Genres: Bisexual, GLBT, Lesbian, Romance, Science Fiction
Collections: Zero-G Spot
Editor(s): Lon Sarver
Cover Designer(s): Siol na Tine
Cover Art Credits: Photos by Lunamarina at Dreamstime and NASA.
Production Editor(s): Erika L. Firanc
Proofreader(s): Todd Michaels
Length: Short Story (6,000 Words)
Publication Date: December 21, 2013
Serialization Date: May 7, 2017
Archive(d) on May 21, 2017
Tags: f/f, interracial, interstellar, person(s) of color, religion, Short Story, space travel, Zero G-Spot
Content Labels (What they are and why we use them)
“What happened, anyway?” Vivian asked as they made their way down the corridors.
“Engine blew. New part I got on Quamerone didn’t fit as well as the mechanic claimed. Thought he was dirty. Now I know, little good as it does me.”
“Are we… are we dead?” Vivian laughed uncomfortably and bounced too hard off a bulkhead, sending herself spinning.
Captain Satou reached out and righted her. Her hand was hot. Vivian felt her breath quicken, though the captain didn’t seem to notice.
“Not yet, we aren’t. We’ve got good momentum, enough to get us to our destination. No significant objects between here and there. No gravity wells either. I plot a clean flight path, though it costs more fuel. That said, we don’t have braking thrusters or the capacity to steer. Which means we’ll shoot right past dock and into the planet itself.” Satou wiped her greasy, sweating brow. “You saw the outside of this ship when you boarded. She wasn’t designed to sink down a gravity well of any sort, let alone land in one.”
“That sounds dead to me,” Vivian noted, her tone oddly calm. They reached the common room. Satou tossed her a foil pack that turned out to be sweet, high-protein goop. Vivian self-consciously suckled the nipple-like opening.
“It would be if I didn’t have a backup. The backup is a little involved, though. Alien, you know, but not the mice. It’s from those weird spherical guys who’re always preaching good healthcare and sexual revolution.” Satou shot her a look. No, make that a look. Vivian wasn’t sure what it meant but she felt the weight of it.
The pressure suits, retrieved from one of the common room lockers, turned out to require complete nudity before assemblage.
“They’re too difficult to take off, and trust me, you don’t want to have an accident in one. You’d be marinated in filth and it travels,” Satou explained congenially. “The plumbing’s been sterilized and I’ll turn my back. You have nothing to worry about from me.”
What a bizarre thing for a woman to say. Vivian was grateful, though an odd twinge of regret rang through her. Donning the pressure suit turned out to be an involved task. Her small breasts fit into the unisex chest plate without issue. Vivian blushed at this. She didn’t like to think of her body in those ways. The scriptures had a lot to say on the subject, and though she performed the necessary cleansing sacraments, she wasn’t quite sure God approved of womanhood.
While they were making their way to hold one, where the alien backup engine was apparently stored, Satou cleared her throat. “So tell me about this religion of yours. I know most religions require certain personal sacrifices. Yours does too, right?”
“Of course.” What a broad question, and a random one, given the context. Maybe Satou was seeking God during this dark hour? Vivian brightened. She spent the next half hour explaining the Dynamic Spiral and God’s Enlightenment. The captain seemed distracted as they searched the freezing, pitch-black hold with flashlights. It was an enormous space: maybe a little short of a cubic hectometer, the length of a professional playing field. After a while Vivian ran down, daunted by Satou’s blunt indifference and the darkness surrounding them.
“So, why do you ask?” she finally concluded.
Satou was silent for a time. “Not to be direct about it, but are you a virgin?”
Vivian involuntarily jerked, almost flying into a tower of secured crates. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because our survival may depend on your willingness to try something new.”
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