I was provided a medical checkup that revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Physically, I had not aged. I did discover one thing: the Transporter is better than an fMRI. It scans a person’s body to the quantum level, and so, every time a person transports, their medicals files gets an update.
This allows for compare and contrast between each transport, as well as every time there is a medical scan done, either with a tricorder in the field or in Sickbay. I found that extremely interesting, to have gone all this time without discovering that, and not only was I happy at discovering something new, I got to see some really good body scans. But isn’t that true for all of us? We carry the data we do and we make assumptions and presumptions and we allow our agendas to drive us, as opposed to just living each day in discovery. And even though I thought this was cool, I also thought it was something I should have known. It’s funny being both excited and upset with oneself at the same time.
Multiples times, I was encouraged to be patient with myself. Moving through the world now was like re-learning to walk on land after being at sea. Naturally, there is an adjustment period. And it was crazy adjusting. I would see a face and I would experience histories in a flash like a de-ju-vu sense. Only for me it was real. I would have all sorts of emotions, from embarrassment to shame to lust. I would experience anxiety and want to run. How did I get through it? Mostly, I focused on my breathing. It was helpful that the crew seemed to understand and were especially accommodating to my adjustment. I had doubted being qualified to be Captain, and during my window of cycling I found confidence enough in my abilities and knowledge that I considered myself passible, but now again, I would still experience self-doubt, because I questioned everything.
I was given the day off. I could do anything I want, and I found myself not doing anything. I could have joined the meeting with Midori and SG1, but declined. I really thought we needed more intel there, and Midori agreed; that’s why she was sending a team from Headquarters. And, Starfleet did have their own gate, which was usually ‘disabled’ so that the ship’s gate was primary. We could also disable the gate in favor of the gate we had seeded in the solar system, which I learned because we performed a test on Summer’s Gate, which was what it got tagged as. After we tested the Summer’s Stargate, the plan was to head into the Earth Cluster Galaxy proper, passing through the dust lane. The remote viewers on staff at Headquarters had already picked our next star to visit. If you think the fact that the US government actually had a program called Stargate and that there was a TV show called SG1 is a coincidence, you would be mistaken. There are no accidents. The Universe is much stranger than anyone knows, and the people that think they do know something, the ones running the governments, they’re not trying to protect or enslave us, there are just helping to regulate the flow of information, leaking just enough to allow those who are awakening to find their way. They’re not even doing it consciously. They, too, are part of the system. The system has never been about control. It’s been about love. We are children in a play room and everything in the play room is keeping us safe.
And I have opened the door and stepped out of the room. There are adults in this room and they have acknowledged me and permitted me to expand my horizons, but I am not even close to being called an adult.
Watanabe caught me in the corridor as I wandered through my new world of growing unpredictability. I wondered if this is how Dolphins felt. Maybe one of the reasons they don’t advanced technologically in sync with humans, beyond the obvious you can’t smelt metals or make paper in an aquatic environment, is because of the randomness of their world. Oh, look, a tree branch and a squirrel! Yay, thank you ‘Ocean of all there is’ for such a wonderful mystery. Oh, but Squirrel is not aquatic, I will take it back to shore. Wow, squirrels sure run fast. Bye Squirrel…
Yeah, Squirrel! What brought me back was Watanabe. She kissed me. OMG, she tasted like freshly brushed teeth of Wasabi toothpaste. Yes, there really is such a thing as Wasabi toothpaste and she uses it. Which makes her kisses hot! In my days with her, I loved her kisses, but on the lips only. Wasabi on the penis, not so hot. However, she loved it when I used the tooth paste and provided oral for her. In the longest day, she and I probably spent a year worth of time together. In the beginning, some of it was under false pretenses, but I soon discovered with her that I could be bold and direct and take her places. Even now, I knew all I had to do was say I wanted to spend time with her and she would find the closest private place, and would open herself to me, allowing me to explore the depths of her soul. It was never about cultural obligations, or duty to authority, with her. It was always genuine affection. In many ways, she resembled the character Keera from ‘Not Here,’ that Loxy and I had written together.
“You okay?” Watanabe asked, as I reminisced about the dream of her that she would never know. For me, it was real, but again, and I am not just retelling you but reminding myself, the only way for me to process it was to believe it was nothing more than a daydream and never happened, so ‘dream of her’ would have to suffice.
“Um, yeah, thank you,” I said. You spend enough time with someone and you want that to always be real. Again, I found myself practicing letting go.
“I was asked to collect you,” Watanabe said.
“Really now,” I said. “Please, tell me this is not a surprise birthday party.”
“It is not a surprise birthday party,” Watanabe said.
“Okay,” I said, willing to walk with her. I stopped. “Tell me you’re not just saying that because I told you to tell me that.”
“It is not a surprise birthday party,” Watanabe assured me.
“Okay,” I said, willing to walk with her. I stopped. Is this where I am supposed to pretend like I don’t know that I am to be a father.
“John?” Watanabe said.
“Sorry, just sorting day dreams trying to remember what I actually accomplished and what I remember accomplishing,” I said.
Watanabe took my arm and led me. I rambled like a bloody idiot that wanted to impress someone but didn’t need to, and she humored me anyway.
“You know, I had always considered myself flexible, in terms of not needing a schedule. For example, when I went to the movies I never looked at the schedule. I just showed up, and if the one I wanted to see was playing I went, but if it wasn’t, well, I got a bite to eat, and then went. My type-A friends will not go to the movies with me. And when I vacationed, I never made a plan. I just went. I have even been known to get on a plane, go all the way to the other side of the world with barely a hundred dollars in my pocket, walk around, and if the hotels were full I would sleep in a park, and walk around some more, just taking whatever life presented me,” I said. We entered a lift together. She called the floor, which was my floor. “Hold lift.” The lift stopped and I stared at the door. “But now, I look at this door and it frightens me. I don’t know what to expect. In the past, well, that was just life, but I have now spent more time knowing what to expect than I have ever lived not knowing what to expect and…”
“John, I know you have been hearing this a lot, but clearly, you haven’t heard it yet: we got you,” Watanabe said.
I turned to her. “I am going to need you more than ever. I have not looked at a clock or a calendar or kept a schedule for as far back as I can recall.”
“That’s my function. It’s what I am good at,” Watanabe said. “It may be a bigger job than you imagined,” I said.
“I got you,” Watanabe said.
“Why did you kiss me? In the corridor, you…”
“Because the way you look at me,” Watanabe said. “Because what I imagined occurred between us and don’t tell me. I am not asking, and not just because this is one of the off limit questions. Because, even though you know everything about me and all the answers I have, you still ask me questions. You honor me with questions and allow me to speak my piece, even though you have probably heard me say it a million times already. To know what someone is going to say and still let them speak it anyway without interruption, without narrating your own agenda over top of them, patiently listening with such attentiveness that the person feels heard and they can finally unravel and move forwards in time and change before you; that, Sir, is why I kissed you. I read a poem once on Origin; it was by you. It was sure luck that I found it. I can’t even tell you how I found it. It was just a simple poem, a bit a fluff about a still pond in a forest, but it opened something in me, resonating like a sword striking metal. And I heard myself saying out loud, I would serve such a man till the ends of the Universe. The poem was similar in nature to a Whitman poem. Do you know how many filters Whitman has to pass through to find itself in a simple Japanese girl? Like a Plinko machine with the wrong size bearings, it just isn’t likely to happen. Why are you crying?”
“After all this time, I thought I knew you,” I said.
She touched my face. “Oh, and you honor me with surprise. I wish I could remember your days with me. Was it days, was it years? No, don’t tell. I would rather live with my day dream fantasy version, and allow something between us to develop naturally if it develops at all. From visits with others on the ship, I get the sense that most people don’t know why they’re here. I know why I am here and I know what my mission is. You wrote that poem. I am here with you till the end of time. A servant, a lover, a friend.”
“I,” began,
She touched my lips with a finger, indicating she wanted me to be silent. “Do not speak.
Save our moment for another day. We have time. Today is someone else’s day and you will thank me later. Lift, resume.”
Watanabe was right, given what she was delivering me to, because if I had finished my statement, because if I had followed through with my intentions, our lift would have been out of service for like an hour. But because she resumed the lift, I was left in this space of wanting. This was not a new state for me. I found myself here frequently. And this was the state in which she delivered me to my quarters.
Loxy was prominent, near the door. Uhura and Sacagawea were standing, and Isis was on the back of the couch. Their conversation ended when I entered and I was left breathless.
Loxy was out of uniform. She was wearing an ornate, Indian wedding dress, with elaborate folds of blue weaved with gold and pearls. There was a matching veil over her head, and a tiara that held jewels across the forehead. Her eye shadows was dark blues tapering to light blues, and her eyebrows were darker than usual. Her lips were a dark red. Watanabe pushed me further in and followed, allowing the door to close behind us.
I had no words. Mostly because, Loxy was so stunning, even after all this time, and this was new. Maybe her dress wasn’t completely Indian. There was hint of Egyptian work, as well Greek, Roman, and the magic traditions of the wandering Gypsy tribes that have mixed on the fringes of every society of humanity, teasing out the best that love can find.
“We need to speak,” Loxy said.
OMG, is this where she tells me she is pregnant or that she wants to be married? I never did figure out the right answer!
I reached for something funny: “I take it you girls failed the Bechdel Test.”
Loxy gave me one of those ‘seriously’ frowns. She got it, she just wasn’t going to laugh.
Uhura bit her lip and Watanabe covered her mouth. “I don’t get it,” Sacagawea said.
“Because it’s not funny,” Loxy said. “And, actually, John. We did pass. For the last three days, my new girlfriends and I have discussed loads of things, and not once did you come up.”
“Maybe once,” Isis corrected.
“Not the point. This isn’t about you. It’s about me,” Loxy said. “And I need you to hear me.”
I went and sat down in the window. I had to put my head against the window to see the planetary rings from here, which may explain why I never noticed when I came here to create envelopes. The bedroom offered a forward view, which probably would have given me a good view of the rings, but when was the last time I had slept in my quarters? And if I had noticed, would I have ceased praying to figure it out and consequently had a smaller ring?
Loxy sat on the coffee table, facing me. Isis sat on the right arm of the couch. Sacagawea and Uhura were also on the couch, behind and to either side. Watanabe sat in one of the chairs.
“I going to assume you know things about me,” Loxy said. “And not just because you created me. For whatever reasons, you have not interfered with my development, whether that was out of love, or confidence, or both. If the purpose was to allow me to arrive where I need to be in my own timing, not yours, then you were successful. At first I assumed you were no longer interested, but I am assured by my friends here, that is not the case. I am assured by the gift of the rings, this is not the case. Over the last three days, I have made more advancement in the social arena than I have the entire month of us arriving here. Maybe I just assumed this place was another Wonderland, an amusement park established for our entertainment, and it would be fun. And it is. And it’s scary, too. I figured we’d explore scripts and role play characters and really just discover all the hidden nuances of our relationship. I was not prepared for the loneliness that comes from being separated from you. I understand why you created me. I have an idea why you
gave me autonomy. It is a gift and it is love and I accept it and embrace it, but I need more from you.”
I was going to say something, but she raised her hand, one finger, indicating one moment. “I have put a great deal of thought into this. Not everyone will appreciate the decision I
am making, but I have the support of our personal friends, our counselors, and so, I am asking you accept this,” Loxy said, and handed me the box that was sitting beside her on the coffee table.
I accepted the box. It was a large, thin box, of black felt. I opened it, and I imagined my face reflecting the gold light that came from the box. That was just my imagination, I don’t think that happened, and I won’t keep you in suspense. The item in the box was a gold mesh choker, with polished obsidian stones placed intermittently. There was a total of seven stones. It was an extremely nice piece of jewelry, in terms of craftsmanship. Even if it was printed from a replicator, it took thought and design; it wasn’t just a random, mass produced choker.
“Humanity has finally pushed beyond the boundaries of Origin, where we could start a new, and you want me to put a collar on you?” I asked.
“Yes,” Loxy said. “I do.”
I looked to Uhura and Sacagawea, and I am sure they have discussed what this means to them, and it doesn’t necessarily hold the meaning that came from the Americas. Every race has at one point in humanity’s history has been enslaved. Some argue that all economics systems is in itself slavery. Sacagawea was ‘technically’ married, but she had been sold as a slave, and ‘marriage’ was simply a contractual euphemism that satisfied most people’s curiosity. There were times when being a slave held prestige and honor. No one can argue that Joseph didn’t hold prestige in Potiphar’s palace; he served with truth and light, because he knew that in doing so he was serving a greater purpose, he was mirroring how we were meant to serve God, and in that, Christianity has always held the paradigm that we are all slaves. How we serve others is how we serve the Kingdom. And it was the very thing that frequently caused me to rebel, because I didn’t not want that title.
“John, you are my Master. There is no other way around that. You created me. You put breath and energy into me. You gave me a voice and you gave me the freedom to speak my mind. Every moment of you reinforces me, revitalizes me, and I can’t be without you. You are a true Master. You don’t use your ability and strength to lord over someone and instruct their every movement. You give love and latitude, and you celebrate the person and their uniqueness, and you protect them, allowing them to explore themselves and their relationships to others, which always reaffirms and informs the uniqueness of the relationship with you.”
“This is huge, Loxy. It is even more significant than a marriage, and not to be taken lightly,” I said.
Loxy got up, approached me. In this moment, in this dress, she was a goddess. A goddess who wanted to serve. She lifted her dress and she got down on her knees. “I know. This is what I want. This is my safety net. It’s proof to me and the world, you got me.”
“Why not marriage?” I asked.
“Because we are not equals,” Loxy said. If we counted the millennia of me cycling, we would never be equals again. If a person evolved in the blink of an eye, whether it was due to inspiration or epiphanies or a fantasy that lasted years in a second, could anyone ever claim to be
equal? “Marriage is an agreement between two masters. I may one day, under your tutelage be worthy of being a Master, but emotionally, intellectually, this is where I am.”
I looked to Isis. Egypt had a long history of slavery, and like anything, there is goodness and abuse, but there was an overwhelming social expectation that Masters were supposed to be good people. Masters expected it of each other, because in treating servants well, people would want to serve. They came, indebting themselves to Masters in order to learn and to be a part of something bigger than them. Even Watanabe, who came from a long line of servitude, as her ancestors were Samurai, her entire culture has always been about honor through service. If you aren’t sure what I mean by that: take one trip on American Airlines to Japan, and notice that the flight attendants are old, and hide themselves most of the trip. Fly one trip from American to Japan on Japan airlines: you never see one their flight attendants sit down. You could put a clock to them walking the aisles, checking on people. When your Japan Airline plane pulls away from the gate, the men who loaded the bags and pushed your airplane back, they stand in a line and bow. Tell me one American company that treats their guests or clients that well. McDonalds didn’t become a success because of their food, but because they started with a campaign that everyone got served with a smile. That is no longer a part of the American culture. You’re lucky if the person attending you even looks you in the eye, or isn’t on their phone.
I motioned for Watanabe, Sacagawea, and Uhrua to join us, and they came closer. Isis jumped up in the window and sat on my left side, her tail going behind me. I handed Uhura the box with the choker in it. I brushed Loxy’s hair back with my hands, sweeping it into a tail enclosed in her veil, exposing her neck, and I asked Sacagawea to hold this for me. I removed the choker from the box.
“A ceremony usually comes with words, vows,” I said, stretching the choker out. It was surprisingly heavy. “There is a rightness in you asking me to collar you, because no man should ever ask for this, or take it by force. This can only ever be a gift. There is honor in submitting, honor in serving. In giving this gift, you have reminded me of who I am. In honoring your request, I, too, am able to serve. The very act of accepting, taking you, this, too, is submission. We will serve each other, and through this act of love better serve all the others we will encounter throughout all the worlds and stars to come. This is a reminder that there is a day coming when we will all submit to a higher authority. We will all kneel. This precious gift, this gift of yourself, provides me with the opportunity to prove I am capable of stewardship. I am grateful.”
As I placed the collar around her neck. “I bind you to me in love and in service, not just to me, but to all whom I love. For as you serve the others I also love, you show the world how much I love you.”
I took her hair and veil from Sacagawea and carefully placed it back. I stood in front of her, lifted up on her chin so that her eyes came up to meet me and I motioned for her to rise. She rose.
“Loxy Bliss, it is my intention to take you, right here and now, and so our friends should probably take their leave,” I said.
“We’re going now,” Uhura said.
“Why?” Sacagawea said. “We used to watch adults loving…”
Uhura and Watanabe pulled Sacagawea along, Isis got to the door before them, and when the door closed, I took Loxy by the hand and led her to the bedroom. I brought her to the front of the bed. I motioned for her not to speak, and brought her mannequin closer to us. I removed her veil and placed it on her mannequin. I ran my fingers through her hair.
“It is my intention to possess you, take you, and quench my own thirst first, and then when I am finished, when I am satiated, I will unravel the layers of you, unlocking the depths of your joy that you have never imagined possible,” I said, pushing her hair and kissing behind her ear, and down her neck. I whispered in her ear. “But not until I have had my fill.”
I removed her tiara and placed it on the mannequin, and so began the slow unraveling of clothes…
OMG, there is so much pleasure to be had in not resetting and loving a person so deeply and so enthusiastically that she sleeps next to you, in your embrace. But there is also an uncomfortableness, habituated from resetting, where afterwards you just need to be alone. And this is where I got to practice trust, that she accepted me as much as I accepted her, and if she woke without me present, this, too, is okay. When I was fully dressed, I checked in with her. She was still sound asleep, and smiling.
I was famished and could have eaten a whole T-rex steak by myself, but I found myself going to the Hangar Bay. Collins was just coming off the floor, after having recycled a shuttlecraft.
“Everything okay?” Collins asked.
“Perfect. Any inbounds scheduled?” I asked.
“No, Sir. We have completed all Shuttle activity for this system,” Collins said. “Okay, I am going to spend time here for a moment,” I said.
“Um, okay,” Collins said. “Can I be of service?”
“Nope. I got this,” I said.
“Okay,” Collins said. “I’m right next door here if you need anything.”
So, I entered the Shuttle bay and proceeded aft to the hangar doors. “Siri, please open the Hangar Bay Doors.”
Surprisingly, the doors opened. I really expected some arguments from Siri. As the doors opened, I ordered three folding, tent cloth chairs and placed them near the hangar doors that were still unfolding away. I then ordered an ice chest with beer. I also ordered three Cuban cigars, and put them in the cup holder of my chair. I sat down in the middle chair, got a beer, opened it, and gazed out into space. Even though you could detect the force field, you can still see clearly out into space, as if there was nothing, no glass, no field. I guess opening the doors did register on someone’s monitor because Collins returned, saw what I was about, and called it in. The next person to arrive was Jung, coming up from behind me. I knew it was him without looking back.
“Have a seat, Carl,” I said.
“How did you know it was me?” Jung asked, taking the seat.
“Um, who else would come and check on the Captain having a beer by the open hanger doors,” I said, fishing out a beer from the chest. I opened it for him. “That, and, well, you have a very distinctive frequency in your walk.” I tapped my beer bottle to his. “L’Chaim.”
Jung mirrored the sentiment.
We drank without talking for a moment, but he couldn’t resist. “Are you cycling?” Jung asked.
“Only in memory,” I said.
“So, you’re not expecting anyone to join us?” Jung asked. “Nope,” I said.
“But, you made three chairs,” Jung asked. “Yep,” I said.
“Because…” Jung trailed, wanting me to fill it in. “Whenever two are gathered, there I shall be…” I said.
“Nice,” Jung said. He was a deeply spiritual man, particularly fond of Christianity, even if it was still his version of it. “And does this Holy Spirit smoke cigars, because you made three of those, too.”
“Nope,” I said. My beer bottle was empty. I held it up and watched the energy in the bottle dissipate and melt it away. Energy is never created nor destroyed, it just changes states. And trust me, we have excess energy that we have to burn, so before any of you ‘the Ringworld is unstable’ start messaging me that a Dyson Sphere’s inner surface would not be habitable due to the trapped radiation overeating the sphere, well, don’t forget we burn most of that during warp, but the rest goes into making stuff. Like self-disposable beer bottles. “I love that.” I said, reaching for another beer.
“Two beers?” Jung asked. “I remember when I couldn’t get you to drink one glass of wine.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said.
“That was two weeks ago,” Jung reminded me. “Oh, yeah, and that,” I said.
Jung took a hit on his Vape. “I recommend you see Rossi,” Jung said. “Yeah,” I said. “About that. How do you summarize a millennia of cycling?”
“Cliff notes,” Jung said.
I chuckled. We had another guest arrive. I didn’t recognize his signature walk, but a
quick ‘click’ opened up a window through ‘second sight’ and revealed who it was. I was actually happy to see him.
“Jack O’Neill, my new friend,” I said. He stopped behind my chair.
“Are you psychic?” O’Neill asked. “Nope,” I assured him.
“Am I intruding?” It was O’Neill, if you had any doubt.
“Nope,” I said. “There’s your chair, and there is a beer in the chest.”
“What about the Ghost?” Jung asked.
O’Neill hesitated sitting.
“The Ghost will always give up the chair,” I assured him. O’Neill seemed concerned. “There are no ghosts. Well, there are ghost, but there are not any here, well, at least not to my knowledge. Just assume we’re inside an ‘inside joke’ and forgive us. Please sit, and have a beer.”
O’Neill took the seat. “I just wanted to speak with you before we head back,” O’Neill said.
“Awesome, throw back a beer and we’ll talk,” I said. “Is it real beer, or synthehol?” O’Neill asked.
“OMG,” I said. Like I said, everyone who knows me knows I love Trek, but there are
some that are just not right. “Jack, may I call you Jack, Jack, I promise you, there will be no synthehol on my ship. I don’t know who came up with that nonsense on TNG, because no one drinks ETOH because they like the taste. The like the effect. And if synthehol gives the effect, then why not just serve the real thing? I think whoever wrote that into the series just wanted to force people to give up alcohol, but recognize no society is going to give up drinking, and so they gave us this half ass out. Please, just have a beer so I can get out of preaching mode.”
O’Neill took a beer, opened it, and saluted. Before he drank, we all three tapped bottles. He took a sip, and then a long draw from the bottle. “Nice,” he said. He spied the cigars in my chair’s cup holder.
“Are those…”
“Cuban,” I said. “Would you be offended if I offered you one?”
“Pff,” O’Neill said. “Hell no.”
“They’re not going to make you watch some anti-communistic short filmed made in the sixties, the quality of which looks like it was intended for a high school driver’s ed. course, about how horrible Cuba is and that buying and or smoking said Cuban cigar endangers the entire free world?”
“They do that?” Jung asked.
“Yeah,” I said. No really, they do that. I flew to Brazil, bought a box of Cuban cigars while I was there, and coming back, my suitcase was opened by customs, and I was detained and forced to watch this stupid ass movie while watching some Nazi like gestapo tear my cigars apart one by one. They weren’t even for me! They were for my friend’s wedding. And he was Cuban!
“Just hand me a cigar,” O’Neill said.
I passed O’Neill and Jung a cigar, and the three us opened and lit them.
“Siri, adjust the hangar bay’s main force field sufficiently to allow a slight breeze,” I said.
The field didn’t noticeably become less, we did suddenly have a nice little breeze taking the smoke away from us.
“This is nice,” O’Neill said. “Heads up,” Jung said.
I identified Loxy before she was even half way cross the floor. “And, here’s Loxy,” I said, standing.
O’Neill and Jung also stood up. “How are you doing that?” O’Neil asked. I shrugged, deferring all my energy to Loxy. She was back in Uniform.
“What the hell,” Loxy said. “I thought maybe you had cycled, but the computer told me I’d find you here.”
“Just having a drink, Mam,” I said.
“Don’t ‘mam’ me, Sir. Do you know how dangerous sitting this close to the edge…”
“We’re on a Starship, Mam, risk is our business,” I said.
Loxy put her hands on her hip. Yeah, I was technically the master, but the slave truly always is in charge.
“Loxy, my dear, I love you loads, but here is the deal,” I said. “At the end of a day, or an episode, I not quite sure which yet, I am going to come out here, have a drink or two, smoke a cigar, and