Ice Commander

  ICE COMMANDER

  Roger Frank Selby

  Ice Commander

  At the base airlock, my sexy freighter pilot introduced me to Commander L Hamilton, better known throughout the Outer System Fleet as the Ice Commander. As we shook hands I glimpsed the movement of a full right breast in low gravity – but then saw cropped platinum hair and cold blue eyes that gazed right through me. She looked as hard as ice – and at two hundred below zero, ice is like steel.

  ‘Welcome to Saturn V, Sub-Lieutenant Carter.’

  Ice in her voice, too.

  I felt about as welcome as the outgoing sub-lieutenant. Avoiding eye-contact, she’d fled past me into the freighter as soon as the airlock cracked open wide enough for her to squeeze through.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am!’

  My respectful, A-grade smile was not returned. My spirits plummeted.

  Three months with this? What have I let myself in for?

  ‘That will be all, sub-commander,’ she said to the freighter pilot, ‘we’ll close up the personnel airlock now. You can transfer my supplies via the secondary outer hatch, replenish the liquids and be on your way ASAP.’

  My God, she’s sending the pilot round to the tradesmen’s entrance!

  She did have the grace to show me around the base – but then someone had to, there was only the two of us. A small base on an airless moon is just about as dangerous as any deep-spacecraft, so it was vital that I was fully briefed on the layout and emergency controls at the first opportunity.

  There was no second chance in space.

  I now looked forward to my stint at this icy outpost as a necessary evil – a swift way of earning the necessary credit for my promotion from the lowest officer rank of the OSF.

  Ice was all around. Seventy-five per cent of the little moon is made of the stuff. Although small as bases go, the installation was very spacious for just two occupants, with all the usual facilities, including a fully equipped low-gravity gym.

  ‘And these are your quarters.’

  Not bad – a dayroom with a beautifully bleak moonscape view and a bedroom with a comfortable single bunk. ‘Stow your bag and we’ll move on. Not much more to show you now except the Saturn Observation Dome.’

  The SOD was a special mini-dome, right at the top of the habitat. No problem climbing up in the ultra-low gravity, of course. The ladder was more of a guide-way than a ladder, as we pulled up to the hatch and let ourselves into the small, low-ceilinged room.

  ‘Where’s the observation dome?’ I asked, hastily adding ‘ma’am?’ to the question.

  Her eyebrows knitted together. ‘You haven’t been reading your Station Manual, Carter! The mini-dome is just above the head access hole – rather like a large space helmet. Allow me to demonstrate.’

  She mounted the small stage in the centre of the floor and inserted her head through the self-sealing hole above, into the mini-dome. On either side she poked hands through similar, smaller apertures.

  While my mind belatedly recalled the SOD details from the manual – the radiation-shielded bulkhead for access to the instruments and various gadgets outside that monitored Saturn’s shenanigans throughout the electromagnetic spectrum – I suddenly noticed something.

  My commander is a woman!

  OK, of course she’s a woman but I noticed her womanly shape moulding her flexisuit into those amazing curves. Noticed is the wrong word. My attention was riveted. Fortunately, she couldn’t see my ogling.

  I was awed by it. Looking up at her body, with that intimidating face out of view, she had the body of an angel...Well, quite a lot curvier than permitted on angels perhaps, but certainly a heavenly body!

  A speaker in the wall burst into life, halting my rampaging thoughts.

  ‘Do you read me, Carter?’

  ‘Ah, yes, ma’am, five by five.’

  ‘So, Carter, while head and hands are sealed thus, we can still communicate on the base intercom. You will notice that there’s a flap in the platform I’m standing on. Below that there’s a seat that rises into position if required for long sessions. In practice, standing in this low gravity is no hardship.

  ‘Right, your turn now.’

  Her head and hands re-emerged and she morphed back into the dreaded Ice Commander. The heavenly body was still there, of course; I noticed it now but the fearsome expression and the ice blue eyes chilled the effect.

  I mounted the tiny stage, inserted my head through the aperture and immediately found myself looking out on a Saturn-dominated sky, the surrounding terrain and a row of mini data screens.

  Rhea, better known as ‘Saturn V’ these days, orbits the giant ringed planet in her ring plane, so the rings can only be seen from this moon as a thin, dark line. Even so, I was not disappointed with the sight of the complex ring shadows that slashed across the looming, yellowish face of Saturn, filling a quarter of the black sky.

  I felt the collar autoseal around my neck, no tighter than a comfortable wetsuit. My hands poked through each side – all controls within close reach. All activity around the base could be monitored from here, when there was any.

  It was great! Just like being outside but with all the comforts of home.

  I was suddenly reminded of home comforts by hands around my waist. I flinched at the unexpected contact. A speaker near my ear spoke up:

  ‘Carter, you need to be a little higher than you are...More like this.’

  Her hands raised me easily in the low gravity and I realised I’d been crouching.

  ‘Ah, right, ma’am. See what you mean,’ I replied lamely. Her hands lingered and then released me. I regretted the loss. I also felt my body responding. (Flexis can be very revealing for men, so I was glad that she seemed to be standing behind me.)

  At that moment, I saw the freighter lifting roughly. She hovered briefly over the pad, turned and then pitched up her nose towards the stars, to depart with an unnecessary, burping flare of her thrusters. She’d finished unloading stores and, presumably, finished transferring all liquids. That pilot was pretty hacked off with her treatment – I could tell by the way she flew.

  I watched the freighter dwindle out of sight, heading out for the lonely run back to Titan.

  ‘Freighter’s just departed, ma’am.’

  ‘Very well. We are on our own now, Carter. Just the two of us for three months.’

  Then, she patted my bottom!

  Life settled down to the normal humdrum of any isolated scientific station. There was plenty of work to do, mostly in the general operations room, but sometimes up in the SOD.

  I didn’t mind the isolation – in fact my profile stated that I’d be suitable for this assignment. We took alternate 12-hour shifts. The fact that mine was from 1800 hours to 0600 was no problem considering each solar day was 108 hours long, not 24 – the same time it took our little moon to orbit mighty Saturn.

  When off duty, it was still OK to wander around the station, of course, so we frequently spent time together in the same area but conversation remained formal.

  Taking over duty from my boss one evening, I noticed that she’d left one of the monitors switched on to a view of her quarters. For safety there were no areas that could not be monitored but a telltale light by each miniature camera always showed when it was “looking”. Right now, camera and I were both looking as she walked in and then started casually stripping off her silver flexisuit.

  My jaw almost hit the floor. OK, she was not naked – she had some very sketchy undergarments on – but, without the suit, and in the low gravity, her breasts dominated the view, floating
and swinging with quite spectacular motion, the outline of her nipples clearly visible.

  I lifted a hand to kill the monitor before she saw the telltale. Her arms reached around to unhook the bra. My hand would not move. She shrugged out of the straps and my eyes widened. But now her head was turning to look up at the camera...

  I cut the monitor.

  My boss seemed to be a closet exhibitionist.

  The next day I found the monitor switched on to her room again. Obviously she wanted me to watch, so I played her game. This time her eyes turned to the camera and must have seen the light on. She glanced away again but raised her arms and held the back of her head. Her free breasts lifted to the horizontal in the low grav, pointing outwards nicely – each about 20 degrees offset from the dead ahead, I estimated. I would like to measure that angle more precisely, someday.

  She moved around a little bit, allowing me several spectacular aspects of her profile, then turned towards her bathroom. I killed the switch.

  Phew!

  Where was this leading? I was getting visual signals but nothing at all in her formal conversation – talk that always emphasised my junior rank and the near vertical authority gradient between us. This constant teasing – with no resolution – was that what spooked my predecessor?

  Maybe it was.

  Next day, resting in my quarters, everything changed.

  ‘Carter, report to the Observation Dome immediately.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘I know it’s not your shift but I want to show you something.’

  ‘OK, ma’am, on my way.’ Interesting. Sounded like something out of the ordinary – always welcome.

  I checked the monitors on the way up. It all looked normal outside. Maybe she’d seen something on Saturn itself? I flicked the monitor switch to the interior view to look at her body below the dome – as I had once or twice before.

  I gasped. She was out of her flexisuit! Hands and head poked through the seals, her body clad only in her briefs and one of those gossamer thin bras she favoured.

  She was certainly showing me something. Opening the hatch, I found my heart racing – and not with the exertions of the easy climb.

  The teasing is over. This is it!

  There she was in all her glory. Her tits thrust outward. Maybe about 25 degrees, I thought – revising my earlier estimate in the light of closer observation.

  Suddenly I felt hot. Maybe she’d turned up the heat a little.

  ‘I’m here, ma’am.’

  ‘I need you to do something, Carter,’ her voice invited, via the intercom.

  I hesitated before I touched her but only for a moment.

  I put my hands to her waist.

  She moved slightly at the contact, seemed to sway her hips – a complete woman from the neck down. Her smooth skin felt delicious to my touch. My hands roamed northwards to her breasts.

  ‘Oh!’ She reacted suddenly, moving her shoulders and pushing the slightly scratchy material of her bra against my palms.

  I cupped and squeezed her tits.

  ‘Carter! Stop it!’

  I released her immediately.

  What the hell is she playing at?

  ‘Carter! There is a possible outgassing by the service hatch! Looks like the oxygen or methane replenishment portals...That fool pilot didn’t secure the cap properly! I need you to check the tank contents!

  I scrambled down to General Operations on the main level as quickly as you can in a gravity field only three per cent of standard. I called up the consumables contents page.

  Oxygen quantity first, naturally.

  That was OK, but the methane looked low. Still above the caution range – hence no warnings yet from the monitoring computers.

  ‘Looks like a definite methane leak, ma’am.’

  She appeared at my side – still without her flexisuit. Now I knew I hadn’t been dreaming the previous scenario. But had she stripped off her flexi only in preparation for suiting up? Maybe that was it – it would save time.

  ‘I’ll suit up and go out right away. You watch me from the dome.’

  ‘But, ma’am, regulations state that...’

  ‘Don’t quote regulations at me, Carter! This is an emergency situation. Without methane to heat the station, we’ll freeze solid before they can get another freighter out from Titan to resupply us.’

  ‘Let me go out there with you, ma’am.’

  ‘No, Carter. Speed is of the essence – I’m prepared now and I know this base and its equipment like the back of my hand. Now get your arse up to that dome!’

  ‘Ma’am!’

  Minutes later, head in the dome, I saw her round, spacesuited arse emerge from the service airlock. She had a toolbox with her. She headed for the replenishment portals – one of which I could now see venting a small cloud of methane which rapidly condensed out of view...

  Hey, there could be quite a puddle under there!

  ‘Commander! Be careful. There could be a...’

  ‘I’ve found it! It’s quite a shallow pool of methane. I can still stop that venting. I’m wading through it.’

  ‘Commander, suit boots are not built to take that kind of thermal shock – your feet will freeze!’

  She ignored me. I watched her with her tools, torquing up the venting cap. She was doing a great job – the venting slowed, then ceased. Her feet must be frozen numb by now.

  ‘Ma’am. You’ve done it! Now leave the bloody tools where they are and get back inside quickly...please, ma’am.’

  She didn’t waste breath answering me. She left the tool box perched on top of the portal and started back.

  She almost made it.

  ‘Carter!’ she cried suddenly – with real pain in her voice – then slowly pitched headlong out of view.

  I got down to the airlock, stripping off my flexi on the way. I suited up in about 90 seconds – probably a record.

  I wasted no time on suit checks, half the items weren’t completed anyway – just the essentials necessary for a brief rescue sortie.

  The airlock took agonisingly long to cycle. By the time I got to her she’d been lying faceplate down in the liquid methane for almost three minutes.

  I got her rigid form back inside, terrified that one of her limbs would simply break off. Once back in the warmth of the station, I cut the spacesuit and its undergarments off her with the emergency power shears. The stiffness had come more from the frozen suit than her body, thank Christ.

  Then I discarded my garb and pressed my naked body against the length of hers.

  Her limbs were frighteningly cold.

  I worked on her frozen feet with my hands. Slowly the life came back into her. She shivered. I carried her to her quarters, ran her an illegally deep warm bath and placed her in it. When she was conscious enough to thank me coherently, I left her to it and took over her shift, checking her from time to time on the monitors.

  With luck, the Ice Commander would not even get frostbite.

  In the OSF we have a tradition about saving lives – we don’t make too much of a fuss – the favour was so often returned, so I was not surprised when she didn’t mention it again. But I knew the event would be logged favourably on my record.

  It turned out that the remaining methane supply we’d saved would warm us for two weeks. We reported the incident to Titan, who arranged to divert the inbound Mimas freighter to resupply us in less than half that time, so the crisis passed. Things settled down to normal again.

  Well, almost – except for the new woman in the gym.

  My heart jumped when I first saw her – an adrenalin shock when someone is not where they are supposed to be and looks so different...

  She had the same incredible body as the Commander but a softer expression and long,
dark hair. She was also quite friendly.

  ‘Hi, I’m Laura.’

  At last – a thaw!

  ‘Hi, I’m Frank,’ I responded immediately, not to be unsettled by the phenomenon.

  She stopped rowing and shook my hand as I sat down on the adjacent machine. I played it cool and began rowing. Technically she was still on shift for another hour, then I would take over, but neither of us had set duties in this overlap time...

  Er, this is the commander, isn’t it?

  Of course, it had to be. There was not another living soul for a million kilometres. But she was so different...So damned sexy!

  ‘Thank you for getting the commander in so quickly,’ she said.

  ‘No problem. I’m just glad there was no permanent frostbite.’

  ‘Frostbite, nothing, she would have been dead if left outside much longer! You saved her life by getting out to her so quickly. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.’

  I stopped rowing and looked across at her. She was quite serious. Then she smiled. ‘I gather there was some misunderstanding between you and the commander under the dome?’

  I didn’t answer for a while. I would play this her way. ‘Yeah, I thought I’d been invited to a party but I was being called out to an emergency instead!’

  She laughed. A musical sound I’d never heard before. ‘That’s a good way of putting it! Anyway, Frank, I know that she was quite pleased with what you did – and not just the rescue.’

  I remained silent, but my eyebrows must have lifted slightly.

  ‘The way you touched her.’

  My body responded. Fortunately, sitting in shorts is less revealing than standing in a flexi...‘That’s good to hear.’ After a moment I reached across and touched her arm.

  ‘No, not me. Her.’

  I withdrew my hand as if stung.

  She’s gone crazy!

  ‘Please don’t be offended, Frank – I like you and I want us to be friends – It’s the commander who wants you.’

  I didn’t see Laura for two days, but I saw the commander, of course.

  Then, just before coming on shift, I found a note poked under my door.