The Pasture in Space - Revolution

The two ran after, following the young alien into the last pasture of Epsilon 7.

22

Pasture 13 turned on its inhabitants. The purgatory created by the constant stream of pleasure switched into the darkest depths of perdition. The clatter of human cows against their restraints, their bleating through their nozzles, the agony she knew they now experienced, sunk into the pit of Violet Nall's stomach.

She knew the Overseer rerouted the power to essential functions. The vibrations, the flow of chemicals, even the lights; all of it had been redirected toward maintaining the shields and turrets the telekinetic alien easily overcame. Those still able to move, their muscles not completely atrophied, tore at the restraints, acting in the same manner as they had when first introduced to the machine. The unimaginable pain, the torment, all beyond her control.

They had to press on. Again, the hybrid forced her way through the locked door, hurling the frame into the side of the wall into the corridor. Tarran followed, barging into the hallway without a care or caution for her own safety. She reared up on her hind legs, turning to see the corridor crawling with armed guards, running to ward off the attack.

They paused, completely stunned by the appearance of this gorgeous otherworldly alien in their midst. The soldiers seemed overwhelmed with an awkward unsurity, not knowing what to make of this new development. They hesitated, waiting for a command that never came.

One soldier managed to discharge his weapon.

Only to watch as the bolt disappeared into an invisible shield around Tarran.

The others followed suit, firing at the alien woman, to no avail. Tarran wheeled around on them, needing only the twist of her head to snap the neck of the nearest man. One by one, the soldiers dropped, the rate of fire decreasing from desertion. The men, watching those standing in front of them fall lifelessly one by one, did not simply stand waiting for a similar fate.

They ran, first as isolated individuals, then en masse.

Pursued by the naked centaur woman.

"We need to get to the Overseer's Chambers," Violet screamed over the commotion.

A few were still firing, shooting back in desperation as they ran down the hallway.

"We will," Gwendolyn said, not understanding.

"No! Now!" Violet yelled. "Tycho will overcharge the engines."

"What?"

"He can blow the whole thing from the core."

As if to signal what was about to happen, the overhead lights shut down, plunging the corridor into darkness. An alarm began to blare, the screeching sound rattling around Gwendolyn's head.

"Can you get us there?" Gwendolyn yelled.

"We need to hurry," Violet said. "If he's going to create a big enough surge, he can't maintain the lockdown. But we don't have much time."

"Lead the way," Gwendolyn said.

"What about her?"

"Tarran can take care of herself," Gwendolyn said.

"Yeah, but what about us?" Violet said, almost to herself.

She gripped the blaster tightly in one hand, leading Gwendolyn in the opposite direction of the chaos, towards Tycho and their destiny.

*****

"This way," Violet said, leading through the near pitch black hallway.

She craned her neck around the corner, hunching over as the pair crawled towards the center of the defunct ship. What was once the bridge had been turned into a private chamber where the Overseer both resided and conducted business with his council.

In distant parts of the hub, Tarran continued cleaving through the last vestige of resistance. Screams echoed throughout the colony, men rushed in every direction, some even taking their chances outside the airlock against the tentacles. A miasma of terror descended on the male population and resistance against the avenging angel nearly evaporated. Those who dared stand against her, who drew their weapon in a self-defensive reflex, were wrought asunder, culled, and reaped by an almighty and otherwordly harvester.

And every man, fleeing for their lives, would have run in the opposite direction of their former master. Despite not knowing the reason for the ravaging of their home, ingrained in each farmhand and soldier lived a longstanding fear of the Overseer, who would likely kill them for desertion. Given this primal need for survival, Gwendolyn and Violet were able to advance with relatively little resistance, only needing to duck down and hide long enough for the fleeing men to make their escape.

Standing nervously outside the chamber remained one last guard, scanning the hallway. Seeing movement, with orders to shoot anything approaching, he squeezed the trigger frantically. Violet shoved Gwendolyn down by the hair, the closest shot in the dark searing through the back of her uniform, leaving a large burn on her skin. She held her body over the small naked girl, pulling them both back around the corner as the blind gunfire extended over their heads.

Briefly, their approach was illuminated in a hail of energy bolts. A well-placed shot struck the side of the wall, only centimeters away from Violet's face when she tried to peak out to place a return volley. She took a deep breath, all too aware of how close they had come to eternity. She moved her hand, trying to feint an approach, the motion again causing the soldier to fill the corridor with blind gunfire directed at the only possible route.

Violet ducked down, sinking to her knees, holding Gwendolyn back. She pivoted, exposing herself to take a shot. She missed, illuminating her position. She went to thumb the contact again, only to be rocked back with a blast from the gun.

She went down, crumpling to the ground, her hand still clutched around the pistol.

It was all Gwendolyn could do to keep herself from screaming as she watched her lover gunned down in front of her.

The man lowered his weapon, moving a few feet closer to approach the body sprawled out in the prone position. He aimed at the ground, determined to eliminate the threat without wasting more rounds from his already depleted energy pack.

Only she sensed his approach.

Rolling over, Violet shot, this time hitting the man square in the chest. He stood for a second, giving the wounded woman the chance to make contact again. The second blast blew a hole clean through his abdomen.

"Are you okay?" Gwendolyn said, rushing towards her.

"Fine, considering I was shot," Violet said, her left arm hanging limply at her side. "Let's go."

Violet hit the door's control. It didn't respond. In a rage, Violet slammed the butt of the pistol on the contact. It refused to open. She tried again, and again.

"Fuck! Fuck!" She screamed as she pounded against the controls.

And with the power failing, the lockdown protocol gave out, the door creaked open slowly, then stopped midway, allowing Violet to squeeze through.

*****

Gwendolyn barely recognized the Overseer's Chamber from the trial, this time actually able to notice the area. Spacious, ornate, it had been sectioned off, with plastisteel walls that provided a bare minimum of privacy, separating state and personal business. Even as the lights in the last room flickered on and off, the amount of lavish decor couldn't help but impress her.

On the walls, hung pieces of genuine art, landscapes, statues, even a model of the original ship, all worn, bearing rust or other signs of decay. The floor had been covered in various discolored and mismatched threadbare rugs and carpet, clearly pulled up from every other section of the ship. It was a display of dilapidated opulence, the discarded and corrupted treasures from a forgotten age. Even so, it was more culture and creativity than Gwendolyn had seen outside of the memories of foreign humans.

Violet pushed her way forward past one of the plastisteel partitions, leveling her blaster at the man sitting behind the command console. Tycho held his blaster loosely in one hand, his eyes fixated on the screen.

The overseer's eyes widened, his grip tightening as he brought the blaster to bear. He managed to squeeze the contact twice, shooting wildly, the energy blasts crashing over her head, against the side of the wall. He steadied himself, training the weapon on Violet, his thumb moving frantically for the contact.

Violet's shot struck him through the right eye.

The overseer slumped back in his seat, his expression immediately vacant, the immediate threat prevented. Walking hurriedly behind the desk, Violet shoved the corpse from the chair, letting the lifeless body fall on the floor in front of her. Expressionless, she punched several keys on the consoles.

The siren stopped, the lights flicked on and off as power slowly retuned.

"How did you know what to do?" Gwendolyn asked.

"Long ago, I used my body to extract every secret from the previous Overseer," Violet said.

"Oh.. right," Gwendolyn said.

"Try not to be jealous," Violet said.

"I'm not," Gwendolyn said. "Trust me, I have things to tell you."

"That can wait," Violet said, striking a few keys to activate the speakers scattered throughout the ship. Her voice boomed through the internal microphone.

"Attention Epsilon 7..."

23

"It will be a brutal transition," Violet said.

"What else would you suggest?" Gwendolyn almost snapped.

The past few cycles had been a whirlwind of activity, with little time to discuss anything in depth other than the immediate needs of the colony. With those addressed for the moment, the younger woman immediately pushed to her next priority.

"I didn't say we shouldn't do it," the older woman said slowly. "But love, I want you to be prepared. Some of them will never walk again. Worse, some minds will be gone."

"I know," Gwendolyn sighed. "But we did this. We have to try to make things right."

The pair stood in front of a busty redhead, Annabelle - Astra as she was once known. Violet wore the traditional uniform, but Gwendolyn continued walking around the ruined ship completely naked, unashamed, almost as if her experience in the cave transcended part of what defined regular humanity on Epsilon 7.

The machines were powered again, pumping the phallic devices in and out of every orifice, but the milk flow had been halted. Violet stood next to Gwendolyn, one arm still in a sling. Her newfound psychic abilities repaired most of the tissue damage, but the arm still needed rest and time.

Even with Tarran, there were limits. In the days after the battle, Gwendolyn had barely seen her daughter. The hybrid rested in a state of almost hibernation, waking only to gulp down a nutrient rich substance created from one of Antonella tentacles.

There had been chaos at first, even as Violet Nall stepped into a position of authority. Though it might have seemed natural for Gwendolyn to rule, Violet simply knew more about the functional apparatus of the colony. Besides this, Gwendnolyn had ascended to a semi-divine status. An invisible aurora radiated from her naked, pixie-like body.

Although she never used her powers to cause it, reverence existed for her. Rumors spread of her resurrection. Male survivors embellished their harrowing tale, claiming to have seen her riding the tentacle monster, commanding it in battle. Where she walked, members of the colony averted their eyes. When she spoke, women and men fell to their knees, spilling out their gratitude or begging for their lives.

So it fell to Violet to issue orders in Gwendolyn's name, the only person who could comfortably talk with their savior to address the many issues of transition. There was the question of what to do with the men who threw down their blasters, workers and guards who only days before contributed to the rampant rape culture developed in the centuries of the colony. At first, they were put to task cleaning up the corpses, which piled up outside in a large stack of gore, waiting to be disintegrated in one energy saving blast.

Then there was the female inhabitants. The milk maids, excluding the traitor, were the best suited to act as guards. Once shown how to operate the blasters, the women had no trouble with the men, who obeyed every order, afraid that at any moment one of the monsters would return. In an act of magnaminty, Violet spared Rigel, but stripped her of any special status in front of her peers, making her perform the same grueling labors alongside the men.

More challenging was what to do with the rest of the female inhabitants.

Gwendolyn did her best to heal the fifteen service units rescued, though both their physical and psychological scars would take time. Much of it was still beyond her power. Her bond with Tarran, who communicated with her ceaselessly during the gestation, allowed both to fine-tune their abilities. Even so, Gwendolyn depended largely on touch and could drain her powers easily if given too great a task.

The breeders were largely allowed to remained the same, only now free from unwanted sexual attention from the ruling caste. Many were pregnant, unable to help with the survival of the colony. This stretched the milk maids thin, leaving six at a time to guard over a hundred men in twelve hour shifts.

Thankfully, the most senior milk maid, Elara stepped up into a greater role as a capable lieutenant. Though Violet continually worried about a counter-revolution, fear kept order, allowing her and Gwendolyn to work on the rehabilitation of the rest. It was a tiring, draining work, only possible by the newfound enthusiasm for their lives.

"We have to be careful," Violet warned. "I know you want to, but we can't just release every hucow at once. We don't have the manpower to care for them all."

"I know," Gwendolyn said. "Just... let me start with her."

She touched Astra's skin, soothing her, willing her mind to perform its supernatural task. As Violet adjusted the v-screen, slowing the vibrations, Astra began to awake. Her eyes open to a state of hermetic understanding. Before Gwendolyn could remove the tubes, she violently trashed against them, trying to escape with every milliliter of willpower. She would have hurt herself without the constant reassuring of Gwendolyn's mental abilities.

The tubes exited her body, then Violet released the restraints. Weakly, Astra fell into Gwendolyn's arms. With one arm, Violet helped lower the girl onto the ground. Astra's legs spasmed weakly, her body moving unrestrained for the first time in nearly a rotation. Her eyes fluttered, her mouth gasping for air, unused to breathing without the nozzle inserted in her mouth. She looked up at Gwendolyn, her tremendous breasts heaving with every frantic breath.

Gwendolyn stroked her hair, soothing the poor girl as her senses began the slow process of restoration. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, only to let a creaking gurgle escape. Astra tried again, her thighs slowly spreading out, revealing the desperately dripping sex throbbing between those long, nearly useless legs.

"Please..."

The words were barely more than a whisper.

"Cum..."

Gwendolyn understood. After being deprived for so long, her body continually ratcheted up to the point of climax, there was nothing else Astra needed right now. Her fingers reached down, delicately touching the engorged nub of the girl's clitoris. It was almost too much. Freed from the complete domination of the insidious machines, the warm feel of her fingertips created a foreign sensation, an extra thrill that made her want to close her legs and squirm.

Only Astra could not move. She didn't have the energy. Her legs went limp, her body barely reacting as Gwendolyn danced her fingers around the hucow's tender vagina. The release came without the usual reaction, her climax only visible through the rapid fluttering of her eyelids and the increased rapidity of her breath. Instinctively, Gwendolyn knew to stop, returning her hand to stroke the fiery red hair.

Her building climax finally reached, Astra went into a deep sleep.

24

Violet sat at Tycho's desk, pouring over her v-screen.

"There's a simple practical problem with what you want to do," She said. "We simply don't have enough people for you to nurse every hucow back to health."

"I know," Gwendolyn said. "It's too much even for Tarran to do alone."

"At least you're hearing the problem," Violet said. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I keep coming back to the cold reality. We are wasting resources. If we keep - "

"Don't say it," Gwendolyn said curtly.

"I have to," Violet's brow furrowed. "The most humane option for those too far gone is euthanisia."

"We can't," Gwendolyn said. "I won't."

"Then we select the most viable ones, the girls with the best chance of rehabilitating. The others... we have to keep on the machines. It would be cruel not to. You saw what happened to your friend, and she is relatively fresh."

"You mean to pick and chose..." Gwendolyn could not believe Violet's callousness, even despite their victory. "Who lives and who stays strapped to the machines."

Violet held Gwendolyn by the wrist, her hand squeezing tightly, trying to reassure her.

"I don't want the universe to be this way," Violet said. "But there is the brutal realities of survival. Give me another option."

"I have an idea," Gwendolyn said. "I'm not sure if it will work."

"Tell me..."

"You have to trust me," Gwendolyn said. "More importantly, can the colony continue for a few cycles without us?"

Violet shrugged.

"As long as there isn't a major emergency, Elara can run things," Violet said. "Tell me what you have in mind?"

"I'll have to show you," Gwendolyn said. "Besides, there is someone I think you should meet."

"You can't mean..."

"Trust me."

*****

Unlike her first stay, the cave now let in the light from the nearby star. The pathways Thonon once created from the surface had been unearthed again. As they descended into the antechamber, both women could now see the ancient ship, resting at the beginning of the chamber. Time weathered the once shimmering flying saucer, dirt and dust clinging to the exterior, making the ancient machine look almost like a boulder but for the few specks of the metal shining through in the sunlight.

You return!

Antonella beamed with delight.

"Of course," Gwendolyn said. "How is our child?"

Slumbering. She will need nourishment for some time. Your task strained her abilities. Eager as she was to please.

"She did wonderful," Gwendolyn said.

"Who are you talking to?" Violet said.

"Antonella," Gwendnolyn said. "The creature..."

Violet looked down, mesmerized at first by the starship, now seeing the pulsing tentacles buried underneath the ground in front of them. She let out a gasp of terror, her hand reflexibly reaching for the holster of her blaster. Gwendolyn grabbed her arm, leading her forward, to the brightly shining egg shape center of the monster.

"It's okay," Gwendolyn said. "You don't know Antonella. But I guess you could call it Tarran's father."

"I know what you told me..." Violet said slowly. "But I guess it's still hard to wrap my head around. The monster..."

"It's not a monster. For centuries, it was only trying to breed," Gwendolyn explained. "It needed someone who could connect with it telepathically. I do not know if your abilities are advanced enough, but Antonella will be able to tell."

Violet tried to control herself, fighting the revolting horror as the tentacles moved forward, nearing her head.

"It's okay," Gwendolyn said. "It won't hurt you. We are partners."

"You can talk to it?" Violet said.

"I had to touch it first," Gwendolyn said. "Antonella helped me develop so much. But if you can't, I understand."

"No..." Violet said. "Let's do it."