Express Delivery

"Put your hood up," I yelled, turning off the life-support system with one hand and yanking the flight suit's hood over my head with the other. Then I rerouted the extra energy to the engines, which gave us just enough thrust to leave the maelstrom in a hurry.

An hour later, it was over and we could return to normal operations. A quick check of the navigation systems told us we had indeed crossed a stretch of space which would have normally taken two months at twelve-times light speed. My heart rate took another hour or two to normalize though.

I had just left the shower when Jenala called me into the cockpit.

"What's up?" I asked, zipping my flight suit shut.

Jenala showed me a long-range sensor scan. "There. The fleet. It seems they actually changed course to sweep the intercept points."

I saw ping markers for at least twenty capital ships and swarms of fighter craft. In the center of the formation, something huge loomed. Of course the ship data base had no matches. Since I had no direct line of sight, I didn't even know what the ships looked like.

"Do you want to call them?"

"I don't want to but I have to, I guess." Jenala pulled a headset off its resting cradle. "How do I establish a directed call to one of the ships?"

"Do you even have compatible comms gear?"

"I think at least Mother's ship should be able to receive FTL signals. I've seen NBS programs on her screens when she briefed me."

"Then it's a simple matter to send out a message. Gimme a sec." I dialed in the general direction of the fleet, adjusted for travel speed and added a bit of spread to the signal to make sure I not only hit the main ship but those around it as well, just in case. I sent the script to Jenala's comms console.

"Now all you need to do is hit 'Execute' and pray someone at the other end will pick up."

"Thank you." Her tone was disheartening. In all our time together, Jenala had been confident, energetic and upbeat. But now she sounded like a teenager having to confess she failed at some major task her parents had given her. I cloned her screen and watched as the communication system did its thing, cold-calling the fleet which was still several hours away.

The screen flickered, strobed -- and then a woman's face appeared. She had the same interesting facial structure as Jenala, with her mix of Gravon, Nor, Zuthrian and human features. Her hair was cropped short and of a coppery red while her eyes were of a lustrous green. They widened as the stranger recognized Jenala.

They exchanged words in a tongue I didn't understand. I recognized the general cadence and knottiness to know it had to be Jenala's native tongue. Eventually, Jenala said: "I think for my companion's benefit, we should talk in Galactic Basic."

"Of course. I'm certain Mother will be ecstatic to see you again. Where are you?"

"En route to intercept point four, maybe five hours away. Please let Mother know we are arriving shortly and I will be bringing the required samples."

"It shall be so." The redhead on comms lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You will be bringing a male? Really?"

"Yes." Jenala cut the connection and craned her neck to look up at me. "Set a course for the fleet. We will receive an escort about halfway in so don't be alarmed."

"Feels strange, suddenly becoming the alien," I muttered.

"I've let Security know you are under my protection. No one should harm you."

"You don't sound too sure about that."

"Well, I am only a scout. I have a certain pull but Mother can -- and probably will -- override anything I can say or do."

I programmed a course and fired up the engines. How bad could it be?

* * * *

The escort fighters met us three hours after making contact. They were long, cigar-like things with stabilizing vanes and antenna-like weapons running along their hulls. They had actual glass cockpits and reminded me of a cross between an old Terran WWII fighter plane and something straight out of a steampunk novel. I would have laughed them off as antique relics, barely safe to use, had it not been for the freaking cloaking devices they used. One minute, there was empty space around us, the next Gaia was surrounded by ten of these interceptors. They made contact over compressed radio frequencies, audio only, flooding the airwaves with more of their harsh, knotty language. No idea why but it sounded... old to me, a bit like something the stereotypical Gray zealot would spout during a fire and brimstone sermon.

"They want you to head directly for Mother's ship, the big one in the center of the fleet. No divergence from the course, no 'looking around,'" Jenala translated before opening her mic and barking back some sentences of her own. There was a bit of stunned silence and the fighters fell into formation.

Gaia's sensors still registered scanning attempts.

"Shall I scramble their signals? A strong electro-magnetic pulse generated by our field emitters should blind them," Ensign AI suggested.

"Nah, let them have their fun. Also, make a hardcopy of our service manuals. I love to bring gifts to delight the natives." I turned my attention to my co-pilot. "What kind of firepower are we looking at? And is this normal when a scout returns?"

"I'm pretty sure one or two of our fighters won't be much of an issue. We don't have shield technology yet. But that's a lot of laser cannons aimed right at your ship's butt." She sighed. "I told you -- outsiders are rarely welcome. They're only making sure I'm safe."

"As if I would do anything to harm you," I grumbled. "We'll jump through their hoops, get the sperm delivered and then we're outta here. I think you, I and San'yas need to talk some more."

A small chuckle. "Admit it -- you liked our little ambush."

"Well, you broadened my horizon for sure. One question: Do you think you could hook me up with one of those cloaking screens?"

Another chuckle, this time almost unrestrained. "I... doubt it. I can try, of course but the chances will be slim, even in exchange for the manuals."

"Then I'll need to crank my charm up to eleven. Maybe your Mother will be receptive to some schmoozing."

"Forget it. Your chances with Ezra would be better."

"Before or after she died?"

"Either way."

The amount of scans practically doubled when we neared the fleet. I sent out a few sensor pings of my own and got rewarded for my curiosity. The Seeker ships, the big ones, looked even stranger than the fighter craft. The first one I got a good look at was about the size of Gaia, a disk flying edge-first through space, maybe fifty meters in diameter. Not like the sleek Gray saucers but a literal disk. Or a wheel. A thick, round shape where the exhaust blasts were the only hints as to its direction of travel.

"That's the same model I had used before it got blown up in Unity's Landing," Jenala said. "Not very comfortable, the usable space is just a bit more than your main corridor plus the kitchen. The rest is used up by recyclers, the engines, life support, a small arboretum and avionics. A long-range explorer able to sustain a scout for about four standard years."

"Horribly inefficient design. Why not make the thing larger?"

"Because you'd need bigger engines and beefier systems, negating the gains in usable space."

The Seekers seemed to be very fond of the wheel shape. Their capital ships were comprised of huge wheel-shaped sections, held together by multiple pipe-like connectors, like some kind of malformed crankshaft. The designs seemed to be somewhat modular, because I spotted ships with four, six, or even ten wheels mounted behind each other. The biggest ship, which Jenala had called "Mother's ship," was enormous, easily half the size of San'yas' fortress ship, another wheel-like shape flying through space edge first. Only this one had most of a horseshoe wrapped around its midsection which seemed to house most of the ship's propulsion systems, going by the gigantic energy trails emanating from them.

"How did you get these things off your home world? They look utterly useless in an atmosphere."

"I wasn't even born when the fleet left our home system but the Historia spoke about the orbital shipyards where our colony ships were built," Jenala said. "Please, don't ask too many questions. I want to make sure you'll leave with as little trouble as possible." Her voice was choked by a huge lump in her throat.

We moved closer until finally we were only a few kilometers away from the flagship. The fighter count had tripled and three more of the long-range explorers were on our tail. There was an almost audible crackle as Gaia was constantly scanned. It was obvious the ship before us was old, the hull pockmarked like a small moon with craters and armor plates of different colors. Even though it didn't bristle with obvious weapon ports or gun turrets, it was a menacing, foreboding sight, even out-spooking the Faceless battleship. And the scariest thing about all this? I had no idea why.

"I probably won't get a guide beam, right?"

Jenala shook her head. "Approach and landing have to be done by sight. Wait a moment." She dialed in a radio frequency and fired off a rapid-series litany of words. On my sensor screen, I saw a large hangar door slide open. High-power floodlights came on, offering at least a hint of guidance.

"Tell your girlfriends to give me some space to maneuver. Threading Gaia into the hangar while the flagship is moving isn't trivial."

Jenala snarled into her mic and the onlookers dispersed, giving me enough room to line up Gaia's bulbous front end with the hangar. One last burst of thrust and I slid into the floodlit, cavernous space. The hangar was empty save for tethered boxes of what I guessed were supplies. I extended the landing skids and alighted with minimal fuss. While I powered down the engines, the hangar doors shut. My unease increased tenfold. Why did I suddenly think of ancient tombs?

While I wondered about my instincts screaming at me, Jenala left her station and closed the hood of her flight suit again.

"No atmosphere?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Much like San'yas, we need to conserve resources. Our recycling technology is much more limited than yours. Let me get my souvenirs."

"Sure. Should I bring weapons?" I slid out of the pilot's seat and followed her into the cabin.

"Normally, I would say 'no.' After all, these are my people and they should treat you like an honored guest."

"Don't tell me. You have a bad feeling about all of this?"

"Yes." Jenala avoided eye contact. Another first from her.

I grabbed both plasma rifle and concussion gun and clipped them to their usual resting places on my flight suit. "They'll probably disarm me."

"Most likely but at least you'll send the right message." Jenala put all the little things onto the bed she had collected since we'd met. The purple dildo. The clothing I had made for her. Several bits and bobs she got on Waystation 75, like a few plush Felinoids and a pink and blue bikini. Data chips and a player. The hardcopies of the service manuals.

"Considering I met you wearing only the scorched remains of my robe, I find myself suddenly owning quite a lot of stuff," she said. "You should probably whip up another bag for me."

"Wait a moment." I emptied out Zeeris' bag and stashed both the chip and the braided leather in my nightstand. "Take this. A loan. You can give it back when we leave this place."

Jenala's eyes misted over as she pressed the Zuthrian leather bag against her chest. "Thank you. And give my regards to Zeeris if I can't make it." She piled her possessions into the bag and threw it over her shoulder. "And now I think it's time to meet my sisters."

We left Gaia through the cargo hold, dragging a small repulsor sled behind us which held the two remaining stasis boxes full of sperm. The hangar remained empty but I noticed a camera follow every move we made. The only way out, apart from the gigantic door leading into space, was a wide airlock, big enough for at least five Hercs. It cycled and when the inner doors opened, a squad of ten women awaited us, long, archaic-looking beam rifles trained at me. They looked like the bigger brethren of Jenala's handgun, at the same time beautiful and deadly. But their alien splendor paled in comparison to their wielders. Every single one was a breathtaking beauty, easily two meters tall and built like an Amazon of legend. Jenala's body was nothing to sneeze at but the welcoming committee easily dwarfed her. They were all redheads with green eyes and, apart from minuscule differences in their faces, they looked eerily similar. Not clone-like similar, more like "close relative" similar.

They each wore some kind of armored coveralls and each had some kind of face mask clipped to their belt, with a flexible hose leading to an air tank at their hips.

The leader, the same redhead with close-cropped curls who had spoken to Jenala over comms, shouldered her weapon and rushed Jenala, nearly bowling my companion off her feet. They hugged quickly, with Jenala breaking the embrace.

"You shouldn't. I haven't been to Decon yet."

"Fuck that. Our super-immune system can deal with a few space germs, can't it? I haven't seen you in what? Two years?" The redhead's Galactic Basic was heavily accented, with rolling consonants and strange stressing of the vowels.

"Pointing weapons at my friend is pretty rude," Jenala said. "Please, Broga, tell your platoon to stand down. Sal won't cause any trouble."

The one called Broga did just that. She snapped an order and the weapons were lowered. Not put away, mind you.

"Hi," I said, waving. "Nice to meet you. What happens now?"

Broga left Jenala and walked over to me, sizing me up. "Now, honored guest, you will be brought to Decon where we will wash all the nasty space germs off your body. Afterwards? That depends on Mother and how much Jenala needs to be debriefed."

She picked five of her 'sisters' and barked an order. The redheads surrounded me and walked me through another bulkhead. The inside of the ship reminded me of an old Terran ocean-going ship, with pipes, hoses and control panels lining the walls. Valves hissed and clicked as we went past.

"Where is Jenala going? I thought she needed to visit this Decon too." I said.

One of the redheads, this one with a long, arm-thick braid bouncing off her beautiful butt, shot me a sidelong glance and grumbled something. I had set my comms to 'translator' mode, in the hopes of it maybe learning something, but there had been no matches made yet. Bits of Gray seemed to match Seeker speech on a syllable by syllable basis but I didn't want to push my luck. We stopped at a gateway with thick rubber membranes cushioning the door. The braided redhead put on her breath mask. She looked me up and down then gestured at my guns.

"You want my weapons?" I asked. The translator squawked something in Gray. The redhead raised an eyebrow and said something, slowly.

"Give. Gun," the translator said. "All gun." On the display, several additions were made to the Gray dictionary as more similarities became obvious.

"Sure. Just don't lose them." I was keenly aware of the itchy trigger fingers my escorts had so I made a show of slowly unclipping the weapons and ejecting the power cells. The leader of my escort contingent took them and stashed them on her person before patting me down.

"I have no more weapons," I said, raising my arms. She only stopped when she found the velcros hiding the vac-loc zippers keeping my flight suit airtight. She smiled and said something, eyeing my wrist comms. It didn't react. She wrinkled her forehead then said another word. Her expression was hard to read, with the breath mask covering most of her face.

"Disrobe," the translator supplied.

"Seriously?" I asked.

She stabbed my chest with her gloved fingers and repeated the word. "Disrobe," the translator said.

"Oh well, if you insist," I said, undoing the seals and slipping out of the flight suit. The deck plating was uncomfortably cold. I shivered in my briefs. There was excited muttering around me as the other soldiers put their heads together. Their leader tugged at the elastic of my briefs.

"Disrobe," she said, translator-assisted.

I sighed. "This isn't the best place for xenobiological studies, you know? I'm freezing my-"

Her hand hooked into the elastic and pulled downwards, exposing my cock. There was a chorus of murmurs.

"Fine, I get it," I grumbled, losing my briefs. "Happy now?"

Wordlessly, the redhead who had undressed me tapped a button next to the door. It gurgled open and she made an encouraging gesture.

"Enter," the translator offered. "With great pleasure."

I suspiciously eyed the dimly lit space beyond. It looked like some kind of cell, with a padded bench at one end, a toilet bowl near the door and a lot of stainless steel all around.

"Enter," my hostess said, waving her hand a bit more forcefully. Two others had stopped marveling at my half-mast erection (more a function of the cold than any arousal, despite the gorgeous -- and imposing -- women around me) and raised their guns. I took the hint and entered the cell. The door gurgled shut behind me. Hidden fans fired up and warm air was blown into the space at around ankle height. I noticed a glass dome jutting into the cell from above, surrounded by what looked like shower heads. The floor had drain grates around the edge of the room and I slowly understood. This either was a decontamination chamber -- or a very final solution to any "outside spy" problem. I prayed fervently it was the former.

There was a crackle in a hidden speaker then a gentle voice reached my ear. Of course it was female and she sounded... petite somehow. As if the body housing that voice didn't have the size or mass to generate the pleasant alto notes Jenala and her soldier sisters had in their voices.

"Mister... is that the right form of address? It is? Oh, good. Mister Rios. I am sorry for the communication problems. It would have been easier had Broga escorted you to the decontamination unit instead of Sister Xajani. You have to understand not everyone is fluent in Galactic Basic just yet. Give it a few years and every newly awakened sister will have had a fraction of her hypno training dedicated to this very useful language."

I sat down onto the bench and looked up at the glass dome. A camera eye swiveled and followed every move.

"What happens next?"

"Once your body has had a chance to acclimate, we will begin the decontamination process. It will be two chem sprays and a few hours of low-level radiation therapy to make sure you won't bring any harmful pathogens with you."

"Is this strictly necessary?"

"I'm afraid it is. Mother's protocols are not subject to discussion. Without them, our species would have ceased to exist millennia ago."

"I've overheard Sister Broga talk about your species' 'super-immune' system."

"Which only applies to the Soldier and Scout castes. Rest assured you will be treated like a guest but even guests have to be cleansed before further interaction."

"Who exactly am I talking to?"

"I am Ajura, your presiding physician." A playful giggle. "And I'm tickled pink to see a male alien in the flesh so soon after being promoted to Mother's research assistant." I heard a sharp beep, both over the speaker and directly in my cell.

"One minute until the first cleansing. Please make sure to distribute the solution everywhere on your body. Keep your breathing shallow and eyes closed. It might sting a little. You can leave your wrist-mounted device in a drawer under the bench."

Just freaking great. They were about to shower me with disinfectant. Hooray. I stashed away my comms, stood up and waited for the inevitable. On cue, a shower head began to spew an ugly, grayish-green liquid. It smelled unbelievably sharp. I held my breath and washed myself. The stuff was highly aggressive, a hot tingle everywhere it touched my skin, especially on sensitive areas like my cock and balls.