Schemes of the Unknown Unknown Ch. 06

Chapter Six
Pynchon - 3752 C.E.

The small craft of which Colonel Vashti was the pilot weaved in and out of the relentless barrage of hostile laser fire that streamed towards her from the approaching fighter jets. The moment she failed to avoid being hit would be the moment when her craft would be no more and her mission terminated. Although her firepower was outmatched by the weaponry set against it, she made sure that each one of the laser-propelled missiles she launched hit its target. All around and ahead was the wreckage of enemy jets.

It was then then that colonel became aware of Brigadier Svenssen's silent presence. Her impressive talent for eliminating hostile forces quite suddenly faltered and she was hit by a laser beam that crippled her craft and sent it spinning and spiralling out of control through the debris of enemy fighter jets.

"Well done, colonel," said the brigadier. "Very impressive."

Colonel Vashti stepped out from the Virtual Reality pod where she'd been immersed for the last hour or so.

"I was just practicing, sir," she said.

"Well, I certainly hope you won't need those skills on your mission, colonel," said the brigadier with a good-humoured smile. "We don't anticipate any hostile activity out there in the Oort Cloud. I dare say though that you have more practical experience of warfare than most of the soldiers who're being trained for this mission. You have a very impressive record of service in the National Army of the Mariner Federation. You've been awarded a dazzling array of medals and commendations."

"Thank you, sir," said the colonel. "And you'll be pleased to know that there are several other soldiers from the Mariner Federation on board."

"And many from the Polar Federation as well, of course," said the brigadier whose own home was the colony of Psamathe in the Neptune Federation. That was a part of the Solar System that never had to engage its military forces in any conflict fewer than a million kilometres from the home planet. The brigadier envied Colonel Vashti's more extensive experience of combat and the associated opportunities to be awarded medals for conspicuous bravery and the like. "You must think this a very dull mission, colonel."

"Not at all, sir," said Colonel Vashti. "This is the mission I was always meant to serve."

"Well, there's no guarantee that you'll return of course," said the brigadier. "Do you have any theory what this Anomaly is, colonel?"

"None whatsoever, sir," said the colonel. "Do you have any, sir?"

"Sadly, no," said the brigadier. "Like most observers I've speculated that it might be some kind of extraterrestrial intelligence, but if so it's chosen a very odd way of manifesting itself. Anyhow, colonel, I didn't come to see you to discuss the Anomaly or even to congratulate you on your excellent game-play. Are you coming to the wrestling match this evening?"

"The fuck fighting, sir?" asked Colonel Vashti who knew exactly what Brigadier Svenssen was alluding to.

"I like a good fight, soldier," said the brigadier, "but I like a good fuck just as much."

"I do as well, sir," said the colonel who placed her hand on the brigadier's crotch where she could feel the swell of his genitals. Quite clearly the prospect of watching some sweaty energetic fucking had already stimulated him.

"Not now, colonel," said the brigadier sternly but reluctantly. "I have other duties to attend to."

"Of course, sir," said Vashti, removing her hand. "I shall see you at the wrestling match at Twenty Hundred Hours Universal Time."

She saluted her commanding officer who acknowledged her in kind and strode off.

Colonel Vashti had been training at the Pynchon military colony in Earth orbit for several months now and there weren't many more months left yet until she and the other soldiers would set off for the Space Ship Intrepid on its voyage to the very limits of the Sun's gravitational sphere. The space colony was one of many administered and owned by the Interplanetary Union that was dedicated to the armed services. It was unthinkable that the militia should be under the direct control of just one of the many nations, planets and colonies that composed the Union's special forces This was particularly imperative given that some member states, such as Colonel Vashti's Mariner Federation, were at war with some of the others.

The training camp where Colonel Vashti and the other soldiers were based was at quite a distance from the other military bases. This wasn't especially unusual, but more out of the ordinary was the fact that no one in the training camp was permitted to discuss the mission for which they were training with soldiers based elsewhere. To make sure of this, only the most senior officers, such as Colonel Vashti and Brigadier Svenssen, were allowed any freedom of movement within the confines of the colony.

The Pynchon was specifically designed to accommodate military exercises, so the greatest proportion of the colony's habitable area was a wasteland where soldiers could fire live ammunition and practice military exercises with real lethal hardware. This made the colony one of the least cultivated of the Solar System. The plants that struggled to grow in the messy aftermath of staged conflicts and the animals not slaughtered in the artillery cross-fire were entirely abandoned to their own devices.

There wasn't much that the soldiers under the colonel's command knew about the mission. She'd been ordered to keep it as much a secret as possible. All the soldiers knew was that they would be travelling into deep space and that there was an unspecified and even mysterious risk that might require a military response. There was nothing more. Nevertheless, most of the soldiers guessed that their destination was the Anomaly. Everybody knew that there was something quite extraordinary out there in deep space and few believed the official line that it was a natural phenomenon best left to scientific research. Few believed that, whatever it might be, the Anomaly would turn out to be just like the other strange phenomena in human history for which there had always been a perfectly reasonable and quite boring explanation. It was an alien unknown presence that might even be associated with the weird and often preposterous Apparitions that so excited conspiracy theorists.

The soldiers had the same access to international media as everyone else in the Solar System so they could easily study holographs of these mysterious Apparitions. There was the huge Viking ship that sailed for several seconds across the Asteroid Belt. There was the massive banana that spiralled round and around for nearly a minute somewhere between Uranus and Saturn. There was the fierce burning fire on the freezing surface of Pluto. And then there was the Anomaly itself. It was almost as old as space travel and getting steadily bigger and ever more peculiar.

The soldiers were required to undergo an exhaustive course of training and instruction for the mission. There was the standard preparation for military action both inside an enclosed space such as a space colony or a very large space ship, but also in deep space where even the slightest compromise to a space suit's defences would lead to sudden and painful death. The soldiers relied heavily on the readiness and quality of their equipment to survive. A battle-ready soldier had to make very thorough technical checks before setting out into the deadly vacuum of space.

Colonel Vashti was more fully briefed than the soldiers under her command. The more she found out the more she appreciated what a risk her fellow soldiers were taking. Most frightening of all was the fact that nobody was sure that there would even be a return trip from the Anomaly. None of the robotic probes that had entered the Anomaly had returned. They broadcast no meaningful information once they were inside. Every observation of the Anomaly at any proximity from outside was exactly as unhelpful as the high resolution analyses made from several light months distant. Although there was no actual evidence that the Anomaly might harbour hostile intentions, it couldn't be assumed that it would necessarily be friendly.

The soldiers also needed to be entertained while they were stationed on Pynchon. This was taken very seriously by the military colony's administrators, even to the extent of passing a blind eye on activities that were legal in some colonies in the Solar System but not so in most of the others. Controversially, this included prostitution, gambling and drug abuse. The entertainment on-hand had to be of a nature that would appeal to soldiers and this was unlikely to be compatible with a celibate, contemplative and quiet life. Amongst the available diversions, the one that most appealed to Brigadier Svenssen was male homosexual fuck fighting or Extreme Hard Core Wrestling as it was sometimes known.

Colonel Vashti totally understood Brigadier Svenssen's enthusiasm for fuck fighting. What could be more entertaining than to watch two or more male soldiers stripped to the skin wrestle together with the intention of gripping one another's testicles and erect penis? What greater reward was there for the victor than for him to fuck his defeated opponent? What greater treat could there be for the audience than to watch two oiled and ripped wrestlers thrust their erect penises deep inside the other's anus and fuck with exactly the same animal intensity that they'd exhibited in their fighting?

Even so, Colonel Vashti was conscious that such a treat didn't appeal to everyone. There were very few women in the audience, even if the colonel could count herself as one. There was a high representation of shaven headed men from Saturn in the audience and many had ambitions to be active participants in this form of physical recreation. The brigadier was on edge throughout the wrestling. He would always place a bet on the wrestler he wanted to see win, but Vashti could see that the wager wasn't on the man who was really the better fighter. Brigadier Svenssen paid scant attention to the wrestler's form even though this was the best indicator of likely success. The brigadier generally backed the wrestler who was most muscled, the most oiled and the one with the largest cock.

This was Brigadier Svenssen's ideal masculine form and one on which he'd modelled himself. He was well ripped. When not executing his military duties, the brigadier was most often to be found pumping iron or doing press-ups or lifting weights. He enjoyed doing these exercises in the nude so that he could show off his taut, muscled frame and, naturally, his own quite splendid genitals. What he liked to do most was to shove his cock up a man's arse and have his balls rhythmically pound against a man's buttock crack. What could possibly be more fun than that?

The brigadier had once again put his money where he would like his cock to be. And once again he lost his bet. Colonel Vashti also liked to gamble but she was far more successful with her wagers. It was always a matter of satisfaction to assess a wrestler's form and predict who would win. It was even more of a challenge to guess the actual final score, but even there the colonel's predictions were remarkably accurate. The colonel often knew the wrestler's form rather more intimately than anyone, but she didn't really want the brigadier to be too aware of this. She preferred the brigadier to continue to believe that there was something special in their relationship. And not, of course, just in terms of who was the commanding officer.

"You fuck as well as you fight, soldier," the brigadier said on the last occasion he'd been to a contest.

He was crouched down on his large bed: his elbows supported his weight and his buttocks raised high. Perspiration streamed down his stubbly pate and his expression was as agonised and contorted as that of the recently defeated wrestler. Behind him and thrusting again and again into his muscled anus was Colonel Vashti who knew just how roughly the brigadier liked to be fucked. He wanted his testicles squeezed and his cock engorged, red and raw. He wanted to be as battered and bruised as a wrestler. Sex with the brigadier was like a wrestling match. The only difference was that the fucking came at every stage of the proceedings. It wasn't just the victor's spoils. The colonel and the brigadier fucked and were fucked by one other. It was a vicious, exhausting and generally silent combat. Fucking was serious business. Having a dick in your mouth and gagging on it was an exercise where cock brushed against tonsils and spit and saliva slobbered onto the chest. Anuses were pummelled. Fists were pushed in deep. Faces were slapped. Punches were thrown. And at the end there was the spurt of semen onto the face, over the arse, on the chest and over the sheets.

Or was it the end?

The brigadier always had the energy and determination for a further bout of fucking in which the colonel was more than happy to engage. Penises would engorge again. Testicles would harden. And yet more semen would be released.

Vashti and Svenssen sometimes invited other men to enliven their lovemaking and there was never a shortage of willing candidates after a wrestling match. There were many men in the audience who'd be happy to dip their cocks into the brigadier's arse and those who knew in which particular way they had something in common with the colonel were even attracted to her. The brigadier preferred the wrestlers to the other men in the audience. They were the ones with the ripped muscles and the stamina for a good lengthy fuck. The others might all share a love of cock and anal intercourse, but they were rather less muscled and macho than suited the brigadier's taste. If Colonel Vashti's physical fitness wasn't well above average, it was unlikely that the brigadier could have compromised his normal sexual preferences as much as he did when the two soldiers began their relationship.

Rank was an issue. The brigadier was Colonel Vashti's commanding officer. He had power over the colonel's career that he could exercise if he was so inclined, but his command extended to all the soldiers on the mission even though he wouldn't actually be accompanying them on the Intrepid. He would remain with Mission Control on the Moon.

It was unusual for the brigadier not to invite over one or two other men to enhance the lovemaking between the two senior officers. Even though he spoke to the defeated wrestler and gave his penis a consolatory tug, he didn't invite either the defeated Iron Punk or the victorious Steam Hammer back to his apartment. Instead he put his arm firmly round Vashti's waist and guided her back. The brigadier's apartment was several kilometres away from the wrestling arena and also well outside the main training camp where the colonel and most soldiers were based.

The two soldiers climbed into the brigadier's car and settled down in their seats while the car glided over the plains and grasslands of the Pynchon colony to the senior officers' quarters where brigadiers would normally associate only with military men and women of similar or greater military rank. The brigadier still had to maintain a high level of discretion in what he said even in the company of generals, admirals and wing commanders. Very few military personnel of even the most senior rank on the military colony were aware of the nature of the Space Ship Intrepid's mission.

"Why did you ask me back, sir?" asked Colonel Vashti when it was clear that the brigadier's stamina had finally flagged. "It wasn't only for a fuck, was it?"

"What's wrong with just a fuck, soldier?" asked the brigadier. "What more could a man want?"

"You tell me, sir," said the colonel.

"Okay, colonel," said the brigadier. "You know me too well. It's a delicate matter however. I'm not sure I know how to express it. Are you, as one might say, special?"

"Special, sir?" asked the colonel. She raised herself onto her knees and grasped her penis which still wasn't as limp and flaccid as the poor brigadier's. "I would say that this makes me a fair candidate as someone special."

"Well, colonel," said Brigadier Svenssen. "I would like to be exceptionally discreet. Are you special in the sense that you were born the way you are?"

"I've always been like this, sir," said Colonel Vashti with no apparent sign of understanding what the brigadier meant.

"Alright, colonel," said Brigadier Svenssen. "I don't want you to implicate yourself; at least not without having the assurance that you won't be judged harshly for it. I'll be honest with you and I don't want this to go beyond these four walls. The fact is that I am special. I'm one of the special ones whose ancestors were genetically enhanced. I was born with features that were more engineered than evolved."

"Surely most of us today have gone beyond evolution, sir," said the colonel. "We live to more than a hundred years. Our bodies are repaired over and over again until they're hardly at all what we were born with."

"Don't talk like an idiot, soldier," said the brigadier with a flash of genuine anger. "You know exactly what I'm saying. You don't have to be disingenuous with me. Are you special? Are you one of those who are supposed to have been hunted to extinction, but still exist?"

"I can't be sure, sir," said the colonel, although in truth she was absolutely certain of what she was. "Do you think that because I have a cock rather than a cunt that my ancestry has been influenced by the genetic enhancement of the twenty-sixth century? I thought that after the Jovian wars and the mutant pogrom that those special ones who weren't slaughtered were sterilised."

"Those were brutal days, colonel," said the brigadier. "What civilised society could suppress so prejudicially what it created? But it's left a legacy that's lasted well over a thousand years. People created from gene-splicing and gene-ripping are no longer accepted throughout the Solar System. It's intended to protect human rights. It's now considered immoral to create people for a particular purpose and to use genes taken from other animals or even artificially sequenced DNA to make mutant human beings. But, naturally, not all those created so long ago or those created clandestinely since have been eliminated."

"How do you know you're special, sir?"

"My parents were, colonel," said Brigadier Svenssen. "Their parents were. And so, too, back through the generations. I am stronger, fitter, more sexually active, more intelligent, faster and less likely to ever fall ill than other people. This isn't only because I take advantage of the excellent medical facilities in the Interplanetary Union, but because I was born that way."

"And why do you think I might also be special, sir?" Colonel Vashti asked.

"It's not just because of your genital peculiarity, colonel," said the brigadier, "although that is clearly a pointer. Many special people have peculiarities, of which yours is probably the most delightful and, to me, abundantly useful."

"What else makes you think so, sir?"

"I've watched you closely, colonel. I've spoken with you. I've fucked you. You're not like most people, colonel. You're more adept to anyone else in almost every way. You are smarter, stronger and fitter than me. You even fuck better than me and I never thought that was possible. You're superhuman just like I am."

"Can't it be just within the normal range of possibilities, sir?"

"That's the fiction that protects me and other special people, colonel," said the brigadier thoughtfully. "Thankfully nature is so imprecise that it can naturally create people who are much better endowed than anyone else. But I know that I fall outside the normal range and that's why I'm sure you do too."