Of course, no crew is perfect. A small voice at the back whimpered, “We are gonna die.”
I stepped forward to the edge of the dais and raised my voice. “We are not gonna die. You know why?”
“Because we’re all going to desert to the pub?”
I couldn’t place the face matching the voice, but I laughed all the same.
“No, boys. Because we are so... very... pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die. Huh? Look at that chiseled jaw!” I located the dissident pub-goer and illustrated my point with a roundhouse kick to the face. The now-broken jaw hit the concrete along with the rest of its owner.
“Do we have to wear a uniform like yours, ma’am?” the Lieutenant piped up.
I thought a moment before I smiled. “No, but anyone man or woman enough to wear a corset and a tutu on my ship will be my guest in the Captain’s Mess for an evening.” I leapt from the dais to the ground lightly, striding through men to the door and the airlock beyond.
I waited, but the automatic doors didn’t move.
“Right,” I said finally. “How do I open the fucking doors?”
YOU ARE READING
Curvaceous Kevlar and other inspired tales
Short StoryCurvaceous Kevlar: Commander Jamie Church, first woman commander in the SpaceCorps, on her first day on the job. New uniform, new crew and a new ship. She's dressed to impress and you don't want to stand in her way. Curvaceous Kevlar and Luscious Le...
