John rushed to take the pilot's chair, heedless of his nudity given the urgency of the situation. He silenced the rather annoying klaxon and reviewed the data from the long-range scanners in detail. "It's a civilian freighter. Claims they've had engine failure and requesting parts or a tow. Not too far from where we are now."
Alyssa moved past her annoyance at being cockblocked to consider the scenario as it presented itself. "So, are we going to help them?"
"It's not that simple," John said grimly. "It could be a trojan horse. Pirates pull tricks like this all the time. Load up an unarmed ship with a gang, lure in unsuspecting passerby, and then ambush them when they dock together. Of course, there's every chance that the distress beacon is genuine, in which case if we don't do anything they might end up marooned out here until another ship enters the range of the beacon. That could be weeks, if ever, and they could easily starve if we don't intervene. But if it is pirates, we'd be going towards a big conflict. We have psychic powers on our side, but without knowing the numbers or firepower of the other side…"
Alyssa laid a hand on his shoulder, distracting John from his overthinking. "John. Ignore your head for a minute. What's your heart saying?"
John was silent before sighing. "We'll go check them out, see if we can help. But we're taking every precaution. I'm lowering our energy profile to the bare minimum to make us harder to detect. We'll get close in 'stealth' mode, get the lay of the land when we're in range. If I see a single red flag, we're gone."
"Alright then," Alyssa nodded. She took the co-pilot's seat and accessed the controls with confidence. She'd only been practicing with these systems for the past couple weeks, but her enhanced intelligence had ensured a rather steep learning curve. She plotted the fastest route possible between their current location and the coordinates provided by the distress beacon. With a final nod from John, Alyssa confirmed the route change and they were on their way to the rescue… or into a trap.
"Sorry. This kind of ruined the mood we had," John said contritely as he realized he'd gotten soft, his arousal forgotten in lieu of wariness for what might be coming.
"You'll make it up to me later." It was not a question. Nor was it a command, really. It was a simple statement of fact, based on faith and trust in John's character. Alyssa flashed John an angelic grin, then glanced pointedly down at their naked bodies. "Lurking pirates or desperate civilians, we're going to be expecting company. Might be a good idea to get dressed. Not sure my old clothes will fit anymore, though."
"I'm not even sure where those rags ended up," John admitted with a chuckle. He vaguely remembered thinking of just spacing the dirt-encrusted coveralls out the airlock, and wasn't sure he hadn't gone through with it at some point. He stood and took Alyssa's hand. "Come on, let's sort out an outfit for you."
John got dressed easily in his standard fare of a long-sleeved t-shirt and combat trousers. The problem was that while Alyssa had grown dramatically in height and mass, she was still slim and dainty compared to John's own bulk. John finally went with the one-size-fits-all nanomesh body-sleeve he normally donned before putting on a spacesuit for examining the ship's external systems. The very stretchy material ended up clinging skintight to Alyssa's drool-worthy curves to devastating effect, but at least she wasn't naked anymore.
Figuring better to err on the side of caution, John went the extra mile of equipping himself with his personal suit of armor. The bodysuit was composed of a weave of bulletproof fibers with ceramic plates over major areas. John zipped himself in and made sure all the plates were attached securely. He glanced at Alyssa, looking very vulnerable in nothing but the body-sleeve. With a thought, he made a cocoon of floating hexagons materialize around her for a moment before releasing the psychic shield. "If we get into trouble, I'll cover you," he promised his Matriarch.
"Okay, John," Alyssa agreed, looking a bit troubled. She was worried that John would be so focused on protecting her that he'd forget to protect himself.
John turned to the weapons locker, again figuring better to have and not need than to need and not have. He unlocked it with a simple press of his hand to the DNA scanner, his genome verified and opening the secure doors. John grabbed one of two XR73 Rifles he had stocked, slapping in a magazine of standard Terran caseless .50 cal ammo. Hollow point, not armor piercing, any firefight would still be inside a spaceship after all. He slotted multiple other magazines into strategic slots dotted around his armor for just that purpose. He flipped the power switch, activating the holographic scope and ammo counter for the rifle.
John finished his mental checklist of gearing up for combat, then turned to Alyssa. "Do you have any firearms training to speak of?" he asked directly.
"Sparks was the one who worked with guns. I'm decent with a knife, but I've never even fired a shot before. Sorry," Alyssa admitted.
"Nothing to be sorry for, honey. But we've only got a little over an hour and we can't fire safely inside the ship to practice anyway. Still, all things being equal, I'd rather have a rank amateur armed next to me than a defenceless civilian." John turned and grabbed the very auto-shotgun he'd once pointed in Alyssa's face. He handed it over, gently correcting her grip as she hesitantly took it. "I'll go over the basics, how to reload and avoid jams and all. First and most important lesson, only aim it at something you wouldn't mind getting hit."
John gave Alyssa a crash course in firearm safety and handling. Alyssa absorbed the lessons with ease, and within half an hour John was as confident in having her at his back as could be expected. He really hoped all this preparation would prove unnecessary. In which case, he and Alyssa could laugh off how paranoid they'd been while they towed the damaged freighter to the nearest starport. But if it was a pirate ambush or some other danger, then he'd feel better knowing Alyssa had a gun and at least knew the theory of using it.
As prepared as possible for things to go sideways, John and Alyssa went back to the cockpit. Laying their guns carefully on the floor beside them, John focused in on the sensors. They were still another 40 minutes or so away from the system where the distress beacon claimed the stranded freighter was located. With his strong suspicion that pirates were running rampant in the Outer Rim, John felt there was no such thing as being overcautious in these circumstances. He watched the controls like a hawk, making sure the Fool's Gold gave off as little energy as possible and their route was clear of hazards.
*Hurry up and wait, huh?* Alyssa thought across their telepathic link. *Is there some secret Marine trick to make time go faster instead of counting the seconds?*
*Stay grounded. Don't get lost in your head, where time can stretch. Focus on breathing, to a count if necessary. Some people try to lighten the mood with banter, some prefer silence to meditate. It's a balancing act between being relaxed enough to not snap and tense enough to be ready when the time comes. It's the kind of thing that takes practice, honey* John replied at the speed of thought.
*Well, guess I get to start now* Alyssa gave a weak huff of laughter. *I sure as hell hope it's just some kind strangers needing help and not a shitshow.*
*So do I. But just in case…* John thought with weight.
The time passed in physical silence, though Alyssa kept a halfhearted stream of thoughts going between her and John, purely to stop from losing her mind as the tension seemed to mount with every light-minute closer they got to the beacon's origin. Finally, they exited hyper-warp as they entered a gravity well, the Fool's Gold appearing at the edge of a deserted solar system. Just the solitary star, a couple barren rock planets, and no Terran settlements or equipment of any kind. The sensors began collecting much more detailed data from the local system as opposed to lightyears away, sending it all to the Nav-computer to display on the System Map in the cockpit.
John and Alyssa's eyes were immediately drawn to the nearby freighter, a Marlin-class, easily five or six times the size of the Fool's Gold. It hung suspended in the empty black of outer space, no visible damage or reason to be parked there immediately obvious. And it was impossible to miss the sleek titanium hull of a Terran Federation military corvette locked with one of the freighter's airlocks.
"Oh, the navy got here first," Alyssa sighed in relief. "Guess this was a pointless detour, huh?"
"Wait," John said distractedly, something niggling at him. Some detail had yet to register in his mind but had set his instincts flaring that something was off about the scene. He finally realized the problem after a few seconds of scrutinizing both ships. "See how the corvette's lights are set for a docking procedure?"
Alyssa frowned and looked closer at the small military craft. "I don't see any lights," she confessed after a beat.
"Exactly. And ignoring protocol like that can get the whole crew slapped with fines or disciplinary action if it gets caught or reported," John frowned. He set his shoulders with resignation. "This isn't just helping out a stranger anymore. Both the T-Fed and myself are involved in this situation now. By the terms of my 'consultant' agreement, I'm obligated to investigate and render any aid I can to the military. We have no choice but to go in."
"I see," Alyssa said, feeling like a stone had sunk into her gut. There was a big difference between the nebulous thought of going into danger and the realization that danger was imminent. Still, John was going in. Ergo, she was going in. Where he went, she followed. That was simply how it worked with them.
Alyssa guided the Fool's Gold, still in 'stealth' mode as it were, to dock with the secondary airlock for the Terran Federation corvette. John and Alyssa stood, getting their guns loaded and into ready position. John surprised Alyssa by leaning in quickly to steal a kiss. "For luck," he grinned, which she answered with her own. Then his face fell into something much harder and sharper than what Alyssa had gotten used to since meeting him almost 3 weeks earlier. He turned and walked towards the cargo bay, where the airlock was located. *Stay behind me and a bit to the side, do your best not to shoot me in the back, Telepathy only until we're back in the ship. Understood?*
*Yes, sir,* Alyssa agreed almost reflexively, so strong was the tone of command in John's thoughts. She hurried to obey, matching his stride and maintaining position near him.
John let them both into the chamber for the Fool's Gold's airlock. He confirmed that the outer door was detecting a secure seal with a pressurized vessel, then opened it. The corvette's outer door was revealed, 'TFN Griffon' emblazoned in block letters across the center.
John reached to his utility belt and pulled out a small handheld decryption device. Technically illegal, but John had special permission to own and operate it as part of his semi-retirement package. He pressed it to the Griffon's door and the computer interfaced with that of the door's. John's still-active Commander-level clearance proved sufficient, and the door's lock was overridden. It opened smoothly, revealing the Griffon's own depressurization chamber.
*Follow me, only shoot if fired upon,* John ordered before crossing over to the other ship, Alyssa a step or two behind him. He closed the outer door behind them, and his decryption device made short work of the inner door. His assault rifle up and prepared to shoot at the first sign of hostility, John entered the corvette Griffon.
It took less than a minute to find the first body. And then the second and third. The central hallway of the corvette was a bloodbath, multiple bodies in naval fatigues cooling on the ground and showing signs of pockets being looted.
*Pirates,* John thought with certainty. *They've been here a while, too.*
*Yeah, rigor mortis has set in, so it's been at least a couple hours,* Alyssa agreed, young eyes that had seen far too much assessing the corpses much as John had.
*I am both impressed and disturbed that you knew that,* John thought with a touch of gallows humor. *Come on, let's check for survivors.*
A room-by-room sweep of the Griffon ended with finding 15 bodies in total, all of them male. A lot of the consoles in the cockpit had been damaged by some kind of explosion, likely a grenade blast, and the armory showed signs of heavy attempts at infiltration that had proved unsuccessful. But the pirates hadn't had John's decryption device. John opened the secure doors and happily requisitioned ('steal' is such an ugly word) some grenades for himself and a suit of standard-issue T-Fed body armor in Alyssa's size.
Once Alyssa was as secure against incoming fire as John himself, if not more so given she had military-grade gear and his was from a civilian retailer, John led them to the medical bay of the Griffon. *Why are we here?* Alyssa asked once John honed in on the main console in the room.
*Captain's logs and ship roster would have been lost with the cockpit explosion,* John reasoned. *Patient files, though, should let us know if anyone is missing or if everyone's dead.*
As John had feared, there were a total of 18 crew assigned to the Griffon at present. Three women were unaccounted for. Historically, male criminals and innocent women did not mix well. John could only imagine what horrible circumstances had befallen the three missing crew. Not only his deal with the Federation, but his own conscience now insisted he try and save the three, or at least confirm they too were dead.
*We need to board the pirate ship. We can't leave those three women behind. The odds of us finding them and getting out without being noticed are negligible. Are you ready for shit to go down?* John looked his young lover right in the eye.
Alyssa's response was to nod without breaking his gaze, her grip firm and sure on the auto-shotgun.
John, girding himself for the worst, led them to the primary airlock of the Griffon. The pirate crew had left all 4 doors open and hadn't posted any lookouts. Unprofessional, and a hint at the quality of leadership and intelligence running this operation. Still, dumb men with guns could be even more of a threat than smart men with guns. Dumb men were more prone to stupid, lethal mistakes, after all.
John took a moment to pull up a sample deck plan for a Marlin-class freighter on his vambrace computer. He did some quick commands to have the computer track their route through the ship so they wouldn't get lost when they inevitably had to retreat. Then, John crossed fully into the pirate freighter, Alyssa as his shadow.
John's inhumanly keen hearing detected a clamor from the aft of the ship. Keeping a wary eye out for any pirates to cross their path, John went towards the rear cargo bay of the freighter. He and Alyssa saw no one as they went through grubby, ill-maintained halls. Reaching the open entrance to the cargo bay, John sidled up beside the doorway from which so much noise was escaping. He carefully peeked around the edge to look into the room.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
The upper gantries were filled with pirates, dozens of dirty, unkempt men all hooting and hollering at what they considered entertainment. Despite it being before noon, many were drinking heavily and loudly gambling on how the 'match' would end. In the main area of the cargo bay below them was a scene from a nightmare.
A Largath was 'fighting' one of the Terran women kidnapped from the Griffon. The young girl, looking no older than Alyssa, was in the rags of naval fatigues that had been ripped to shreds by harsh, groping hands and stained with blood from open lashes across her back. Despite her obvious agony from the whipping and whatever damage the Largath had already dealt, she still brandished a broken pipe as a makeshift spear in desperate defense. The sharp, pointy thing seemed the only thing keeping the alien at bay, and it was obvious that it wouldn't work much longer. The big crimson gorilla-like creature blinked its 4 eyes and licked its drooling chops, his two-foot-long cock erect and shiny from the fluids of the two victims it had already had its way with. The two other naval officers laid desecrated on the floor, their bodies warped from where the Largath had forced his way in and literally raped them to death. And it was clear that the third woman would soon share their terrible fate.
John pulled his head back away from the door, what he'd just seen seared into his memory. Putting aside his disgust, rage, fear, and every other messy emotion, he considered his next move logically. He had his XR73. He had the grenades he'd grabbed from the Griffon's armory. He had a bevy of psychic powers, none of which he had much practice with. He had Alyssa, who had never fired a shotgun in her life. How to save the lone survivor without getting her, him, or Alyssa killed?
Plan formed based on years of fighting experience, John projected to Alyssa her instructions. *I'm going to throw stun grenades. As soon as they go off, get to the edge and aim for the Largath. Keep the barrel pointed towards center mass, and don't just squeeze the trigger. Do a few short bursts, you don't know how to correct for barrel climb yet. Let me know when it's dead. I'll be handling the pirates.*
*Got it,* Alyssa thought back in acknowledgment.
John pulled out two grenades. Darting into the doorway, he lobbed both in gentle arcs towards the left and right gantries, palming a third quickly to toss towards the central one on the far side of the room. He dashed just as quickly back out and into the hall. Even with line-of-sight broken, he still closed his eyes and covered his ears to brace from the coming flashbangs.
"BANG!"
Grabbing his rifle from where it had been hanging from its strap, John walked into the cargo bay with the gun raised. Within a full second of entering, he'd already aimed and pulled the trigger half a dozen times. In the panic and chaos, none of the pirates had the presence of mind to notice how their attacker was firing unnaturally fast and seemed to blur as he moved. All they knew was the sensory hell of the flashbangs and for several the sharp bite of bullet wounds shortly afterward.
Alyssa, following John's orders to the letter, came in behind him and rushed to the nearest ledge overlooking into the cargo bay. She noticed the big red alien that must be the Largath, rubbing its eyes and snarling. She aimed the gun as John had shown her how barely an hour ago, braced for recoil, and pulled on the trigger. As told, she didn't blow through her whole clip at once, firing two or three rounds at a time before pausing and trying to re-center her aim on the Largath's torso in the holo-scope.
The Largath was unarmored and shotgun shells were designed to inflict maximum damage from a relatively short distance away. Even with a total novice's aim, Alyssa was still enhanced by a Progenitor, customized for combat with peak strength and reflexes for her size. She handled the gun as well as possible physically, and the results were deadly for the alien. Chest leaking copiously from all the penetrating pellets, the Largath collapsed on his side, giving a wet gurgle with his final breath.
*It's down!* Alyssa thought to John.
Even as he continued to utilize Psychic Alacrity to fire at superhuman speeds, John reached out with his mind and grabbed the stunned naval woman in a telekinetic grip. Pausing in his onslaught, John lifted her up out of the cargo bay to land by his side. Once she was safely out of the crossfire, he went back to mowing down the pirates, most of whom were still recovering from the stun grenades and not even remotely accurate in firing back. *Help her, she probably can't walk unassisted,* John commanded.
Alyssa maneuvered to the survivor's side. At first glance, she was a college age Latina with a slim, athletic build. More importantly, she had several open weals on her back from a neural whip, a bloody nose with blooming black eyes, and the lopsided way she was balancing upright hinted she had broken ribs. Her eyes were watery and blinking rapidly, having been hit with the stun grenades same as the pirates and Largath.
"I'm here to help!" Alyssa shouted over the thundering chatter of gunfire and the ringing that would still be in the girl's ear. "Where does it hurt?!"
"Back, left side, face!" the young officer yelled back.
"Put your arm around my shoulder!" Alyssa ordered before getting into position to half-carry the rescued victim. Alyssa, barely feeling the strain, kept the shotgun up and balanced with one hand while the other wrapped around the smaller girl's waist. *I got her!* she sent to John when she felt the girl lean against her and let out an audible moan of relief.
John, having blown through three magazines in less than a minute, fired off the last few bullets and surveyed the room. He'd aimed primarily for the heart, lungs, and the head when he was confident in his aim and the angle. All but two of the original horde of pirates was still standing, the rest having collapsed in bloody sprawls on the gantries or fallen to the cargo bay floor below. Still utilizing Psychic Alacrity, John focused on the two survivors, obviously heavily augmented cyborgs who must have had subdermal armor to protect from gunfire. With an act of focus, John conjured two telekinetic spears and launched them like ballista bolts at both men. The lances of pure blue light pierced them like needles through cloth, and they fell down dead much as their organic brethren had.
Satisfied that all hostiles had been eliminated, John deactivated his super-speed. He only then noticed the strain on his mind and body, his energy stores having gotten dangerously low. He cursed himself for being an idiot for not keeping better track of his reserves, even though this was his first time using his powers in combat. Returning to the situation at hand, John turned to Alyssa and the surviving naval crewmember.
"Let's get moving," John ordered in the echoing silence left after the roar of gunfire and wailing death cries. He met Alyssa's eyes. *I'll take point, focus on keeping her moving* he relayed silently. A quick nod was her answer.
Reloading his XR73, John retraced their steps through the pirate freighter. It had seemed like the majority of the crew had been in the cargo bay for the 'entertainment', but it would be foolish to assume every pirate on the ship had been accounted for. John's caution proved warranted, as he checked a 4-way intersection and was ambushed by a pirate hiding just around the corner. John, moving on reflexes honed by over a decade of active duty, kneed the brigand in the groin and fired a 3-round burst directly between his eyes as he writhed on the ground.
John checked on Alyssa and the Griffon survivor, who seemed barely coherent or aware of her surroundings. Was still staying upright and maintaining a decent pace, though, so John counted his blessings. John finished the trip back to the Griffon without crossing paths with another pirate. He closed both the Griffon's airlock doors behind them and locked them to slow down any pursuing pirates.
"That should buy us some time," John said aloud for the young survivor's benefit. John focused on the college age girl, probably fresh from the Academy on her first posting by the look of her. "I'm Commander John Blake, and the woman carrying you is Alyssa Marant. Who are you?"
"Second… Lieutenant… Fernandez," the Latina panted, eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion nonetheless focusing on John in front of her. "T-thank… you…"
"You're welcome, Lieutenant Fernandez," John said softly. He glanced at Alyssa. *Get her to the passenger cabin, this ship is compromised. I'll grab some medical supplies and be right behind you. As soon as she's settled on the bed, get us away from here and enroute to Port Heracles in the Nerus system. Can you do that for me, honey?*
*Sure thing, handsome,* Alyssa projected back at him.
The blonde Matriarch started guiding Lieutenant Fernandez towards the secondary airlock and the relative safety of the Fool's Gold. John, trying hard not to pant with how tired and low on energy he really was, rushed to the medical bay of the Griffon. He grabbed a couple trauma kits and as many hypo-injectors of common drug cocktails as he could carry. He carried his bounty back to his freighter, closing the airlock doors behind him to prepare the Fool's Gold to undock from the Griffon.
As soon as John was past the inner door of the Fool's Gold, he felt the slight acceleration of the ship in movement. Alyssa must already by piloting them out of the gravity well. By the time John reached the passenger cabin, he had detected the distinctive lurch of the FTL Drive activating and relaxed, knowing it was now much harder for the pirates to catch up with them. Not impossible, but still.
John regarded Fernandez leaning against the wall in a drained slump, her face a mask of shock-dulled agony. He set the healing implements aside on the floor and did the same with his weapon. He crouched down and tried to meet Fernandez's blank gaze. "Lieutenant? Fernandez, can you hear me?"
"Yessir," she slurred, clearly not all present but still responsive. That was something.
Alyssa entered the room and was soon mirroring John in a crouch beside him and in front of the traumatized teenager. "What's your name? Your first name, I mean?" Alyssa asked, trying to keep the victim from focusing on the pain or loss.
"It's… Calara…" she replied, silent tears starting to fall from blackened eyes.
"You're safe now, Calara. The Largath and those men are dead. They can't hurt you anymore," John said, firm yet gentle, trying to offer comfort.
"They're all dead. The whole Griffon. They're just… gone…" Calara said in a daze, the tears falling steadily but no signs of sobbing. It was like she was too lost in her head to really feel the pain.
Realizing she was in shock and her condition could only worsen, John reached for one of the hypos he'd grabbed. "Calara, I'm going to send you to sleep. We'll treat your wounds. When you wake up, we can have a proper talk. Is that okay?"
"Sure…" Calara said faintly, not sounding like she even knew what she was saying.
John gently tilted Calara's head and pressed the injector to the big vein in the side of her neck. A press of a button and hiss of air, and within 10 seconds she was losing consciousness. John tossed the used hypo aside and guided Calara into a comfortable position with her head on the pillow of the bunk.
*She's been through hell,* Alyssa thought solemnly. *And healing from this might be harder than having to experience it in the first place.*
*Still, she's alive. That's always preferable to the alternative,* John replied with their shared telepathy. *Let's get to working on all these injuries.*
*You're a doctor too?* Alyssa thought, half-joking.
*You get real good at effective first aid in the field in my old line of work, assuming you survive that long,* John thought with dry humor. With careful movements, he stripped the rags of Calara's naval fatigues from her body. Leaving her in her bra and panties for modesty's sake, John surveyed the young woman head to toe and got to work. The open weals on her back from a neural whip were each coated with medi-gel to seal the wounds and prevent infection while stimulating cell growth. With the advantage of her being in anesthetized sleep, John straightened the cartilage of Calara's broken nose without incident. The deep bruising on her left side and Alyssa's own observations had John binding her broken ribs with bandages. Finding nothing else major to address, John tucked Calara under the sheet to sleep until the hypo's effects had run their course.
As John stood back up to leave the cabin, Alyssa matched him and unexpectedly pulled him into a kiss. A kiss that tingled unnaturally, and John gasped as a rush of energy poured into his internal reserves like a spout filling an empty cup.
*Idiot. The whole purpose of a Matriarch is to supply her master with energy. You didn't borrow a drop from me during that whole thing* Alyssa thought with fond exasperation.
*Hey, give me a break. It was my first time,* John chuckled, even as he returned the kiss with gratitude and more than a little heat. *So, we kinda got interrupted earlier…* he trailed off suggestively.
*Indeed. What do you propose we do about it?* Alyssa returned with a brow raised just so.
*We can either go to our cabin, get out of this gear, have a shower, then pass out. We'll have a proper first time tomorrow where I can really set the mood right… Or we can have thank-God-we-survived sex until we pass out as soon as we're out of this armor,* John laid on the table.
*Decisions, decisions. Like watching you slaughter those evil men and rescue Calara like a white knight didn't have me dripping the whole time,* Alyssa thought with a smile full of sin.
Well, that settled things. John grabbed his rifle and led Alyssa swiftly to the door. They left Calara to a healing sleep, dashed across the hallway to their main cabin, and John was then storing away the XR73 and auto-shotgun in his weapons locker as fast as was safe. Once the weapons were squared away, John unzipped himself from his body armor, Alyssa already a few steps ahead of him. By the time John was down to his civilian clothes, Alyssa had already stripped herself out of the body-sleeve and was lying supine on their shared bed like a virgin sacrifice to some ancient god.
John might literally have ripped his way out of his clothes, he didn't have enough spare blood in his brain to really notice or care. All he knew was his woman was ready and waiting, and he had to join her. Once equally naked, he crawled onto the bed to hover tantalizingly over Alyssa.
John opened his mouth to offer words of love, or an offer to take this slow and make the most of it, when Alyssa reached up to wrap her arms around his head and pulled him into a scorching kiss. She didn't need words or Telepathy to let him know what she wanted, what she needed, what she craved.
John laid down on Alyssa, her soft yet strong body a delightful pillow perfectly capable of supporting his full weight. He kissed her like he needed air from her lungs rather than his own. One hand cradled her head while the other went to map the glorious curves of her body. His knees came up and spread her own legs wide open, letting his lower body settle into the cradle of her thighs. His wandering palm settled on one of her gorgeous, full tits and he relished the weight as it filled his palm to perfection. His hips began to buck instinctively, the underside of his gargantuan girth rubbing against her leaking folds.
A tiny part of John regretted that this wasn't going to be soft and slow and romantic. He loved Alyssa, with all his heart, and he wanted their first time to be a happy memory for centuries to come. Then again, an adrenaline-fueled romp right after their first shared combat would certainly be memorable. And Alyssa hardly seemed disappointed or unsatisfied with the circumstances. She just took all he could give and demanded more with wordless, thoughtless communication, all touch and moans and sighs.
Losing himself in desire, John stopped thinking and pulled back his hips. He felt Alyssa's heavenly soft hand come down and grip him, guiding him to her entrance. He pressed the crown of his cock to slick, silky flesh and took a second to just savor the sensation. Then, at Alyssa's own yearning insistence, he plunged deep as he could go, penetrating her pussy further than any man had ever gone before.
Alyssa seemed to both tense and relax, her movements becoming more liquid and yet more urgent. Her arms went under his armpits to wrap around his back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. Her long, strong legs curled up and crossed behind his buttocks, locking him in place with no intention to let him go until he'd planted his seed deep within.
John pulled back, feeling the divine sensation of honey and heat and grip against his manhood. He thrust back in, more than half his cock sinking into Alyssa's depths. But there was still more to go, and Alyssa would hardly settle for anything less than his best. John applied more pressure and force to each thrust until he felt the barrier of Alyssa's cervix yield. And then it was like sinking into a pussy inside a pussy as the head of his cock breached Alyssa's womb to sink into her most secret places. Perfect, pillowy warmth cradled the head of his cock, while a convulsing tunnel stroked the rest of his shaft. His quad of balls rested flush against the magnificent curve of Alyssa's ass, their contents churning as they prepared for launch.
John speared Alyssa from tip to root over and over again, his mind clear of anything but the drive to mate, to procreate, to claim this fertile female and make her his. Her every twitch and sound spoke of her agreement, her urge to comply, her submission to his masculine might. How long John actually ploughed her, he had no idea. Release was in reach, yet he saw no reason to chase it too quickly. He was having too much fun with the journey to care much about the destination.
Yet even Progenitors had limits to their endurance, and John finally passed the point of no return. He bucked harder and harder into Alyssa's willing body until he buried himself as deep as he could go and roared to the heavens at his climax. Pint after pint of thick alien cum pumped into Alyssa's womb, filling her with enough semen to impregnate her a thousand times over. Such vast quantities filled her that her abdomen was forced to round out as she expanded to hold so many sperm. Her body, riding a string of climaxes as she was ravished by the sexual demigod she'd pledged her life to, was wracked with tremors as her mind whited out and her inner muscles flexed to try and milk every drop from the future father of her children.
John and Alyssa both returned to themselves roughly at the same time, panting and looking into each other's eyes. John's body was curved in an n-shape over her rounded belly, which had forced his softening cock to slip out of her gaping pussy. Her cervix, while made elastic by the Thrall edits, sealed up tight to not let a single drop go to waste. John caught his breath, then leaned in to press a gentle peck to Alyssa's own gaping mouth. Then, really feeling the aches of combat after the exertion of sex, John gingerly maneuvered himself until he was lying on his back on the bed next to Alyssa. She turned and nestled against his side, the swollen curvature of her belly a delightful weight between them.
"So… how was it for you?" John asked in the silence that followed.
"A round or two of that every night, and it will be a fucking privilege to fight in the Progenitor War with you, John," Alyssa said in no uncertain terms. "That was better than I ever thought it could be."
"Well, how much of that is my actual talent, and how much is the fact you're genetically customized to respond to my touch?" John pointed out.
"Don't know, don't care," Alyssa rolled her eyes almost audibly. "You really need to learn to not look a gift horse in the mouth, John. If sex with you is that awesome just because I'm your Matriarch, then so what? I'm not complaining, and neither should you."
"Sorry, force of habit to second-guess anything Progenitor-related," John huffed. The longer he laid there, the more tired and sore he was feeling. "Let's get a shower, and we should really store that armor away properly."
Alyssa got up without complaint and followed him into the bathroom. She took a brief detour to the toilet, and was back to her trim, svelte self when she joined him in the shower. *Seems like such a waste. Remember to cum in the other end next time,* Alyssa thought in all seriousness.
*Duly noted,* John chuckled wearily.
They got clean and then dried off. John professionally stored away his own armor and the requisitioned set Alyssa had worn. Then, despite it being barely noon, John and Alyssa decided to take a long nap to recover after the intense exertion of that morning.
Alyssa opened her eyes and realized she was in her favorite place in the universe: next to John. He was softly spooning her from behind. She quietly sat up and turned to just look down at him in slumber. He was naturally an early riser, but when he did fall asleep it was like the dead. He could shrug off noise and sensory input that would have Alyssa jolting awake like it was nothing. Then again, she'd slept with one eye open for over a decade in the dog-eat-dog world of Karron while he had close to a perfect childhood on Terra. Or maybe they were just different people who slept differently.
Alyssa reached out to trace the elongated point of John's ear as it stuck out from his hair. It was easy, at times, to forget that he wasn't just an extremely well-endowed Terran who'd gotten a bodysculpt for his ears. Physically, Progenitors and Terrans were nearly identical. But, Alyssa mused as she looked down at her new body, it was pretty obvious that there were some key differences. She certainly wouldn't look like this if she'd been living off Terran cum for 3 weeks straight.
It was hard to even recall life before she'd first gone down on John. Not that she couldn't dig up the memories if she tried, only she felt no reason to. Life had gotten orders of magnitude better since she'd agreed to become John Blake's Matriarch. Or rather, Kyth'vindathys' Matriarch. Why waste time remembering hell when she'd somehow slipped into her own little slice of heaven? Sure, part of her acknowledged that some of the new 'her' wasn't organic, wasn't what she'd been born with. It had been inserted alongside all the new genomic data as John's Progenitor semen had rewritten her DNA. And yet, so what? Anything that made her this happy couldn't be evil, as John seemed half-convinced his powers were at times. All things being equal, Alyssa wouldn't go back to her old life even if it were possible. In every way, by every metric, life as John's Matriarch was better than being a Karron street whore. She would embrace her new life, even with its extraordinary duties and responsibilities, and do it smiling. It was definitely worth it.
Drawn from her musing, Alyssa's ear caught a gasp from the door. She turned, and saw Calara hesitantly peeking into the main cabin. Her eyes were wide, no doubt focused on Alyssa's and John's nude bodies not covered by the bedsheets. Alyssa glanced at the chronometer, seeing that a good 6 hours had passed since John had dosed the Latina. Guess the meds had already worn off.
"I'm s-s-so sorry! I should have knocked, I…" Calara stammered, reaching up to actually cover her eyes as if to protect Alyssa's modesty. As if she had any left.
"No worries," Alyssa assured their temporary charge. She slid out of bed, tucking John back in behind her, then turned to walk over to Calara. Still starkers, for the record. "Are you feeling better? John treated your injuries as best he could."
Calara peeked through her fingers, squeaked, turned a very dark shade, then ducked her head. "I… I do feel better, but that's not saying much. I'm still in a lot of pain, but I'm very hungry. I came to ask if I could borrow some rations before I got another hypo, but…"
"Say no more!" Alyssa chirped. She darted over to John's drawer and slid on one of his long-sleeve t-shirts. She practically swam in it, even in her much bigger body compared to her original self, but it made her decent with minimal effort. Plus, she'd be able to smell a trace of John on her skin while she cooked, which was always a win. She went back to the cabin door, exiting the room and grinning at a still-blushing Calara. "Let's get some grub!"
Alyssa patiently guided Calara as she walked at a slow pace so as to not aggravate her ribs towards the rec room. Alyssa helped the naval officer into a seat at the dining table, then went to dig out a pot. She was sure a hot meal would be more appealing for Calara and John than protein bars. Alyssa, naturally, would be getting her dinner on her knees out of John's quad once Calara went to sleep. Anyway, Alyssa found a few cans of chicken noodle soup, emptied them into the pot, and carefully turned on the stove to heat it up.
"You're, uh, not shy about your looks, are you?" Calara said a tad awkwardly as Alyssa reached up to grab a couple glasses from the cabinet, making John's t-shirt ride up indecently.
Alyssa turned over her shoulder and quirked a brow. "Honey, does it look like I've got anything to be shy about?" she asked rhetorically.
"Point taken," Calara managed while turning as red as her coffee-colored complexion would allow.
Alyssa filled both glasses with water and brought them over to the dining table. Making sure Calara got a sip, Alyssa then went to keep an eye on the soup. She'd literally never cooked before in her life, but how hard could it be? Just turn off the heat once the bubbles started, right? With her eye on the pot, Alyssa asked "How are you feeling, really?"
"Sort of… numb. I'm trying real bad not to think too hard," Calara admitted. "There's a lot I'll have to face and deal with in therapy after… what happened."
Alyssa felt sympathy well up in her heart. "What's important is that you're alive. You get to face and deal with it. Remember that."
"Have you ever lost someone?" Calara asked, a little pointedly. "'Cause I just lost 17 friends and coworkers."
Alyssa turned to look Calara right in her chocolate-brown eyes. "My mom died in childbirth. I never met her, doesn't mean I didn't feel her absence. Daddy died when I was 6. When I was 12, my best friend got hooked on drugs and became a whore for a pimp who kept her high as a kite. I found her body in an alley a couple years later. I could go on, but comparing pain isn't a dick-measuring contest. Just know I'm not making empty platitudes, I know what I'm talking about."
Calara gulped and looked down. "Sorry. I guess you're just so beautiful, part of me thought you must have gotten lucky in every other way too. I shouldn't have lashed out like that."
"Apology accepted," Alyssa assured the Latina youth.
There was a beat of stilted silence, then Alyssa felt something inside urge her to be honest. "I didn't always look like this," she admitted.
"What do you mean?" Calara asked, frowning in confusion. "Like, you got work done?"
"Not the way you're thinking," Alyssa tried to clarify. She had a moment where she debated if she had any right to share John's secret without asking permission first. But she pressed onward, having a gut feeling this would all work out for the best. "I didn't go to a clinic and get cut open with a bodysculpt. But this isn't the body I was born with either. It's complicated, and you'll have to keep an open mind to understand the truth. That's if you want to know, anyway."
"You can't drop hints like that and then leave me hanging. Go on, I promise to listen to whatever you say," Calara prompted. The mystery was much more interesting to focus on then how her day had gone so far.
Alyssa took a deep breath, then forged onwards. "Let's start with the basics. John isn't Terran."
Calara blinked at that curveball. "Wait, really? But I thought he was a Commander! Which is actually a bit odd seeing as you two seem to be in an old auxiliary freighter but I still thought he was military."
"He was. Is. Again, a little complicated. He describes it as he's a semi-retired 'consultant'," Alyssa provided with helpful air quotes. "He wanted out after Galon Prime, but he didn't want to lose all the perks of being an officer. So he and the T-Fed split the difference where he got to keep a few toys and he has to help out where he can. Like just now with the Griffon attack. So he has Commander-level clearance, even if he's technically a civilian now. Not the point, though. He's a Federation citizen, and he graduated the Academy, but he's still not human. Just looks a lot like one."
"That's… wow. You hear about non-human citizens, but I don't think I've ever met any who went into the service. But what does John's species have to do with you getting a new body?" Calara wondered.
"Accepting that biology is capable of miracles, and that Terrans for all their knowledge have only explored a very small portion of the galaxy let alone the universe, I need you to just take what I'm about to say at face value," Alyssa forewarned. "John's a Progenitor. Progenitor semen is a genetic scalpel that rewrites the drinker's DNA."
"Ha, ha, very funny," Calara rolled her eyes.
Alyssa stayed stone-faced. "Am I laughing?"
Calara's face twisted into puzzled annoyance. "Seriously? Gene-editing jizz? You expect me to believe that?"
Alyssa sighed, thinking of a way to convince the fellow teen. She went over to the nearby holo-console and logged into the Fool's Gold's camera archives. She found a good angle of herself on the day John found her and froze the image. She handed it over to Calara to inspect. "That was me before I started drinking John's loads. I'll lay my hand on a stack of holy texts if that'll convince you. I didn't get sick, I didn't inject myself with anything. All I did was drink John's cum. And the results are clear to see."
Calara, while still skeptical, couldn't deny one key detail: the eyes were the same. The cerulean orbs shining from the dirty face of the urchin on the screen were the same peering straight into her soul right now. "On the off chance I accept that, how did it happen so fast? Even if John's… stuff gave you new genes, you'd have to go through a second puberty or something for the changes to express themselves. That should take months. This footage is 3 weeks old."
"Did I forget to mention that Progenitors like John are psychic?" Alyssa shrugged. "I don't understand the science of it, precisely. But John's cum rewrote my genetic code, and then he used the psychic link between my body and his to feed me the energy to speed up the process. And it's not just skin-deep. It wasn't just my body that got a makeover, but my mind. My IQ has doubled, no joke, and I'm much more content and mentally healthy than I have any right to be. John, quite simply, 'cured' everything wrong with me to make me into, well, this." Alyssa gestured at her statuesque form for emphasis.
Calara wasn't convinced, but she wasn't slow either. "And, what, you think I should get the same 'cure'? You want me to go down on your boyfriend?"
"There's a lot of fine print we'd need to go over, but in a nutshell, yes," Alyssa said directly. "I think it would be the best thing for you."
"How so?" Calara demanded.
"You recover from all the physical trauma those bastards put you through overnight. John can make at least a little headway into healing your mental and emotional trauma while he's at it. While you get fixed up as if this morning never happened, John will get a psychic link with you to help him fuel his powers for the rest of your natural life. Win-win, the way I see it," Alyssa said earnestly.
"Alyssa, stop," John said from the doorway, startling both women at his sudden presence. He'd thrown on a pair of shorts but nothing else, and Calara got even redder than she had while looking at Alyssa seeing his rippling torso and bulging arms on full display. John padded over to the stove to turn down the heat of the soup in danger of bubbling over. He turned away from the pot to pierce Alyssa with a look. "What are you doing, young lady?" he asked, every inch the disappointed authority figure.
Alyssa strove not to duck her head or otherwise react like a child caught reaching into the cookie jar. "I'm trying to work out a mutually beneficial arrangement with Calara. You disapprove?"
"Yes, I do," John stated flatly. "For one thing, did you consider the long-term consequences if she were to agree? If she shows up at Port Heracles after a pirate attack with not a scratch on her and not obviously shell-shocked, she'll likely be accused of colluding with the gang. She could get railroaded with circumstantial evidence and drummed out of the service, or even get prison time depending on what charges stick. To say nothing of the attention that would be drawn our way when a simple blood test reveals something very strange has happened to her genome after contact with the unidentified alien. Shall I go on?"
Alyssa had the uncomfortable feeling that she'd miscalculated somewhere. "That's if she doesn't just resign and run away with us to join the crew," she countered, knowing she was on shaky ground but sticking to her guns.
"Oh, yes, of course. Why wouldn't she abandon her whole life to run away with the two strangers she just met?" John asked with a straight face that hit harder than any amount of scathing sarcasm. "Alyssa, you had nothing to lose. It breaks my heart, but you had nothing and no one holding you back from giving me everything. I highly doubt Calara is in the same position. She's a Federation officer with her whole career ahead of her. She probably has a family that would notice her absence or question her decisions. We don't even know if she's attracted to men that way, let alone male aliens."
"You say that while she's practically drooling over your abs?" Alyssa fired back, but most of the wind had been taken out of her sails.
John took a deep, slow breath. "We will talk about this later." It wasn't a threat, it was a promise. John turned his focus on Calara. "I'm sorry for Alyssa's conduct. She means well, but she still had no right to proposition you on my behalf. The last thing you need to deal with after this morning is unwanted sexual advances."
Alyssa winced at the reminder of the Largath and what it had almost done to the young Lieutenant. She'd gotten so caught up with the end that she hadn't considered how Calara would react to the means.
"But you're really some psychic humanoid who has DNA-rewriting semen?" Calara asked him with a dubious expression.
"Yes, that is the truth. Like Alyssa said, there's a lot of fine print we'd need to go over before I would agree to go through with you drinking my fluids, even indirectly. If you're genuinely interested, we can go over that all tomorrow. But right now, let's focus on eating dinner and getting a good night's sleep. Sound good?" John posed before going to get three bowls.
They had a very awkward meal, and John escorted Calara back to the passenger cabin and administered another hypo of pain meds and sedative to conk her out for a good few hours. John returned to the rec room, where he found Alyssa cleaning the bowls very slowly.
*How much trouble am I in?* she asked, not looking over her shoulder as she scrubbed at nonexistent spots in the wet ceramic.
*I'm debating whether a stern talking to will work or if you've earned yourself a solid spanking,* John answered honestly. *Honey, what were you thinking?*
*I wasn't even angling for her imprinting on you and becoming my sister-wife or anything. I just figured your powers could heal her good as new and we'd have an extra psychic battery to use for the upcoming Progenitor War. You were right, I didn't think it through, I just acted on impulse,* Alyssa confessed, setting the bowls on the drying rack and turning to face John. *Sorry.*
John met her ocean-blue gaze and finally let out a long sigh. *Guess this was our first fight. You had your opinion, I had mine, and we'll need to work out the difference. But I know you weren't trying to cause trouble, you really just wanted to help both Calara and us out. I forgive you, Alyssa. But next time, let's pitch the recruitment for any potential Thrall on mutual agreement, deal?*
*Deal. Kiss and make up?* Alyssa asked hopefully.
John chuckled and walked over to wrap his arms around his lover, dipping down to give her a deep kiss. *Kissed and made up. Now, let's go back to our cabin where I can give you your real dinner.*
Once Alyssa was rotund, John took a brief trip to the cockpit to check the long-range scanners and ensure their route to Nerus was clear. Then he returned to the main cabin, talked things out with Alyssa, and finally went back to sleep for the night.
John and Alyssa woke to their alarm. Alyssa got her usual breakfast, put on the body-sleeve in case Calara saw her, and went to man the cockpit. John got his own morning meal, grabbed a couple extra protein bars and a glass of water, and went to the passenger cabin to check on Calara.
Calara stirred at the activated lights when John came in, her chemical slumber having transitioned to natural sleep sometime in the night. "Morning, Lieutenant Fernandez. Rations?" John offered. He was using military jargon to try and put her at ease in an unfamiliar environment.
"Appreciated, Commander," Calara said, sitting up slowly given her broken ribs. She accepted the glass and protein bars when John handed them over, and he pulled over a chair to sit beside the bunk while she slowly ate her breakfast.
"I won't insult you and ask if you're feeling good. But do you feel better than yesterday?" John asked once she'd swallowed the last bite and washed it down.
"It feels like a nightmare. Except I was awake the whole time," Calara said shakily, a tremor in every word. "The pirates rushing the Griffon when we docked, getting dragged into their ship, the lashing, watching that beast do what it did to Jojo and Maisy, then it was me…"
John offered his open hand, which Calara clutched like a lifeline. "It wasn't your fault," John told her, having plenty of experience with survivor's guilt and PTSD, in others if not always himself. He knew part of her would be irrationally blaming herself for failing to foresee or prevent the tragedy.
"I know that. I know it. But it doesn't feel like it," Calara said with wet eyes and a knot in her throat. "And then there was all that craziness with Alyssa and your freaky alien sex powers or whatever."
"Yes, that was in poor taste of Alyssa to offer that to you so soon after what happened," John frowned. "To be fair, joining my network is the best thing that ever happened to her, no joke. She probably assumed it would be the same for you. She didn't consider all the other factors at play when she tried to recruit you."
"How does that even work? What network? And she really used to be that worm girl I saw on the video?" Calara asked, curious despite herself. Besides, it was something to focus on besides what happened to her crew.
"Normally, I'd require your solemn oath not to breathe a word of this if you end up opting out. But frankly, between how outlandish the truth is and the events you just experienced, anyone you report it to will write it off as the hysterics of a traumatized young woman and ignore it completely. That being said, I hope you recognize that I'm sharing something very personal with you and I hope you can respect the severity of the situation, silly as it may seem," John prefaced.
"I'm listening. And I won't tell anyone, cross my heart," Calara promised. She even made the gesture over her chest.
John nodded and launched into a full explanation of Progenitors, their psychic networks, and the full scope of the genetic edits that came with ingesting Progenitor semen. He spared no detail, being even more thorough with the Latina than he'd been with Alyssa. He even used before-and-after comparisons of Alyssa to drive home the behavioral modification and how deep the changes went.
"You have three options before you, Calara," John finally wrapped up after a solid 10 minutes. "You can choose to have nothing to do with me that way. We can keep in touch as much as you want, but after we drop you off at Port Heracles then we might never see each other again. That's 'A'. 'B' is to accept a single dose of my cum indirectly. I'd jerk off into a cup and you'd drink it down. I'd touch up your physical injuries, though I won't heal them completely because that would arouse too much suspicion. I would certainly try my best to cure your mental trauma though, take the edge off the pain if not erase it entirely. You'd become a node in my psychic network, capable of receiving one-way telepathic messages from Alyssa as my Matriarch and at risk of randomly getting tired as we tap you for psychic energy for the rest of your life. 'C', and you'd truly surprise me if you opt for it, is to drink from me directly. You'd imprint on me, joining me for eternity alongside Alyssa, and you'd serve beside me as I go on to fight in the Progenitor War, the war to end all wars. You'd have to resign from the military, and while I won't bar you from seeing your family ever again, they will have some awkward questions about why you're in a polygamous relationship or eventually why you're not aging. Those are your options. Choose carefully."
Calara gulped and looked down, clearly deep in thought. "I owe you my life," she finally said in a small but resolved voice. "Cutting all ties, giving nothing back like with 'A' doesn't appeal. But I could never abandon the military. So 'C' is a non-starter. That leaves me with 'B'. I'll become your Thrall in exchange for you making the nightmare stop. Seems fair to me."
"Final answer, Calara. Is that what you want, yes or no?" John pressed, not wanting there to be any doubt as to her decision.
"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes with her own haunted look. But there was determination there as well.
John finally nodded, satisfied that she'd thought it through. "Be right back," he said, before going to find a glass… or maybe the pot from last night. 4 pints was a rather large volume of liquid after all.