Stranger Things on Heaven and Earth

The SDF admiral spluttered. "I...why...you...insolent whelp!"

"You. Shall. BE. EXTERMINATED!"

The new voice was a Dalek one -- but deeper and more resonant.

I looked at Twi. "Can you tell where that signal is coming from?"

"Yessss," Twi hissed, her eyes closing. Her hair was standing on end, now, flaring around her head. A crackling corona of pale purple energy strobed as she drew on the raw power of the Warp. I gulped and hoped that Twilight Sparkle's magical talents would translate to psychic ones. If they did, then any daemon out there wouldn't know what hit them.

"Ah, there the bugger is," Tracer purred, her voice almost aroused. The HUD that displayed on the crystalline cockpit's forward window flared and circled around a Dalek ship that looked larger than the others. The Dalek mothership, holding the Dalek emperor -- the single lifeform that all other Daleks were bred from. And here, we see why Holy Terra wasn't used as a battleship. Seriously, guys.

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINAAAAATE!" The Dalek Emperor screeched at us as their capital ships swung around -- moving into a formation that would let them saturate the space around our dinky little fighter with death rays and missiles. Those missiles were already launching and rocketing towards us.

I slowly put my feet off the console.

Leaned forward.

And grinned.

"I believe it's pronounced...exterminatus."

I flicked a human toggle that had been literally bolted into the wraithbone, in a way that would leave both Eldar and tech-priests screeching in horror and wanting to cut my head off. The signal was transmitted to the vortex torpedoes slung under the wing and the Darkstar shuddered as each one rocketed offwards. They shot forward and were almost immediately met by dozens of death-rays. The beams struck the missiles...and the missiles vanished.

And appeared elsewhere, still on course. The death-rays retargeted, and again, the missiles blinked away.

"What the hell?" Tracer whispered.

I had my feet back up on the dash. "I said maximum heresy. They have blink shields on them. Like, uh, Amberley Vail's, from the Ciaphas Cain books. Man, if only she were here. I think she'd get a kick out of this ship. Before she tried to kill us."

The vortex bombs struck the center of the Dalek formation. For a moment, there was nothing. Then the entire center of the Dalek fleet was consumed by a great, swirling vortex of purple-white energy. No, wait, it was four swirling vortexes, their edges meeting and merging and creating a greater and greater cloud of raw chaos. Lightning bolts the length of gas giants reached out and struck ship after ship, lancing through hulls as if they were butter. Ships exploded and swarms of Daleks were sucked inwards, like they were being yanked into a swirling drain. The vortexes roared in silent fury for about fifty seconds before their instabilities caused them to snap shut. If they had been on the surface of a planet, they would have been sustained by the energies of raw matter being consumed by the warp for months.

Long enough to wipe the planet out nicely.

As it was, the Daleks went from numerically superior to a shattered fraction in a few seconds.

Unfortunately, shattered fragments of a Dalek warfleet was still, like, several hundred very very very pissed off Daleks rushing right at our teeny tiny ship.

"What's the plan now, Rogue Trader?" Tracer asked with a cheery grin.

"We run," I said, beaming at her. "Right at the Harbinger."

"I..." Tracer shook her head. "I think I'm in love."

And then we were off, trailed by a swarm of angry Daleks, trailed by the Normandy herself. We hit the edge of the recursion and exploded past the Harbinger, whose turbolasers filled the air around us. Tracer may have accidentally shot their engines to shit as she corkscrewed past them. The Harbinger slewed slowly to the side, smoke pouring from their rear. That meant they were in exactly the wrong position when the Daleks swarmed out, screeching their fury across every known communication system the various galaxies had ever seen.

The Normandy, returned to her classic Mass Effect shape, shot past them. Tracer slewed us to the side and we were literally scooped into the cargo bay, which shut tight. I sagged as Tracer leaped to her feet and slammed her palms into my shoulder, laughing as the airlock door to the Darkstar's bridge opened and Festina, Verse, Bobbie and Tali ran aboard.

Festina's face shone with a kind of excited sheen as she grinned at us. "Holy fuck," she said. "I thought we were all going Oh Shit there for a few seconds."

Verse punched my shoulder as I turned to face the group. This knocked my hat off and almost pitched me onto my ass. Fortunately, my fancy Rogue Trader duds responded to the blow as if it were an assassination attempt and hidden armor-plates tightened and slotted into position, preventing bones from being broken.

Tali -- who looked bouncy as hell in her normal body -- looked around herself, laughing. "This is much better than the Mako."

"Hey..." I groaned, rubbing my shoulder. "Am I the only one who liked the Mako?"

"Yes!" Literally every single person on the Darkstar said at the exact same time.

As we walked off the Darkstar and onto the cargo hold, I breathed a slow sigh of relief out. But there was one last little tiny detail that I had to deal with. I looked around the cargo hold and saw Festina shaking her head as she walked up to flank me to the bridge. I turned to face her, then drew my stormbolter. A stormbolter is, basically, the idea that if one bolter is a great idea, two bolters stuck together is even better. And if you don't know, a bolter is a minaturized, fully automatic armor piercing rocket propelled grenade launcher. It was used as a backup sidearm when you didn't want to use the big guns.

The 40k universe. It...does not fuck around.

Festina froze, her eyes widening as she looked at me.

"Do not move."

Festina, if it were possible, froze even more.

I aimed the gun right at her -- the rest of the group standing stock still. Save for Verse. She was looking like she had front row seats to the best fucking show in the fucking universes. She was practically holding a bag of popcorn.

"I think," I said, trying to keep my face perfectly set in a rakish, Jack Sparrowish grin. "I should be the Captain. So...why don't you...DUCK!"

Festina flung herself flat.

And I pulled down the trigger. The stormbolter roared and filled the air behind Festina. A bunch of bolts hit the far wall and exploded. But way more of them hit a ripply shadow that had been really obvious...if you had an cybernetically implanted auspex array that was designed to pick up stealth fields. Those bolts tore into chiten and muscle and bone and sinew and a screech -- a wail, really -- exploded from the air as the Shadow that had been dogging us for the past day was torn to tiny, bloody chunks.

I lowered my pistol.

Breathed out.

"W...Ve're gonna have to get zat painted over," I said, pointing at the far wall.

It was the worst Londo Mollari impersonation ever. But I did not care.

***

Otto pursed his lips as he looked at the bright, red painted Dalek that sat in on the bridge of the Harbinger. Next to the Dalek stood Hassov and Hassov's superior, the Shiplord Straha. Next to Straha stood the surviving head of the Sith Assassins who had served Lord Sion so faithfully -- her mask covered her face, but her attentiveness was clear. And finally, completing the circle, was Mr. Mordin. Mr. Mordin looked slightly ruffled. Which, for him, was essentially on par with being smeared in dung and lit on fire.

"So," Otto said, enjoying the way Mordin was squirming. "What now?"

"My associates have brought us together," Mr. Mordin said. "Because they believe that we can get the three artifacts. Now, this may seem like a setback, but..." He smiled. "Chaos and change is the only universal constant. We have been put through a trial, and shall emerge stronger. With...new allies." He looked at the Dalek.

Dalek Supreme regarded him with the flat, pittiless gaze of a machine. It whirred and screeched. "We. Are. Not. ALLIES. You will be EXTERMINATED." The pause was infinitesimal. Otto couldn't help himself. He glanced out of the bridge at the immense Shadow battleship that floated outside of the Harbinger. The huge, crab-like ship had vaporized half the surviving Daleks with a single, scything sweep of its immense molecular cutter beam. That had been what forced this...

Alliance.

Otto smirked. He knew such alliances well. They worked, so long as he had the biggest stick. But as that stick was in Mordin's hands, he...well...

He had plans.

"Later," the Dalek finished, somewhat lamely.

"Of course," Mr. Mordin said, smiling. "Now, since direct confrontation with the Normandy has been proven to fail, I suggest we look for more..." he paused. "Indirect means."

Otto grinned.

***

Tali and Twilight sat down in the briefing room and looked like they were practically ready to vibrate out of their clothes with excitement. I had changed into the simplest part of my 40k outfit -- which was the underclothes, which served as a kind of personal armor. Over that, I wore a jeans and a tank top. I noticed that my body had also been, um, improved in more ways than just a few sneaky bits of cybernetics. I had the body of a Rogue Trader. Years of harsh physical workouts and martial training from my Dynasty's tutors and trainers. Kinda like Paul Atredies from Dune.

So, basically, I was ripped. And had weird, subconscious understanding of stuff. Stuff like, say, stabbing people so they would die.

It was kind of unsettling.

"Okay," Tali said. "We were wrong. This is not a reality seed. It's something much more interesting."

"It's the first third of an admin code!" Twilight squealed. "Okay, so, if you imagine the Strange like a huge computer, which it kind of is, this is basically the first part of a password that gives anyone who holds it access to editing capacity."

"What does that mean?" Verse asked. "I barely understand what the fuck a computer is."

"With this," Twilight said, putting her finger on the glowing credit card that represented the reality seed. Since, well, it had come from my world. Which, hey, I was just glad it wasn't, like, a pair of fucking siblings. Ugh. "With this," Twilight said again. "You could build a world. Change a world's rules. Alter your own translation to fit anything you wanted. You could become a god within the Strange. And if you had a stable, physical portal to Earth...you could become a god on Earth. Earth Prime."

Festina groaned, leaning her elbows on the table. "Why is it always fucking godhood? Can't anyone be happy just being a fucking human fucking being?" She scowled. "Or, you know, whatever the fuck they are?"

"I've become an Alicorn," Twilight said. "It's a huge weight. Most people just see the fancy parties, but they don't think about all the nasty responsibilities."

Verse snorted. "I saw the Fatebinder-" she said, referring to the main character from her game. I suddenly was filled with curiosity about how that worked. Like, she came from a world where the main character could be a huge range of potential "people" based off how a player controlled them. How the fuck did that work in her recursion? "-go from, well, a Fatebinder to an Archon." She paused. "It looked like fucking fun. She was getting laid so fucking often..."

Bobbie shook her head. "It's just the protomolecule again." She sighed. "If there was a sun here, I'd say shoot the fucker into it."

Festina lifted her hand. Bobbie and her fist bumped.

"Well, there isn't," Tali said, quietly. "It's got a non-deletion clause in it. You could chuck this thing into a black hole and the Strange would just rebuild it from the Hawking emissions."

"Balls," Festina muttered.

"Could an admin delete it?" I asked, curiously.

There was silence.

"I...suppose they could," Twilight said.

"Honestly, it'd be more weird if they couldn't," Tali said, nodding.

"Then that's what we do!" I said, springing to my feet, slapping my palms onto the table top. "We find the rest of the keys, we build the admin, and we fucking delete the thing."

The others considered.

"Sounds good," Festina said, nodding slowly. "Well. Good might be overstating it, considering we have the whole fucking Strange to hunt for it, and every bad guy in every single work of fiction that humanity has ever written wants to get their grubby hands on it." She grinned. "But it's a fuck of a lot better than pissing and moaning."

"Where do we go next?" Verse asked.

"That's easy," Twi said, cheerfully. "Since we have the first part of the code, we just need to ping it and follow it to the next recursion. The only downside is, uh, once we're in the recursion, the rules of that universe will apply. If we luck out and it has a panopticon or some kind of scrying magic, we'll be able to find it lickety fast. But if not..." She shrugged.

The others nodded and Festina sighed. "Lets all get some rest. God knows, we all need it." She paused. "Also, Tracer, how long are you gonna rock the elf ears?"

Tracer, who had been rubbing a finger gently along her ear-tip, grinned. "Dunno, Admiral. I think they look pretty kickin' on me." Her voice became dark. "Better n' a maid outfit."

"That's..." I started to say 'debatable', but shut up before half the table could kill me.

***

I was walking to my room when Tracer literally zipped up beside me, grabbed me by the nape of my neck, and shoved me inside before I could so much as open my mouth. My back slammed into the wall and Tracer pressed herself up against me as the door hissed shut. IN the pale blue lights of the room, her face was shadowed and her eyes looked like deep pools of warm brown. Her voice was soft and coy and husky and playful and sent shivers along my spine.

"Malik. Do you know...that Eldar ears are erogenous zones?"

I gulped. "N-No."

"Malik." She purred, her breath hot on my face. "Did you know that...Eldar...are passionate?"

I gulped again. "W-Well, they fucked a dark god into existence, I kinda...uh..."

Tracer had taken hold of her tank top and was almost literally tearing it off herself as she whispered. "Ever since I translated with you cockier than a Bobbie with a badge, I've been thinkin' of one thing and that's how you taste." She dropped her tank top and the harness that she wore -- which contained her temporal stabilizer. I hoped she didn't need that literally on her to keep her moored in time. Then Tracer distracted me from such petty questions by leaning in and sliding her tongue along my neck, up my jaw, to my ear. Her voice was a loud burr in my ear, erotic enough to make my toes curl in delight. "Delicious, mon'keigh. Delicious."

I grabbed onto her slender hips, slid my hands up along the small of her back, dragged her in and let my instincts kick on and it was like kissing a wildcat. Her sharp canines pricked at my lower lips and her tongue didn't explore my mouth so much as spar with mine. My hands went from the small of her back to her small, peach sized breasts, squeezing her. She didn't wear a bra, and apparently, her nipples were connected right to her cunny, because just caressing them made her break off the kiss to moan in pleasure.

This Tracer, I remembered, didn't exactly come from Overwatch. She came from Overbutts.

There was a difference.

Tracer leaped up and locked her legs around my hips. I obliged her by grabbing onto her back, holding her up as she kissed me with a wild hunger. Her breasts mashed against my chest and, for a few seconds, I worried that this counted as cheating on Twilight Sparkle. But, deep in my brain, a part of me purred: Well, hey. Twi cheated on Flash Sentry. And, shit, Tracer is cheating on Emily. My hands cupped and squeezed her ass, then slid to her shoulders as she broke her kiss, gasping quietly.

"Fucking hell," she breathed. "Is that a lasgun down your pants, or...mm...hell..." She rocked her hips, grinding against my bulge. Once again, I felt about ten feet tall.

I pushed Tracer back and soon, she was pinned between my athletic body and the wall. Her shoulders flexed as she arched her back, so that her pussy was nearly flush against my bulge. With her pinned, I managed to get a hand free enough to shove my leggings down. That left just my under-armor. Which, fortunately, was designed for a nobleman in the Imperium. And if there was anything that a nobleman in the Imperium had in common with an 18 year old high schooler from a smut-dimension?

They all wanted to get their dicks wet at maximum speed.

My armor opened and my cock sprang free, slapping against Tracer's cute, amazingly bubbly butt. Her eyes narrowed to eager slits and I swore I saw the tips of her eldar ears twitching up, as if she couldn't contain her excitement. I felt that same instinct that had taken over with Twilight. I rocked my hips back, and then sawed them upwards, sliding every inch of my rock hard cock against Tracer's completely hairless pussy. She was so slick and so hot and so very smooth. It was...very different from grinding against Tabby. I gulped slowly as I half closed my eyes, focusing on that delicious smoothness.

"Mmm, stop teasing me!" Tracer's words started as playful, then rapidly became more and more desperate as I ground my cock backwards and slipped the tip of my cock against her sex. She spread for me and I felt a shudder rocking through her lithe, Eldar body. I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to cold metal, which let my mouth and my tongue get right against her eartip. Tracer turned her head to the side and moaned with a wanton eagerness that made me wonder about the sound dampening qualities of the small chamber.

Then I forgot all of it by sliding up to my balls into her Eldar pussy.

And it was true, what they say.

Once you fuck an Eldar, holy shit, you never want to stop.

Wait, no one said that. They should have, though, cause it was fucking true.

"Oh Malik," Tracer groaned, low in her throat. I grabbed onto her knees, my palms slapping against her skin. I spread her legs wider and practically pinned her knees against the wall. She was spread before me, and I started to take her. There was no other word for it. Every thrust was deep and hard and set my balls slapping against her pert butt, making it jiggle deliciously as I plowed into her xeno sex. Tracer's moans went from passionate to animalistic as she bucked her hips against me, her eyes closing to slits. "Oh yes! Yes! Gods yes!" She gasped out the words as I licked her ear from base to tip, swirling my tongue around that tip like it was a nipple. This set off something like fireworks inside of Tracer. She rocked against me and her sex started to stroke my dick with fluttering orgasms. I plowed into her deeper still and Tracer leaned her head forward and sank her teeth into my shoulders.

My balls, tingling as if they had been plugged into an electrical outlet, surged with cum and I didn't even try to hold back. I merely thrust in so deep that I was sure that something was bruising on both of us and let myself go. My knees locked to keep myself from collapsing as I painted the inside of Tracer's womb with my cum. It...was fucked up, but...I fucking loved the fact I was here, balls deep inside of a girl who was canonically a lesbian, and...having her. I shuddered and wallowed in that dark pleasure for what felt like an eternity.