Pilot 01: A Saucerful of Secrets


I have kept up with the development of Earth's cultures, even watched some of your television programs. The Scnrgsis maintained a small observational outpost on the dark side of the moon that fed all information gathered into the galactic information network. I even got hooked on some of your admittedly hilarious SF-programs, like Star Trek. Contacting the lunar station would be our first priority. I had a short range communicator in my emergency kit, but its range was just under the distance to the moon, designed predominantly for communication with Emma when being in orbit. I had a device sending out a long range distress beacon also, but due to the current volatile situation on the front line, this might as well have attracted the Pret to my location, and therefore Earth. And believe me no-one would want the Pret here.

I gathered a small bag of rough diamonds from Chetna IV, which were actually as common as pebbles there, but might serve me well to get what I would need down here. I climbed through the half-jammed door to the generator room, where Emma's hand was crawling around conduits to fix the problem that was causing the energy loss, her marvellous behind and perfect pussy beckoning me for a last kiss good-bye.

"Emma, I am leaving through hatch four. I hope you'll fix yourself, sweetie. But if you don't, transfer all tactical data to your hand and follow me. You might want to put on some clothes though to avoid complications. We stay in touch. It pains me to see you hurt so badly. Come kiss me darling."

Emma's hand backtracked from the conduit for a brief hug and kiss.

"Good-bye Jon. I will do as you instructed me to. Hurry now. There will be spectators here shortly. Use the deflector."

I grabbed her sweet buttocks one last time and hurried to hatch four, where Emma opened the field just long enough for me to pass. I used the antigrav unit of my flight-suit to get out of the ship and hovered above it to assess the damage. It looked bad, very bad. I couldn't see what happened to the front section, as it was buried deeply into the African soil, but the tail had been badly damaged by the Pret's weaponry. However, Emma's self-healing capabilities had surprised me on several occasions before, so I didn't want to write her off just yet. I switched on the deflector, which made me invisible to the naked eye and flew out of the crater. Your scanning equipment was much too primitive to spot my emissions. Fortunately, we hadn't hit any human habitation. To be able to hide and mingle, I would have to locate any such though. My portable information system showed me that there was one roughly forty miles south. It was called Zinder, a city in Niger, quite large actually, about one hundred and eighty-thousand inhabitants.

I could spot military and other vehicles converging on our impact crater, as I flew into the other direction following the main road to Zinder. I heard their communications in my communicator unit, the instructions to their air-force to stop several press helicopters trying to get to the area and cordoning off everything on the ground also. They were following a protocol all governments on Earth had adopted – this wasn't the first time one of our vessels had crashed, but contrary to common belief, not a single one had been retrieved by anyone. Our safety protocols saw to that.

Strange, I was home now, within a ridiculously short distance to where I had been born by galactic standards, and yet so far away from everything that mattered to me. I touched down on the outskirts of Zinder, but left the deflector on until I could steal some clothes and change. After sixty-six years, my feet touched the soil of Earth again.

Chapter Two - Stranded

I had procured some clothing that would probably identify me as a normal tourist trying to look African. The town was alive despite the sweltering heat and omnipresent sand-clouds. The tower of an old fortress and a huge mosque dominated the skyline. Not far from the marketplace I found what I was looking for, a cute prostitute, offering me a good time in French. She could have used her native Hausa also, since the translator in my head allowed me to speak roughly one hundred thousand languages.

Prostitutes tend to be connected to the underworld, especially here, and I did need a passport and a buyer for some of my diamonds with no questions asked. She nodded when I approached her with my request and beckoned a young skinny boy who would relay her message to her contact, while we waited in a near-by house. The house was surprisingly cool and smelled of fruit and frequent sex, which sounded like an excellent option to while away the time until her contact arrived.

We both stripped off our clothes and reclined on the filthy mattress in the far corner of the room; she was certainly pretty, small perky breasts and a softly rounded belly, which is typical for African women. Some discolouration on her skin, which pointed to some disease or other, probably AIDS. Well, it was her lucky day, the medical implant in my body has transformed my immune system, not only would it protect me from catching an illness, but it would aggressively combat it through my bodily fluids, which I intended to donate in copious amounts.

More than sixty years ago I would have found her beauty exotic; after all I had lived and fucked through in the meantime however, her eager mouth descending on my half-erect cock gave me another cosy feeling of homecoming and familiarity. I relished the earthy scent of her body, partially displaced by some cheap perfume, as she sucked my dick with the expertise and listlessness of a professional. While her right hand clasped my shaft, her left hand massaged my balls in my tightening ball-sack, before she aggressively visited my rear-entrance with her index finger.

That was something I really enjoyed and probably none of her European counterparts, at least not of my time, would have volunteered to do unasked and without any extra payment. My hands got stuck in her curly, somewhat straw-like hair, as she deep-throated me, all the while her probing finger successfully struck the g-spot gold of my prostate. Obviously she intended to get me off quickly, understandably so, but I had no intention to do so, as my enhanced mental powers served me in whichever way I wanted, here to teeter on the brink forever.

In any case, the arrival of three shifty looking characters seemed like a good moment to allow for the inevitable to happen and shoot my load down her throat, in order to be able to focus on the business at hand, which might have been a tad more dangerous than suspected for anyone but me, since the drawn weapons indicated that their way of conducting business was a wee more on the rough side.

I might have been naked and unarmed, but I was in no danger whatsoever – thanks to the amazing technology provided by the Scnrgsis, in this instance an energy shield, impenetrable to most handheld energy weapons, leave alone antiquated bullets or anything else you'd find on our beautiful planet. Well, maybe the blast of a cruise missile could have singed me a tad, but only if it had actually hit me.

The girl made sure she got out of the line of fire, while the tallest of the three men ordered me to put my hands up and lie down on the floor, which indicated that he was not the brightest button that ever shone. I got up from the mattress and leisurely walk to my clothes, telling him in passing that he should get over his Hollywood-villain crap and get ready to do some business. He seemed a little irritated, but short-tempered and really quite trigger-happy, as two shots rang in the small room, most likely cutting our quality time there short. I turned around and grinned into his incredulous face, remarking that he should use the time I needed to dress to think of a better location for conducting our negotiations. One of the guys was spooked enough to run off, the other two were frozen, as was the girl.

"Are you a ghost?"

And interesting question, sometimes I actually had felt like that, ripped out of my natural habitat and experiencing things that the word surreal couldn't even begin to describe. This wasn't the time for philosophical questions though, as I quietly shook my head.

"No, not a ghost. And yet, you cannot harm me. Accept it as it is. No hard feelings, by the way. I would still like to conduct business with you. Catch!"

I took out two of the smaller diamonds and lobbed one to him, the other to the petrified girl, who didn't manage to catch it immediately.

The shooter took only a quick look, then apologised profusely and asked me to hurry and follow him, as there was a small chance that someone had reacted to the gunfire and called the police.

I left the room with the two guys, fear and greed doing a square dance in their eyes, while the girl crouched on the floor, her eyes transfixed to her salary that would probably change her life marginally if she didn't have to give it up to some sort of pimp. But of course the more radical change had already been initiated by my load of spunk earlier.

I followed the guys through a labyrinth of dusty and busy narrow lanes; despite the fact that the police might have arrived at the scene, they didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. I understood: this was their turf, their territory, which the respectful attitude of the people we passed clearly indicated. Just as we ascended a small flight of stairs inside a larger building we had entered, guarded by a small army of really young looking men, I heard Emma's voice in my head.

"Sorry Jon, I cannot stop the bleed. My hand will follow you. I will home in on your current location. Self-destruction sequence activated. Coded report sent to Mother. Self-destruct in eighty-eight seconds. See you, Jon."

That was sad news, but I had suspected as much when I saw how battered my little Emma looked, before I had left her. It meant much more to me than just losing a cherished piece of technology; after all, Emma had contained a fair amount of bio-matter, and a great personality besides. I counted down the seconds to her final destruction, whilst sitting down with my prospective business partners at an ornate oriental table, where a fat old man rested on a heap of thick cushions as if on a throne on the opposite side. The room was air-conditioned, so my new-found friends seemed to do quite well for themselves.

The fellow who had taken a shot at me earlier quickly reported what had transpired in his boss's ear, who furrowed his brow in disbelief, but all indignation seemed to vanish when the diamond was presented to back up his story.

A faint rumble and a high pitched squeal announced the demise of my little darling, stemming from the conversion of matter to energy, which is then released into subspace. All that will ever be found by the military is a massive crater and the unsubstantiated reports of something massive dissolving into thin air before the eyes of the guarding platoon.

Some of the men looked out of the window, but the scene was too far away for their prying eyes. Producing a few more of my diamonds helped focusing their attention on the business at hand again. The fat chap was now grinning from one ear to the other and enquiring about my wishes in excellent French. Within minutes, we managed to agree to a price that was probably so far under the actual value of the trinkets here on earth, that I imagined him smiling in his sleep for the next couple of days because of that bargain.

I announced that we would be joined shortly by a white woman, whom he should let through to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. He thought that was a good joke, not knowing Emma's hand, who could be, shall we say, more than a little persistent to get to me, if she was thus inclined or instructed.


I was offered a nice cup of tea, while we waited for her and his contact, who would take photographs of us for the papers I require. An interesting blend, something tasting remotely of cinnamon, although deep inside me I longed for a good old cup of English tea, something the advanced food synthesizers of Emma and Mother had never quite managed to replicate for me.

Emma's hand arrived without incident, clad in a large piece of blue cloth she had wrapped around herself in the fashion of local women, barefoot though. We both needed Western clothing for our journey, and were provided with that quickly, being offered a wide variety of choices from suitcases whose owners probably had had a lot less luck doing business with these fellows. I had forgotten to tell Emma that dressing and undressing in front of strange men was a somewhat unusual behaviour in this culture, but their eyes almost popping out of their sockets when they were confronted with her stunning beauty so unexpectedly made that omission almost worthwhile.

The photographer taking our pictures for the passports took quite a few more on the spur of the moment. Who was I to deny him that innocent pleasure? We parted ways almost amicably, although one fellow felt compelled to grab her arse when we went down the stairs again, which he would probably still remember when his wrist-bones had healed again, as Emma didn't like to be touched by strangers.

Being vested with passports, money and some suitcases to keep up appearances, we entered the best hotel in town to rest and arranged for the earliest possible flight to America. Of course we could have crossed the ocean using our antigravs, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea as there were too many unknowns in my calculations.

"You are tense, Jon. Let me massage your back."

Emma always knew how to cheer me up. Getting to America wasn't the problem, but from what I knew about Earth as it was now, booking a ride to the dark side of the moon might have been a tad more difficult. From what I had seen in your news programs, no-one really fancied going there any more since the sixties or seventies, couldn't remember. Well, I would come up with something. Maybe Emma's hand could modify one of the current space craft. She had magic hands you know. As a testament to that, I quickly fell asleep.

Chapter three - Mile High

The passports seemed convincing enough for the Niger custom officers; from what I understood they were real, only the pictures had been exchanged with great care. So now we were Mr. and Mrs. Nichols from Witney, Oxfordshire. I had insisted on British passports, not wanting to put on a fake American accent, although it would not have been overly difficult, as my implant would have taken care of that too. Who knew when I would ever be back to this sparkling blue marble I once called my home? So at least I wanted to revel in my heritage.

The plane was bound for Madison, Wisconsin, where we would catch our connecting flight to Orlando in Florida. The plane was astonishing comfortable in first class, although I found it difficult to feel at ease in this, from my point of view, antiquated contraption. I would have felt much more comfortable if I could have piloted it myself. Emma alerted me to a gloomy looking chap sitting in business class.

"He is carrying a weapon. Do you want me to disarm him?"

"No sweetie, I think he might be one of these air marshals we heard about. Nothing to worry about."

I asked her to pretend to sleep when everyone else did. The airline tea was astonishingly good, so I overindulged slightly and consequently had to answer several calls of nature during the night. This time I arrived at the door of the rather spacious and luxurious bathroom at the same time as a stunning blonde woman I had already noticed earlier, mainly because of her incredibly large tits. I yielded to her, which she acknowledged with thankful smile, her eyes lingering on me a bit longer than would seem appropriate before she entered the loo.

She took her sweet time before the door opened again, a waft of strong perfume assaulting my nostrils; however, she apparently had no intentions to leave as yet, gesturing me inside. Somewhat mystified I entered; my puzzlement grew when she locked the door behind us. Okay, maybe I had been born yesterday, but even with this slight disadvantage I finally understood what she had in mind when she opened her blouse and flashing her spectacular tits at me, covered only by an almost translucent white bra. It would have been churlish to let a lady extend an invitation like that for nothing, especially since she continued and opened the bra's clasp located in front – yet another surprising fashion development, I can easily see the wisdom of.

I cupped these marvels, not entirely of nature, as I soon discovered, so at least I was not the only one with implants here, but they felt pleasant enough to linger and make my cock twitch. Yet there was the bladder matter I needed to take care of first. She understood my apologetic look and watched me take out my already slightly swollen member and relieve myself with a fascinated expression on her flushed face. She even assisted me in shaking off the last drops of urine, before kneeling down in front of me and taking my growing pride and joy into her mouth.

I started wondering whether she was also a professional or just a very dedicated amateur, as her flawless technique of sucking and licking pointed to a great deal of experience. When she licked down my shaft to continue with sucking on my balls, I was ready to give her extra points for ingenuity as well. Her hands however appeared to search for something on the floor, which turned out to be the handbag she had disposed of earlier. The reason for this was a rubber johnny, which we of course wouldn't need, but I gathered was advisable for everyone else for chance encounters like this.

Her eyes sparkled when she covered my rock hard knob with it, then hiked up her short skirt and bent over, propping herself up on the sink. Either she had prepared herself for my visitation earlier, or she liked being unencumbered as a general rule, as her pear-shaped taut arse and completely hairless pussy entered my field of view instantly. With a sense of gratitude for the evolution of mores on my home planet I pushed into her glorious grotto, where I was welcomed warmly and wetly. I sensed that she was trying to be quiet, as the groan she uttered sounded muffled, but relieved. I grabbed hold of her enhanced boobies, kneading them appreciatively whilst pumping her hard. Good thing I have something to hold onto, as I felt the overwhelming desire to smack her beautiful bum, which I sensed would be appreciated, but perhaps a little too noisy in the current circumstances. She had trouble enough as it was to keep quiet, failing more and more often as time went on and her first climax approached. Well, most of the passengers had appeared to be asleep anyway, so the chance that the few that really heard her throaty outburst when she did come take offence seemed remote. I imagined a few smiling faces instead, and I was fully prepared to give them and her even more reasons for that. Maybe this added to her pleasure also, as it didn't take long before she erupted again, whimpering and moaning as her vaginal muscles contracted palpably.

I could have gone on longer, but I anticipated other passengers would sooner or later have wanted to use the facilities, either for the intended purposes, or following the inspiration generated by us in one way or the other, so I pressed on and allowed myself to come as well. I took my leave with the hint of a bow, assuming that she would want to freshen up, before returning to my seat, relaxed enough to snuggle up and sleep in the arms of my little Emma, who had of course registered what happened, but thankfully had no jealousy written into her program.

I saw the blonde again in the morning when we arrived at Madison Airport, a big smile on her face, despite her obvious attempt to look inconspicuous when she noticed Emma at my side. I congratulated myself on using a plane rather than the antigravs and with an equally big grin I stepped onto American soil.

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