Chapter 15 - You Activate a 'Unique' Machine.

Your eyes open to the quiet of your room. You hear only your own breathing and Zoraida's soft snores. You stiffle a laugh, and turn your head to look at the bedside clock. You see the digits on the screen tick over from 07:24 to 07:25. Your hand moves quickly but the shrill tone of an alarm buzzes before you can so much as smack the snooze.

Zoraida grumbles and pulls her arms tighter around you. You return the hug and kiss her forehead as she rests it on your arm. Her gold isn't quite as brilliant as it was yesterday. She looks exhausted. You run your eyes over the curves hidden by the covers. Her figure has lessened since last night. Was she low on her inner material? Was she using it to fill out to her former figure to impress you, or remind you? That you realize these things is not so worrying as the strain pressed against your sleeping lover.

She's been pulling four peoples jobs, including her own, together and your own mind wonders at the calculations required to make an in-motion FTL jump with at the same time managing multiple other stations. She needed her rest, badly.

You'd love to stay here and keep her warm and content, but you need to assess your own body. Otherwise, you might pull something with no Doctor to push it back into place. Wouldn't that be a fun twist? You shake your head as you slip out of bed, and tuck Zoraida in, despite her half-sleeping mumbles of protest. You kiss her softly on the lips, and she sighs in resignation.

You find some slippers and pad out of your room. Memory is turning out to be a tricky beast to tackle. You are remembering items, locations, and even basic physics just fine. But trying to put names and faces in place with hot shaking breasts and cum slick asses wasn't working. You blink at that thought. There certainly was a reason 'Io' tried to limit where you might 'improve morale' on this ship. 

You quickly stride upstairs and into the ready room. From the locker you pick up the silver ball of scales that is Anagyros in its powered down form. Memories of the machine were slow in coming, but if you were going to make the best use of the machine, you'd have to rework its settings. When you'd worn it during your escape, it hadn't moved quite with you as it should have, as far as you feel. If nothing else it wouldn't hurt to give it a diagnostic.



You know where you're going, once you leave the ready room and head toward the aft of the ship, past the Mess Room. You remember what you're looking for. You'd been there plenty of times, and 'rebuilt' what it was you were hoping to find. The Assessment Machine

Is that what you called it. You shake your head as you come to a doorway that looked polished and immaculate, more so than the relatively clean but lived in look of the rest of the ship. Beside the door was a simple plaque reading "Trooper Berths". Beneath it, was another notice sticker.

"Trooper Territory; Abandon All Pants, Ye Who Enter Here." You chuckle, but it becomes a hearty, familiar, laugh when you see, in the same green writing underneath:

Captain, that means you.

Around this one there are seven 'plus one's' and a smiling face with its tongue out. 

You type in a short, familiar, code into the panel and the doors unlock. Before you enter, you notice, set above the panel, there is a discolored square of metal. Your memory recalls an Imperial briefing that centered around a person trying to break into a door like this, and the panel exploding via a shaped blast charge. The hacker died slowly and the camera person did nothing to aid them as they bled out from a shredded face. 

It was supposed to have been a demonstration on the technologies protecting Imperial Forces from 'petty insurgents'. 

For you, it had been just another nail in the coffin of your uncertainty: The Empire was not your place.

You enter and see most of the place is stripped bare of personality or style. You run your hands over the bare plate steel walls, and remember bright paints tallying victories, and stylized murals of ground actions. Your fingers brush against the lockers, name plates removed. Why?

Why take all the clues and hints that might bring you back to them? Why take everything that might help you remember? You clench your fists and look around, it might not be here; the reason you came to this room, and that you remembered it at all. But you see, between a workout machine and the entrance to the recessed shower stall, a tall orange machine standing in a corner.

You smirk as you walk up to the machine and notice that while most of the place has been stripped bare of personality, there are a few tags along the side if the metal. Tallies and short hand scribbles decorate the metal box.

It looks like an arcade boxing machine mixed in with a number of other devices. There's a pair of hand grips, a bar on a chain, weight sensors, and other devices meant to test your physical aptitude, but you'd programmed and rebuilt the machine to include a more 'diverse' range of tests. You set Anagyros into a sort of shelf on one side of the device. Then, you tap the flat input panel and a wire frame hologram of a keyboard springs to life.

There's a soft chime of a tone as the water cooled machine silently awakens. Letters type out onto the screen.
 
This is the'Upgraded' Imperial Trooper Assessment Module. 

Software Version: <Fe 2.34.11.4>
Most Recent Patch Note: Personal Data Scrub.
Notice: In Accordance with Trooper Squad NCO<IDC X-TX-N6-3201-1-3203-4-0099> Directive: Personal Data has been Purged.
Error: Purge failure: 08 files.

You input the command to list what files failed to be purged, though you can guess what it is by the message. Probably id codes.

Remaining file 01: Trooper Squad NCO <IDC X-TX-N6-3201-1-3203-4-0099>, additional notes; We'll meet up again, Captain. 

Remaining files locked, Assessment not fulfilled.

You lean back as you read the 'additional notes'. That wasn't what you expected. Not really. Just the numbers being left behind. You smile as you flex your fingers and roll your shoulders. The squad's NCO, the Sergeant. 

Mouth guards lay abandoned on the floor, not far are boxing gloves and kicking mitts. 

Thick fingers in half gloves grip your hair as you thrust hard. Thick toned abs flexed and tightened as the walls of a dripping cunt gripped you hard. In spite of that, sweat and cum let your cock slide deep and slam hard as a toned brown ass slams against the lockers. A bruised lip locks with yours, and spit and the light taste of iron mix as your tongue surges over the Sergeant's lips and into her mouth. 

You pin her other hand against the locker and she strains her tired arms against you even as she rolls her hips forward to follow your cock as you pull back after each plunge.  She also rolls her hips back as you press forward, drawing you in before you pin her against the lockers with each deep fucking thrust.

Your eyes and hers lock and her bright Green irises shine every time you hilt your cock into her. She hooks her lifted leg over your shoulder, her free hand still gripping your hair and keeping your lips locked to yours. Your breathing is short through your nose, as her tongue battles back to reclaim lost ground and push back your oral invader.

Against the locker, her fingers lace with yours, and as her grip tightens there, you feel her cunt clench around your cock, and she goes up on her toes. You press your body against hers, your bruised and sweat slick chest pressed against her bouncing breasts. You cum, and feel yourself empty into her, as she pulls you hard against her, as deeply as she can. You open your eyes as she breaks the kiss and lets you pull your head back enough to see her flushed and smiling face. The short black curtains of smooth hair that had been pulled back, now fall to either side in soft waves. 

She leans back against the locker you'd been fucking her against, her locker, and you can see the part of the name plate, and the name Tina written in red above her IDC and a barcode

The memory fades, and you're standing in front of the machine with a raging hard-on and an open menu.

You see a number of 'quality' assessments on the screen:

>Strength Output Assessment
>Visual Acuity Exam
>Stamina Test
>Reflex and Flexibility Test
>Memory and Knowledge Exam
>Interpersonal Test
>Probability Awareness Test
>Anagyros Calibration (0/7) Locked

You know these tests. The physical tests are much the same as they had been when the machine was first built. Use the peripherals attached to the machine, and it tests what how your body handles it. It wasn't just a simple metal bar or punching bag. They were weighted heavily and designed to quickly test if you 'met the bar' for Imperial fitness standards.

The more mental training, you'd retooled yourself. Back when your mind wasn't clouded, and half of it still locked up. You know you filled it with a much less biased and xenophobic program than what the Empire loaded into the machine on production. Languages, formalities, rituals, laws, and taboos, all loaded up in this bright orange box.


What option do you choose first?

