Voyage

by C. Paul Lockman

  “I’ve been doing some research”, she said, between long, slow licks up and down my crack. “And I want to try something else.”

  Anything you like, baby. I’m going to get shot into a wormhole tomorrow. Have at ‘em.

  She opened her bedside cabinet and found a pair of surgeon’s gloves. Holy shit. Is this the role-play with the sexy customs officers who needs to check every last place I might hide some contraband? Because if so...

  “Sit up on the bed”. I was putty in her hands. “Relax.”

  She knelt in front of me, took my cock in both her hands, and began slowly stroking it back and forth. Sliding one hand into the glove, she dropped copious saliva on its fingers, and had me do the same. Her wet, gloved fingers then found my anus once more, thoroughly lubricated it with our mixed saliva, and gently pushed a finger inside.

  “Wow, Aldara, I don’t know...”

  It wasn’t the sensation that gave me pause; Xathan had, after all, repeatedly plunged his cock into this very same orifice, to my utmost delight. Perhaps it was the power reversal... I’m not sure. In any event, I quickly got over it, and decided to let her lead the way. On a planet full of scientists, I reasoned, it might be best to sit back and trust her research.

  The returned to steadily stroking my cock with one hand, while the other explored my bum with increasing confidence. Sliding a single finger further inside, she kissed me deeply, matching flickers of her tongue across mine with wiggling motions inside me. Every stroke of her hands on my penis was amplified by the extra pleasures she was creating in my bottom. It was surprising, curious, and massively erotic, and I let her experiment with come-hither motions, deep penetrations and quick, darting in-and-out movements.

  Then a second finger entered me and we were seriously motoring towards a titanic orgasm. Deep inside me, her gloved fingers began assiduously massaging my prostate, a unique sensation and one to which my cock responded with a steady stream of precum. It gathered on my tip, dribbled down my shaft, and was sexily licked from my cock head by Aldara, who only seemed to want more. And, oh boy, did she get a lot more.

  I’ve described to you some colossal orgasms; covering the Science Ministry trio in sperm back on Takanli, cumming deep inside the Raptor as we floated in zero-G, a memorable collection of big, hard spurts. This orgasm, which approached now with indescribable agony of inevitability, summoned my whole being and ejaculated a universe of sperm.

  The precum came thicker and faster as it approached, dribbling consistently down my shaft and lubricating Aldara’s already soaked fingers. As the crisis began, the dribble became a series of small spurts, each sending a larger cascade of cum down my shaft, which was now covered in sticky whiteness. As these pulses continued, my balls became covered in sperm, which hung off them in strands. Although I didn’t recognize it at the time, this was the pre-warm-up period, and I had already summoned twice as much as a regular Joe, jerking off on earth.

  The spurts became harder now, originating lower towards my perineum, more reminiscent of classic, orgasmic jolts. Sperm leapt from my tip and arched into the air, higher with each new surge, thicker and hotter as the climax developed. Yet larger jets took over, slower and harder, as if drawing from an undiscovered sperm source within me, and then, I remember thinking back, I properly started to cum.

  There were five main pulses to the peak of the orgasm, and I’ll remember them for the rest of my life. Spouting literally four feet into the air, a gush of sperm drenched Aldara like a fire extinguisher; without pause, yet more splashed forth, dwarfing even these titanic emissions. Thoroughly dousing her hair and face, covering her boobs and stomach, splashing over her shoulders and spattering wetly on the wall behind her, I came as no man had ever cum. Even the parting shots, the final waning jerks of my cock, sprayed white sperm a foot away from my shuddering cock.

  The intensity eased, the jolting subsided, and I was left feeling so utterly satisfied and spent that I struggle to gather a description with which to do justice to the occasion.

  I spent as much time as I dared, given my schedule, relaxing with the startled and sperm-painted Aldara, helping towel her off and taking a quick shower to sponge the outrageous spillage of juices off my own skin.

  Dressed and feeling quite unbelievably good, I kissed the beautiful and giving woman to whom I owed this mantelpiece orgasm, this pinnacle of my sexual life.

  “Baby, I have to go. I don’t want to, and I’m sorry. These scientist guys and their timetables…”

  She nodded that she understood, but her disappointment was impossible to disguise. I dressed quickly while she watched from the bed, then headed to the door.

  “Don’t forget me. Don’t forget us.” We kissed tenderly and, with a smile I hoped conveyed everything I owed her, I left.

  *****

  The journey back was fast and smooth, but I arrived only half an hour before Bassar’s deadline. They were just starting to worry, he said. There was a dinner meeting to finalise details for tomorrow’s work, and I was given the rest of the evening to myself. I spent it largely in the Cruiser, checking systems and loading supplies into the storage racks. The three black suitcases hung in their spaces, sealed shut with elaborate combination locks. Water, hydrogen, oxygen and coolant levels were topped up and double-checked. The engines, I knew, were in beautiful condition. I ordered a purging of the fuel system to wash out any contaminants from today’s trip and then re-pressurised it, ready for tomorrow. Food stores weren’t really necessary; the replicators could produce anything I desired using just distilled water, although some absolute genius had taught it how to make Marmite, and a small jar sat expectantly in one of the storage cupboards. I spent time with the ship’s computer, checking everything once more and laying in tomorrow’s course, before leaving for the night.

  The station was quiet as I returned to my quarters. Perhaps people had been cleared out to avoid disturbing me. I sat on the bed in my quarters, letting my mind accept what I was doing. I thought about Falik, and my hopes for a return journey. The wormholes, thus far at least, had been a one-way ticket. Upon emerging, I knew, there was no sign of where you had come from. You just showed up, like Relocating. I was in for a hell of a ride.

  I managed to sleep for a few hours before my lectern woke me up. Three hours until departure time. I ordered breakfast from the replicators but barely touched it. After a final sweep of the room, I sealed up my duffel once more and slung it over my shoulder. A deep breath, and I walked out into the station.

  There were three technicians, alongside Bassar and Cyto, at the docking bay. My Cruiser had been checked once more, I was told, and everything was working perfectly.

  “Is there anything you need from us?” Bassar asked, extending his hand.

  I had a lump in my throat. “You’ve given me everything already.” I decided to forgo the handshake and simply hugged him. “Thank you.”

  Cyto helped the technicians with their final checks and we embraced briefly, slightly stiffly but chuckling together at the awkwardness of it. Then I entered the cabin through the airlock. I shook hands with each technician, like an Apollo astronaut right before the hatch closed for that final time, and walked forward to the cockpit to take my seat. The ship felt good. Out of the bubble canopy I could see the planet and its myriad satellites; evidence of the startling technology which was enabling the next chapter of my journey. I felt a pang of longing for all the beings I had known here, the amazing things I had seen. But it was time to go home.

  The airlock swung shut and locked. I checked readouts one more time and then, exactly on schedule, uncoupled from the station and gently nudged the Cruiser away. I took a long look at the strange, metallic planet, glimmering in the starlight. It was beautiful, in a way I had come to comprehend only since being here. Technology, I had learned, need not always be functional. It could also be astoundingly pretty.

  The engines came to life as I throttled forward and the ship followed our course precisely, nosing up to bring us sl
ightly higher than the orbital plain of the planet. The journey would be about forty minutes in duration. I clicked on the auto-pilot and sat back, enjoying the acceleration as we hit 0.03-C (3% of the speed of light), a reasonable cruise speed for this distance. To give you an idea, although I was getting blasé about it by this time, the Voyager spacecraft are tooling along at about five-one thousandths of the speed of light (0.005-C), and yet they represent the fastest objects ever made by man. It was truly heady stuff.

  Thoughts crowded in, but I tried to focus on the job. Space was a restful environment for the troubled mind. There were no distractions in its darkness, nothing to keep my brain from rehearsing the plan yet again. My eyes swept readouts, pausing on each to take in the mass of information. The engines were flawless. Fuel systems were all go, efficiently channelling hydrogen to the reaction chamber behind me. It must have made quite a sight, the beautiful, silver Cruiser powering away from the metallic planet with its mass of ships and stations, trailing a thin line of blue telluric ions, disappearing into history.

  Before I could see it, the Cruiser’s sensors detected the chronological anomaly known as the Vortex. On cue, we began a steady deceleration and, as agreed, the Chrono-Travel station initiated contact. They had been tracking me, of course, and up until now the computers had handled communications.

  “Cruiser Phoenix, this is Chrono Control.” The ship had needed a name, amid the crowded Spacedock full of vessels, and I could think of no better. “How do you read?”

  The radio check was a welcome, reassuring anachronism. “Five by five, Control. Ready to initiate entry procedure.”

  The ship approached the Chrono station and flew by, allowing its sensors to pick up any problems. More fuel was available if necessary, but the engines had been most efficient and my tanks read 99.8% full. Besides, a refuelling stop would take time. I was ready to go now.

  I looped round the station, and then turned to head into the Vortex. It was two minutes away and it already dominated the canopy windows. The centre of the Vortex, I could see, was brighter than the remainder, a pulsating mass of colours and lights. Yellow was the dominant colour, but there were flashes of every other colour I had ever seen. Lightning arced around the edges in huge, many-legged strands, illuminating the interior. Around the centre was a boiling mass of clouds.

  A minute to go. “Proceed, Phoenix”, was all they said. A final check of the instruments. Everything was fine. The flight plan called for a steady deceleration to ensure I entered the wormhole at a speed which wouldn’t send me a light-year off course when I emerged. Fuel was precious, as was time. I throttled up to 0.12-C and pointed the nose of the ship at the centre of the maelstrom. Seconds from entry, I said, “Thanks for everything.” A short pause, then, “Let’s GO!”

  Brightness filled the cockpit and, it seemed, my whole body. The canopy glass struggled to compensate. I was in a world of whiteness, and then of a myriad colours. I was being pulled in, I knew, and felt the enormous, crushing gravity take hold of the ship, and of me, and haul us down, down towards the centre, further down, my stomach in my throat. I was falling off the edge of the cliff of the Universe, falling like a rock. We had become a tiny particle of sand in the hourglass. We were being crushed from all sides, compressed, reduced down to nothing, atomised. The pressure on my head, my chest, was intense, like at the bottom of the sea, sinking, down, down…

  PART TWO

  Prologue

  The long, gleaming spacecraft was bathed in celestial illumination for the first time in years.

  Two stars, each orbiting the other in a ballet which had lasted aeons, brilliantly lit the tumbling ship. Inside, the cabin was filled with a startling radiance, and then the deepest darkness, alternating as if lit by a vast and powerful lighthouse, somehow suspended in deep space.

  The ship’s only passenger was oblivious to the impressive display of radiation. Quiet and still for six days, and floating serenely in zero-G, his thoughts were untroubled by the predictable, reliable patterns of the cosmos. These, he maintained to himself, were ordained. They were to be acknowledged without complaint, or judgement. They did not require the formation of an opinion. What He hath wrought, said the Book, all must accept.

  He read aloud, his voice steady and distinct despite his lengthy silence.

  We are the agency of His furtherment,

  His own word made flesh, given breath and hands.

  We are guided only to teach His word,

  To rejoice in His deeds,

  To follow Him, in His loving grace.

  It was a daily act of surrender, of renewal and affirmation. Each recitation was a moment of peace, of sustenance. Each tumbling of the ship was designed by Him, was pleasing to Him. Every mile travelled was a celebration of His design and of the aptness of our absolute compliance.

  He returned to silence as the ship skimmed past this dazzling binary star system, and onward along a course begun a century before. There was still so very, very far to go. But he was patient.

  Chapter XXX: The Big Sleep

  We emerged.

  We were whole.

  The pressure lifted at once, the crushing sensation ceased, my heart resumed beating and I managed to gasp a few breaths, in then out, and then take a deeper, nourishing breath. As my eyes came back into focus, the readouts became clear. Everything seemed fine. The engines had cut out as planned when we passed through, so we remained at 0.12-C. I clicked the navigation panel and the ship tilted sharply, centring on our route home, a direct line across the Orion Arm.

  The next sequence of events was actually unscheduled and could begin whenever I wanted. Right now, I was just happy to be alive. Chronological data, gathered from the locations of constellations, revealed that we had arrived on March 19th, 1967, just as we were supposed to. Penny Lane was top of the charts. Aretha Franklin had just recorded Respect. The Packers were still celebrating their victory in Super Bowl I. Man was yet to walk on the moon. And yet one of their representatives was a hundred and twenty light-years from home.

  All of the advice from the technicians, Bassar and Cyto, was to enter stasis first, and then have the computer begin the lightspeed sequence. The unpleasant sensations would only be magnified in this small craft. Once lightspeed was reached, the engines could power up further, burning up the vast majority of our hydrogen, and push the ship to 3.2c, our planned cruise speed. This would get me home in July 2008, a few days shy of my abduction date. I spent half an hour with the computer, checking this data, and everything seemed fine.

  After a relaxed meal produced by the replicators, I was ready to think about stasis. The procedure was simple. I would finish programming the computer, drop the tiny probe which would let the Holdrian scientists know that I had made it through, and climb into the stasis chamber. Over the period of three hours, it would render me unconscious, slow down all of my biological systems to a crawl, lower my core temperature to within a degree or two of freezing and begin feeding me nutrients in a tiny stream through an IV drip. I would stay there for 41 years and three months, give or take. This depended on the speed we were able to reach, and the precision of the orbital calculations which had placed me on a path with my home planet.

  I decided to get it over with. There was little to do except play the computer at chess, and that could have only one, rather frustrating, result. I undressed, placing my clothes tidily in a storage locker, and visited the bathroom one last time. I put the ship into a brief 1-G rotation and sat, daydreaming for a while. I was reminded of Stephen Baxter’s character in his marvellous novel Titan, which I had read back home about a year before all of this happened. Paula, our hero, is left alone and stranded on Saturn’s weird, frozen moon and decides to commit suicide by jumping into a lake of liquid hydrocarbons. But not before she has a ‘long, slow, luxurious dump’. Mine was not dissimilar.

  The computer was certain of its job and I would be awakened if anything really serious happened. What the computer didn’t mention was that ‘anythin
g really serious’ would almost certainly destroy the ship, particularly as we were about to accelerate to three times the speed of light and remain at that velocity for four decades. A high-speed run of this type had only been tried once before over such a distance. I had been the passenger on that occasion also.

  Getting into the stasis chamber was a lot like putting on a suit of armour, except everything was white and extremely comfortable. I leaned back, into the cradle of the chamber, which mimicked my shape. It was cosy, perhaps even tight, but not uncomfortable, like being wrapped in dense cotton wool. There were various straps and tubes to engage. I had trouble getting the IV drip into my arm, but slid it into a vein on the third attempt. I taped the drip in place, took a few deep breaths, and pushed the button which closed the chamber door and began the stasis process. I wasn’t nervous. In some ways I was looking forward to the experience. But the strangeness of this act, and all the others of the last weeks, remained.

  Inside, I was relieved to find that there was almost complete silence. I had expected to hear the ship’s own noises – fans, pumps and the like – but there was only the very faint whirr of a ventilation fan behind my head, which would provide air. There was nothing to feel, either, save the warm, comforting surroundings of the white capsule. It smelled kind of new, faintly like a new car.

  Before I had the chance to dwell on this any further, I could feel the process begin. My eyes became heavy and closed almost of their own accord. My whole body seemed to relax, from my forehead down to my neck muscles, my pecs, my stomach and legs, all the way down to the ends of my toes. This took a few minutes and was wonderful to experience, like being gradually anaesthetised from the top down.