tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Fate of Terra Ch. 13

The Fate of Terra Ch. 13


Back aboard the Intrepid, Revarjah met him and Kat in the hangar bay when he returned from giving his speech. The Felician looked a little uneasy and Michael had a hunch that watching billions of humans scream for alien blood was making him a tad nervous. "Michael," he called out as they neared. "I watched your address. It was very... inspiring. So much so that my people are demanding that I ask you if they can play some part in the coming battle." He sighed and looked away. "After wearing the chains of our conquerors for so many years, we need a chance at vengeance; to feel pride in ourselves again."

Michael considered the request and then smiled. He clapped Revarjah on the shoulder and told him, "We'll find a place for you yet. This will be our fight, but I'll make sure your people get their chance to shine." The Felician looked relieved at his words and Michael began making plans. He wouldn't let them face warships in the cargo haulers they came in on, but perhaps they could modify the mercenary vessels.

As Kat went off to find Tanya, Michael took a trip to the bridge to see what the Intrepid needed to achieve "ready status." He was curious to see the hatch that led inside secured shut and two armored troopers stationed outside of it. Overriding the lock, he walked into the massive space and smiled. Waving the hatch shut behind him, he slowly walked towards the captain's chair.

Stacey was currently occupying the seat while Aurora was being bounced up and down the length of the younger girl's impressive strap-on. "That's it, you little slut," Stacey told her boss as she grabbed Aurora's flailing boobs viciously and ground the blonde woman down into her lap, bucking her hips wildly to drive her plastic phallus as deep as it would go. "Just like that... I bet you've been craving this all day." Stacey stood and began fucking the captain from behind, holding her hips so she could ram the thick fake appendage into her sopping cunt as hard as she could. "But this is a punishment, so don't you dare enjoy it too much..."

Aurora's thick puffy lips eagerly sucked in the large pink dildo, her pants and gasps becoming more distinct. By how red and raw her pussy looked, he could tell Stacey had been at it for awhile. "And just what does my stunning commander need to be reminded of?" Michael asked as he came up behind them. He reached out a hand and cupped Stacey's ass cheek, probing a finger into her cleft. He sighed in satisfaction, letting her know he really enjoyed the view of her tight tush driving into Aurora's and she proudly picked up the pace even more.

"Oh good... You're here, master," Stacey moaned in a breathy voice. "Please plug her mouth for me? She's been doing nothing, but annoying the crew with it for days now. After she tried to order them into the escape pods for the third emergency drill of the day, I finally cleared the room and 'sat her down' for a little talk."

Aurora made to protest this obviously distorted history of events, but squeaked when she promptly found her mouth plugged by Michael's cock. Threading his hands down to grasp her flopping tits, he located her nipples and began twisting them back and forth, enjoying how the squeals they drew made her throat vibrate against his prick. "Was she really all that bad?" Michael asked as their plaything shuddered through another orgasm.

Stacey's eyes sparkled. "Nah," she admitted, smirking. "I just thought she needed it as badly as I did. And while the drills are getting a bit ridiculous, everyone is worried about the upcoming battle and no one is balking about extra practice. They can tell she's doing it because she cares about them and they love her for it." Aurora had gotten quiet at this last part, humbled to know she still had her crew's support. She guessed she had been acting a bit crazy lately.

Michael hummed in thought. "The invasion didn't really count. This upcoming battle will be our baptism under fire. I think we're all a bit nervous. Still, nothing for it but to prepare as much as we can and hope for the best..." He cupped Aurora's cheek and smiled at her gently. She sighed when she felt him brush her hair back.

He pulled out of her delightful mouth and sat in his chair. Stacey grinned and let Aurora collapse to her knees amidst the aftershocks of her release. She bounced over to Michael and promptly sat in his lap, his member sticking up between her legs. She giggled as she slid to the base of his shaft, leaning against him, and began jerking him off with both hands. "Now I've got two of 'em," she laughed. A wicked gleam came to her eye and she shouted, "Come, slut!"

The captain's head snapped up, her submissive tendencies coming to the forefront. She crawled over to where the couple was reclining in the custom seat welded to the deck. Stacey patted her lap and said with a salacious smile, "Hop on, bitch." Aurora rose and paused as she saw the two things she could use to impale herself on. She threw Stacey a curious look, clearly asking which one she was supposed to use. Her subordinate simply watched her slyly. Aurora's eyes widened as she realized she was expected to use both.

Turning around, she backed into their prospective laps. "I don't think I've had anything that big in my ass befo-" she nervously started to say and was cutoff when Stacey delivered a sharp slap that left a red handprint on her right cheek.

"Did I ask you for your prior work experience?" Stacey rebuked. "You have five seconds... four..." Aurora's eyes widened and she hastily tried to jam the phallus up her rear. She didn't quite make it, but as the young girl pointed out, that just gave them a reason not to go easy on her.

Stacey held Aurora's full breasts while Michael alternated between the captain's hips and his young coordinator's perky tits. Aurora was used completely, neither of them going easy on her and both determined to make it last. For the two on the bottom, it was actually a somewhat relaxing experience, Stacey loving the feel of being sandwiched between two bodies while Michael enjoyed having so many attractive handholds. "We might have to do this when the ship is moving," he chuckled and Aurora gave a squeak of dread, knowing he'd do just that if the mood struck him and damn how many observers happened to be there.

Finally, Aurora sobbed, "No more. Oh... no more, please!" She slumped to the deck, completely over-sensitized; a veritable cloud of steam coming out of her exhausted cunt. Michael unbuckled Stacey's strap-on and started fingering her pussy, enjoying the stretchy tightness and the silky smoothness of her lips. She'd been experimenting with different designs for grooming her hair and it looked like this week was a heart.

As she moaned at his touch, he delivered a sharp slap between her open legs, shooting a spark of electricity that had her squirming in his lap. Lifting her easily, he placed his tip against her opening and slammed her down his length. Stacey's mouth formed an "O" at the suddenness of the intrusion and her eyes actually watered before her hips started moving on their own accord, hungrily accepting his prick.

Michael bucked his hips, driving her closer to release. At last, she cried, "Oh, shit! Ah yes, yes, yeeee-" She squealed suddenly as Aurora's hand snaked out and twisted her clit viciously. Looking down at the older woman, she felt a spark of fear when she saw the cruel intent. Someone was looking for some payback. The captain buried her head in Stacey's lap and began sucking mercilessly on her tender love button.

Stacey whimpered and tried to push her head away, but found that Michael had wrapped his arms around her, still bouncing her lightly on his lap. Stacey moaned in distress and her legs shook. 'Help!' she spoke to Aki in her head.

Curious, Aki gave a questioning response. Stacey provided the image of what was happening and the petite Asian girl laughed. 'Oh, that's just wicked,' came the response. 'I think Rin and I will go do that to Dejah now.'

* * * * *

Michael walked into the packed conference room, the holographic representations of the other commanders lighting up the room. Admiral Johnson gestured at Aurora and Marcus who'd followed him in and remarked, "I thought we'd agreed that only those commanding divisions of our forces would be present for this meeting."

Michael gave an unimpressed grunt of acknowledgment and waved behind him airily. "Meet Admiral Lindström and General Weber. They'll be directing my ships and, should the need arise, borders and repellers. Marcus's back straightened at that. Michael knew he thought of himself as a glorified security chief, but if he was going to be leading Michael's army on alien planets, he'd have to start acting the part.

Aurora piped up, "I'm not an admiral. I only control one ship."

Giving an impatient wave, Michael explained, "The crew on this ship will be directing the general movements of the AI fleet. Therefore, you control all those ships they control... Quit debating semantics."

Aurora made to argue and Michael stepped close and whispered, "Look. I'll be directing our forward units inside a fighter. There's a good chance I'll be killed. If that happens, I need someone with some clout to direct things until I come back." Her eyes widened and she slowly nodded her head in acceptance.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Admiral Johnson exploded. "You can't just create an admiral position on a whim," he blustered, sounding offended at the very idea.

Vice Admiral Song sighed impatiently. "He's a completely separate and sovereign entity. He can do whatever he wants with his military. Now can we move on? I have a feeling the B'Amuf won't accommodate us if they show up and we require more time to prepare," he spoke in impeccable English.

Michael inclined his head and took his seat while Admiral Johnson glared at his subordinate. Vice Admiral Song was, as far as Michael knew, the only person of North Korean descent that had been able to obtain a commission in the Council's military. The winds were changing, but there was still tremendous resentment towards certain countries. Song had placed first in the accelerated academy program the Council had put together for all incoming flag officers needing to get used to space combat, beating out a host of applicants from well-to-do political families. He was a bulldog of a commander whose stubborn determination impressed enough people to give him a chance.

In the Vietnam war, being well connected meant you got to stay home. Nowadays, you were barely respected unless you served in some capacity for Earth's survival. The academy and other similar institutions was working to cut down incompetence like a scythe cuts wheat, but there were still quite a few 'political commanders' slipping through the cracks.

They thought leading a fleet or commanding a vessel was just one more notch on their belts. Everyone fully expected an international senate or representative body of some sort to form soon as the Council was bombarded by problems from every corner of the globe. Politicians were hoping to get a head start on the process. It was simply going to be impossible to serve as a big-name statesman in the future without having been in command of something during Terra's most dire moments.

"And why haven't we moved into position yet? There's less than five hours until the probes say they'll arrive," Admiral Johnson huffed unnecessarily as Pandora had clearly displayed the countdown timer in the center of the table.

Having grown used to dealing with stupid questions from the man the Council had placed in overall command of their forces, the other senior officers prepared to humor him. Michael was nowhere near as patient or understanding. "Just what do you expect the B'Amuf to do when they see us splitting into two parts?" he questioned. "It wouldn't be to widen their lines, by chance? You think they might split their own forces to counter, perhaps?"

Johnson's face turned red and he retorted haughtily, "Well, don't you imagine the plan will suffer if we try and change our position at the last minute?"

"There is no plan if we don't make them commit themselves," Michael gritted.

Not wanting to back down, the admiral gave a derisive snort and said, "I still don't see why we don't simply hide our ships behind Mars and then surprise them."

Having had enough, Michael roared, "Because planets move, you fucking moron, and the position of Mars is nowhere near their planned route of approach!" Admiral Johnson opened and closed his gaping mouth like a fish, his face turning a fascinating shade of red. "No!" Michael shouted, cutting him off. "Just shut the hell up and enjoy the position you obtained from having had senators in your pocket back when you voyaged the seas."

As the admiral made to speak, now fully enraged, Michael cut him off again, "So help me, if you risk the lives of billions by not letting those who actually have a clue take the lead on this, I'll have Pan vent the air in your compartment." The red-faced man's mouth snapped shut, shocked at the threat. Michael waved a hand and Pandora caused Johnson's holographic image to blink out.

Turning to the assembled commanders who all looked stunned, weary, or satisfied, Michael asked, "Questions?"

Unfazed, General Zhukov asked, "What do you have planned for when they cross the asteroid belt?"

"Something that will throw them into disarray, have no doubt," Michael replied with a feral grin. The exchange seemed to open the floodgates and all those commanders in charge of their divisions began clarifying their orders and hammering out last minute changes.

* * * * *

James Merrick sat in his fighter cockpit, waiting for the show to start. He thought back to how he got into this position. He shivered as he remembered how he'd felt during that November afternoon. Reaching rock bottom didn't even come close to describing the hole of depression he'd fallen into... And then he'd jumped.

James recalled waking up in a Type 2 "Roc," the shuttles used by the AI-driven nation. A distinctly feminine, but obviously inhuman voice came through the speakers and told him to remain calm, they'd be docking momentarily. He remembered feeling an irrational fear --given that he'd just tried to kill himself. The voice almost certainly belonged to the infamous Pandora, the artificial intelligence that worked from the shadows to essentially control the world. There was even a church that had been founded in her name.

When he left the shuttle, he was startled to see he was in a hangar bay easily twice the size of the one on his last home, a TDF Dragon-class assault carrier. A massive flag dominated the raised space against one bulkhead. It depicted the Greek goddess of Victory, a sword pointed low in her right hand, an eagle perched atop her left shoulder. She wore a blood red cloak and a revealing black toga of a style worn by mourners. Finally, she was framed by the black feathered wings of a fallen angel.

She had a chilling expression on her face, the artist managing to capture a pain and determination that seemed to reach out and touch his soul. His hand came up instinctively to salute the flag as he came 'aboard.' James heard an amused voice to his left say, "You'll do." Turning, he saw a pretty young girl in a dress uniform wearing black shoulder boards with gold lion heads embossed on them. She held a clipboard and was smiling at him, obviously waiting for his arrival.

Abruptly, she turned and began walking towards a hatch. James hurried to catch up, still trying to figure out what was going on. She led them through another hatch into an area James clearly recognized as a hangout for fighter jocks. The girl turned and handed him a tablet. "Keep it with you at all times. You are assigned a room on Deck -26, not that you'll use it much in the coming weeks."

James made to interrupt, trying to make sense of all this. She ignored him and went on, "You're assigned to Commander Cho's flight group. You'll retain the rank you had in the Terran Defense Force -- minus the court-martial, of course. We tend to take a dim view on incompetence here." He helplessly tried to open his mouth and make something come out. "Cho's good," she said. "He'll lock you in a flight simulator for a few days to get you up to speed and then he'll do it again just to make sure." She sighed. "Questions?"

"Wh- Why me?" he managed to ask. "How?"

She frowned at him. "We like your work. Anyone that's that proficient in killing is too valuable to waste in this day and age. As for how... do you really need to ask?"

Not all that enthused about being praised for his ability to take lives, he opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it again, doubting it was worth the effort. "What about the TDF? I'm still on contract..."

She gave a snort. "You don't need to worry about the paperwork, if that's what you mean. As for your loyalties... You're dead. You're only experiencing this at all because we intervened. You're ours now," she said in a voice that chilled him with its finality. "All you need to concern yourself with is how best to serve Michael." She gave him a piercing look that said there was no other option.

At a loss for how to take that, he finally asked, "Who are you?"

"Stacey Whitmore," she answered with a grin, "main communications officer." She paused. "Used to be Ensign Whitmore, but Michael didn't like the idea of people thinking they could order me around."

James gaped. "What's the daughter of the former president doing giving me a tour?" he asked, shocked that this day could get any stranger.

A sly smirk crossed her features. "My sister has taken an interest in you," she admitted mysteriously. "I feel I should be kept informed." As she walked off, she called over her shoulder, "Welcome to the Intrepid."

James came back to himself as Commander Cho spoke over the radio, "Wake up, people, It looks like the slugs finally decided to grace us with their presence. ETA is twenty minutes according to the probes. Remember, stick to your assigned destroyers. Make sure nothing gets through their line to the capital ships. For the Intrepid!" his last words were echoed back over the radio by all the members of the flight group.

* * * * *

Michael sat in the backseat of the modified fighter, watching the massive B'Amuf fleet appear on his screen. The numbers were staggering, especially when the carriers began spewing attack craft. He let out a relieved breath when he saw they were staying together in a closed formation. "They're entering the trap," Kat observed gleefully from the front seat. Michael smiled at her eagerness. His lover was a bloodthirsty devil that was at home in the killing fields.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at his screen and said, "Pan, what do you make of those strange ships towards the back?"

"I don't know, master. According to the B'Amuf systems I've managed to infiltrate, that is where the commanders reside, but their ships have actually managed to resist me entry," her voice said in an annoyed tone. "There's something about their technology that's decidedly not B'Amuf." Michael felt a prickle of unease as he was faced with the unexpected, but shrugged it off. It didn't really change anything at this point.

* * * * *

The Sensor Manager turned and told the B'Amuf Fleet Master, "We have an alert that popped up about an asteroid storm that will cross our path in three sveds."

The Fleet Master glanced down at his readout. "That is when we'll be traversing a known asteroid belt. The storm has been recorded and accounted for. Can we blast it to dust and still maintain our approach speed?"

The Sensor Manager looked doubtful. "Some of the rocks are a good eight or nine tregs in length. We might be able to get them all in a single barrage if we lined our ships up... but in this formation?" he made a negative gesture. "It's not very likely."

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