Emma was already standing in the proper posture, hands at her sides, back straight.  Her back had a bit of an arch to it, which made her perky tits push out and her stiff nipples press against the thin fabric of her white t-shirt that matched the hair on her head and tail.  Singer also checked out the triangular gap between her thighs and her sex, covered in tight blue shorts, the same blue that bordered the ends of the short sleeves of her top.<br/><br/>Chris, meanwhile, saluted Stinger, who saluted her back.  Instead of a quick response, he held his hand at his forehead, his eyes looking up and down Chris and her naked, furry body.  She had to hold the salute longer than he did, and after he scanned her from head to rear paws repeatedly, he finally put his hand down.<br/><br/><strong>"A-ten, hut!"</strong><br/><br/>Stinger called the two female feline anthro pilots to attention.  Emma didn't have to change position while he waited for Chris to stand next to her in front of him.<br/><br/><strong>"At ease, pilots."</strong><br/><br/>He waited for them to spread their feet shoulder-width apart and their hands behind their backs.  He liked it when the female anthro pilots did this.  As he spoke, he walked around them, admiring their figures openly.<br/><br/><strong>"Keep still, and stay presented to me.  As I inspect you, I will introduce myself.  I am Lieutenant Commander Tom Jordan.  Like you, I am a pilot.  My callsign is Stinger.  That's what other pilots call me.  <em>Human</em> pilots.  Not pilots like <em>you</em>.  <em>You</em> can call me 'sir.'  <em>You</em> can call me 'Commander.'  And <em>you</em> can <em>earn</em> the right to call me by other names when you do something useful for me."</strong><br/><br/>Stinger had already checked their serial numbers when they were still asleep, but he checked them again, both because he wanted to and also because they needed to be reminded that he had complete dominion over them, and their bodies.<br/><br/>He was behind Chris first, against checking the number behind her left ear.  He held it for longer than necessary, even pinching it and stroking it when he was done, then patted the blond hair on her head.  He then placed his hand on her lower back to her right, tracing the numbers with his finger tips, then patted her bottom.  Finally, he squatted down and traced the numbers on her inner left thigh, patting her mound a couple of times.<br/><br/>Next was Emma, who no doubt saw what Stinger did to "inspect" Chris.<br/><br/>Stinger stood in front of Emma, towering over her small, slender frame, close enough to smell her sex while letting her take a whiff of his manly scent.  He leaned toward her, reaching around to grab her left arm, and pull it around her side to her front.  He inspected the number, looked at her, and put her arm back.  He could have checked her mons, but instead went behind her, tugging up her shirt and lowering her shorts, exposing the smooth flesh of her lower back and the curve and crack of her ass.<br/><br/>He traced the numbers, then returned her clothing where they were originally.  He went out in front of her, slipped a fingertip into the waistband of her shorts, and tugged it toward him, away from her skin, and down.  His thumb traced the serial number over her mound, then fixed her shorts.  While there was proximity, there wasn't any of the gentle touches he gave Chris.<br/><br/>He looked into Emma's eyes as he spoke to Chris.<br/><br/><strong>"Chris, you will leave this room and go down the hall.  Your radar intercept officers, RIOs, are in the barracks.  They're veterans, which is why they have callsigns and you and Emma here don't.  Introduce yourself while Emma and I here get... acquainted.  You'll have your turn later.  Dismissed, Chris."</strong><br/><br/>He waited for Chris to leave.<br/><br/><strong>"Emma, I can't give you a proper inspection while you're wearing all these clothes.  Remove your shirt and shorts, then place your hands on the table over there.  Bend at the waist with your feet apart."</strong><br/><br/><div align="center">***</div><br/>In the barracks, Midnight and Bumper were sparring, and by sparring, that mean Midnight was wrestling Bumper into the floor and putting jointlocks on him.<br/><br/><strong>"Say it, Bumper!  Say it!"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Argh!  Midnight is the greatest hand-to-hand fighter in the unit!"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"And...?"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"And... and... he's also the best radar intercept officer!</strong><br/><br/><strong>"And...?"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Ugh!  And... he's also the best looking feline on all of <em>Persius' Revenge</em>!  Please!"</strong><br/><br/>Midnight released Bumper, then stood up, wiping his hands.  He looked over at Chris.<br/><br/><strong>"What are you looking at?  You want some of this?"</strong><br/><br/>He nudged Bumper away with his foot and motioned for Chris to spar with him.<br/>