On The Good Ship Corsair (1)

The Good Ship Corsair, a truly vast vessel, pitch black hull nigh invisible against the empty backdrop of space, was about to embark on a new voyage after taking on a new batch of junior crew members from Earth. Too large to even consider making planetfall it was docked at an orbital platform linked to a state-of-the-art luminous orange tube, within which ran an equally state-of-the-art but admittedly less orange lift, that descended all the way to the surface, specifically a bit of Germany that no-one, the architects had reasoned, was ever going to miss.1

The orbital platform itself was a simple affair, consisting simply of the top of the lift shaft and an entrance lobby linking onto a mere two coffee bars from well known global chains and the docking point door that led onto the Corsair, indicated with the ship’s own mat, bearing its name and the Space Force insignia, and flanked by a pair of neatly trimmed potted shrubs. The door itself was a plain, foreboding affair, gun metal grey, weighty and solid, offering little welcome to those new servicemen to be coming aboard. Or it had been, until someone had stuck a poster of Peter Kay on it. After all, even hundreds of years into the future, everyone loves Peter Kay.2

“Who’s that?” hissed a new junior engineer, pointing across the Corsair’s bustling function room (its function was mainly to allow the existing crew members to eye up the new blood) to a somewhat scruffy, but fairly dashingly so, black haired man in an officer’s longcoat and peaked cap leaning up against the bar, some expertly prepared concoction sloshing around the cocktail glass in his hand and two days’ covering of stubble on his chin.3

“Don’t you know?” replied the young engineer’s friend. “That’s Lieutenant Yuuichirou Raven, the head of B Section!”4

“He is?” said the engineer in puzzlement. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him, but…”5

“But what?”6

“I expected him to be, you know, Japanese.”7

“Why?” said the friend, himself looking bemused. “Raven’s hardly a very Japanese name, is it?”8

“Suppose not. Fancy a drink? I had a vision where I sensed this immense hangover coming on tomorrow morning, and my premonitions are never wrong, so I might as well get well and truly sloshed if it’s going to happen anyway.”9

“You’re on,” replied the friend, reasoning that challenging the engineer’s somewhat questionable logic was not really in his best interests. Youthful naivety was very much in control of his brain functions. “Mine’s a treble of whatever’s got the highest %ABV!”10

“Race you to the sick bag!”11

“Race YOU to the sick bag more like!”12

As the two draped their arms over one another’s shoulders in subtext heavy mateyness and made their way unsteadily to the bar, Lieutenant Yuuichirou Raven sauntered off to converse with his best friend on the ship, Lieutenant Lazarus Da Vinci, a tall, well built man with bleached blond hair, but who possessed a world weary, down-to-earth manner despite his appearance. He had gone through Officer Class at the Academy together, having met him on their first day and noticing he looked rather lost. It eventually turned out that he wasn’t, he just looked like that, but by them the framework of their friendship had been forged. Then, they had been 15 years old, they graduated at 18 to find themselves assigned to the same ship and, as 23 year olds, they had both secured the promotion that took them from Under Officer to Lieutenant and found themselves, rather to their bemusement, each in charge of a section on board the Corsair.13

“Anything catch your eye, Ray?” Lazarus asked casually. With so many fresh faced and naïve newbies suddenly on offer, he could easily tell what would be foremost on Raven’s thoughts.14

“Maybe,” replied Raven, grinning knowingly. “I’m starting to appreciate that directive I pushed through last year forcing all junior crew members to wear cycling shorts as part of their uniforms on induction day.”15

“You’re just a raging pervert, you know that?”16

Raven smiled. “Half the officer’s board voted for it.”17

“Well, the board are all raging perverts then.”18

“You voted for it.”19

“Gah, you got me there.” The two men laughed and took hefty swigs of their lavish beverages. “I’m somewhat in awe of you, old friend. Becoming a dirty old man at your age is no mean feat.”20

“I try my best. But, talking specifics,” Raven continued, lowering his voice, “I keep finding my gaze drifting back to that bit of lush over there, the one near the imitation palm trees and the man-sized plastic pineapple.”21

Lazarus followed Raven’s gaze, his eyes settling on an angel in a junior officer’s shirt (and skin tight Lycra from the waist down), hair of that nameless hue that lay midway between light brown and blond, possessing a cherub-like slim roundness to his tummy, eyes of (as far as the two could tell from half way across the spacious and fairly crowded function room) purest aquamarine and, as Raven thought it, a rear end to throw oneself off a bridge for.22

“Quite a piece, I’ll agree,” concurred Lazarus. “Have an entrance strategy?”23

“Hadn’t quite got that far, I’ll confess,” admitted Raven, deflating somewhat. “Makes you wish it could happen like in those action blockbusters. You know, charismatic hero character sees something he likes the look of and just, just saunters over, comes out with some saucy salutation that you or I or anyone in real life would get a slap for. Then, their eyes meet with this knowingness and after that, cut to a hotel bedroom scene where they’re going at it like they’ve got hydraulic pistons inside them. All the middle bit, the actual, negotiation, if you like, just ignored and glossed over. God, I wish real life was like that.”24

Lazarus shook his head despairingly. “Do you ever look beyond the dirty deed?”25

“I’ve stopped myself. You see, I judge based entirely on appearances. For one night, that’s fine. But not investigating beyond looks has its limitations if one wishes to go further. I mean, take our Mr. Cherub over there with the nice bottom. He’s probably an annoying tosser at heart. Heck, he’s an Officer Class graduate, it’s damn near a certainty. They’re all self-centred twats at that stage. I’ll admit I was and, if you don’t mind me saying so, you were too. Now, if I set out to acquaint myself with those fine hind quarters tonight and leave it at that, this matters not a jot. But suppose I go in looking for something longer term. I find out his cherubic exterior is merely a coating for the stuck-up spoiled son of Satan that dwells within. I end up disappointed and, as you will remember from the time I failed my master gunner exam, I do not mix well with disappointment. Now, if you’ll excuse me my dear Laz, I have tactical nous to apply in the development of my pants invasion strategy.”26

Lazarus shrugged. At least, he thought, he wasn’t being dragged in to play wingman, not unless Raven changed his mind after his plotting session. “See you in the morning,” he said to his friend.27

“After a Corsair party? Call it the afternoon just to be safe. Rum is not a friend of my digestive system and generally insists on lingering somewhat into the morrow.”28

-29

The Captain of the Corsair and his predecessors had been asked many times on what grounds the ship’s crewmen were selected. Was it a question of suitability for the role or divinity of posterior? The Captain’s standard response was always that candidates were selected based on relevant skills, leadership and teamwork qualities, eventually. However, any elimination of candidates prior to this final selection was not a matter under his control and therefore was not his responsibility to comment on.30

As for what happened once crewmen were selected, when Raven had first joined the ‘Underpants Method’ was in use. Regulation underpants were part of the uniform, with senior officers entitled to perform snap inspections at any time. If a crew member were to be found wearing non-regulation underclothing, the senior officer in question was permitted, nee obligated, to remove said underclothing. In answer to the inevitable question, “What underwear is regulation?”, the precise style was changed daily and, of this, only the senior officers were informed. However, this had been recently abolished by the Captain as it made things ‘too easy’. Thus, some degree of actual flirting became necessary.31

Luckily for Raven, his chosen target was an under officer. Apart from sounding rather suggestive, an under officer was one who could gain added influence on board a ship by being ‘assigned’ to a lieutenant. This was apparently originally introduced to allow senior officers to hand-pick those among their immediate subordinates they felt were most ‘able’ and so give them the extra responsibilities that suited their superior abilities. Assigned under officer’s and their lieutenants worked together, socialised together and shared a cabin. Needless to say, every under officer was keen to climb up the hierarchy by being assigned and so was eager to curry favour with any and every lieutenant that crossed their path. Most lieutenants, desiring a fresh, new recruit but not wanting to be lumbered with him for however long it took one or other of them to get another promotion, would use the eagerness to please of under officers to sleep with them, but would from that moment on pretend not to know them or remember doing anything with them.32

“Hey there, soldier,” intoned Raven, sidling over to his prey whilst silently cursing himself for sounding so cheesy.33

“Evening, sir,” replied the under officer with smarmy professionalism, the way of saying ‘sir’ that informs one that it is very much one’s rank and position they are showing respect to and not oneself. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”34

Raven resisted the temptation to kick the smug little git and replied, with imperious pride. “I am Lieutenant Yuuichirou Raven.”35

“You are, sir?” said the under officer, doing a little double take. Raven raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, sir, it’s just that I always assumed you’d be Japanese.”36

“Why? Why does everyone say that? Raven is not at all a Japanese-sounding name! I’m from Lancashire!”37

“Apologies, sir. You seem very refined for someone from the North might I say.”38

“I think you’ll find that some of us from the North are a good deal more refined that we are given credit for. Besides, I had elocution lessons at the Academy.”39

“Oh, apologies again, sir. “I’m Charles Starslayer, by the way.” Raven, who had allowed his eyebrow to return to its normal position after its earlier upwards excursion, raised it again. “Well, if you want my full name and rank, Under Officer Charles Sergeevich Mephisto-Starslayer, but that’s a bit long-winded don’t you think? Call me Charlie, if you want, sir.”40

“I will. And I don’t want you to have to bother with all this ‘sir’ nonsense. I mean, we’re at a party. Lieutenant Raven will do just fine.” He said the last very deliberately. If the lad was a proper, rational-thinking human being, Raven reasoned, he would understand the joke and laugh at this point, allowing the rest of the chatting-up to continue within the realms of informality. There was something about hearing someone he intended to take to bed that night call him sir that made him feel somewhat dominating, and it wasn’t a feeling he was comfortable with.41

“Yes, Lieutenant Raven.” Raven sighed. Still, the boy’s eyes were, despite his oh-so-polite rudeness, rapidly filling with adoration. For someone so obsessed with the idea of rank as he seemed to be, actually holding a conversation with a lieutenant must have felt like being spoken to by some sort of higher being. Raven, who had gone into the toilets some fifteen minutes earlier to try a make himself appear as dashing and charismatic as he could, coat off, top two shirt buttons undone, a quick spray of ‘Captain’s Cabin by Captain’, a fragrance guaranteed to bring those fresh out of the Academy to their knees, hazarded a quick glance down. One of the handy things he had realised about chatting up a man wearing cycling shorts, especially when the man in question has had a bit to drink, was that it was relatively easy to tell if one was making much of an impact. Sure enough, some pleasing high relief had developed. He offered to take Charlie to the bar and bought both of them another drink. Not only did increased inebriation make the whole ‘negotiation’ process easier, but having liquid passing into his mouth at least temporarily stemmed the flow of well-meaning insults to his heritage that came in the other direction.42

“What do you think of the ship so far then?” Raven couldn’t believe himself, he sounded like his own dad.43

“It’s not half bad, is it?” Charlie, who seemed fairly drunk already now Raven thought about it, didn’t seem to mind the rather uninspired nature of the small talk. “The drinks are good, the cabins are huge. I’d like to take a look at the fighter craft hanger, did a bit of flying in a Locust at the Academy and that’s what I’m aiming for really, I’d settle for gun batteries though. Only thing is its really hot in here. These shorts get so damn sweaty.”44

Raven gulped. Either his quarry had well and truly complied or he was naïve beyond compare. Either way, he reasoned, time for his gambit. “Really?” he said. “You can pop back to my quarters for a bath and a quick freshen up if you want.” It was lame, it was so very, very lame. But it seemed to work.45

“You’d let me do that?” Charlie replied. “Ok, let’s go, then.”46

Given that the Corsair was a gigantic vessel with a relatively small crew, the officers’ quarters were suitably luxurious. Raven led Charlie through the fully furnished double bedroom and into his ‘en suite’ as he liked to call it, itself as big as the bedroom, with a shower over on the right hand wall and a corner bath at the far end that was big enough to hold an intimate pool party in.47

As the bath was running, Raven, sure that all was confirmed by then, chanced his arm by drawing close to Charlie, slipping an arm around his waist, placing his other hand softly on the back of his head and drawing in to kiss him, trying to use all the little nuances that always seemed to pop into his head when he’d had a bit to drink, start off with a little chew on the lower lip, a couple of slow smooches, then in deeper and longer with his tongue, gently stroking the hair on the back of his head all the while. Then, slipping his hand down the back of Charlie’s shorts, he got his first feel of that delectable rump. He gave it a squeeze, feeling Charlie’s body tingle and draw up closer towards him in response.48

The bath, steam filling the bathroom, the two wordlessly undressed each other. Raven inspected, and smiled. A few sparse hairs on his chest, that enticing slim curvature to his stomach. Getting into the bath, he guided Charlie into a corner and began kissing him again, gently sliding an exploring hand down between his thighs. Alcohol dominant in both their brains, nothing else mattered as they pushed and caressed, the delightfully hot water lapping up against their skin.49

Afterwards, curled up naked together in Raven’s bed, hair still wet, Raven with a soft hand on one of Charlie’s buttocks, his fingers just curling into his cleavage, a moment of drunken rashness took hold.50

“Charlie?”51

“Yes?”52

“I want you to be my Assigned Under Officer.”53