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During one of these alarms, all the passengers of the ship were supposed to scatter by rescue ships at the docks on one of the decks.
At the same time, two of the passengers always had to occupy seats in the control cabin, isolated from the rest of the spacecraft.
In theory, this cockpit should have included people who had at least elementary skills in controlling at least an atmospheric aircraft.

I always went to this cabin, because even while serving in special forces I learned many tricks in piloting these toys.
What was my surprise when the door to the cabin slammed on the latch (according to the instructions) behind the back of the woman with two children.
She jumped into the chair, fastened the belt, and then turned to me.
I ran it through my body with a rating glance.

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Lingered on the shoulders, the press.
Her gaze rested on my shorts (at the time of the alarm I was at the gym — in a t-shirt, shorts, trainers, with muscles swollen after a workout).
The woman apparently came running out of the pool – she was wearing a fancy-colored swimsuit that was fashionable at the time, with a single snap on the back.
By pressing this button, the swimsuit instantly piled into a small box, the size of a palm, and the woman remained naked.
Now she was in a bathing suit, with wet hair, in a hurry scattered over her shoulders, and a playful, almost girlish, smile on her face.
A member of my shorts instantly reacted to her high, heaving from heavy breathing, breasts, wide hips, black hair, scattered on the face.
And that is why her gaze rested on shorts.

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The woman looked at my eyes, looked at them for a long time and with some hitch.
I saw her somewhere in the depth of her pupils light a fire.
Her breathing became rare, but deep.
With a slow, smooth movement of her hand, she unbuckled her seat belt, and then with a light touch of a refined long finger, she rolled up her swimsuit.
Without taking her eyes off me, she rose from her chair, as if doubting something.
Her high breasts, as if freed, poured like two buds.
With a sharp movement of her head, she threw her hair from her face and approached me, still silently and without taking her eyes off.
At 40, I certainly understood what was happening when a woman’s eyes were so hot.
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