Augment Gothic
Part 38
Holosuite. Quark's Bar. Deep Space Nine.
"Okay, so at this point in the holonovel the player needs to find Liara T'Soni, an asari archeologist famed for her extensive knowledge of the Protheans, who were wiped out by the Reapers in the previous cycle," I explained to Lt. Barclay, who was working hard with me on getting this project finished. Who knew he was such a big fan of my work? "She is being sought after by Saren, a rogue Specter, the main bad guy, and she's also a romance option in the game as well as a squad mate, so she's a very important character for the player and for the story overall."
Barclay and I had spent hours and hours working on the holonovel, really fleshing out the Citadel, inside and out, and now finally we were creating the world of Therum, which would be a much faster paced part of the game when compared to the others, thanks to an old game design trick called 'railroading.' Barclay was a hell of holo-engineer himself and was a Godsend in helping me work out all the technical bugs. And, in addition to being an amazing engineer, he was a connoisseur of great holo-fiction, and was extremely helpful to me in working out the story bugs.
The skills, creativity and strategic thinking required of the Game Master of a Tabletop RPG campaign were very similar to those a successful holo-author required. Regardless of whatever exciting story arcs an author/designer planned and worked out in advance, the problem with an open world environment was that there was never any guarantee that the people playing the game will proceed according to plan or even act rationally by choosing the options available to them.
After all, if they don't know what's going to be in store for them down the line, how will they know to get their characters to the right place at the right time, instead of, say, getting sidetracked by some of the cool stuff I had in all of my holonovels, that extra depth that I was known for. The detailed and creative worlds I designed were a big part of my appeal. Even when it was fairly clear where they were supposed to go or knew what to do, many, including myself admittedly, chose to go off the reservation just for the hell of it. Anarchy and refusing to follow the script could be fun too at times and my matrix was adaptable enough to allow it.
While my Mass Effect holonovel would allow the player to wander around the Citadel and interact with people, other parts, like when on a planet, couldn't be so open, so at the moment I was designing a few safe paths for the driver of the Mako to go through so that they would quickly get to the old Protheon outpost that contained Liara T'Soni. That's not to say other paths wouldn't work, but it'd be incredibly difficult and would take a true master to get through them alive.
Barclay and I were currently inside the Mako, which we had designed to default to a two player vehicle, though a larger party could be accommodated at the players' request. A driver and a gunner would always be required to operate the tank, at a minimum, and if playing solo a holographic character could play either role, depending on the choice of the real player. If the real player playing solo chose the driver role, for example, depending on the difficulty setting, the gunner's aim went from great at the easy level, to pretty damn shitty at the nightmare difficulty setting, and vice versa for the NPC's driving.
The planet itself was easy to depict, I just used historical images and topographical scans of parts of the surface of Mars before Earth colonized a huge portion of it, and then added a lot of flowing lava for ambiance. In this galaxy and at this point in time, Mars was a heavily industrialized planet with a breathable atmosphere and had the Utopia Planitia shipyards, so historical images were required.
"So, this asari woman, is s-she beautiful?" the Starfleet officer asked me, with that small bit of stutter he was known for in the show.
Well, I'd certainly designed her to be, but there was no accounting for taste.
"You'll see her soon enough," I promised with a grin. Maybe the guy wanted to bang an asari? I certainly wouldn't judge. "I created her to fall madly in love with the main character towards the end of the game, regardless of their species, sexuality or appearance. There isn't much time at the end of the game to have sex with the character, but you can save the program at that point, and try out different things with her if the player is so inclined. As I explained to Grand Nagus Zek once upon a time, holo sex isn't really my thing, but my matrices are robust enough to allow it. There's also an asari consort on the Citadel who does adult stuff if you help her out. I'll show her part of the Citadel during-"
I was going to say more, but T'Maz interrupted me by calling me over the station comms, and I got the feeling that very soon I'd have some real work to do.
(Line Break)
Bar. Border of the Demilitarized Zone between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. Federation-side.
For those who had watched Star Trek TNG and paid attention to all the little details they doled out every now and then, you might imagine that all the popular culture of 20th and 21st century Earth had vanished in a puff of smoke and had zero effect on the future of humanity. After all everyone listened to classical music, forgetting all the many, many different forms of human music that had been created, and everyone was interested in performing Shakespearean plays, which I'd thought were rather out of date back when I'd gone to school.
There were giant gaps in humanity's collective consciousness and culture when it came to things like art, music and various other forms of entertainment due to the devastating wars of the late 20th and early 21st century in this dimension, ones that hadn't happened in my home universe, yet here they'd destroyed pretty much everything in the way of electronic records. The near post-apocalyptic dystopian societies that rose up in the years following the wars on Earth nearly finished the job with book burnings and other kinds of censorship as well as historical revision taking place depending on the whims of the various dictators, cult leaders, and religious fanatics of the time.
While the humans of this future celebrated scientists and engineers over pop stars and athletes, that didn't mean no more music was being made, it was just that older music was considered better than the mostly electronically made tunes of the future. Holographic art and entertainment were the norm in this day and age too, which is why you didn't see anyone in the Trek shows watching 24th century versions of Hollywood blockbusters. That was a shame in my opinion, because as cool as directly participating in a holographic environment, sometimes it was much more fun to just take it all in.
Modern day music did exist, but it always seemed a little soulless to me, so I didn't like the stuff much. That drive, that passion, that angst and desire for change that inspired some of our greatest artists was just missing. Still, this time period was hardly the cultural wasteland it might seem to the uninitiated, and here on the edge of the Federation, far, far away from the comforts of Earth, people were a little rougher than elsewhere. I liked the people and places out here. They seemed more real somehow. Maybe humanity really did define itself by its struggles and hardships and without them, we were somehow made lesser.
Finding myself in a strip club on the frontier of the Federation had me grinning. This was familiar. Suddenly, I found myself wondering how many strip clubs might actually exist on Earth. 'Jarvis, remind me to look up if there are any strip clubs on Earth the next time I'm there. I have a feeling it'd be downright fucking fascinating to see what that'd look like,' I mentally ordered with a grin. The synaptic transceiver that allowed me to interface with a starship for piloting was just as useful at allowing me to mentally converse with the VI that was loaded into the billions of nanites that permeated my entire body and the power/processing cores that had been surgically added into several of my bones, the largest of which was in my sternum.
'Reminder noted, sir,' Jarvis replied, that dry British voice making me grin even further. It took some research but I had found a voice print of the same actor that voiced Jarvis in the Iron Man films. Considering how unlikely it was that every actor and actress I had looked for so far had been found in the scant remaining records from centuries previous, I suspected my patron or Q was helping me in that regard. Probably to enhance their amusement further, I'm sure.
T'Maz and I were using this 'den of inequity' as a convenient place to wait for our Section 31 contact to arrive, who should be here any moment, assuming something hadn't gone horribly wrong. While waiting I put my arm around my Vulcan babe and admired the local talent, my eyes enjoying the sight of so much nubile flesh, alien and human, but also continuously scanning the room for our contact and potential dangers. If my hand around her shoulders started to then rhythmically cup and squeeze a perky and full Vulcan breast, well, it fit the environment.
Females from several different humanoid species were sensually moving on the main stage, which was positioned in the middle of the club's main floor. Men lacking in female company crowded close to the stage, while those not alone, like myself, hung back and watched from a distance with their companions. 'Watched' is a bit of an understatement, though, considering my new capabilities.
One of the coolest new tricks my nano-armor offered me was a personal head's up display (HUD) that I could toggle on and off whenever I wanted. Because my nanites saturated my body, they could easily tap into my optical nerves and the visual cortex of my brain in order to overlay a real time augmented reality view of the world and everything that I saw or was in proximity to. Have you ever seen the way a Terminator sees the world in the movies? Or how Iron Man was able to see through armor? That was the way I saw the world now.
The software that Commander Data had designed for my old armour, what felt like years ago now, had been upgraded significantly by Hermione, Scarlett, and Jarvis. Before I needed my helmet on to get this level of information, now it was always available to me and thus far more useful because I didn't have to wear an armored helmet anymore. The nanites in my body were essentially mimicking Husnock, Vidiian, and Federation sensor technology. As my eyes passed over the room, all of the room's occupants, for example, had their faces, voice prints, vital signs, and DNA analyzed and a look up was being performed by Jarvis to determine their identity and a threat profile was constantly being generated and updated with new information. The remote DNA scanning technology came from the Vidiian and was far beyond Federation medical science at this point.
Of course that required a data linkup to public and private databases, something my internal memory couldn't do on its own, so the sensor data was constantly being exchanged with the Flighty Temptress for analysis via the QEC technology in my skull. If any of the patrons here had energy weapons or explosives, hidden or otherwise, my sensors would easily pick up the energy signature and a colored threat icon was assigned and always present in my vision, indicating exactly where on their body the weapons resided and that person's threat level was made correspondingly higher. Same if the person had been identified as a wanted criminal by any of the various galactic powers. The person's threat level was made even higher for violent crimes.
Any audible conversations in my vicinity, even those my augmented hearing couldn't detect, were also continuously recorded and analyzed by Jarvis for threats and to obtain useful information. My food and drink, even the air, was constantly being scanned for poisons or toxins. Tricorders, sensor devices, and nearby computer networks were being actively hacked, some successfully, some not, because of the need to avoid detection. In other words, I intended to live for a long fucking time and my paranoia protocols were strong as fuck. Jarvis would alert me audibly and draw my attention if anything required my immediate notice.
"These places you call 'strip clubs,'" said T'Maz, as we sat at a table with a few drinks in front of us.
Just like I thought she did not seem concerned with the fact that I was still fondling her breast. The looks of envy on a few human males that I was getting for doing this to a hot as fuck Vulcan woman was like mana from heaven to me.
"They are highly illogical" she stated.
The streets outside were quiet and deserted compared to the loud music and sheer number of males of all kinds of species that crowded the adult entertainment district that seemed to take up a good part of this city. This bar was actually one of the more peaceful ones and had been selected by our Section 31 contact for the meeting, not that I knew why and it hardly mattered for someone of my abilities. Despite how peaceful it was compared to other establishments I'd seen in the city there were still 3 red-level threats in this room alone. My threat identification system was intentionally simple for ease of use, going from red to yellow to green, with red being a significant threat, and the brightness of the color providing another spectrum to judge the danger.
A red-level threat designation didn't get applied just for having a weapon either. On this world, that only merited a soft yellow. If we were on a Federation core world, then it'd be a higher threat level simply because of how unusual it would be for someone to be armed that wasn't an on-duty security officer or member of law enforcement. No, the three reds here were armed with military grade weapons and were wanted for various crimes, two for piracy, of all things, and one for murder, all suspected of having ties to the Orion Syndicate.
The red outline around their bodies and various weapon signatures was a constant visible reminder that they were a potential threat. Mentally expanding the threat profile report Jarvis had compiled in my vision indicated that they all had cash bounties on their heads from a few independent planets not part of the Federation, but nowhere near large enough to tempt me and potentially put this Section 31 mission in jeopardy. Greed needed to be tempered. If they made threatening moves towards me, then that could change in a heartbeat.
Still scanning the room, I felt that I blended in rather well with the locals. Unlike warriors and conquering rulers on Earth who for centuries lamented the need to 'live in their armor' because of the constant danger to their lives and the need to fight off enemies and assassins at any given moment, my nano-armor 'lived' inside me and was always available when it was needed.
Right now my visible armor was mimicking what the locals wore and looked like plain, but rugged clothing that made me seem like just another crewmen who'd gotten off one of the many freighters that made pit stops here on this frontier planet. With a mental command it could instantly reform to whatever I needed. The Temptress was in orbit like a few other ships, but remained cloaked unless it didn't need to be. Such as when the two of us would beam back onboard.
"Nonsense, my dear. They are perfectly logical," I told my Vulcan babe who I had my arm around and was still mauling her delectable tits. "At least for human males."
Not just human males for that matter. There were males from many different races here. Some of which I knew about, others I'd never even seen before, on the shows or otherwise. In fact I couldn't be sure that they were all males. The galaxy was a strange and complex fucking place and the shows, probably to keep the costs down, did a poor job of showing it.
"I don't understand," T'Maz admitted.
Using the hand that was at the end of the arm I had wrapped around her shoulders I started to stimulate and gently play with the nipple of the breast in my hand, an action she gave no reaction to as she was far too disciplined to take offence, and even if she was, I doubted she'd stop me anyway. She was quite used to me touching whatever parts of her I wished to these days, no matter the situation. Naked duty days on the Temptress had actually gotten rather popular with my girls and impromptu sex on the bridge and all over the ship had become pretty commonplace. I got a particular thrill at ordering B'Elanna to give engineering reports while I was balls deep in T'Maz or Neela or Ro Laren, my girls moaning and screaming so loud in orgasmic bliss that she had to practically yell to be heard. She was so embarrassed! I always offered to stop my sex romp so she could give her report, but we both knew I'd be winning then and her Klingon pride would never let her lose one of our games of chicken.
T'Maz was currently wearing one of those skin tight body suits of hers which covered everything other than her face. The suit was so tight and the material so thin that when I made her nipples hard it would be very noticeable. Not that she would feel embarrassed by this.
"Well, you see, men sometimes..." I started to explain.
She didn't let me get very far with my explanation.
"Gothic," she interrupted.
I resisted the urge to grit my teeth, and instead twisted one of her nipples rather hard, an action she pretended not to notice.
"What?" I asked.
I felt slightly frustrated at being interrupted while I was talking, which I'm sure she knew.
"When you say men, do you limit this to only human males?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"While I can't speak for the sexual psychology of other humanoid bi-gender races, it does seem that the males of many races enjoy this place," I said. "You see, males often enjoy female companionship, as you may have noticed..."
Again, she stopped me.
"Gothic," she said.
I sighed.
"Yes, T'Maz?" I asked.
"Why are there only female exotic dancers?" she asked. "Where are the male exotic dancers? Is there something wrong or more deviant about male nudity?"
There weren't any here.
"There is nothing more wrong or deviant about male nudity," I explained. "In fact, in my dimension and during my native time period, male strippers were common enough."
Not that I'd cared for such things.
"I see," said T'Maz said, sounding a bit doubtful.
Sometimes I wondered if she got some sort of perverse enjoyment from conversations like this. I was seriously reminded of her reaction that time with the waitress on Earth who had been flirting with me.
"Anyway, males, when in the company of females," I said, "tend to, how should I put this...long for things stronger than friendship with women, like what we have."
T'Maz and her exploration of human sexuality could sometimes be something less than fun, although mostly it very much was a hoot.
"But not every male can form successful relationships, or desire them, or even have the courage to engage with females in the hopes of getting intercourse," I tried to explain. "This is why men visit a strip club or hire a prostitute. Which I'm relatively certain they have somewhere around here."
Some worlds, especially on or near the frontier of the Federation, could be the futuristic equivalent of the Wild West in the cowboy movies, only with phasers. This was partly because people who really didn't fit in with the mainstream, such as myself, often found themselves gravitating to places like this, far from the heart of the Federation, though new colonies got their fair share of that type too.
"Gothic?" she said again.
"Yes, T'Maz?" I replied.
While I was trying to be as patient as possible, this conversation was getting quickly annoying. I did want to watch the dancers as they didn't seem to mind getting totally nude here, and there didn't seem to be any rules being enforced about no touching; it seems as long as the dancer didn't mind it was cool.
"What is a prostitute?" my fellow Section 31 agent enquired.
She had to know what that was, prostitution existed in many forms in this quadrant and every world had seemingly had it at some point in their histories, even Vulcan I believed. This had to be her way of winding me up, possibly as some form of revenge for the many times I'd tested her emotional control while fucking her to within an inch of her life, or dominating her so thoroughly I was able to force the emotional reaction I wanted, so I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I'd make her pay for this little game at some later date.
"A prostitute is a person, historically that would predominately be a female as patriarchal societies were more common for the humanoid races," I explained, "that a person pays to have sex with. It's a transaction, an exchange of money for sex."
Which had never appealed to me; if you had to pay for it you'd never knew if the woman actually found you attractive or enjoyed having sex with you.
"Should I try to dance for you?" T'Maz asked in earnest.
I could imagine that being somewhat painful to watch, at least at first, though say what you want about her, she would work hard to get better at it. Her mid-sex dirty talk had gotten leaps and bounds better from where it started. Thankfully this topic of conversation came to an end when a human male approached and subtly placed a device on the table which when triggered blocked out the noise from the rest of the bar and made the sound we produced seem to echo in a very odd way. Jarvis had conducted a cursory scan of the device's design and emissions before this man had gotten within 10 feet of me and reported it was not a weapon or an explosive that the guy carried.
"Please join us," I said. No elaborate or dramatic exchange of pass phrases was needed. I'd been given a holo image of my Section 31 contact beforehand and this man was a 99.8% facial recognition match "The slight difference was due to him being clean shave in the holo and not so much now".
Whatever mission this was for Section 31 it must be important to them as I'd been given next to no details besides who my contact would be or what the mission was about. The man now giving us the relevant mission information was about as uninteresting to look at as a human-looking man could be. Clearly he went to great effort to go unnoticed, just like Sloan did. His height was completely average, he had dull brown hair, grey clothing that was neither cheap nor expensive, and he was neither handsome nor ugly. He'd be just another face in the crowed you'd take no special notice of and then forget moments later.
"This mission concerns the Cardassians," we were told, the man sporting a lusty smile and sending lascivious looks at the quickly becoming nude dancers in our eye line, even now doing his best to blend in with the crowd and draw no special attention. "According to our intelligence they're in the process of establishing a secret military base in the demilitarized zone, though its primary function will be to operate as a surveillance outpost. This is in clear violation of the Treaty of 2370 they signed with us. When it goes operational they'll be able to survey the entire of the DMZ and hundreds of sectors across the border into Federation space, including the Bajoran system."
While many Starfleet Officers and Federation leaders would think the Maquis movement, which was already in its infancy, to be nothing more than Federation terrorists and other troublemakers who were unwilling to live in peace, what they forgot was that the Cardassian government started the coming conflict by arming the Cardassian civilians in the DMZ, so that they could drive the Federation citizens out of the zone.
The Maquis were born because of this, groups of Federation citizens who were unwilling to be driven out of their homes by the Federation/Cardassian treaty, which gave their planets to the Cardassians, banded together and took up arms when they'd had enough of people terrorised by the spoon heads. They weren't really terrorists, per se, they were fighting for freedom and independence of a sort, somewhat similarly to the Bajoran Resistance, at least insofar as the same enemy was concerned. While many thought that they had a worthwhile cause, I thought they were complete fools even if they were somewhat admirable.
Don't get me wrong, I felt the Federation had been a bunch of pussies to give up those worlds to the Cardassians, so desperate for peace that they made themselves look weak in the bargain, but once that decision was made it was stupid to stay there. The Cardassians were a ruthless enemy with decades of well known and well documented atrocities committed on Bajor. Those Federation colonists, though not as soft as most, were not ready for that kind of fight. They could have easily found a new world in Federation space and I guarantee you that the Federation would have bent over backwards to help them get back to what they had and more. The Bajorans did not have the luxury of that kind of choice. The entire population was virtually enslaved and the planet raped for its resources with no one giving a shit or trying to help them from the wider galaxy.
"Our agents in the Cardassian Central Command know nothing about this place. It doesn't exist in any of their records, official or otherwise, but military personnel and state of the art equipment are being expertly reassigned and redirected there. It was lucky happenstance that we even stumbled upon a few irregularities that alerted us something was going on," we were told. "This level of skill, hidden from the highest levels of the Central Command itself, strongly suggests this might be an Obsidian Order outpost."
The Obsidian Order was the primary intelligence agency of the Cardassian Union. One of the most ruthless and efficient intelligence organizations in the quadrant, the Obsidian Order eclipsed even the Romulan Tal Shiar in successful intelligence gathering and covert operations. Almost all Cardassians lived in fear of the Obsidian Order, whose constant surveillance had led to the sudden eliminations of numerous "traitors." It was said that The Order was so efficient, a Cardassian citizen couldn't sit down to a meal without each dish being duly noted and recorded by the Order in its records, down to its preparation and the exact measurement of each ingredient. That was obviously apocryphal nonsense, hyperbole that the Order found useful.
Considering the events I knew were coming I'd done my research on the organization. The Obsidian Order was formed in the Terran 19th century, under the theoretical authority of the civilian Detapa Council. However, in practice, it and the Central Command itself had no control of the Obsidian Order. The Obsidian Order was responsible for matters of security and espionage, and was therefore forbidden from interfering in military operations. The Obsidian Order and the Central Command frequently came into conflict with each other, particularly since members of the Cardassian military were not immune to Obsidian Order inquiries. The only restriction that the Order had was that it was explicitly forbidden to possess military equipment of any kind and the Central Command zealously enforced that prohibition lest their own existence be put in jeopardy.
"When 31 learned the full extent of their plans they decided that they wanted the whole base destroyed, all its personnel eliminated and the equipment taken for analysis," we were told. "31 has known about it for a while, but they wanted to wait for the final equipment to be delivered before we attacked."
I could only assume that Section 31 wanted to get a good look at whatever advanced technology it was that the Obsidian Order would be using to clandestinely spy on such a large swath of space.
"Because of your familiarity with the Cardassians and our desire for all the surveillance equipment, they decided you would be ideal for this mission, Gothic. You have a large cloaked ship at your disposal too, so you can store it all in your cargo hold and transport it clandestinely to us," I was informed. "31 will pay you handsomely for this mission. The details of which will be given to you."
Another big payday and I got to give the Cardassians a bloody nose? I loved my job! Even better that this would reduce the Cardassians' capabilities before the Dominion truly arrived. Buying those computer cores from the Federation had put a serious dent in my available credits. Maybe I should finally purchase a large property closer to the Federation core? With the Flighty Temptress' ability to travel at slipstream speeds it hadn't been a high priority before.
"Keep your crew in the dark about this mission as much as possible," the man ordered. "They must not learn that Section 31 exists, your connection to us, or that this operation has backers in the Federation. If it's truly unavoidable, suggest it's a job offered by someone from your arms dealer days."
I trusted my crew to keep quiet about such things, but the suggestion that I tie it to my first Section 31 cover as an arms dealer, if I was asked, was a good idea.
"If you require backup, beyond that of T'Maz, the Cleaners can be sent to you, with you remaining in command of the overall mission," the man offered. "We believe the outpost has a crew of between 25 and 30 Order agents, only perhaps 5-10 of that number dedicated entirely to security."
Yates and his group of cold eyed killers would be undeniably useful in such an operation, but it would be a better test of my new armor and capabilities if I went there and killed everyone on my own. I wasn't worried, the base would be small. It was supposed to be a secret base of the highest degree considering its location and the blatant violation of the treaty it represented, so its defenses would be, by necessity, limited, in order to prevent detection. Also Yates and his group weren't exactly subtle; their presence on my ship would lead to too many questions by my other girls.
"Will you accept the mission?" he asked.
Thinking about it further for a few moments more, I nodded my acceptance. This mission fit me too perfectly, my hatred of the Cardassians, my desire to protect Bajor and the Federation from this threat, and the overall capabilities my new ship offered, which is exactly why they offered it to me. This also wouldn't be the first Cardassian base I had attacked and destroyed. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they had run hundreds of analyses indicating a very high probability I'd accept and that the mission would be successful. Even this location, a strip club on the edge of the Federation, was probably chosen deliberately to remind me of home.
"Good. Here are all the details we were able to get," he said.
Our contact subtly passed over a small isolinear chip, standing up with a jovial laugh and finishing his drink. He then turned off the sound dampening device casually picking it up and slipping it into his pocket, leaving a few credits on the table. Then he was off out the door.
"We'll wait a bit before leaving," I said.
A new dancer was on stage, and the golden skinned female looked very exotic. No idea what species she was, but damn. She looked like some kind of voluptuous cat girl from an anime.
"That would be wise," said T'Maz. "We don't want anyone thinking that we had an important purpose here."
While that was a valid bit of reasoning, I really just wanted to watch some more dancing from this cat girl. Best not to let her know that that was the real reason why we were staying.
(Line Break)
Onboard the Flighty Temptress. The DMZ.
The trip to the Cardassian Outpost wasn't going to take long at warp 9.95, so I'd retreated to my quarters in order to go over the information we had been given on the base.
"B'Elanna?" I asked the half-Klingon in confusion, as she came into my quarters without an invite. A quick mental query to Jarvis confirmed that we did not have a meeting scheduled for right now.
She didn't say anything at first; she just started slowly undressing with a smoky, lust-filled look in her eyes, which made it clear exactly what she wanted from me.
"You win, you smug, sexy fucking bastard. I give in, all right!" she yelled, sounding a little upset up at this. "I can't take it anymore. You fucking your girls all over the ship, conveniently exactly where I'll run into them. Drawing screams and moans of pleasure from them so loud I can't help but hear how good a lover you are, even from a supposedly emotionless Vulcan. Having them ride that big, thick dick in the middle of official staff meetings while I'm reporting on engineering. You fucking win, ok, I'm so horny all the damn time I want to crawl out of my skin and my fingers just aren't cutting it anymore! Just get down on your back and get ready for the fuck of a lifetime!"
I hesitated only a second before I dropped down onto the bed, a huge grin on my face at a plan coming together, and a moment later B'Elanna practically tore my pants off. Thankfully they were real since I was just lounging in my quarters. She clearly had no interest in any foreplay at the moment. Before long the beautiful Half Klingon/Half Human woman had straddled me, her extremely wet cunt only inches from my now painfully hard cock.
I could feel the heat coming from her pussy as I pushed my hips up so that my cock was pressing against the entrance to her cunt. It was much hotter than a baseline human. At this point B'Elanna grinned down at me, and suddenly plunged down, her tight passage spreading open and accepting my hard cock eagerly inside of her. A loud scream of pleasure coming from her lips.
Then slowly, ever so slowly, the Starfleet Academy dropout began to raise and lower her body, her tight cunt sliding up and down the length of my cock as she moved, gripping me tightly in what felt like a velvet-lined fist. I just watched the point where our bodies connected, as my dick went in and out of her, savoring the feeling and cataloging the differences a human/Klingon hybrid could produce.
"Ooooh Gothic," moaned B'Elanna, as she bounced up and down on top of me, her pace increasing steadily. "Your cock is so big, I love it! I love it!" she shouted, her hands tracing the contours of my pecks and abs.
Her actions suggested that this was true.
"I've never had any complaints," I said. She was going crazy and hadn't even yet experienced the bliss my augment strength, stamina, and ability to read and remember every reaction and flutter of her muscles could produce.
B'Elanna began grinding her hips against mine, changing the depth and angle of our fucking.
"Ahhh! You're so tight," I told her. "I always knew you would be. The next time I come into engineering, I'm going to bend you over the warp assembly control console, pull down your pants, and plow that pussy like I own it."
That excited her like you wouldn't believe and she began trying to get my cock as deep up into her pussy as she could, my helping her along with powerful thrusts up into her. As if sensing my own eagerness she began riding me faster all of a sudden, seemingly desperate to orgasm as fast as she could. She arched her back, as far as she could, pushing her ass down and grinding against me. Her eyes rollling back in her head and her mouth came open, she was obviously ready to cum.
Which was good timing for her as once she'd reached orgasm T'Maz called me over the ship's comm, letting me know that we had arrived. Well, I was the captain and the ship's phased cloak was active. They could wait thirty minutes more, or an hour...
(Line Break)
Asteroid Belt. The DMZ.
Standing on the bridge with my hands gently clasped behind by back, looking like a boss, I felt no motion, yet it was easy to picture the Temptress as she silently floated on the edges of the belt, heading ever closer to the alien base that was its target, it's prey, much like a Terran shark approaching some hapless swimmer who remained blissfully unaware to the very last moment that death was stalking them.
"Passive scans only," I ordered in a soft tone of voice. "I don't want them to know that we're here."
While sound obviously didn't transmit through the vacuum of space, I still felt the need to whisper. It felt appropriate to the moment. For this mission, in order to avoid the need to hide or explain our actions or put them in danger by knowing too much, Neela and Ro Laren had been given the day off. Scarlett was ensuring that they would be given no chance, either through computer access or looking out a window, at discovering where we were or what we were doing. T'Maz and I were the only ones on the bridge. B'Elanna was actually still passed out in my bed after I'd fucked her into unconsciousness. I'd never let her live that down.
"The base is deep in the asteroid field, built inside the interior of a larger one," T'Maz reported, her eyes not leaving the sensor output. "Neither the Temptress nor a ship the size of our shuttlecraft can safely navigate the asteroid field. There is also a great deal of interference from the materials in the asteroids so our transporter will also not work."
"Then how did they get it in there? How will they resupply?" I asked, still looking at the erratic movements of the asteroids on the view screen. The magnetic fields of the various larger asteroids were attracting and repelling each other like crazy, causing the rocks to move and collide with each other.
"I believe the Cardassians tractored one of the larger asteroids out of the field and built their base inside. When construction was complete, several powerful tractor beams working in concert were likely used to clear a path to position the base in a zone of relative stability deep inside. For resupply, I suspect the base has a powerful tractor beam that can clear a path for supplies to be brought in or some method of transport was devised," she reported.
"Any weapons?" I asked.
"I detect no weapon signatures," my sexy Vulcan science officer dutifully reported. "Nor shields or active scans. The base appears not yet fully operational and doing everything to remain undetected. Our intelligence appears still accurate."
This made sense since they'd naturally wait for the equipment to be delivered before bringing the outpost fully online. According to Section 31, all the surveillance equipment had been delivered a few days before, including a captured Romulan cloaking device that they'd be using to hide the base from anyone who entered the system, the elements in the asteroids already doing a fine job of hiding their signatures from detection by long-range sensors. Thankfully, they hadn't had time to integrate the cloaking device into their systems and activate it.
According to 31's analysts, within a few days they should be up and running and able to spy on the entirety of the DMZ and well beyond that, deep into Federation space. I could easily imagine what they'd do with that sort of information. The fledgling Maquis, for instance, would be easily hunted down by the Cardassians if they had access to such an impressive amount of real time information. They'd also know Starfleet fleet movements for a hundred sectors, including that near Bajor.
"I suggest that we come to a stop at these coordinates," T'Maz said, that spot being highlighted on the bridge view screen. "This is the closest point to the outpost from which an approach is possible given the gravimetric shear produced by the larger asteroids. I suggest you use your armor to travel to the base and place pattern enhancers so that I can beam onboard to assist you with the retrieval of the base's technology and equipment."
"Understood, come to all stop at those coordinates," I ordered. "T'Maz join me on the base after I signal."
(Line Break)
Asteroid Belt. The DMZ.
Being launched out of a starship and flying through space with only my high tech armor between myself and the harsh vacuum of interstellar space was a thrilling experience to say the least and not for the faint of heart. It also was extremely risky, even with my augment-level reflexes, sensor enhanced spatial acuity, and all the advanced technology my armor boasted, like impulse thrusters and a personal shield. I was flying at speeds far in excess of the fastest fighter jets of my previous dimension, all the while dodging and avoiding running headlong into asteroids the size of ten story buildings. One mistake and even in this armor I would likely not survive.
The adventurer in me crowed with joy at the opportunity, while the tactician in me recognized this method as having the highest probability of successfully reaching the base undetected and in one piece. The density of this asteroid field, filled with rocks rich with transporter and sensor scrambling materials, and the erratic and deadly gravimetric sheer forces, was exactly why the Cardassian chose it in the first place. If Section 31's spies hadn't stumbled upon those little nuggets of information, we'd never have detected this base conventionally. Even the Temptress' shuttles were too large to traverse this field safely. However, something man-sized? Flying in skintight nano armor? That person could thread this needle, assuming they had the balls for it.
With a scream of joy that thankfully no one heard inside my armor, I swerved around another large asteroid, my HUD display now indicating I was within a quarter kilometer of my target. Jarvis was a Godsend in showing me the path to take and giving a distance to target readout in my visual field; if I didn't have that I'm sure I would have already gotten lost or turned around so much I probably wouldn't even be able to find the Temptress again.
Thankfully JARVIS knew what he was doing and my target airlock was now in sight. Another reason Section 31 had asked me to take this mission was my experience with Cardassian installations, technology, and design. During the Occupation I had raided and destroyed a few bases like this, although not space based, so I knew how they thought. I was also intimately familiar with DS9 now too, so I knew the airlock would have an access panel that could be interfaced with. This was meant to provide a method of opening the airlock in case of a system-wide power failure or acute damage to the local power distribution network.
Raising my open hand, the familiar light of replicator materialization could be seen for a second. In my hand now rested one of Section 31's little infiltration toys, which I then plugged into the airlock's interface to override its control. I had been provided one for this mission, but after a scan of its design and software, Jarvis was able to now replicate it via my armor so I didn't have to physically carry it with me on my hair rising journey through space. Of course I could have cut through with my anti-proton sword, which I hadn't brought as I wanted a pure test of my armor's abilities in combat, but that would have taken more time and been rather noticeable. No, this little device was specifically designed to override all the many security protocols the Cardassians had in place.
The airlock quickly opened and I used the same device to override the internal airlock after closing the external airlock so that the sudden change in pressure didn't kill anyone or set off any alarms. In fact judging by the lack of alarms they'd not noticed my arrival. Section 31 made some great toys.
Before stepping into the hallway, Jarvis confirmed my phase-cloak was operating at peak efficiency. The fucking Jem'Hadar were not the only invisible killers around anymore. Section 31 had provided me with all the intelligence they could find on this base and what they could piece together of its likely personnel compliment, but right now I needed real time intelligence. With a quick mental command to Jarvis, I ordered the release of cloaked micro drones of my own unique design.
There were two of them that emerged from the armor atop my shoulders, forming into disks the size of hockey pucks which quickly and silently rose to the ceiling and flew in opposite directions. In a fit of whimsy I had even named them Hugin and Munin. In Norse mythology, those were the names of the two raven familiars of Odin, the Allfather, King of the Asgardian Gods, whose eyes he could see out of. According to legend they were said to be able to whisper information in his ear from all over the world.
In this case, they were cloaked micro drones that could map out the station and provide real time sensor telemetry to my armor's systems, so kind of like whispering into my ear. They also contained an inbuilt phaser capable of stunning or killing targets if I needed them to, but they were more useful to me as forward scouts and tech hackers as they could be easily shot down and destroyed. As they were made from the nanites of my armor, they could reconfigure to jack into information ports so that Jarvis could take over and disable the security. That was why I was waiting silently and invisibly in an out of the way corridor.
'Jarvis, what's the hold up? Are you slipping in your old age?' I mentally queried after nearly 90 seconds of waiting.
'How droll, sir. Hugin has interfaced with the base's systems, but the security protocols are unlike anything you have ever encountered before with the Central Command during the Occupation. The Obsidian Order's paranoia is quite evident in the labyrinthine security measures I have had to disable," Jarvis replied. Just like the Jarvis from the Iron Man movies, I had programmed my personal VI to be a bit sassy with me as I got quite a kick from it.
'Have we been detected; do we need to abort?' I asked, wondering if perhaps the contingencies I'd devised with T'Maz would be needed.
'Negative, sir. While arduous to overcome without setting off the alarms, security will be locked into a continuous diagnostic cycle in 49 seconds. You will have 5 minutes to eliminate the base's 50 personnel before an alert is sent out,' Jarvis answered.
'Good work, Jarvis,' I complimented while I quickly reviewed the real time map I was getting from Munin and Jarvis showing the layout of the station and the current positions of the base's personnel.
It looks like it'd soon to be time to get this party started. In preparation I turned both my open hands upright and replicated a pair of wickedly sharp looking daggers, both about 8 inches long, double sided. These blades weren't anything as mundane as ordinary steel, but contained a composite material the Collectors used in their bladed weapons that was extremely durable and capable of piercing armor if needed. With a quick mental command directly to my armor, as Jarvis was busy working on hacking the base's security, sheathes formed in a horizontal orientation near my waste, the two handles pointing out in each direction for quick draws.
Next I began the replication of my weapons of choice for this mission, a pair of matte black pistols that were reminiscent of the FNX 45 Tactical from my time period. During the Occupation I had often lamented how loud, bright, and easily detectable the energy weapons of this time were, and just how shit they were at any kind of clandestine wet work. Sure, blades were great, but were also limiting too. A long-term project of mine was to design a projectile weapon that either had little to no energy signature, did not produce a bright light when fired, and was either incredibly quiet or silent. A silenced pistol from my time could do all of those things, but lacked the stopping power and silence I needed. Yes, 'silencers' were a very old technology, but 'suppressor' would have been the more accurate term for them considering how loud they were and even then only for very low caliber, meaning small, types of ammunition.
In conjunction with Jarvis, Scarlett, and Hermione, I finally finished my new pistol design to be debuted on this mission. The pistols I was replicating now had taken advantage of many new technologies this time offered. It still fired a finite number of projectiles, of course, but would not use traditional chemical propellants. The barrels of my new pistols were made up of coils of super magnetic material. When a projectile was placed at one end of the coil path, a pulse of electricity would then pass through the coils, pulling the projectile further down the barrel. The coils further down the barrel are pulsed in sequence at specific times constantly accelerating the projectile until it leaves the barrel of the gun at incredible speeds. It took quite a bit of tweaking to keep the velocity high, but still subsonic to prevent a sonic boom.
The lack of combustible chemical propellant needed, the sound dampening technology built in to the pistols, and the low energy output needed for firing, made my pistols almost silent and incredibly hard to detect by modern sensors. There was also no showy beam of bright fucking light to warn your targets. It wouldn't matter how awesome my cloak was, once a bright beam of fucking energy left my cloaking field, it'd be visible to everyone. A tiny bullet with no burning chemical propellant meant a virtually invisible object leaving my cloaking field at speeds that most races wouldn't even be able to see.
Each pistol had an extended magazine containing thirty .45 caliber bullets, made up of ultra dense uranium depleted rounds (at least insofar as it was a copy of the molecular makeup) to punch through armor, each containing a few grams of the Cardassian specific neurotoxin the Cleaners had used to kill the Cardassians on that mission I went on with them. Luckily my scans from that mission allowed me to produce it myself. I'll say it again, replicators made it incredibly easy to design and then easily bring to reality whatever your imagination could think up. It almost felt like cheating.
'Sir, all security protocol have been overridden without detection. I am ready to begin the continuous security diagnostic on your command,' Jarvis dutifully reported.
'Begin,' I ordered, my heart rate slowing and all emotion leaving my eyes. Now was the time for the butcher of the Bajoran Occupation to come out and play, the monster that haunted the dreams of many Cardassian soldiers, the boogeyman who killed them like animals for their many crimes against the Bajoran. A five minute countdown in bright red lettering had appeared in the bottom right corner of my HUD display.
Still cloaked, with my matte black pistols in each hand held upright, I walked down the hallway at a good clip, towards the closest set of targets identified on my actively updated map indicated.
Coming to the door, it opened automatically, Jarvis obviously overriding the locking mechanism as I approached. My eyes quickly swept the living quarters meant for junior officers, finding four Cardassians fast asleep. My guns quickly came to bear, firing into heads and hearts, two per person to ensure the deed was done. The near silent subsonic shots, sounding almost like quiet puffs of air, punched easily through skulls, pulping heads, a pink mist of blood and bone coming out the other side. None of them had even woken up and now they would never wake up. Four down. My sensors showing none of them with life signs anymore.
Proceeding down the hall, I entered four more rooms and similarly killed the occupants, replicating more clips of ammunition as needed.
So far, Jarvis had done an amazing job of directing me to quarters where the off-duty Cardassians were sleeping. The low-hanging fruit as it were. These were men who were not expected to check in regularly and thus whose deaths would not be noticed for a while. Now it only got harder.
Getting a priority ping in the last room I hit, my HUD was alerting me to a Cardassian moving down the hall at a languid pace and would be passing the room I currently was alone in. The four corpses didn't count.
As the man approached, a new distance indicator appeared in my HUD telling me how close he was to my current position. I waited till he was just past the doorway before I activated the door controls and raised my right hand and fired two rounds into his right ear dropping him like a puppet with his strings cut. I originally intended to shoot him in the back of the head, but the door opening unexpectedly had caused the man to turn his head at the last moment. It didn't matter though, two rounds through the ear were just as deadly. Aiming down, I put another round through his forehead just in case before reaching down and pulling him into the room and out of the corridor, being careful to use the man's body and clothes to mop up the blood I left behind. With the four rooms of four men each, plus this dude, I had killed 17 men in the course of 90 seconds.
Moving down the hallway again, my next target was a large room with at least 15 Cardassians signatures according to my sensors. This appeared to be the mess hall for the base where many off duty came to eat and socialize. Normally I'd use several fragmentation grenades to clear a room like this, but stealth was still a priority and they still hadn't realized that they were being hunted yet.
I holstered my pistols on my hips and held my hands upright, the bright white light of a replicator at work. In my hands were two shiny metallic discs, the same shape and thickness of a hockey puck. Opening the doors, I crouched and slid the discs along the floor silently and shut the doors. Within 20 seconds, I could hear men choking and crying out in pain and confusion, before bodies began hitting the floor. Like so many times before and since, I had been inspired by something from my time period, in this case one of the Ocean's movies I'd once seen. In that movie, while robbing the casino vault, the thieves slid in these small hockey puck-looking devices with a low friction bottom which silently released a knockout gas to take out the armed guards. Instead of knockout gas, I had replicated these with a pressurized canister of the nerve agent that was supremely deadly to Cardassians. Everyone inside would soon be dead or dying.
Jarvis reported all life signs in the mess hall had disappeared or were in the process of disappearing, but the clock was ticking on the security diagnostic that was rendering me invisible, so I felt it prudent to hasten their departure to the afterlife.
Opening the door I was confronted with the sight of 15 Cardassians strewn on the floor and tables, bleeding from all their orifices, most dead, some still in the process. Years of experience, including wet work during the Occupation, was the only thing that kept me from puking my guts out at the horrific sight. Pulling my pistols I double tapped the heads of each Cardassian there to make sure the job was done.
My gruesome job done, I made to leave the room, only to see a single life sign approaching the mess hall. Standing with my pistol aimed for the likely place the Cardassian would enter, I waited. The door opened and I froze at the unexpected sight. I had killed 32 Cardassians today already and the Prophets only know how many during the Occupation, but I had never directly killed a Cardassian woman before, any woman actually. The Central Command just didn't allow women into their ranks. I'm sure I killed some via bombs or by ship, but never up close and personal like this and the shock of a woman being here nearly got me killed as she lightning fast raised the sidearm at her waist and fired at me. It was only my superior augment reflexes and instincts honed through years of combat that allowed me to push the hand holding the disrupter off course, only grazing my personal shields for a moment, flaring me into visibility and disrupting my phase cloak. It was instinct also that had me squeezing the trigger and putting two bullets between her eyes, a pink mist expanding behind her head.
'Sir, there is no way to hide the energy discharge of that weapon. An alarm has sounded. Nine Cardassians are converging on your location,' Jarvis reported.
Rather than responding, I holstered one of my pistols and picked up the dead Cardassian woman and waited till the group was nearly upon me. Opening the door, I held her corpse up as a shield, rushing toward the group, the body soaking up several disrupter blasts, while I fired my pistol and killed three in the very front with head shots. My best bet was to get in close, making them wary of killing each other.
I bitched mentally at the incorrect intelligence I'd received on the base's number of personnel since there were 50 fucking spoonheads on this base! Finally in the midst, I dropped the body and my pistol that had run dry and unsheathed my 8 inch daggers, one in each hand. These fuckers, like most Cardassian soldiers, actually wore armor of a sort, but no helmet, so I drove one dagger into the eye of an alien while slitting the throat of another. My blades were designed to pierce even armor, but there was no reason not to go for soft spots.
Even for me this was some brutal, up close killing, and the way things were going alien blood would stain the floor, but I cared not for the well-being of fascist aliens. Not that I wanted all Cardassians dead of course, just their evil leaders and organizations like the Obsidian Order.
Cardassian weapons' fire filled the corridor that I was currently taking to the command center of this base, the final location of the nine remaining Cardassians left alive. The spoonheads were making a final stand here, and trying to focus their firepower. They were proper soldiers, at least when compared to what the other races had to offer, not that this helped them against someone like me. Thankfully Jarvis was still able to block their attempts at sending a message out, Hugin and Munin destroying the subspace transceivers with their onboard weapons.
I replicated and armed a plasma grenade, waited a couple of seconds, then without even turning the corner threw it to ricochet with the kind of accuracy and power no normal human could have managed. The three alien soldiers outside of the command center tried to make a run for it, but I'd timed my throw well enough to ensure that they didn't have the time to do anything.
By the time I made it to the command centre the drones had taken control of the whole base and the six remaining Cardassians had retreated to a panic room of some sort, obviously designed to allow them to wait out a rescue. With Jarvis' expert help we shut down life support throughout the entire station and put it in negative mode, which sucked up the oxygen and put the base into full vacuum. This killed the remaining spoon heads. Not an honorable thing to do, admittedly, but this was a black ops operation, and as such I could leave no witnesses. They all needed to die and it didn't matter how it was done, as long as we hid Federation involvement.
I waited long enough to kill everyone left, other than myself, and then restored life support before beaming T'Maz on board with the help of pattern enhancers. She didn't wear any armor, but she was prepared for combat just in case someone had survived. Even with my showcasing just how fucking useful armor could be, she still didn't wear any. It was like there was a blind spot in certain areas enforced by the shows on this universe, no matter how many times I proved something extremely effective.
"Get to work," I ordered tersely, feeling the mental fatigue of this bloody mission and just wanting it to be over. "Place the transport pattern enhancers, if you need more I can replicate them. I want all the equipment transported into the cargo hold as quickly as we can."
"Understood, Captain," T'Maz replied.
"Jarvis, as soon as we're back onboard the Temptress, set the base's self destruct for 5 minutes and activate. Try to make it look like a reactor malfunction," I ordered.
"Understood, sir," Jarvis responded.
With the pattern enhancers in place we would be able to successfully transport everything. We had a limited amount of time to work, as someone within the Obsidian Order would notice this base going dark. While they weren't suppose to have military ships of their own, from what I'd seen in the show that didn't stop them from putting an entire fleet together when they wanted to, so it wouldn't surprise me if a few Cardassian ships showed up, probably piloted by spies pretending to be Cardassian civilians living in the DMZ.
Sure, my ship would be more than a match for even a half dozen Galor-class ships, but this was supposed to be a stealth mission. Destroying a Cardassian warship or three would be an order of magnitude harder to hide. Starting a war with the spoon heads wasn't on the agenda for today. That would come in time all on its own.
Plus if I didn't deliver the goods to wherever it was Section 31 wanted them I wouldn't get my full payment. I had just killed 50 Cardassians up close and personal to accomplish this mission. I'd better be getting paid.
(Line Break)
The Flighty Temptress. The DMZ.
The mission had gone relatively smoothly so we'd made it the meeting point with plenty of time to spare, which meant T'Maz and I were waiting on the bridge for our contact to appear while the rest of the crew got some rest. Not that they needed rest, but I didn't want them seeing what was going on. According to Scarlett, her efforts to keep B'Elanna, Ro Laren, and Neela unaware of this mission had been a success.
"Gothic, do you like my ass?" my sexy Vulcan asked.
This seemed a bit random to me as I'd just been going over some of the paperwork that tended to pile up when you were a very high ranking member of a planet's military, and now she'd gone and deeply bent over a computer terminal and was wiggling that fine ass for my viewing pleasure. I had to wonder if she was worried about my giving more attention to B'Elanna and less to her now that she and I were known to be sleeping together, although Vulcans shouldn't get jealous.
"Please come over here and fuck me, General. My needy Vulcan cunt and ass needs it so, so bad," she said in a breathy moan, while rotating her hips suggestively. "I know how much you all enjoy looking and touching this part of my body. I feel so empty without you."
At this point I didn't care how random this was or what had actually prompted it, I was quickly out of my chair and behind her, grasping her firm cheeks and prying them apart to expose her dripping wet pussy and back door. Choices, choices. Once I was fully hard from rubbing my cock up and down her wet slit, I stood up behind her and undressed just enough to fuck her comfortably, and before long I was shoving it into her with a long, hard thrust.
"AHHHHH!" she yowled.
Normally it took a great deal more effort and time to cause her to make such an emotional outburst from our fucking. I wonder if seeing the broken and bloody bodies of my slain enemies lying at my feet had awakened some primitive lust and desire buried deep in her instincts from Vulcan's more violent history.
"My cock feels good in you so far," I said, punctuating my words with a harsh slap to her ass, causing it to slightly jiggle. "Now why don't we put that ass of yours to a real test!"
Before long I was sodomizing this beautiful Vulcan slut with hard, brutal thrusts, taking my pleasure from her willing body.
"When you're ready, you can stop fucking me and let me do the work," she told me.
By thrusting back into me she made it so that I just had to hold onto her hips in order to feel fucking great. She had amazing control of her own body, and despite any discomfort she must be feeling, she was able to keep a good pace.
"Does this feel good, my General?" she asked, her submissive tendencies coming out, acting eager to please me. Again, was this because I proved the superior killer today? The apex predator?
She knew full well that it felt good, so I slapped that ass on both cheeks before telling her to focus on pleasing me. Rather than verbally reply she sped up the rhythm of her movements and muscular contractions, turning her asshole into a powerful milking machine.
That was when the comm station beeped, and on the screen I see could a Federation freighter decloaking. Since Federation ships weren't suppose to have cloaking devices, it was safe to assume that this was a Section 31 vessel. The coded message we received with the expected authentication codes proved it beyond a doubt.
"There is no need to stop," T'Maz told me. "I can decloak our ship and beam over the contents of the cargo bay while you use my body for your pleasure."
Which was a fancy way of her saying: 'Keep going while I take care of this.' How she managed to make use of all the different systems while I fucked her back passage like it owed me money would remain a mystery to me. I didn't think that any baseline human woman could have managed it.
"We- We have confirmation of the cargo transfer," T'Maz haltingly reported as I filled her with my baby batter. "Yo- your account should have the credits shortly."
Section 31 paid in Federation credits, unless I asked differently, and while this currency had its limitations, they did allow me to buy things much more easily from the Federation. Not everything was actually free in the UFP and I made use of their advanced technology frequently. I could have requested my payment in latinum, but after the purchase of those supplementary computer cores the Temptress had needed, I figured I'd refill my depleted store of Federation credits.
"If you don't mind, General, I will go and clean up and then meditate," she said to me. "I'm sure the rest of the crew can return us to Deep Space Nine safely."
Yeah, they could handle our return journey. In a pinch even Scarlett alone could do it. This mission and its need for constant secrecy had been exhausting, physically and emotionally. I needed a good lie down myself to recover. I also wanted to get back to the station relatively quickly anyway in case something happened there that was worth seeing, like an episode from the show that presented some opportunities I could exploit for my benefit.
Plus I was finally making some great progress with my Mass Effect holonovel. No doubt Barclay was also eagerly awaiting my return so we could work together on the project.
The life of a badass augment, adventurer, military general and secret agent was never dull.