The incessant stabilization hum is low in pitch and easy to dismiss.

The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

The piercing beep of an incoming communication is a mood killer.

Wheeeep! Pioneer, this is Flight medical.

Pause… moans and vinyl rustles.

Wheeeep! Pioneer, this is Flight medical, do you read?

Velcro ripping. “Oh shit! What the hell is medical calling us for?”

“I’m guessing it’s for — fuck, I’m cu —accelerating heart rrrate during night ssscycle.”

“Are you effing —? Damn, I was just getting there.”

Captain Elizabeth “Breezy” Brennan was untangling herself from her stabilizer straps to extricate herself from her sleep pod. She was also scrambling to find her jumpsuit, which she thought she had secured before slipping into the pod.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Commander Peter Lake was panting and laughing at the way the sexy, mahogany-skinned woman was spinning in the microgravity, trying to slip her green and blue uniform over her nearly naked body. Her grey NASA-labeled stretch bra was still scrunched up over her beautiful mango-shaped breasts.

What made the moment even more comical was several drops of his recent ejaculate were floating up like jellyfish blobs from between her legs and out her mouth.

From the sleep pod, he playfully reached out a finger and easily hooked one.

Breezy scoffed at the act and rolled her eyes. “We are totally getting drummed out for this. Fuck me!”

“I just did; have you forgotten already?” In an act to really piss her off, he brought his finger to his mouth and hummed in pleasure at the transgressive flavor.

“Get dressed, you idiot!”

Wheeeep!! Pioneer, this is Flight medical. Please respond.

The affected electronic voice was more irritated.

Now adequately dressed, the captain was running her fingers through her short, curly black hair. She pulled her floating body towards the opening of the crew section. “Sweet mother of... it’s our designated Sleep Cycle!” she muttered to herself as she opened the door and pushed off toward the communication array.

The first thing she did was reinitiate the aft compartment camera system. By now, she hoped that Lake at least had pants on.

Wheeeep!! We have notification of elevated agitation in crew vital signs. Please respond.

Turning on the display lights and watching her screen come to life, the 39-year-old astronaut attached her headset and put on her best professional smile.

Wheee—click. “Ahem, Flight, this is Pioneer. Good morning, Dennis. What seems to be the concern?”

The dry, almost electronic voice of Doctor Dennis Oakwood explained. “Morning, Captain. I want to first inform you that this is a secure channel. Doctor-patient privilege does apply regardless of your position on Pioneer.”

“Yeah, as long as it doesn’t interfere with mission specifics or safety. I get it. I helped write the damn thing. So, what are you waking us up at— five eighteen? — an hour earlier than usual?”

The voice on the other end, one of her oldest friends in the space program and a truly trusted medical professional, regardless of any sense of duty, gave a deep sigh.

“I’ll just be blunt, Breezy. Regardless of how private it might seem or should be expected to be, there will be a data record stored of the two of you having sex in the pod.”

Pause…The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

“Something strongly discouraged under mission guidelines. Which you should know because you helped write them.”

“Fuck me…”

“Exactly. And someone is going to figure it out, and they will tell Manero, which means that Lila will know, which means…she will know you are fucking her husband…354.5 kilometers above her house.”

“Shit, we didn’t think of the vitals array. I thought I’d turned everything on private.”

There was a general silence that followed.

The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

“May I just say as a person of science, congratulations. The two of you just made history.”

Breezy rubbed her eyes, then flipped off the camera with both hands.

He continued. “As a friend, I ask: what the fuck were you thinking, Breeze?”

She made a ridiculously sad face. “It’s lonely up here, Dennis.”

“You are acting like an unprofessional idiot.” He was not holding back the exasperation in his voice. “We only have 20 more seconds before I have to turn this back to mission record. Look, if you’re gonna be this stupid again, which I’m sure you will, remove the coupling nozzle in slot B of the pod and turn the cable housing clockwise once. That will shut off your vitals for as long as you need, which is… forty-five minutes based on these readings I have here.”

Breezy held her head and looked down. “Sweet Goddess…”

“We can call it a glitch and override or something. I don’t know. I’ll figure that part out.”

Before she could protest or voice any embarrassment, he continued. “Official record recommencing following private Doctor/patient discussion now completed.” Beep, Click. “All content logged in Captain Elizabeth Brennan’s personnel records. Dr. Dennis Oakwood, Delta 74983 – DO.”

The screen went blank, and she let out a breath.

“See, problem solved,” Lake said in his naturally sexy baritone.

She swiveled in her utility chair and stared with her Mama’s best “Don’t you dare” eyes. He had his flight suit on, but the top was tied at his waist. He was wearing an official light-blue spandex-blend tee, which did nothing to hide his muscular physique.

Fuck he was gorgeous!

“It is not.” She removed her headset and pushed past towards the UWMS (universal waste management system- or toilet-shower) cubicle. She needed to take a pee.

“Breezy! Come on.”

“Captain Brennan, Commander.” She pointed at a camera and mouthed, “recording.”

The UWMS locked, she zipped the flap on her uniform and was reminded once again of her niece's onesie. She hooked up the vacuum base and relaxed.

The urinary relief was short-lived when she felt a wet drop hit her nose. Had she not sealed properly? Nope, it was more of Peter's cum. "Damn, Dennis is right…irresponsible and unprofessional." And a historic fuck.

After a quick morning clean-up and change of clothes, she met Peter by the food station. There were hoops in the wall that hooked around a crew member’s waist, locking them in place so they could conveniently eat a meal.

He was drinking some type of foamy caffeinated beverage tube and eating an actual apple. There were 20 total in the original manifest. It actually looked pretty good to her.

“Don’t blame yourself. This probably never would’ve happened if McAllister had stayed; they couldn’t send a replacement.” He spun the apple at her.

She caught it in her mouth and took a bite. “I was literally right next to you! The poor guy needed more medical attention than we could provide.”

“The universe put us here.” He reached for her hand in some whacked-out rom-com bullshit. She glared.

She almost let go of her yogurt/granola pouch and looked at the three cameras in the area. “Enough already!”

He whispered, horribly, “Gonna disconnect the array tonight?”

“Oh, my God. Commander Lake you’re acting unprofessionally. Ten more days! Control yourself.”

“Aye, Captain. But can you?”

The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

They ate and drank in silence. For all of thirty seconds.

“Breeze, at home, you were more than willing as long as ‘Lila doesn’t get hurt,’ you said.”

That first night had been eight months ago during the PR blitz. Lila was back in Austin, and there was one more day of mindless repetitive pleasantries to give to small-time reporters like the Maryland NASAFANS blog.

She had been exhaustedly horny. And he was sexy in his uniform…and out. They broke the hotel bed.

His voice was a panty-melter. Then and now. “I don’t know how to stop that from happening now. She’ll know. So why not enjoy our time together until planet fall?”

She went to respond, but realized he had a point. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Why not let it run around and catch a few mice?

“Yes, we could. But she will be hurt, and honestly, so will you. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you, and don’t argue that. She makes you better.”

“I won’t, she does.” He slid to the wall to get more drink, his face away from the camera and his voice muted. “But no one has an ass like yours. And you have the sweetest honey pot I’ve ever slid into. You’re a great fuck, Captain.”

“Gross. You just lost any possibility of repeating that fiasco in the pod.”

“I don’t think it was a fiasco. We figured out the logistics damn fast. And from what I remember, you enjoyed yourself at least three times.”

“Twice,” she responded with a slight smirk and raised eyebrow. “The third one was intended for you to hurry up. I had other positions to—oh shit, we have to stop talking about it. Fuck, you’re impossible!”

“Up until last night, people thought sex in microgravity was impossible.”

She unhooked her loop and was taking her used breakfast materials to the waste chute. Now she whispered. “One thing I will say: a microgravity orgasm is the craziest thing ever. It hits like usual and spreads the same way, but it lingers for so long after.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “We will deal with the sex consequences later. You have new data on the Ventura array to analyze, and I’ve got the setup for the Bartholomeo scope.”

With that, she turned and pulled herself down the narrow corridor towards her lab.

She ran through the numbers with brilliant ease. After all, this is why she became an astronaut. She was fascinated by the information they were receiving on atmospheric pressure and the possibility of legitimate weather corrections.

After two hours, she commiserated with her counterpart in Houston. Praya was just as excited to read the promising info. There was a nice euphoria washing over the captain until the unsuspecting older scientist mentioned, “Lila popped by and said to say hello. To remind Peter that she has Night Shift tonight and will tuck him in. So cute.”

Breezy had to swallow and clench at the mention of her sex partner’s spouse. Any residual arousal she had felt in her body flew out of her faster than dust particles out of the airlock. Lila never sent a message with someone else. She always did it herself from flight command.

“Great! I’ll let him know. Thanks, Praya, I’ll talk to you at 1600.” She clicked off the communications headset and released a deep sigh.

The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

Strange to think the day passed by with rather mundane simplicity, considering they were on a multibillion-dollar box soaring around the Earth every 90 minutes. Peter went about his business, and they effortlessly spoke with people down below and with each other. There were a few serious moments when they discovered that one of the plant pods in hydroponics had failed. The two of them were able to right the situation, but not before a few specimens were lost.

Their work was important and done with respectful responsibility. At 21:00, their day was officially over, and they said goodbye to those below.

This was their personal time.

She spent part of it on the Tredlok exercise machine. He did a few laps in the water simulator as swimming was his sport. And the reason he had such an incredible body.

When he came out, he was in just a swimsuit. None of him was “water wet” as it was just a virtual experience as he swam, but his sweat was real.

She floated in her tank top and exercise utility pants, padding a towel across her ample chest. She looked at him in the cubicle he was so beautifully occupying. With the way the light was playing, she could see droplets of his sweat lifting off and floating away. The effect gave him an angelic shimmer.

She admonished herself. “Get a grip, girl.”

Yeah, of that rockin’ ass!

She did some daily journaling and captain’s log entries, unable to take her mind off a growing warmth in the center of her body.

In an hour, they would be settling in for the night. Captain Brennan needed to decide if it was in the same pod or not.

The two of them gave each other welcomed space (ironic in a craft whose interior was only 27 m long) while the wheels in her head spun faster than the gyros in the stabilizing units

As she treated her natural black curls, she was overwhelmed by how much she wanted him. She wondered, had he been worth it? Her space-gasm said yes, and I’m still available.

He wanted her just as badly. As he slipped into his sleep clothes, he couldn’t help but think of her glorious ass in his hands as they ground together inside the pod early this morning. Fucking her was always an amazing experience; she moaned like no lover he’d ever had, and it inflated his ego exponentially.

As if working with telepathy, they ended up at the UWMS at the same time.

The incessant stabilization hum was low in pitch and easy to dismiss. Their heartbeats and breathing were not.

There was a three-second pause as they stared at each other.

They quickly locked themselves inside, knowing the cameras were muted. Man and woman were pulling apart the necessary openings in their clothing. The kisses were wild, frantic, and intense as they bumped the walls and ceiling repeatedly. Within a few moments, her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was back inside her.

She was slippery; he was steel.

She held onto the stabilizing bars of the shower system as he attempted to push in and out. Simple thrusting against a wall normally made this an intense experience, and their favorite. Now it was a challenge of well-trained bodies.

“Fuck me! Oh Godessss! Peter!” Panting.

“You’re the Goddess, Breezy!” Grunting.

He grew inside her as he reached between their coupling. He steadfastly kept the thrusting controlled with only one hand, his other danced on her clitoris. His mouth played her left nipple like a flute. Her tunnel clutched and gushed as if he flipped her switch.

“AwwFuuuUCK!”

He paid attention this time as the orgasm ripped through her. He was a scientist and wanted to focus on the aftereffects she mentioned. He was also a lover fascinated by how sexy this woman was.

He rocketed copious blasts. Up or in. They held tight and bumped the wall.

She breathed a grin. “We will… be disconnecting… the array, Commander.”

Hard kisses.

“Aye, Captain.” Moaning withdrawal.

She exited, reassembling her suit.

Then he, minutes after collecting floating globs.

He froze, holding the doorframe. She stopped in the corridor with the same look of concern.

The periodic hiss of the air system is a welcome regularity.

Until it’s no longer heard.

“Too quiet?” she inquired as the two of them zoomed to the command center.

“Damn right.”

She was feeling lightheaded. He had stopped sweating. He grabbed her, and they listened.

“It’s reversed like a purge!”

She punched a code. Wheeep! “Command, this is Pioneer! Urgent systems check.”

Response time was usually less than two seconds. After five, she repeated the request.

Nothing.

Her voice was steady. But this looked bad. It felt even worse.

“Keep working on circulation. Gonna see what’s fucked with communications.”

“Aye, Cap.”

Peter soon removed the lab panel behind the chemical dispenser, where the circulation system was housed. All lights were green, all readouts stated full functionality. So why was it reversed?

She had found the reset alignment and located the trips for communications. It was risky to reboot, as 80% of the time it worked. At least in simulation at Houston.

Click. “Command this is….” She halted. No “wheeeep” sound.

“Peter! Anything? I can’t send out; we’re a floating derelict!”

“Nothing!” he shouted back. “We need to stop moving and talking. We will use less air.”

He floated back to the command center, where she was trying every possible arrangement of entry codes to reboot the fucking system.

“Nothing is…” She stopped herself, remembering not to waste the air on speaking. After a moment, she could not stand it and thumped the side of the display in a classic Hollywood attempt to restart.

The screens lit up, and all systems flicked on!

“What the fuck? It work...!”

Wheeeep!! Pioneer, this is Lila Lake…

The lovers froze, well, floated in shock.

You sad fucks…Be advised that I’m working remotely. I’m sure downstairs is scrambling just like you two. You know the system is not difficult to hack. I built the fucking thing.

“Lila, what are you...?”

It’s called consequence, dear husband. You’ve been fucking around on me. Dennis was right, I would find out. But I actually already knew.

The running lights failed.

You’re a pig, Peter. And Breezy… You have officially become my worst friend ever. That includes Dana Fisher, who stole my bike in eighth grade.

Breezy was pissed. “What do you- They’ll know it’s you!”

I am sure they already do. But I don’t care. You’ll be gone, and justice will have been done. Better or Worse, Peter. Lila out.

The screen dimmed, accompanied by a sad descending pitch. The entire ship stopped. No hum, no hiss, just the silence of space.

Several minutes.

“Just give it time, Breezy, they’ll figure it out.”

She grabbed him and held him close, and they kissed with passion.

“H-hold me…”

….

They passed out 30 minutes later, locked together in surrender, not passion.

…..

The rebooted stabilization hum is low in pitch and easy to dismiss.

Wheeep!! Pioneer! This is command!

Silence…