The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (60 page)

Built like the quarter of a sphere removed from the
remainder, the ship master’s chair was seated at the very center of
the bridge, raised above all other stations by a semicircular
platform about a meter above the deck. Arrayed around her from her
two o’clock vantage point to her five o’clock and her ten o’clock
to her seven o’clock were the duty stations of her crew. Everything
from navigation to communication to ship’s systems and a half dozen
other flight sensitive tasks. Beyond these stations, wrapping
around the entirety of the curved section of the bridge was the
transparent viewport that connected the bridge to the emptiness of
space. It wrapped above and behind and around Mei-Xing as she stood
at the foot of her dais, and all she could see was space. It was
something she had enjoyed immensely since her first moment on the
bridge of her new command only one week ago.

Immaculate, the bridge was lit with bright lights
and streamlined interfaces. It had red carpeting on the floor and
wood paneling along the bulkheads, luxury items that simply
screamed: civilian. It was nothing like the cold steel and
colorless white Mei-Xing had seen aboard the Allied Space Navy’s
ships of war she had toured during her training.

Interestingly, she had to admit that she approved of
the sterility of those ships more.

Finally, directly behind the ship master’s chair was
the lift, which she promptly started for.

“XO,” she said as she stepped off her dais. A small
man with a well-greased comb over straightened from his position
overlooking the shoulder of the ship’s Communication Officer.

“Ma’am?” He asked.

“The bridge is yours.”

“Aye, ma’am,” he replied with a slight nod. Mei-Xing
did not return it but made sure her look lingered just enough to be
obviously suggestive. Her executive officer didn’t dare make
mistakes while she was away, and her subtle look served as a
reminder that he’d better not. It wasn’t that she was unsure of his
abilities, in fact, she couldn’t ask for a more competent first
officer, but that she never dropped her persona, not even for
him.

She didn’t want her crew to fear her, but she
demanded their respect all the same.

She turned and entered the lift, but instead of
indicating her intended destination with a simple thought through
her Lens, a door whooshed open in front of her, opposite the one
she’d just came through. Stepping through, she entered the atrium
of her personal quarters, a space about the size of a small living
room despite its sole purpose as a place to receive guests and
store her footwear.

Once through the lift doors, which silently closed
behind her, she immediately slouched her shoulders and rolled her
neck. She wasn’t a machine, despite what others may think, and she
needed to relax as much as the next person. She slipped off her
bulky duty boots and placed them in a small compartment that
quickly retreated back into the bulkhead after she’d placed them
within, and opened the large, ornate door to enter her new
home.

Those who knew anything about space travel,
especially those like the Chinese or Americans who dominated the
practice, understood that space was always at a premium aboard a
spacefaring vessel. The Americans would especially understand this,
as their use for space travel revolved almost solely around combat,
where every cubic inch of a spaceship was used to fit ammunition,
life support, provisions, berths, or any number of mission critical
essentials. The Chinese understood this as well, and abided by such
a concept with most of their ship designs.

But not for ISLAND Liners.

Inter-System Luxury Aerospace Destination Liners had
no need to worry about space constrictions. Each ISLAND was almost
five hundred years old, beginning their lives as simple transport
shuttles that ferried supplies from Earth to China’s first colony
on Mars in the late 20th century. But as time progressed, repairs
and refits had been necessary, giving designers the unique
opportunity to build on top of the existing infrastructure,
creating larger and larger ships. Four hundred years later, those
original ships had grown to immense sizes, each slightly different
from the next. Each ISLAND was literally the size of Europe’s
largest countries, hundreds of kilometers long, and half as wide
and tall. Shaped like an angular, blocky cone, the engine block was
the wide base and the bridge its tip. They were space worthy
countries capable of supporting millions of passengers.

Designed for comfort and leisure, Mei-Xing, as ship
master, was entitled to the most extravagant suite on the ship. Two
stories with five rooms, three baths, a solar to view the stars, a
central atrium, dining room, and equipped with an emergency escape
capsule, it was easily the most opulent accommodation available.
Decorated in mainly Chinese motifs, Mei-Xing could almost pretend
she was back on Earth in her ancestral home that had provided her
with so much.

She looked at the vaulted ceilings, tassels,
hangings, bronze sculptures, and gold inlaid furniture and sighed.
Here was a place worthy of her accomplishments. It was a place
where she could relax and enjoy the fruits of her labors. She
glanced at the central fountain that flowed gracefully into its
basin and touched the water. It rippled at her gesture and she
smiled, continuing her way towards her room and up the port side
staircase, having already chosen that she would only descend down
the starboard side one.

It took her nearly thirty seconds to climb the
stairs to the landing separating her quarters from the rest of her
suite. Reaching out to grasp the intricate handle before her, she
twisted and opened the wide double doors and entered her
immaculately furnished room that gleamed in pristine opulence. She
started the process of undressing herself as she strode across the
room, removing each piece of her uniform carefully, meticulously
folding each article of clothing and placing them on her dresser
and throwing her undergarments down her hidden laundry chute.

Before stepping into bed, Mei-Xing moved towards her
full body mirror she’d brought with her from her childhood home. It
was an ovoid with gold designs twirling around the edges, coming
together at the top to form two small cherubs blowing small horns
at the other. It had been a gift from her grandmother for her
eighth birthday and she had always treasured it.

What she really loved about the mirror, however, was
how it presented her body. Of course, Mei-Xing knew it reflected
her no differently than any other mirror, but something about the
gold designs and cherubs framed her in a more perfect way.

She was tall for a Chinese woman, standing at 1.75
meters, with a strong body most women would be hard pressed to
replicate. Her face was just as hard as her body, with small but
full red lips and dark eyes that could look as intensely serious as
they could sultry. Her skin was smooth and soft, but it was the
angle of her cheeks that provided her with the prized sternness she
was so proud of.

Assured that her face was clear of any blemishes she
may need to take care of, she lifted a hand to cup her breasts.
They were firm and well sized and Mei-Xing hummed in satisfaction.
She then turned to the side to inspect her backside, likewise
content at its shape and firmness, but then she frowned. Upon
closer inspection, her abdominal muscles seemed less defined than
normal, showing almost an imperceptible amount of paunch over her
otherwise taut stomach.

We’ll have to do something about that, wont we,
Mei-Xing?

The last week hadn’t left her much time for physical
exercise, and she could now see the results of her sedentary
lifestyle. It did not make her happy, but she knew once her ISLAND
was successfully under way, she’d have time to work on it again.
With one last squeeze of her behind, she nodded at her reflection
and quietly padded her way towards her bed. Slipping in beneath her
silk sheets, she nudged her Lens to deactivate the lights in the
room and set her alarm to wake her in four hours.

She needed to be well rested. ISLAND departures were
still a big deal for the citizens of each planet it visited, and
even though the ship wouldn’t be back for two years, and in that
time any mistakes her crew may make well and forgotten;
she
would not forget them. She would take them to the grave – should
such a day ever in fact arrive for Ship Master Mei-Xing Na.

ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

Edward Crichton, a native
Clevelander, lives in Chicago, Illinois with his wife, where he
spends his time coming to grips with his newfound sports
allegiances. A long time enthusiast of Science Fiction, Fantasy,
History and everything in between, he spends his time reading,
writing, and demanding his wife allow him to buy a cat. He is
currently finishing book two in the ongoing
Praetorians
Series, and working on his new Sci-Fi epic:
Starfarer
.

Edward’s website and blog can be
found at

www.sites.google.com/site/edcrichtonbooks

And you can follow him on
Twitter

@EdCrichton

Or Email him at

[email protected]