Stonerrager Chronicles - Ch. 06 (Beta) (Patreon)

Stonerager Chronicles

By 2Charlie

This is a science fiction series that happens to include occasional erotic scenes. If you have not yet read previous chapters of this series, I highly recommend going back to do so before you read this chapter.

This is a Beta version and may undergo changes prior to final release.

All characters in this story are of the age of majority.

Chapter 06

As Dutch arrived on the bridge, he saw that his crew was already manning their stations. D’narius was at the helm, Jjan’tira at NAV next to her, Alisia at the OPS station, and Pheebs at the science station.

Taking his place in the command chair, he turned to his right, “Pheebs, report. What are we looking at?”

Without turning, Pheebs mirrored her display to the main view screen. “We are tracking a pair of Noraxi scout craft and a single destroyer. No sign of a galleon. The two scouts appear to be making an advance run toward the fifth planet. The destroyer is lagging behind.”

“Are there any indications that the Terrans are aware of the Noraxi presence?” he asked.

“I am detecting no uptick in communication traffic as of yet, sir,” Alisia reported.

“D’narius, bring us closer to that destroyer,” Dutch ordered, “Jjan’tira, be prepared to disable her weapons and propulsion.”

Pheebs turned to look his way. “It doesn’t look like that destroyer is running with shields up. Either they aren’t expecting a fight, or they think they will have plenty of time to prepare.”

A telltale light started to flash on her console, and she quickly changed images on the view screen. “It appears the Terrans have detected the scout ships – I am tracking four small ships on an intercept course.”

From the other side of the bridge, Alisia called out an update, “The power signature of the destroyer is ramping up. Looks like she might be getting ready to enter the fray.”

Just then, the klaxon sounded and Prime cut across all conversation to alert the bridge of another situation, “Jump portal opening eighty thousand kilometers out from our current position. Two more destroyers and a galleon are entering the system.”

“We’re out of time,” Dutch announced with a frown. “Time to get dangerous. Alisia, drop Stealth Screens and raise shields. Pheebs, launch a spread of jamming drones – let’s shut down their comms.”

The ambient illumination on the bridge immediately shifted from blue to red as Alisia announced, “Shields up, sir.”

The ship shuddered slightly as a half-dozen propulsion flares swept out from the bow of the Odyssey. “Jamming drones launched,” Pheebs confirmed.

“Jjan’tira,” Dutch called out, “remove that first destroyer from my sky. Hit them hard with the ion emitters.”

Flare suppression prevented the crew’s vision from being temporarily blinded as the Odyssey spat destruction from a pair of weapons ports just below the bridge. A dozen balls of tightly packed energy converged on the first Noraxi destroyer, causing massive damage and multiple secondary explosions as her hull buckled and broke apart.

“Bring us about and put us on an intercept course with that second pair of destroyers. Attack pattern Alpha One,” he ordered. “Pheebs, give me a status update on those scouts.”

“The scouts have engaged the Terran ships. They appear to be occupied for the moment,” she informed him tersely.

“The Noraxi destroyers have launched a spread of missiles at us, sir,” Alisia informed him.

“Take them out with our CIWS,” Dutch ordered, wanting to test the effectiveness of his ship’s close-in weapons systems.

As a hail of kinetic rounds sped toward the inbound missiles, detonating them in rapid succession, Dutch leaned forward in his command chair to order, “Jjan’tira, take out those other two destroyers.”

As the ion emitters once again belched death toward the enemy, Dutch turned his attention to D’narius, “Attack pattern Alpha Two on that galleon, Helm. Pheebs, stand by on the tractor. I want to grab them by the collar and beat their face in.”

“Sir?” Pheebs asked, uncertain what he wanted to do.

“Put us directly in front of them and hold them so that cannot maneuver,” he explained, then returned his attention forward. “Jjan’tira, be ready with the ion emitters to start, but be prepared to shift to the quantum cannon if their shields hold. I want to blow their fucking bridge away, then we’ll assess the damage and determine if additional measures are necessary to render her dead in space.”

The Odyssey’s FTL drive spun up for a moment as the ship made a quick run at light speed, appearing for a moment to outside observers to be in two places at once, putting herself only a few kilometers off the bow of the Noraxi galleon. A faint cone of energy could be seen as the Odyssey grappled with the galleon, holding her with the tractor beam, as Jjan’tira began to pound away at the Noraxi vessel.

The big Noraxi ship had energy shields, but they did not hold up against the punishing barrage from the Odyssey’s ion emitters for more than a few moments. Unable to turn to bring a fresh shield face to bear, the Noraxi defenses were pierced, and the bridge began to come apart before their eyes.

Flares of light flashed at the periphery of their vision as defensive weapons returned fire from the galleon, but they were insufficient to penetrate the Tao shielding technology. Before long, all defensive fire stopped, and a gaping, smoking hole was all that remained of the galleon’s bridge.

A second volley of ion emitter fire leaped from the Odyssey toward a single remaining destroyer that had fared better than its companions against the first round of fire. It did not survive the second round.

“Second pair of destroyers have been dealt with, Captain,” Jjan’tira reported.

“The galleon is dead in space,” Pheebs reported.

“I am detecting life signs aboard the galleon, Captain,” Alisia reported, “but not in large numbers. If there are slaves aboard, there aren’t many.”

“Status update on the scout craft?” he asked.

Checking her scanners, Alisia reported, “One scout has been destroyed, along with two of the Terran vessels. The second is still engaged in battle with the remaining two Terran vessels, although one Terran vessel appears heavily damaged.”

“Let’s give them a hand,” Dutch decided. “Are they in range of weapons?”

“Negative sir, we need to close the distance by at least thirty thousand kilometers to have them in weapons range,” Alisia replied.

“Helm, bring us about and take us in – attack pattern Alpha two again,” Dutch directed quickly.

“Jjan’tira, take that scout out as soon as we’re in range – particle beams should suffice,” Dutch advised her.

Ten seconds later, the second scout ship was obliterated, and Dutch was preparing to return his attention to the galleon when Pheebs announced, “We’re being hailed, sir, by one of the Terran vessels.”

Just as he was about to respond to the hail, Alisia reported, “Sir, the galleon is underway – slow but moving. The surviving crew must be controlling her from an auxiliary command center. I am monitoring a power surge from her propulsion block - she may be attempting to open a jump portal.”

“Target her engines, Jjan-tira, and fire two High Impact Torpedoes as soon as you have a lock,” he snapped, not wanting the ship to get away to alert others.

Just as a jump portal began to open in front of the struggling galleon, the two torpedoes reached their target. Their modified payloads blasted away huge sections of the galleon's propulsion systems, and the subsequent explosion was remarkably violent. The aft section of the ship was shredded away, and the jump portal immediately collapsed. Secondary blasts reverberated throughout the galleon, and the ship listed heavily to starboard and was once again dead in space, tumbling slowly in an erratic pattern.

“Prime, please open the channel to the hailing vessel,” Dutch requested of the ship’s AI.

“Channel open, sir.”

“This is Captain Stoenager of the Alliance Starship Odyssey. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“This is Major Thorne of the Rigellian Defense Force. We do not recognize your vessel’s configuration, nor do I know anything about this so-called ‘Alliance’ you mentioned, Captain…?”

“Stoenager. Bram Stoenager. I need to speak with your superiors, Major. And I don’t mean the Lt. Colonel of your particular command, I mean the leader of this Terran Colony.”

“That’s a pretty ballsy request from a nobody, all due respect,” the Major responded indignantly.

“Well, this nobody just blew the shit out of a Noraxi slave galleon, three destroyers, and a scout without taking a hit. Or breaking a sweat. Think about that and let me know when your leaders are ready to speak with me. Odyssey out.”

He slashed his hand across his throat, indicating to Pheebs to close the channel. Tapping her console, she turned to him and informed him, “Channel closed, sir.”

“Thank you, Pheebs. Any outbound transmissions from that galleon we disabled?” he asked of her, looking at the graphic of the vessel being displayed on the main screen.

“Negative. They may have tried, but our jamming drones are keeping their signals from being effective. By the way – in case you were wondering – Prime is interacting with them, isolating signals from the Noraxi vessels for the jammers, allowing ours and Rigellian signals to function. Pretty neat, huh?” Pheebs looked pleased with herself, which she kinda was.

“Careful, dear. Wouldn’t want you to dislocate your shoulder,” he told her mockingly, a grin on his face. “Seriously, good work all around. Now let’s take the next step. We need to go over to that galleon and board her – see what we can learn from their onboard systems that can help us next time.”

“Setting course back to the galleon, sir,” Jjan’tira confirmed.

“I’ll have us alongside in a few moments, sir,” D’narius added efficiently.

“Scanning for survivors. I am picking up a dozen life signs within a small area that is still pressurized – the rest of the ship has vented to space. No sign of any significant threat activities,” Alisia reported.

“Pheebs, you have command. I will take Alisia and two of the droids over to that ship to see what we can find. If those yahoos from Rigel get anxious, tell them I’ll contact them upon my return,” Dutch announced as he stood from his seat and motioned for Alisia to follow him.

*****

“Interesting,” Alisia commented as she examined the encounter suit that Dutch had handed to her. “They are quite similar to the armored uniforms the iShan’tal crew had been wearing when brought over from the K’vetch, are they not?”

“I’ve made some improvements,” he grunted as he donned the suit. “I integrated the personal shield generators into the suits so that they could defend us against energy, kinetic, heat, or cold-based attacks. I combined the personal communications units into the helmets and the lingua code so we can understand and be understood by aliens. Also, we can deliver quite the physical beating with them if it comes down to that,” Dutch informed her, testing the flexibility of the suit, pleased with his ingenuity.

Their encounter suits were now mostly armor, rugged plating made from some impossibly strong, but incredibly lightweight material that almost seemed to absorb light, it was so dark. The suit itself was in two main pieces, like their uniforms, an upper and lower body piece, with attachable boots, gloves, and a helmet. The helmet had a large, clear faceplate that would allow for easy visibility for the wearer while still providing protection. Sealing the connecting points would protect the wearer from harsh environments, extreme temperatures, and the vacuum of space. The suits were black in color, adorned at the shoulders with etchings of the Odyssey Mission Crest and Winged Dagger ‘Who Dares Wins’ Badge.

“Prime,” Dutch called out to the ship’s AI as he headed aft toward the hangar bay, “please have Droids 1 and 2 join us in the hangar. We’re going over to that Noraxi vessel to examine what remains and gather what intel we can.”

Pausing at the weapons locker just outside of the hangar bay, he selected a rifle and a sidearm, attaching the latter to the belt at his waist, while Alisia similarly armed herself. Continuing to the shuttle, he opened the hatch and went aboard, sitting at the pilot's controls. Alisia took their rifles and stowed them behind their seats, then sealed the hatch as the droids boarded the small ship. She strapped into the seat next to Dutch as he brought the tiny craft’s engines online and ran through a quick pre-flight check. Opening the hangar bay, he brought the shuttle’s shield online as he exited the Odyssey, quickly turning toward the crippled vessel.

“Alisia, scan for a boarding hatchway that we can use to gain access to the remaining pocket of pressurized compartments aboard that ship,” Dutch requested of her as he maneuvered their craft through the considerable debris field surrounding the twisted, hulking galleon, searching for anything that looked like a docking port.

“I believe I may have found something we can use, Captain. If you will adjust your heading more to the port, down twenty, you should be able to see it momentarily.”

Redirecting their craft as she had indicated, he peered ahead along the glistening, sticky-looking hull of the alien craft, until he saw a blister on the hull which protruded slightly from the surrounding bulkheads. Round, almost three meters in diameter, it definitely appeared to be some sort of hatch. Hopefully, this is not the shit chute, he thought to himself as he brought the shuttle alongside the aperture, rotating the dorsal bulkhead so that the shuttle could establish a docking seal.

On a screen to the side of his flight console, he watched an external image of his shuttle as the docking ring extended to the aperture, expanding slightly as it went until it made contact. A telltale flashed on his board, informing him of a positive seal, and he unstrapped from his flight seat, retrieving his rifle and turning to see Alisia doing the same.

“Have you ever encountered a Noraxian before?” he asked her, curious about what they were about to encounter.

“Never up close, thank the deities,” she admitted. “The males dominate the species. They tend to be somewhat larger than humans, standing almost two and a half meters tall upright, although I have seen them moving on all six limbs. They are reported to be strong, but brutishly stupid, concerned with establishing dominance at the outset of any encounter. You should be prepared for any face-to-face encounter to be very physical, and likely very brutal.”

Flexing his arms and shoulders within his encounter suit, he nodded to her, then began making his way up through the docking portal.

“One and Two, follow us through and maintain overwatch here at the shuttle. I will summon you if we need you,” he ordered the droids.

As he made his way through the portal to the alien vessel, he transitioned into their gravity. It was somewhat lighter than that of the Odyssey, although not by much. The lighting was dim, and flickering. Various systems were clearly strained and failing, as the lighting flickered and he could hear atmospheric circulation systems whining as they cycled up, then wound down again, cycling through intermittent failures.

Alisia looked at her handheld pad, turning left, then right, before turning back to the left. “The strongest readings of life forms is to the right, Captain. But, the highest power readings are to the left.”

“So, we go left. Priority for this mission is acquiring more actionable data.”

“And what about the survivors, sir?” she asked, concerned that saving lives was not his top priority.

“We’re outnumbered here, and they are – how did you describe them? Big, strong, and stupid, I believe you told me, indicating they will likely want to fight us upon contact. Let’s at least try to manage those encounters,” he suggested with a grim set to his features. “I am open to allowing them to depart if they have some sort of shuttles or life craft, but I have no interest in taking prisoners. I am inclined to let the Terrans, er, Rigellians decide their fate.”

Moving forward, they eventually came to a hatchway of sorts barring their progress. First glance revealed no obvious operating mechanisms – no handle, knob, wheel, or other mechanical device that would allow them to open the hatch. A cursory inspection of the bulkhead around the hatch revealed a pressure plate that was covered in scratches. Pressing the plate caused an inner mechanism to cycle and the door opened. Inside, he could hear the hum of machinery, as well as more organic noises.

The hatch was barely open before a hulking figure filled its frame, sweeping through the portal to crash into Dutch, knocking him back several steps as the alien began pummeling him with blows. An electrostatic shimmer flared visibly anywhere the creature made contact, and the damage was negated, shunting the force of the blows along the surface of the protective field instead of transmitting their impulse onto the being inside of the protective field.

Dutch took a moment to regain his balance, then leaned into his assailant, returning the blows with a strength beyond the human norm. The Tao had augmented him in many ways, physically as well as mentally, and he was eager to see what his new abilities included.

The creature was taller than Dutch by nearly half a meter, standing upright on powerful hind limbs as it grasped at Dutch with its mid-limbs, attempting to grapple him, and swung at him with its forelimbs. Each limb was tipped with a heavily clawed set of four digits. The being was wearing some sort of uniform that exposed its hands. Feet? And head. Its head was an ugly squat shape looking more like an anvil than a melon, with two sets of eyes – one higher and further to the sides of the head was large and black, the other pair was small, closer to the forefront of the head, and glowing orange – and a large gaping maw containing serrated ridges instead of teeth. The being’s skin was dark red and appeared leathery, with no signs of body hair, feathers, quills, or other similar features.

Dutch ducked under the swipe of a forelimb and stepped into the creature, slamming into its torso with his fists, shoving it backward until it was against the bulkhead. Deciding that its head looked like an unlikely vulnerability, he swept it off its feet. The creature twisted as it fell, spinning to land on its other limbs as it scrambled to get its read limbs under it. Seeing an opening, Dutch grabbed it by its hind limbs and spun, lifting the creature and swinging it through the air, slamming it against the passageway bulkhead. Reversing himself quickly, he swung the creature back against the nearby bulkhead, next to the hatchway, then dropped it to the ground and stepped back from it.

Drawing his sidearm, he gestured at the Noraxian menacingly, “Stop this nonsense, now! I am not interested in you, but I will kill you here and now if you approach me again!”

The lingua-code did its job, and the creature seemed to pause as it listened to the translation. Tensing slightly, it began to hiss and growl in response, which the lingua code translated as, “Filthy Scum! You attack my ship, then come aboard and expect me to ignore you!”

A beam of bright blue light sliced out from Alisia’s extended weapon, striking the Noraxian in the chest, and the creature sagged to the floor, stunned.

“There appear to be more in the compartment ahead, sir. We should stun them and move on quickly before others find a way to reach this section of the ship. Consider what you might do were you in their place,” Alisia advised him, getting him to return to his rational senses.

Shrugging off his urge to pummel the creature until it was broken, he turned and led the way through the open hatchway, having to immediately stun another two Noraxians as they were advancing upon them. Alisia stepped past him to his right and stunned one additional Noraxian who had been in the process of approaching them in stealth.

“I believe that console ahead may prove useful to our endeavor, sir,” Alisia gestured to a large control panel ahead to their left.

The two of them moved over to the console, and Alisia set her pad onto one of its horizontal surfaces as Dutch kept watch on their surroundings. Tapping the screen of the pad, she asked aloud, “Prime, are you able to establish a data link from this location?”

After the briefest of pauses, the ship’s AI responded, “Affirmative, Lt. Commander. I should be able to effect a data transfer. Stand by.”

Dutch and Alisia kept a watchful eye on the stunned Noraxians, waiting for Prime to complete their primary objective. After a few moments, the tiny pad beeped, indicating the data transfer had been completed.

Retrieving her pad, Alisia turned to Dutch, asking him, “Well, mission accomplished. Anything else you need to do while we’re here?”

“Yes. Can you scan the ship to determine whether or not they have any intact escape pods or shuttlecraft?”

Alisia consulted her pad once more, scanning through the data it displayed. Looking back at him, she answered, “It appears that most of their smaller craft were lost when we destroyed their propulsion block. Only a handful of small craft remain in a vestibule located amidship. They might have sufficient capacity to support the few surviving crew, but it will be close.”

“I’m not willing to kill these survivors in cold blood, but I am equally unwilling to lend them assistance,” Dutch confessed, looking down in thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will leave them to the Rigellians.”

“Captain,” Pheebs cut in from the bridge of the Odyssey. “We’re being hailed by the Rigellian Defense Force vessel once more. They say that they have been instructed to escort us to Rigel 5, where we are to allow them to board our vessel to conduct a safety inspection.”

“Fuck that shit,” Dutch spat, turning to head back to their shuttle. “No need to respond to them, Pheebs. Let them wait. I will discuss the terms of the coming discourse upon my return to Odyssey. Out.”

Moving quickly, he sped back the way they had come, quickly arriving at the access port they had used to enter the crippled vessel. His two droids were alertly standing guard at the access port and saluted him upon his arrival.

“Time to leave, boys,” he quipped to them as he passed them on his way to the shuttle.

Alisia just waved at them to follow her, then went after Dutch into the shuttle pod, strapping into her copilot seat after stowing their rifles.

Dutch was already decoupling the shuttle from the galleon and pushing away from the ship via thrusters, before realigning his ship for a return vector and quickly accelerating toward the Odyssey.

His ship hung like a shining weapon in space, her hull clean and pristine, and he passed his eyes over her curves in appreciation like he would a beautiful woman. Sighing to himself, he looped under her and angled upward into the hangar, bringing the shuttle in and landing quickly, already unstrapping himself from the pilot seat as the bay was repressurized. Opening the hatch, he removed his helmet, but carried it with him, not certain whether or not he would be needing the encounter suit very shortly.

Dutch hurried to the bridge, with Alisia following after instructing the droids to prep the shuttle for immediate re-use. The two of them nearly sprinted the hundred and fifty meters or so to the bridge, arriving just as Major Thorne was issuing yet another stern order to Pheebs.

“Major Thorne, Captain Stoenager here. I suggest you check your tone before you and I continue this conversation. I will call you back in sixty seconds. Scan my vessel in the meantime. When I call you back, either be ready to speak to me and my crew with respect or be prepared for a trip to the woodshed. Odyssey out.”

Ensuring the connection between the ships had been cut, Dutch blew out a breath in frustration. “You’d think these assholes would know how to thank someone for timely assistance!”

“Welcome back, Captain,” Pheebs greeted him, eyeing his armor critically. “Did you guys go to a fancy dress party, and we weren’t invited?”

“Funny story, that,” Alisia replied before Dutch could respond. “Turns out our Captain here wanted to slug it out a bit with the Noraxians. He went all neanderthal on one of them and smashed him around like he was a ragdoll.”

Raising her eyebrow at that image, she renewed her inspection of the armor. “Strength enhancing mods?”

Dutch shook his head, but once again, Alisia answered for him. “No. Evidently, our captain gets a might bit stronger when he gets angry,” she replied with an odd smile, looking amused and turned on at the same time.

Ignoring their banter, Dutch spoke over them, “Prime, establish communications with the Rigellian Defense Force.”

A quick beep let him know the channel had been opened. Turning to the main viewscreen, he addressed the image of the Rigellian Defense officer. “Major Thorne, let’s try this again. I am Captain Bram Stoenager of the Alliance Starship Odyssey. We happened to be patrolling this sector and observed the Noraxian Syndicate preparing what appeared to be a slave raid on Rigel 5, and I took offense at their breach of the Treaty of Ganymede of 3121. As such, I took it upon myself to intercede. Do you follow me so far?”

“No, sir,” the Major growled. “I do not follow you. I am not familiar with this Alliance you referenced, nor have I ever heard of the Treaty of Ganymede of 3121.”

“Well, then, I can understand your confusion,” Dutch allowed with mock sincerity. “However, that is less important than what must take place now. As I mentioned, I have defended you from a slave raid, and I want to communicate with your leadership about the treaty and how I intend to apply it to ensure the raids stop forever. Now, I am a patient man. I will give you exactly five minutes to get your head of state on the line before I find more interesting things to do and leave you as I found you.”

Turning away from the screen, he motioned to Pheebs to cut the line, and after an audible beep confirmed the communication had ended, he sighed to himself.

“You know,” he offered to no one in particular, “this is the part I am dreading the most. If these fuckers have drifted too far from our core values, I don’t know that I particularly want to save them, let alone turn them loose on the galaxy once more. Who's to say they won’t be as bad as the Syndicate assholes?”

“Dutch, you need to give them a chance,” Pheebs coaxed him, trying to calm him down. “I’m sure they’ll be worth saving.”

He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. “I’m going to go get out of this gear. Might as well at least look presentable when they manage to get their president, or whatever, on the line.”

Turning, he headed back aft to the storage locker for the encounter suits, Alisia trailing behind him. At the locker, he quickly peeled down to his skivvies and then retrieved his uniform from the nearby locker. As he turned to begin dressing himself, he saw Alisia looking at him, then turning to bend over, displaying her charms.

“Dutch, could you use a quickie to relax your nerves?” she asked him coquettishly, looking back at him from over her shoulder.

“Damn, Alisia. You make a tempting offer, that’s for certain,” he remarked, shaking his head to clear the thoughts that were suddenly plaguing him. “But I gave that man a deadline, and it wouldn’t look good if I ended up being late.” He stepped over to her and lifted her upright, leaning down to kiss her gently before hurrying to get dressed.

*****

Dutch had only just returned to the bridge when Prime informed him that the Rigellian Chancellor was hailing him. Checking to make sure his uniform jacket was straight, he looked quickly around his bridge, catching every woman’s eye for a quick, reassuring glance, before he spoke. “Put him on screen, Prime.”

The image that appeared on his screen was not what he was expecting. The stately woman who had appeared on the viewscreen was dressed smartly in something that must represent the current professional attire of this age and culture, yet managed to still be flattering. Her hair was coifed nicely atop her head, with a few streaks of auburn still showing through the largely white locks, and he wasn’t sure if she was wearing makeup or not, it was so sparingly applied. Her face was generally not unkind, but her current expression was certainly stern, if not grim.

“Captain, I am Chancellor Norda Opstrom. I understand you have an urgent need to speak with me.”

“Chancellor, I am Captain Bram Stoenager, of the Alliance Starship Odyssey. I wish to bring you news of some importance that I hope will greatly improve the future of Rigel, as well as other Terran Colonies.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly at the mention of other colonies. Aside from that reaction, she managed to maintain a stoic façade, merely nodding her head for him to continue.

“Tell me, Madame Chancellor, how much do you know about the final battle between the iShan’tal Hegemony and the Terran Empire?”

“Captain, that event predates me by about fifty years,” she nearly growled at him, a look of irritation settling on her features. “I shall humor you anyway, so please just tell me your point.”

“Perhaps this is information best delivered in person?” he suggested, waiting to see if she would take the bait.

She muted the line for a moment to confer with an aide who was off-camera. After a short pause, she unmuted the line and continued their conversation. “Captain, might I suggest you come down and join us for dinner? We can discuss what you wish to communicate to me at that time. Hosting a dinner in your honor is the least I can do, considering how you and your crew have spared us a raid by those awful slavers.”

She was a touch too contrite, but he opted to go along with it. “I would be happy to join you at a location of your choosing, of course. Please transmit the coordinates of a nearby landing field, as I will be coming down via shuttle.”

“Of course, Captain. I shall have the coordinates transmitted to you shortly. Until then,” she ended the conversation.

“Are you seriously going to go down there?” Pheebs asked him incredulously.

“We’ve got to start somewhere, Pheebs. It’s pretty sad that I don’t trust her, or the Rigellians in general, but we need to change that. We’ve got to give them a reason to trust us, and to hope for a better tomorrow.”

“And if she arrests you on the spot?” Pheebs inquired sardonically.

“Identify targets of opportunity and destroy them one by one until she releases me,” he offered.

“And if she simply has you killed?” she countered.

“Well, then the ship is yours, I suppose,” he concluded, before turning to the operations station. “Alisia, you’re with me. Bring the paper copy of the Treaty.”

Turning, he gave Pheebs a quick kiss, then headed aft, followed by Alisia.

As they closed the hatch behind them, he could hear Pheebs barking, “Prime, give me a list of the top power production facilities on the surface.”

*****

As they unbuckled their restraints to depart the shuttle, Alisia asked him one more time, “Are you sure you don’t want to wear our encounter armor?”

“Yes, Alisia,” he sighed, understanding her doubts, but pushing past them. “We will settle for wearing the personal shield generators. They won’t offer the same amount of protection alone, but it’s better than nothing, especially if we are surprised.”

“And you insist we take no weapons?” she asked again, still not convinced.

“No weapons. If we come bearing weapons, they will want to disarm us. Let’s deprive them of that,” he replied, adding “Besides, they are going to be armed. Do you doubt that I can acquire a weapon from them the moment I decide I want to do so?”

She chuckled mildly at the mental image this engendered, then focused on the task at hand. Grabbing the protective tube containing the rolled-up treaty, she followed her captain.

Dutch led them through the hatch of the shuttle to the landing pad they’d been directed to use. Awaiting them a dozen meters away was a welcoming committee of a dozen armed, uniformed escorts. An emissary stepped forward to greet them.

“Captain Stoenager, welcome to New Concordia, the capitol of Rigellia,” the emissary piped up, snapping to attention as he spoke. “I am Jonto Horizon, Adjutant to Chancellor Opstrom.”

Dutch straightened to attention and stated, “Adjutant Horizon, I am Bram Stoenager, Captain of the Alliance Starship Odyssey, and this is Alisia, Operations Officer of the Odyssey, and Liaison to the Battle Masters of iShan’tal.”

The Adjutant looked puzzled by the last part but shook it off immediately. “Captain, if you and your officer will please follow me, I will escort you to where you shall dine with the Chancellor.”

Without waiting, the man turned and led them away from the landing pad, down a ramp to where an odd sight awaited them: a clear cylinder, lying on its side, hovering above a monorail track. Inside the cylinder were benches – evidently, this was some means of transportation. As Horizon approached the cylinder, a portion of one wall opened up, allowing them to enter the capsule-shaped car. As soon as they were all seated, the wall re-sealed, and the cylinder moved away from the platform at amazing speed.

Dutch was impressed that he felt hardly any movement at all – these Rigellians had inertial dampening capabilities. While he assumed initially that the transport operated on some sort of maglev principle, it occurred to him that the reality might be something totally different. His estimation of these humans rose up a notch.

Slowing suddenly, the car angled upward slightly as it entered into a large building. Passing through a long, dark tunnel, the car eventually came to a halt in a large chamber. Once again, the side of the car opened to a platform with two rows of soldiers in dress uniforms awaiting their arrival, with the Chancellor herself standing at the far end of the assembly.

As the small group exited the car, the honor guard snapped to full attention, each row facing inward. Adjutant Horizon led Dutch and Alisia up to the Chancellor, then stood aside, announcing, “Madame Chancellor, may I present Captain Stoenager of the Alliance Starship Odyssey, and his fellow officer, Alisia.”

Dutch stepped forward, his right hand extended, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madame Chancellor.”

The Chancellor looked briefly to either side as if confused, before tentatively accepting Dutch’s hand, with one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Giving a firm handshake, she managed a weak smile, grunting, “Welcome to Rigellia, Captain.”

Turning, the Chancellor led the tiny procession of her Adjutant, Dutch, and Alisia to a nearby lift, which took them up into the tower at an indiscernible velocity. When the lift came to a stop, they stepped out through the doors to a broad view of New Concordia, including the shoreline and the emerald-green waters along its shoreline, with their sun nearing the horizon.

Dutch shook his head slightly as he took it all in – the impressive view of the city vista, the hidden hints at superior technologies in everyday things - the fact that this was only the second planet on which he’d set foot in his life suddenly occurring to him. After all, Ganymede was a moon – and although he’d visited Earth’s moon many times, he’d not gone to Mars as easily back then, always seeming to have other priorities.

His reflections were cut short when the Chancellor turned to ask him if he’d care for a refreshment before dinner.

“That would be nice, thank you,” he replied, then asked her, “Chancellor Opstrom, I do have some important information that I would like to share with you. When would you prefer to have that discussion?”

She gave him a sad smile before she responded, “Captain, you are the first human from beyond our system to visit Rigellia in my lifetime. This is something of an event, and I do realize the importance of it all, but perhaps we could enjoy a nice dinner before you change our lives further?”

The enormity of the situation suddenly hit him. These people had been isolated from other humans for a century, give or take, and likely had only the occasional run-ins with the Noraxians with which to compare this moment. In all likelihood, his ship represented the first non-threatening visit they’d had in her lifetime.

“As you wish, madam,” he responded with a gentle smile.

At that moment, a large pair of double doors opened behind the chancellor, revealing a banquet table with seating for a dozen. Several individuals, some wearing military uniforms, others in what he surmised were some form of formal civilian attire, were entering the room from other doors to take places around the table.

“Well, let’s not keep everyone waiting. Shall we?” the Chancellor asked wryly as she turned to proceed into the adjoining chamber. Sighing, Dutch followed her into the dining chamber, followed by Alisia and the Adjutant.

As per protocol, Dutch was given the seat at the head of the table, with Alisia sitting to his right and the Adjutant sitting to his left. The Chancellor was sitting at the foot of the table, a portly old man in a heavily decorated uniform sitting to her right who was glaring at Dutch with an odd intensity. The other three individuals sitting along that side of the table, two males and a female, were all in uniforms, though the variation suggested different branches of service. Along the other side, between Alisia and the Chancellor sat four individuals, two males and two females, all dressed in civilian attire. Dutch assumed these individuals were members of the Chancellor’s cabinet or advisors of some sort.

Some sort of sparkling wine was served, and a light appetizer was brought out by the staff, consisting mainly of some sort of fried cheese curds, along with bread and butter. Dutch sampled all of it, then grunted his approval, realizing he’d managed to go the day without eating.

As a salad was being placed in front of the attendees, the Chancellor stood and tapped her wine glass with a spoon. “Everyone, please remain seated. I would like to open this meeting by expressing our gratitude to Captain Stoenager and his crew for saving us from those marauding Noraxians, may they rot! Captain Stoenager, Thank you!” After her brief speech, she raised her glass in a toast and then drank.

Everyone at the table raised their glasses, along with echoes of ‘thanks’, and drank, save for the military officer sitting next to the Chancellor.

Leaning to his left, Dutch asked the Adjutant sitting to his left, “Tell me, Jonto, who is that officer sitting next to Chancellor Opstrom?”

The Adjutant glanced down at that end, then turned back to Dutch and replied in a low voice, “He is Major General Reginald Baatran, sir. He is the Minister of Defense for Rigellia.”

“Thank you,” Dutch responded, nodding, as he sat back in his chair, sampling his salad.

For the most part, the diners at the table made meaningless small talk throughout the remaining courses of the meal, enjoying the food, but not really knowing what to say. Dutch remained silent, not wanting to begin his task before the meal was complete. He needed to focus on convincing these people of the validity of the treaty, as well as what part he wanted them to play moving forward.

When the meal was finished at last, and the table cleared, Dutch rose to his feet and extended his glass. As soon as the others had gone silent and he had their attention, he raised his glass, and proclaimed, “I’d like to thank the Chancellor and her chef for an amazing meal.”

The others at the table tapped their glasses, and the Chancellor nodded quietly.

“Now that the pleasantries have been observed,” Dutch continued evenly, “I’d like to get to the matter which brings me here before you today.”

The entire table watched him intently, keenly interested in his next words. Most appeared eager, but the old Major General continued to glare at him in open hostility. “I identified myself as Captain Bram Stoenager, and that is who I am. But, I was not originally of the Alliance, just as my ship, the Odyssey was not originally an Alliance Starship. The Alliance itself is an interesting anomaly, you see, for it was an alliance in fact, though very few actually knew of it.”

The Chancellor tilted her head to the side, stating, “I’m not sure I follow you, Captain.”

“Bear with me, Madam Chancellor,” he insisted. “I promise I will make things clear in a moment.”

Turning to Alisia, he gestured to the large tube case she possessed. “Alisia, if you would please bring out the treaty…” he requested, pausing for a moment while she opened the tube case and withdrew the rolled-up treaty, unrolling it on the table. “What I bring to you today is the Treaty of Ganymede of 3121. This treaty was ratified just as the battle of Earth began, and unfortunately, communications jamming prevented Ambassador Alisia here from notifying the Battle Masters of iShan’tal of the success of her mission.”

Several of the attendees jostled to get a look at the treaty, while the old General scoffed at the document, as well as at Dutch. “There was no Treaty of Ganymede! What lies are you bringing before us, Stoenager?” the old man raged, before quieting as the Chancellor placed a calming hand on his arm.

“I believe what the General means is that we’ve never heard of this treaty, and the iShan’tal have certainly never behaved as if there were a treaty in effect,” she explained carefully.

“I completely understand, and I can explain,” Dutch offered moderately. “This story begins more than a hundred years ago. And you don’t have to take my word for it – Alisia here played a part in this tale. Please, if you will indulge me for a few moments, I hope to provide you with better situational awareness, and then we can address your questions.”

The muttering quieted down, and he continued with his explanation. “At the height of the war between the Terran Empire and the iShan’tal Hegemony, the outcome was uncertain. The Battle Masters of iShan’tal were not of a single mind regarding events, and some sought an alternative should the war not go their way. To that end, a secret envoy was commissioned to seek out a peaceful resolution to hostilities. Alisia here, along with five others, traveled to Ganymede to work out a treaty. Negotiations were completed, and both parties signed the treaty, agreeing to a joint alliance. But before word of the treaty could be announced, the battle had come to the Sol system. Communications were jammed, and word of the treaty could not be announced to either side.”

“What you’re saying is preposterous!” the old general sputtered, clearly enraged at the audacity of the notion of peace with the iShan’tal.

“What I am saying is a fucking shame!” Dutch countered forcefully. “A true nightmare of a shame, because if history had just allowed for the treaty negotiations to have been completed a few hours sooner, the results could have been communicated out to both sides, and hostilities would have ceased.”

Dutch began to prowl around the table, continuing his narrative, “Now, we know what happened instead. But what you don’t realize is just how close it came – the outcome was on a razor’s edge just before the final battle, and the iShan’tal sacrificed their final Lam’Daal class dreadnaughts to destroy the Earth. The total devastation to the Terran fleet was matched by the total devastation of the iShan’tal fleet. I’ve seen their main warships of today, and they’re no match for those old dreadnaughts. Hell, they’re no match for the Odyssey!”

“So, what exactly is it that you are trying to convince us of?” the man to the left of the Chancellor inquired, “I, for one, am struggling to believe this nonsense tale. And I cannot help but wonder at who you truly are, especially if we are to believe that your companion is indeed of the iShan’tal.”

“I’ve told you who I am. You just don’t want to believe me,” Dutch replied sharply, turning toward the man, then pointing to the woman next to him who was looking at a small digital pad in her hands. “You there, I assume you are able to do a quick search on any historical information from your databases, correct?”

Looking up to see him pointing at her, the woman blanched slightly, then nodded her head silently.

“How far back can you search?” he asked her. “Can you access records from Earth?”

“Now see here, you lunatic!” the old General bellowed. “I’ll not have you suggesting that you’re from Earth! That planet was reduced to cinders half a century or more before you were born!”

“Is that so? She seemed quite fine when I originally left orbit,” Dutch snapped at the irritating old soldier. Turning back to the civilian woman, he pressed harder. “Check your records – do a quick search on Project Daedalus, circa 2125 AD.” Turning to the female in uniform next to the General, he barked, “You, pull up a visual of my ship. If you can, put it on a screen for all to see.”

The two women worked quickly, the latter putting up a clear image of the Odyssey in high orbit above Rigellia, and the former reading quickly through her search results. Looking up at him, the woman asked, “What specifically am I looking for?”

“Start by listing the mission details, if you please,” he suggested.

“Project Daedalus, the mission to develop a faster-than-light propulsion system. Started on February 22, 2120. The overall commander of Operation Daedalus was –“

“General Shand Healy,” Dutch interrupted her. “He was Best Man at my wedding.”

Looking up at being interrupted, she glanced down and nodded, “He’s right – says here that General Shand Healy was the Commander of Operation Daedalus. The Chief Scientist was Denise –“

“Denise Stoenager,” Dutch interrupted her again, “born March 9, 2085. She had a PhD in Physics from Purdue University, and was the Chief Architect of Magnodyne Research Laboratories, the designers and manufacturer of the –“

“Magno-drive FTL Propulsion System,” the woman finished for him, nodding her head in disbelief. “Says here that she had a son, -“

“Michael,” Dutch choked out, looking saddened suddenly. “He was only twelve when I left Earth. His birthday was April 15th, 2113.”

The Chancellor had slowly risen to her feet during their exchange. Leaning forward to place her hands on the table, she interjected, “You’re suggesting to us that you are –“

“I was Colonel Bram Stoenager, U.S. Space Force, born December 1st, 2080 in Louisville, Kentucky. I grew up on a horse farm outside a small town called Shelbyville, attended Purdue University, earned a Ph.D. in Physics and Mechanical Engineering, and was a career test pilot.” He paused briefly, looking at something no one else in the room could see. “I jumped at the chance to test fly the first FTL ship, even knowing I would have to work with my ex-wife.”

“But Captain, or is it Colonel?” the Chancellor asked, “are you suggesting that you're standing here, alive today, at more than eleven hundred and forty years old?” she finished, looking extremely dubious at the concept.

“I am not suggesting anything, Madame Chancellor,” he told her flatly. “I am stating the facts. Please bring up a picture of the FTL ship from the test flight.”

The civilian woman did so, adding it to the display next to the real-time video of the Alliance Starship in orbit. The historical photograph showed them something that only vaguely resembled the ship high above them. The original Odyssey had a framework with very little in the way of a hull, and certainly no weapons. The ship hanging in orbit had a similar profile, but was bulkier, with much more in the way of enclosed space along her hull.

“My vessel has gone through a bit of an upgrade, which I will explain shortly. As have I, to be honest,” he conceded as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “But that is another story entirely. What is important is that I am not from this time. I have limited knowledge of events after I left Earth orbit on August 12th, 2125.”

Dutch began to prowl around the table again, incapable of standing still while relating his story. “What I can tell you is that I have learned some important information about the iShan’tal. First, we were not their first adversary. Merely their most recent. Second, I have seen the shattered wrecks of their attack fleet in the Sol system, spread between Jupiter and Mars – their current ships are not nearly as powerful as those old Lam’Daal class dreadnaughts. Third, the Terrans were on the brink of victory – they just weren’t as committed as the iShan’tal were. And Fourth, the iShan’tal were not certain of victory, so they had sent a mission to the Terrans to seek a treaty, just as I indicated earlier.”

Seeing the old General about to interrupt him again, he held up a finger and glared at him, making him hesitate. “Alisia,” he interjected, “please tell the Chancellor and her assembly the details of your mission to Ganymede.”

Alisia stood and calmly faced the humans who were all looking at her with suspicion. “I am a former fighter pilot from the iShan’tal, recruited by the Battle Masters to seek a peace treaty with the Terrans at the end of the war,” she explained boldly. “My team, which consisted of five other clones and myself, traveled to your Sol system to broker peace, but we were not allowed deeper into the system than your colonies on Ganymede. We had just concluded our mission and were about to inform our Battle Masters of our success when the iShan’tal fleet and the Terran fleet clashed deeper within the system. All communications were being jammed by both sides, making it impossible for us to inform anyone of the resulting cease-fire.”

She drew a shaky breath, suddenly nervous as she relived the memories of the actual events she was describing. “The battle raged across the system, and our hosts decided to sequester my team and me in sleeper tubes for our protection as they waited for an opportunity to transmit the news of the accord. I was awakened nearly a hundred years later when Dutch here found me,” she nodded at Stoenager. “My sisters all died, as each of their tubes failed over time, and my tube was on the verge of failing as well when Dutch and his first officer, Pheebs, recovered me from Ganymede. I’d had a copy of the treaty in my sleeper tube, which lies before you on this table.”

“Forgive me if I seem a little slow on the uptake, Captain,” the Chancellor spoke slowly as she wrestled with the information they were presenting, “but, at this point, what difference does it make? The Terran Empire lost the war, the Empire has fallen, the Jump Gate system was destroyed, and it’s been nearly a century since we’ve even seen a human from beyond this system. Just a constant plague of raids by those damnable Noraxian scum!”

“Exactly! What would you have of us?” Major General Baatran practically spat, his face turning beet red in impotent rage. “We are stuck here in this system, with limited defenses, and no more appetite for Imperial Colonial adventurism!”

Dutch stopped pacing and turned to face the Chancellor directly, ignoring the barbs from the old General. “Chancellor Opstrom, I am under no illusions about the current situation for all of humanity. Like you, the other pockets of debris left over from the Terran Empire are cut off from one another, isolated, stranded in whatever systems they settled, with no means of returning to what is in the heart of every human. Exploration! Discovery!” He pounded his fist into his open palm for emphasis. “It’s what I was trying to facilitate with my original mission. Explore the mysteries out there!” he swept his hand across an imaginary horizon.

“But the iShan’tal are keeping us bottled up! We cannot explore beyond our system!” One of the male civilians nearly shouted. “My scientists are tired of only being able to peer into the cosmos through our various long-range telescopes! We truly want to return to being a star-faring people, but the iShan’tal have denied us that right.”

Dutch spun on the man, pointing at his as he responded, “Correct, but totally in violation of the terms of this Treaty! Of which they are unaware, just as you were before today!” He resumed his prowling around the table, his gaze flitting from person to person as he made his next point, “I intend to make them fucking aware of its existence, and to do my fucking damnedest to make them abide by those terms!”

“You and what army?” the old General fairly exploded, shaking in anger.

“Exactly!” Dutch shouted back at the man.

The old General rocked back on his heels, confused. “Quite right,” he seemingly agreed, confusion creeping across his expression.

“You misunderstand me, sir,” Dutch persisted evenly, calmly. “I possess technology that the humans before did not possess. The Terran Empire fought the iShan’tal to a near-victory last time, and neither side has recovered.” Turning to point at the two pictures of the Odyssey, he continued, “You see how my ship today barely resembles the craft that I was testing those eleven centuries ago?”

Nearly all of those around the table were standing at this point, and several moved to get a clearer view of what he was pointing at.

“I died on my test flight. The FTL drive was flawed. I encountered unexpected turbulence of some sort right at the edge of the light barrier, and the original Odyssey was not equipped with any inertial dampening capabilities,” he spoke softly now, watching the faces of those in the room as they listened intently to the harrowing tale of his first flight. “The shaking of the ship as we edged right up to the speed of light but could not cross it was ferocious! I soon lost consciousness and never woke up. A tiny particle of debris pierced my ship’s hull, venting atmosphere, and the ship’s AI could not compensate – in fact, she lost main functionality, doomed to remain that way as the ship coasted for nearly twenty-five years at just under the speed of light.”

Dutch paused, gathering himself and preparing for what was to come next, watching carefully as the scientists in the room considered his words carefully.

Eventually, the male scientist spoke again, “So, you were dead, and your ship was coasting at a speed that introduces a Lorentzian Dilation event. Years passed for you – though dead – as centuries passed for Earth.”

“Correct,” Dutch agreed. “Although I was dead, my body was perfectly preserved by the vacuum and near absolute zero temperatures of space. But then the unexpected happened. My ship was pulled off course into a nebula, where an ancient, automated station was hidden. It refit the Odyssey with highly advanced technologies, and restored me to life, with some minor augmentation. I am taller and stronger than I was before, and I was provided with knowledge of all the technologies that I had been given. There were other changes as well, but let’s stay focused – when all was done, the station cast me adrift in a sedated state, and when I awoke, my first officer and I discovered a recorded message within our databases from an ancient race who called themselves the Tao Alliance.” Pausing for a moment, Dutch tapped the communicator pin on his chest and spoke softly, “Prime, have you been monitoring this conversation?”

From the device, her reply came back quickly, “Of course, Captain.”

Grinning, Dutch asked her, “Can you interface with the screen near me and playback the message from the Tao?”

Without a response, the images of the before and after views of the Odyssey were replaced with the recorded message from the Tao. Silence gripped the chamber as every person watched the message with rapt attention. When the message came to an end, the image lingered for a moment, then was once again replaced by the comparative images of the Odyssey, which possessed a greater context than they had before.

The room broke into sudden bursts of conversations over what the message implied, and many bemoaned the fact that their ancestors had encountered the iShan’tal rather than a race as benevolent as the Tao Alliance appeared to be. Dutch allowed their conversations to continue for a few moments before he spoke aloud, getting their attention once more.

“The Tao Alliance had a nice ring to it, did it not?” he asked the assembly rhetorically. “Imagine that future! Well, I had no idea about what had happened, so I had to start by going back from whence I had come. I had to see the Earth. But I was not prepared for what I found.”

“Wait,” the scientist asked, “How did you travel back to Earth without encountering yet another time dilation event?”

Dutch smiled grimly, addressing the man with his answer, “The Tao had indeed repaired the flow in my ship’s FTL drive, but they also imbued the Odyssey with a Jump Drive.”

“Impossible!” the man sputtered. “That craft is too small!”

Dutch tilted his head and wondered at the irony of the man’s reaction. “Really?” he scoffed with wonder, “After all I have told you, THAT is the leap too far?” He laughed deeply, and soon the others in the room joined with nervous laughter.

“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they are yours!” Dutch scorned, shaking his head in amusement.

The Chancellor spoke up at this point. “Captain, returning to the treaty for a moment,” she began, walking around the table to view the document. “How exactly are you expecting to bring this before the iShan’tal, and what makes you believe they will abide by its terms, given that they have already achieved their original objectives?”

Dutch laughed again, this time in relief, not ironically. “At last! A proper question!” He took two steps over to her, took her hand, and brought it up to kiss the back of it. “Madame, let me ask you – what is the state of your shipyards?”

*****

“And how did she respond to that?” Pheebs asked him, as he stepped into the sonic shower.

“I thought you were monitoring everything from the bridge?” he responded, amused.

“I was, but I like to watch you as you retell the story – your face gets so animated as you relive the events!” she giggled, her breasts jiggling with her amusement as she joined him in the shower.

Further conversation was suspended when Pheebs dropped to her knees in the shower to swallow his hardening member. Dutch closed his eyes and let his head loll back as he enjoyed her amazing oral talents, feeling his cock push up against the back of her mouth before she made swallowing movements, taking him into her throat. Her tongue was always in motion, swirling around his shaft as she took him deep, then teasing around the sensitive ridge of the head whenever she pulled back for air. Her hands were a flurry of motion as well, encircling his member with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, and twisting them in opposite directions as she stroked them along the length of his cock whenever she withdrew, then sliding back to the base when she once again engulfed him.

The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and soon Dutch rewarded her efforts with an explosive barrage of his cum splashing down her throat until she withdrew and allowed him to spray several bursts across her face and bountiful tits. Smiling with pleasure, she rose to her feet and proudly displayed her cum-covered features to him before scooping up the gobs of jism with her hands and licking her fingers clean, her face showing a playful grin as she did.

Afterward, once they had both cleaned one another, they returned to their bed and lay alongside one another, cuddling, as Dutch felt the events of the day catch up to him. He was idly playing with a lock of her hair when he muttered, almost to himself, “I wonder where the others are, and why they didn’t join us this evening?”

*****

A few cabins away, the smell of sex and sweat permeated Alisia’s room, as she panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. The trio of red-heads were tangled in a heap, with Jjan’tira lying on her back, her 70 cm long double-dildo barely visible, with either end lodged into a ginger quim. Straddling her from above, and laying upon her, their tits mashed together, Alisia moaned loudly again as D’narius slowly stroked the length of her strap-on deep into Alisia’s stretched-white asshole while rubbing soothingly at her ass cheeks.

“On, gods!” she exclaimed, “I’ve never felt so full! I can’t wait until we do this with Dutch!”

*****