Pressing The Issue

Pressing The Issue

As Space Girk was about to overtake Comet Rider just five strides from her cabin portal, a firm arm encircled Girk's waist.

With what felt like the strength of a nuclear force, Vice-Warrior Bannick's grip tightened until Space Girk erupted in anger. "Playing coup d'etat so early in the voyage, Bannick? I'd have given Rider more credit than this."

“No coup, Commander. Let’s just call this a ‘conference,’ shall we?”

Space Girk grinned evilly as she waltzed Bannick up against the nearest wall and pointed out, “Conferencing with an alluring psysexual has always been one of my fantasies. Right up there with rectifying those nasty issues at the Singularity Core.”

Keene Bannick smiled down sweetly at Girk and, guiding her by the shoulders, stepped her back just enough so that they were no longer pelvis to pelvis. She turned her palm upward. “Your cumchit please, Commander.”

Space Girk laughed, genuinely. “Vice-Warrior Bannick, Keene, why don’t we just work together here? Hate to see a volatile creature such as yourself cruising in Comet Rider’s wake. Seems you and I should be able to strike a deal. Savvy?”

Bannick took her sweet time measuring Mab Draka only knows what in the depths of Girk’s indolent gaze. “Don’t waste your time looking for deals, Commander. Every lesbian Commander Rider brought on board is perfectly loyal to her.” Bannick shook her head. “If you’re smart, you’ll start cooperating with the true commander of this ship and quit flaunting your techno-antics as if they could compete with genuine character.” She looped around Girk, turned her back to her, and walked away, adding, “Best of luck with the Singularity Core.”

Under her breath, Space Girk muttered something about conflabberated fingerfluster and, marching resolutely over to Comet Rider’s portal, she pressed the doorbell, thinking, A buzzer! How frickin’ primitive can you get?