Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
For those Malthusians in Space Corps, duty reigns supreme. Flirting is discouraged. Even casual touching is frowned upon.
And that was back home. You can imagine how buttoned-down they are on a battleship.
Crew knew they were being watched, and carefully. That was all they needed. Much of the fun of illicit romance is the illicit part.
Commander Kern, junior only to the captain, was furious. He marched into the Human Resource office. Two officers sat laughing over one thing or another. Kern cleared his throat. It didn’t help that both women were tall, attractive brunettes.
“Oh, Kenneth! We didn’t see you.”
“It seems no one does.”
Shelly Garcia, the HR chief, smiled her toothy smile. What, she asked, did he mean by that?
“I just discovered two of our enlisted flagrantly violating Space Order 14.”
“What the heck is that?” asked Moira Fox, the benefits manager.
Kern’s arching black eyebrows, which he possibly plucked, arched some more. “You don’t know?”
“Frankly Mr. Kern, I do not.”
Kern produced a sheet. “Space Order 14, and I quote. No crewmember of any rank shall Touch, Kiss, or otherwise Canoodle with another.”
A titter went up from the women.
“Is there something funny?”
“Of course not.” Garcia was having trouble keeping a straight face. “It’s just…”
Lt. Fox spoke up. “How are we defining Canoodle?”
Garcia covered her mouth and snorted.
“Canoodle,” said Kern. “To Canoodle. It’s a specific term for what is becoming increasingly common, and may I say disgraceful behavior. Do you want me to draw a picture?”
“Please do.”
“I will not! And if I can get no help from this department, I’ll have to patrol the crew myself. As though I don’t have enough to do.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Kern.” Shelly Garcia had regained a modicum of composure. “We’ll see about issuing a memo, or something. In the meantime, did you resolve the issue?”
“I most certainly did. I sent them to quarters.”
“That’s an order I’m sure they complied with.” Both women were laughing again.
Kern departed, and quickly. The commander was immensely displeased. He spent his whole life achieving a high level of authority. And yet, before at least half the crew, he felt utterly powerless.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com