trouble living with. “He doesn’t want me anyway, he told me he didn’t play with dolls.”

Weston’s wife, Susan, came through the open hatch. She was Miss North Carolina in 2120 and thirty years as a scientist’s mate had kept her in bloom. Weston always was a breast man, and in his wife Susan he found his wildest dreams. Her hair was long but she kept it up in a bun, his eyes drifted from her head downward. She had a perfect but weathered face, a neck with vigor pumping through the veins he could see bulging through her skin. She wore jumpsuits a size too tight to show off everything she still could offer, but the word around the station was that her husband was no longer interested. I could see it was true in the hurt I saw on her proud face, still, she mustered a smile when she saw us.

“Mister Noble, I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you. I hope you’re settling in alright.”

“Just fine, ma’am, and thanks for the fruit basket.”

“You haven’t seen Merrill, have you?” She said.

“In his office, the last time I saw him.”

“Thanks.” She said and was walking off when she looked over her shoulder, busting me checking out her backside. It was a nice feeling, her smile got a little less forced.

Connie was watching me in silence. She was younger than me, that’s all I could guess at for sure, maybe she wondered what I saw in that older woman.

“So how come everyone else on this station needs an hour to do a workshop and you only need ten minutes?”

“The captain is fucking his secretary. This is his excuse to see her.”

“You want to get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

“What do you recommend?” I said and checked for people coming out of the hatch, then started through when I saw it was clear.

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