Greenies

them. They took up positions at the other shower stations and turned on the heads. None came over to the station that she was using and all went to pains to keep their front ends turned away from her. She looked straight ahead, at the water spraying out of the tap, keeping her eyes to herself, not caring if they looked at her or not. She was determined that they were just going to have to get used to this situation, like it or not.

Once her body was clean she put some of the body wash in her hand and soaped up her hair, closing her eyes while she lathered up with her fingers and then rinsed all of it back off. When she opened her eyes up she noticed a form standing next to her. It was Stillwell, his naked, well-formed body dripping with water from his own shower, his eyes looking her up and down appreciatively.

'You want something, Stillwell?' she asked, her eyes burning into his.

He offered a lascivious smile towards her. 'It looks like you're the one who wants something,' he said. 'Why else would you come into a locker room full of men and get naked?'

She looked at the shower fixture for a moment and said, 'Shower off.' She then looked back at him, her face putting back on the glare that was becoming her trademark. 'I think you'd better step away from me in the next two seconds or you're gonna find your face kissing that drain,' she told him.

He chuckled. 'Now don't be that way, baby,' he told her. 'You sucked your way into SF so you could bang for the gang, didn't you? Well here we are, ready to bang. Why don't we stop all the bullshit and get down to it?' He reached out his hand towards her breast, intending to stroke it.

As quick as lightening she reached out and grabbed the hand while it was still more than half a meter from her. She pulled sharply on it, as if to twist his body around. Instinctively he pulled back, trying to remove himself from her grip. When his back-pull was at it's strongest she let go of him, which caused him to slingshot backward, his body off balance. While he was struggling to keep from falling over backward her foot shot out and neatly kicked his left leg out from beneath him. He crashed down quite comically, his butt landing in a puddle of soapy water that had accumulated around the drain and throwing up a large splash. A startled 'oomph' came from his mouth. Laughter welled up from all the men who had witnessed this, good old derisive, contemptuous laughter at the man who had just been sent to the ground by a naked woman.

This infuriated Stillwell. 'You fuckin bitch!' he yelled, jumping to his feet, his fists raised and ready for combat.

Lisa raised her own fists up and widened her stance. 'You think you can take me, you little prick?' she asked him calmly. 'Come and get some if you think you can. Make your move.'

He didn't move towards her. 'I ain't gonna hit no woman,' he said, as if proclaiming some deep religious leaning.

'Why not?' she asked. 'I just put your wimpy ass on the floor, didn't I? Made that little dick of yours shrivel up like a slug with salt on it. Come and get me back. Take me out! If you think you can.'

The other men had abandoned their showers and had gathered around them in a circle, none of them making any motion to interfere, their eyes watching the development carefully. Stillwell looked at them for a moment, from face to face, searching for an ally, waiting for someone to yell at them to put a stop to this. But no one did.

'Look at this, guys,' Lisa said, shaking her head in amusement. 'He's afraid of a woman. And a naked one at that. He wants to go fight the Earthlings but he won't even take a swing at little old me.'

'You better shut your ass, bitch or I'll give you some of what you're asking for!' he yelled.

'Give it to me, baby,' she said. 'I'd love for you to try it. I'm begging you to try it.'

'I'm warning you, bitch!' he growled.

'Stop warning and start fighting,' she said. 'Let's see what you got, Little-Dick. Come on!'

That pushed him over the limit. He stepped towards her and jabbed out at her face with his fist, a well-timed punch that, had it struck, would have been devastating to her nose. But it didn't strike. Lisa, anticipating just such a move, dodged to the left, letting it whiz through thin air. She could have easily hiked her foot up into his exposed testicles at that point in the fight but she chose not to, wanting to end this particular confrontation in a much more decisive way, in a way that left no doubt who had the biggest set of huevos. Instead she let out a yell and shot the heel of her hand straight out, catching him directly on his nose. She felt it mash beneath her hand, felt hot blood go spraying out of it, felt a jarring pain radiating up her arm like an electric jolt. Stillwell's head snapped back with the force of the blow, a high-pitched cry of surprise and pain squeaking from his lips. He staggered back two steps, stunned, unbelieving.

Lisa didn't give him a chance to recover. She spun around and threw a back-kick that caught him directly in the stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs, sending a huge glut of blood and snot from his damaged nose at high speed. He flew backwards, out of the shower area where he slammed into the corner of one of the banks of lockers. He bounced off and crumpled to the floor, gasping and trying to breathe.

Lisa was on him in a second, before he could even begin to recover his senses. She grabbed one of his arms and pulled sharply, snap-rolling him onto his stomach. She then twisted the arm up behind his back, wrenching it painfully up into his shoulder blades and twisting the hand inward. Her knee came down onto the back of his neck, pinning his bleeding face to the tile. This was a classic police move, designed to quickly subdue a combative suspect so he could be handcuffed. Instead of handcuffing him however, she pushed the arm up even higher, threatening to dislocate the shoulder. He held out for almost ten seconds before finally screaming out in pain.

'Get the fuck off me, you bitch!' he nearly cried.

She released the pressure just the slightest bit. He tried to struggle and she put it back on, eliciting another scream.

'You move and I'll tear your fucking arm off,' she told him. 'Do you understand me?'

'Fuck you!' he said defiantly, earning him another wrench upward and another scream.

'I asked you if you understood me,' she said. 'Do you, bitch? Am I speaking clearly enough for you?'

'Yeah,' he finally grunted.

'Good,' she said, satisfied. 'I just kicked your fucking ass. Kicked it royally and well. And if you ever treat me with anything less than respect again, I'll kick it again and next time I'll put you in the fucking hospital. Do you get me?'

He said nothing, just coughed, expelling another spray of blood from his nose.

'I said, do you get me?'

'Yeah,' he agreed.

She released his arm and stood up, stepping back a bit in case he decided to rush at her again. 'Good,' she said calmly. 'I'm glad we've come to this understanding with each other.'

She turned and looked at the crowd of men, most of them naked and dripping. They were looking at her in a different way now, no longer seeing a frail woman who had finagled her way into their midst.

'That goes for each and every fucking one of you,' she said to them. 'I'll take any of you on if you think you got what it takes. Any fucking one of you! I'm here to stay, gentlemen. I'll be working out with you, showering with you, shooting with you, and killing fucking Earthlings with you. Get used to me and don't fuck with me.'

With that said she looked down at herself, at her still naked body that now had droplets of blood and snot scattered across her breasts and stomach. She walked back through the crowd of men to the showers and turned one on, stepping back beneath the spray. No one fucked with her as she did this. No one would ever fuck with her again after that day.

Triad Naval Base

June 18, 2146

The wardroom of the Mermaid was just below the officer's berthing, two decks below the bridge of the ship. It took up the majority of the deck and featured a large steel table that was bolted to the floor. Foldout chairs were permanently attached to the table, ten of them, which was how many officers an Owl class stealth attack ship typically crewed. Bolted to the center of the table was the inevitable Internet screen which could be turned in any direction, depending upon who was using or watching it. A sealed coffee maker system, designed for use in reduced or absent gravitation, was installed on one wall. A larger Internet screen, fully two meters across, was mounted on the far wall, near the ladder that led to the higher and lower decks. Along the outside walls of the room ran several sets of pipes, for steam, for hydrogen, for electrical connections, all of them painted different colors depending upon what they carried. The smell was of steel and lubricating oils and stale ventilation.