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Time's Error	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +S through Z > Star Trek: Lower Decks Views: 377 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek Lower Decks or its characters. I was not paid to write this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Fitness for Duty
- 2-Crew Who?
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Chapter 2: Crew Who?
It was coming up on 0900 hours. The five Lower-Deckers had just finished showering and dressing after their morning exercise classes; now, all were looking at their padds to see their duty assignments for the day.
“Aw, man,” Rutherford said, looking at his list of assigned tasks. “I wanted to get right to work on the transporter signal enhancer I’ve been designing-”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me about this,” Tendi interrupted.
“It’s to compensate for the ionic charge in Dulaine’s thermosphere,” Rutherford explained. “I know that’s pretty ambitious, but if it works, we’d be able to visit Starfleet HQ without having to depend on the space elevators.”
“Orbital lifts,” Boimler corrected.
“Boimler, I swear to God,” Mariner exhaled.
“But before I can do that,” Rutherford sighed, “I have to check salinity and chemical balance in Cetacean Ops.”
“Oh no, you have to swim in a pool,” Mariner mocked. “Cry me the River Temarc.”
“Yeah, but every time I get in the water, Matt tries to give me a blowjob,” Rutherford griped.
With a concerned look, Tendi said, “But beluga whales don’t even have lips. Just a mouthful of pointy teeth.”
“Exactly,” Rutherford replied.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Boimler said, “my first task for today is helping Commander Ransom practice his speech for the meeting with the Tellarite delegation next week.”
“Ugh, the Tellarites,” Mariner said. “I don’t know why we keep trying to get them to join the Federation. They’re surly as hell, and not one of them looks good in a crop top.”
“I should remind you,” T’lyn interjected, “that body-shaming, in addition to being unproductive, goes against Starfleet Directive Seven.”
Ignoring both Mariner and T’lyn’s interruptions, Boimler went on, “Ransom is terrible at remembering speeches. He always just gives up and launches into that ‘We come from different worlds’ spiel.”
“Then your aiding him will be an exercise in futility,” T’lyn replied. “Much like my own task for today. I have been asked to serve as this vessel’s ‘science ambassador’ to a group of school children whose class will be contacting the Cerritos at fourteen hundred hours.”
“Ooooh, that sounds fun!” Tendi replied. “Can I help?”
“I have been specifically instructed not to allow you to assist me,” T’lyn replied. “Lieutenant Greenleaf,” she added, referring to the ship’s Dulainian chief science officer, “believes I should ‘fly solo’ on this assignment. His reasoning for this is unclear.”
“Awww,” Tendi whined, looking at her padd. “Well, I guess that explains why I’m going to be suiting up and scanning the outer hull for exotic particles…again. I mean, I love exotic particles, but I’m starting to think this is just Lieutenant Greenleaf’s tactic for keeping me out of the way.”
“What did you draw this morning, Mariner?” Boimler asked.
“Diplomatic training with Lieutenant River,” Mariner replied.
“River, huh?” Rutherford said. “She’s cute!”
Mariner looked up at a corner of the ceiling and she replied, “Yep, yep, cute…”
“Wait a second,” said Boimler. “What kind of diplomatic training is this?”
Mariner replied, “River says I need to learn how to express my intentions better through kissing. Apparently, I haven’t learned the subtle differences between a kiss that says, ‘Hello, would you like to negotiate a trade agreement?’ and one that says, ‘Hello, wanna fuck like crazed mugatos?’”
“That would be an important distinction,” T’lyn noted.
“Well,” Rutherford said, “I like the way Mariner kisses. It makes me feel wanted.” His dark eyebrows lowered a bit. “Although I guess it is a little lacking in subtlety.”
“That’s what she said,” Mariner replied. When Rutherford laughed, she added, “No, I mean that’s actually what River said. God, I’m gonna need a lot of lip balm.”
***
After a frustrating morning with Ransom, Boimler was glad to grab a quick lunch and then get on to his main assignment for the afternoon: checking on intra-ship communications down in Engineering. Unlike prepping Ransom for his speech, this was a task Boimler could actually accomplish, and he would get to work with both Rutherford and Chief Engineer Fern, who was an efficient, driven worker like himself and whose devotion to toning her core meant that she looked even better in a crop top than most other Dulainians.
Boimler stepped off the turbolift and started down the corridor toward Main Engineering—then stopped abruptly.
Who the heck is that?
Boimler had made it his mission to learn the name of every single crew member on the Cerritos. He hadn’t quite managed to memorize them all yet, but in the course of trying, he had looked at everyone’s file photos and thus could recognize all of his crewmates by sight, even if he couldn’t bring their names to mind.
So he knew he had never before seen the woman who was tapping an LCARS panel near the end of the corridor. She was human and blonde, maybe thirty years old, and her yellow uniform and the phaser at her hip implied that she was Security.
She hadn’t yet noticed Boimler. When she turned her back to him to look at a different panel, Boimler crept down the hall to the next junction and again hid, peeking around the corner. The woman turned sideways to him, looking at something on a different wall panel; now Boimler could see a pair of gold pips on her uniform crop top, indicating that she was a full lieutenant. He also noted that underneath said crop top, the woman had a rather nice rack. Now, Boimler was certain that he hadn’t met her; he would have remembered a chest like that.
Is she a new transfer? Boimler thought. But that seemed unlikely. The Cerritos was only now returning to the center of Federation space after spending weeks on the outer rim of the Alpha Quadrant, doing second contacts and checking sensor and communications arrays. During that time, the ship hadn’t visited a Federation planet or starbase, nor had it encountered another Starfleet vessel, so when would this officer have come aboard?
Whenever it was, Boimler thought, she had to have come by shuttle. Which means that her reason for being here is probably important. Which means I should definitely go introduce myself.
He emerged from his hiding place and began walking purposefully toward the lieutenant.
Remember, he told himself, suck up, but don’t look like you’re sucking up. Show proper respect for her rank, but don’t fall all over yourself. Indicate potential sexual interest, but don’t look at her boobs for more than 1.5 seconds.
Boimler was so focused on the lieutenant and his own thoughts that he didn’t see Ensign Forest emerging from a side corridor until Boimler nearly ran straight into him. The tall, well-muscled Dulainian turned sharply to face Boimler, who couldn’t help but look at the orange-skinned man’s impossibly sculpted abs.
“Hey, Lieutenant Boimler!” the young man said with a smile. “What brings you down to the Engineering deck?”
Boimler tried not to roll his eyes. It was bad enough that he had to be on the same ship as the physically perfect, utterly charming, painfully nice Jet Manhaver; now, Boimler also had to deal with Forest, who had transferred to the Cerritos a few months earlier and who might as well have been Manhaver’s long-lost Dulainian twin.
“Oh, hey, Forest,” Boimler replied, trying not to sound irritated. “Just, uh, here on assignment.”
“Great! Hope it goes well,” Forest replied, then strutted cheerily away.
Would it kill him to be a little standoffish? Boimler thought. Or rude? Or stupid? Or anything less than perf- Hey, where’d that new lieutenant go?
Boimler looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. And he didn’t have time to go looking for her. He sighed and continued on to Main Engineering.
***
At approximately 1320 that afternoon, T’lyn entered Cargo Bay One, having been sent to fetch some supplies for the science lab. The task was necessary but uninteresting, and T’lyn planned to accomplish it as efficiently as possible.
She walked down a sort of corridor formed by a locker-lined wall on one side and a series of stacked crates on the other. Being barefoot—per Starfleet protocol, she only wore boots when working in the lab and on away missions—she did not make much noise as she searched for the correct locker. Then she heard someone speaking in low tones from the other side of the wall of crates.
Normally, T’lyn would have respected the speaker’s privacy, ignored their conversation, and continued with her task. But the peculiar encounter with Lieutenant Levy the previous evening had given her an odd sense of suspicion that she knew she should dismiss as useless emotion but that she couldn’t quite suppress. This, combined with her own natural curiosity, made her stop and look through a gap between crates.
On the other side of the crates was a gray-templed Vulcan man she didn’t recognize, wearing a blue Starfleet uniform like her own. His collar sported two gold pips and a black one, which identified him as a lieutenant commander, and on his chest was a standard Starfleet comm badge with its sun logo.
The man appeared to be alone. Oddly, he was not speaking into the comm badge he wore, but rather a second badge he held in his hand. This badge had a different design: a delta shape with an asymmetric concave underside. T’lyn was not aware of any entity, either within or outside the Federation, that used such a logo.
“…I have thus far been unsuccessful,” the man was saying. “But my scans still indicate the presence of a time traveler aboard this ship.”
A time traveler? T’lyn thought. That seems most improbable. However, the appearance of a Vulcan aboard ship whom I have not met, carrying a comm badge I cannot identify, also seems improbable, yet it has occurred.
T’lyn moved her face out of the gap, concerned that the man might look in her direction and notice her. But beyond that, she was uncertain how to proceed. The man was not obviously breaking any Starfleet regulations, but secluding himself in a corner of the cargo bay and speaking into an unfamiliar communication device seemed suspicious. Was it suspicious enough to warrant alerting Security? Then again, the man outranked her and was wearing blue; for all T’lyn knew, he was here to be her new supervisor in the science lab. Calling Security on him would make for an awkward start to their working relationship. But doing nothing also seemed suboptimal.
He did not appear to be armed, T’lyn thought. Perhaps I should simply attempt to speak with him.
That was when T’lyn realized that she no longer heard the man speaking. And when she went around to the other side of the wall of crates, he was gone. She was about to look for him when her comm badge chirped.
“Greenleaf to T’lyn. Are you on your way back with the supplies? You’re due to speak with those kids in twenty minutes.”
T’lyn tapped her badge and replied, “I will be there shortly.” Then she hurriedly collected the necessary chemicals and left the cargo bay.
***
Most nights of the week, Mariner had dinner in the mess hall with her friends. But tonight, she was on her way to Deck 1, where the senior officers had their quarters. She had changed out of her uniform and into one of her favorite off-duty outfits: a tight red skirt and a black, loose-fitting crop top that revealed a hint of underboob.
She arrived at the doors to Turbolift 1 and pushed the button. When the lift arrived, there was someone inside: Ensign Jen Sh’reyan, a cute young Andorian woman who Mariner had to admit, at least to herself, she had a bit of a thing for. They’d had a few fun liaisons since Jen transferred to the Cerritos, but being assigned to different shifts meant that their schedules often didn’t mesh.
“Hey, Jen,” Mariner replied. Glancing down at the ensign’s workout attire, she asked, “You about to go get sweaty?”
“Yeah, I’m taking Dulainian erotic yoga,” Jen replied. “Ensign Barnes turned me on to it. It’s great for strength and-” she shot Mariner a naughty look “-flexibility.”
“Oooh, maybe you could show that flexibility off to me some time,” Mariner replied, even as she imagined a naked Jen doing a headstand and going into a full split, giving Mariner a very good view of her cute pussy—which, like all Andorian vaginas, was midnight-blue, hairless, and roughly triangular. Mariner kept it to herself that Jen’s pussy looked a lot like a dog’s, or it would if dogs came in blue.
“You know, I just might,” Jen answered teasingly. Then the turbolift stopped, and as the Andorian stepped out, she winked at Mariner and said, “Catch you later.”
“Later!” Mariner said, waving—then abruptly jerking her hands down to her sides so as not to look like a total dork for showing such enthusiasm.
The lift soon arrived at Deck 1, where Mariner got off and headed down a short corridor. One night a week, she would join her mother, Captain Carol Freeman, for dinner in her quarters, and this was that night.
“Hey, Mom,” Mariner said as she entered the captain’s spacious quarters.
“Hello, Beckett,” Captain Freeman replied.
She stood up from the sofa, and so did the two senior officers who had been sitting on either side of her, both Dulainian: security chief Lieutenant Bella and chief engineer Lieutenant Commander Fern. Like most Dulainians, both women had orange skin and ivory-colored hair. But that was where the similarities between them ended: The slender Fern had pixie-cut hair, highly toned abs, and a small, tight backside, while Bella was voluptuous and had long hair that came down over her shoulders in a cascade of curls. In addition, Fern wore a tight blue crop top and equally tight black pants, whereas Bella had on a cleavage-baring green top and a long green skirt.
Mariner wasn’t surprised by the presence of these additional dinner guests. Although sometimes it was just Mariner and her mom on these nights, other times the older woman liked to spice things up by inviting some company. It would be particularly spicy this evening, as Bella was as well known for her substantial libido as Fern was for being a perv. (Not that this word was used much among the crew; Federation culture tended to frown on judging people for their sexual predilections.)
Like her guests, Carol Freeman was in off-duty attire: a long black gown whose V neck exposed cleavage enhanced by a lacy black push-up bra.
“Well, now that we’re all here,” Carol said, “how about we have a little recreation before dinner?”
“Sounds good to me!” Bella said.
“Dr. T’ana did say I should do more cardio,” Fern quipped.
The busty Bella pulled off her green crop top and then released the electromagnetic clasp that held together the cups of her black bra. Her big, orange breasts practically burst out of their confinement.
“Wow,” Mariner said, “that’s great bounce.”
“Oooh, thank you,” Bella replied. Slyly, she added, “You should see me let them out in microgravity. Oh, and speaking of fun things I carry around with me…”
Bella unhooked and removed her long skirt, revealing that she wore a sort of green garter around one of her thick orange thighs. Out of a tubular sheath on the garter, she pulled a cylindrical device, which she held up to the others’ eyes.
“Hmmm, what do we have here?” Carol asked. Mariner was curious, too; the Dulanians made some of the best sex toys in the quadrant.
“A holographic vibrator,” Bella replied. “It can create objects of many sizes and shapes, and make them move however you want.”
“Sounds like fun,” Carol said, reaching behind her neck and undoing the single fastener that held her dress on.
As the dress fell to the floor, revealing both the black push-up bra and a matching pair of black lace panties, Fern pulled off her red crop top. Her breasts were relatively small—which was why Fern hadn’t bothered with a bra—but Mariner liked the way they jiggled when they came free of the top.
This made Mariner conscious of the fact that she was the only one not getting undressed. So, like Fern, she pulled off her crop top and let her little boobs jiggle free. Bella and Fern took off their skirt and pants, respectively, but kept their eyes on Mariner as she unzipped her red skirt, revealing a pair of satin panties in the same shade of red. Mariner looked at Bella’s cobalt-blue panties, which seemed only barely able to contain the woman’s ample hips and ass. Mariner raised her gaze from Bella’s crotch to her face.
“How about you get those panties off,” Mariner said naughtily, “and open the snack bar for me?”
“Gladly,” Bella replied.
She grinned and shucked off her undies, revealing her dark-orange pussy and its patch of white-blonde pubic hair, which was shaved into a raindrop shape. Bella artfully tossed the panties at a chair by the room’s small dining table; they caught neatly on one corner of the chair and hung there, making Mariner think that the woman must have a lot of experience at panty-tossing.
One special feature of every Starfleet captain’s quarters was adaptive carpeting. When you walked on it, it felt just like the carpeting in the corridors, but it softened if you sat down on it, and it became positively cushy if you lay down on it. As a result, a captain could “entertain” as many guests in her quarters as could lie on the floor.
All four women were now naked except for Fern; she was still wearing her panties, which were bright yellow and crotchless. They all descended to the carpet, forming a loose square that put them all within reach of one another.
“Carol,” Bella said—people in Starfleet generally used first names during sexual encounters, even with higher-ranking officers—”want to try out my new toy?”
She hit a control on the cylinder, and an orange, rubbery, cock-like shaft grew from the cylinder’s business end. It was about twenty centimeters long and as thick as Carol’s three middle fingers side by side, making it slightly larger than the average Dulanian cock.
“Oooh, yes indeed,” Carol replied. She put her hands under her own bare breasts, lifting them slightly, and asked, “Want to start here?”
“Certainly,” Bella replied with a smile.
She put the tip of the rubbery cock against Carol’s dark nipple, and the tip changed shape to conform to it. Then the toy began not only to vibrate but also to apply gentle, rhythmic suction to Carol’s nipple.
“Oooh, that’s nice,” Carol said.
Mariner, meanwhile, was at eye level with Bella’s pussy. The Dulanian woman had bent one leg up, thus making said pussy readily accessible. Mariner wasted no time accessing it, laying her head on the woman’s thigh and teasing that dark-orange pussy with the tip of her tongue. Mariner enjoyed doing this because she liked, not only the vaguely tangerine-like flavor of Bella’s pussy, but also the softness of the voluptuous Dulainian’s thick thigh beneath her cheek. Mariner could feel hard muscle beneath that soft layer; the chubbier Dulainians tended to build a lot of muscle mass.
“Now, Carol,” Bella said, “while your lovely daughter is using her skilled tongue on my pussy, how about I use my tongue on yours?”
“Oh, yes please,” the human woman replied.
Carol bent up one leg, as Bella had done, and the big woman began to lick, applying the full breadth of her tongue to the woman’s clit. Carol closed her eyes and moaned softly.
Fern, meanwhile, had put her face between Mariner’s legs, her cheek against Mariner’s thigh. Mariner felt the woman’s warm breath on both of her lower holes.
“Mmmm,” Fern hummed. “Pussy and ass—my two favorite appetizers.”
“Ooooh, help yourself,” Mariner replied.
Mariner moaned as the tip of Fern’s tongue began to lazily trace the border of her asshole. And she continued moaning as that skillful tongue-tip moved in a sweetly, achingly slow spiral toward the center. Nonetheless, Mariner did her best to devote at least some of her attention to eating Bella’s citrus-flavored pussy.
But that became more difficult when Fern began fingering Mariner’s clit and, at the same time, eased the tip of her tongue into Mariner’s asshole. The young human was forced to stop eating pussy to cry out “Oh! Oh fuck!” And then, when Fern sped up her fingering and pushed her tongue as deep into Mariner’s tight rear hole as it would go, Mariner screamed “OH FUUUCK!” as she came.
A mere moment later, as Mariner was panting for breath, she heard her mother cry out in ecstasy, too. She looked over and saw that Bella was tonguing the human woman’s clit while fucking her pussy with the holo-vibe.
Now, as Carol panted for breath, she said, “To be fair…Mariner and I…should pleasure…Fern and Bella…”
Bella handed Carol the vibrator and said, “Why don’t you try this on Fern? She hasn’t had a chance to play with it yet.”
Fern smiled and said, “Oooh, I’d like that. Especially in my back door.”
Fern got down on all fours. Bella showed Carol how to put the vibrator into “conformation mode” so that it would fit itself perfectly into whatever anatomic space it entered, as well as how to make it self-lubricate. Then Carol pushed the thick orange shaft into Fern’s blood-orange asshole.
“Ooooohhhh…” the slim woman moaned.
“Bella,” Mariner said, “if you’re done with your tech tutorial, you wanna give my tongue another shot at that tasty tangerine of yours?”
“Ooooh, certainly,” Bella replied.
The voluptuous Dulanian lay down on her back, propping her head up on a throw pillow. Mariner put her face between Bella’s thighs, which Bella gently closed against Mariner’s cheeks. Mariner hummed happily and started licking.
“Ohhhh, yesss…” Bella and Fern moaned simultaneously.
From what Mariner could see over Bella’s closely trimmed bush, her mom was quickly getting the hang of using the holo-vibe, because the woman had found a control that extended a second orange shaft from the device. It penetrated Fern’s pussy, and then Carol began fucking both of the Dulanian woman’s holes with the twin holo-cocks. Fern moaned loudly.
Suddenly feeling competitive, Mariner thought, Mom’s getting pretty far ahead of me. Guess I’ll have to step it up.
Mariner reached her hands up to fondle Bella’s large breasts, running her thumbs in slow circles around the woman’s thick nipples. She also moved the tip of her tongue to Bella’s clit—Dulanians had clitorises, too, and in a similar location save that they were just inside the vagina instead of outside—and tongued it in small circles.
Now, Mariner could hear the holo-vibrator buzzing and figured that her mom had turned up the intensity. Then Fern cried out in orgasm.
Aw, dang, that race wasn’t even close, Mariner thought.
But losing said race turned out to have an up side: Moments later, Fern and Carol were behind Mariner, Carol watching as Fern pushed the vibrator—still in dual-shaft mode—into Mariner’s pussy and asshole.
“Ohhhhhh, fuuuuuck…” Mariner moaned before returning to her licking.
Mariner had been double-penetrated many times before, both with cocks and with toys, but this didn’t feel quite like any of those experiences. The shafts inside her were not only moving slowly in and out but were, on each in-stroke, expanding to fill her inner passages completely before slimming back down as they pulled out. As a result, the internal stimulation was more thorough and thus more powerful than anything Mariner had ever felt.
At the same time, though, Mariner refused to be distracted from her pussy-eating, feeling that she’d fallen down on that job too much already. So, using Bella’s breathing, moaning, and subtle squirming as a guide, Mariner slowly ramped things up, and up, and up, until she was vigorously tongue-fucking the voluptuous Dulanian and just as vigorously finger-fucking the her asshole.
“Oh! Oh yes!” Bella cried, her soft thighs gripping Mariner’s face as if to keep the human woman’s tongue from leaving her pussy for even a moment. “Yes, yes, YES!”
As Bella came, the two holographic dildos began pumping faster in Mariner’s pussy and ass. Mariner didn’t even have a chance to pull her brown face out from between Bella’s orange thighs before Mariner screamed “OH MY FUCKING GOD!” and came hard.
Mariner fell to the floor, panting. Bella scootched down to lie next to Mariner, and Carol and Fern lay down on Bella’s other side, all of them taking a moment to relax and bathe in their afterglow before dinner.
Just then, Mariner’s comm badge, which lay somewhere in the small pile of her clothing, chirped.
“Boimler to Mariner.”
Mariner was feeling a little floaty, but she knew that Boimler knew where she was and, most likely, what she was doing. So either he was being a dick or he had something really important to tell her. She sighed, reached her hand into her discarded clothes, and felt for the comm badge until she found it. She turned down its volume control before she answered.
“What is it, Boims?” she murmured.
“Can you ask your mom if there are any new personnel on board? Anyone who hasn’t been logged into the system yet?”
“Well, that depends,” Mariner replied in a hissing whisper. “Is this so super fucking important that you not only busted me out of my afterglow but now you’re asking me to do the same to my mom?”
“It’s…kinda important?” Boimler replied. “I mean, not so important that you need to mention my name, but-”
Mariner pressed her badge and terminated the call. Then she lay her head down and tried to get back into her afterglow state. Her efforts were in vain.
***
Soon, all four women got up to clean up before dinner. Carol graciously let her two guests use her private sonic shower first.
“Hey Mom,” Mariner said while the two Dulanian officers showered. “Do we have any new crew on board?”
“Not since we picked up a new Engineering officer on Cardassia eight weeks ago. Why do you ask?”
“Eh, no reason, really.”
Just then, Fern and Bella emerged from the shower, and Mariner and Carol went in. Mariner didn’t feel like loud-talking over the sound of the sonic shower, so she decided to drop the subject. Boimler was probably just being Boimler.
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