Parallel Extinction (Extinction Encounters Book 1)

by T. R. Stevens

  He was confused. She had come to him for a reason other than the one he’d thought, but she was here with him, naked and vulnerable, holding him tightly. He rested his cheek against the soft, downy hair that blanketed her beautiful scalp, taking in a deep, slow breath; taking in her scent, her sex. He returned the embrace by stroking her neck and back, unsure.

  She said no. What exactly was she denying? He decided to test her. He gently moved her face to his and looked into her eyes. He did not find the answer there. Holding her gaze, he placed his mouth against hers. She responded, her eyes closing, her tongue flowing into his mouth searchingly. Still, he watched her face as he kissed her. After a moment her eyes opened and she saw he was watching. She returned his gaze then, and her passion took on amplified energy and vivacity. Her hands came to life, releasing him from her hug, and moving over his body energetically, exploring. She gripped his butt with both hands and forced their groins together, her eyes momentarily narrowing, and then opening wide in a question. Garrison knew his answer, and so did his body, quickly rising to the occasion. He forgave her any decisions she’d made out of her need for information, and lost himself in this moment of his resolution—to believe that she actually did want him; his body.

  That she needed him.

  CHAPTER 33

  EVENT: DAY 11, Midday

  Wearing bodies of twenty-five years, the two languished in post-coital warmth.

  Well-insulated from other ears, as well as the political machinations of the military government, this was how they began most meetings. Caressed by softness of mira-fiber sheets in the luxurious apartment bedroom atop a high-rise in Oasis, they recovered after their vigorous lovemaking.

  The penthouse, sitting atop the spire of the building, rotated slowly. The view—provided by an all-glass-and-open-air structure—swept across the vista of the tropical, Central Nexus city. Hidden Gravity Rejector modules were arrayed to provide a plane of variable weightlessness above the bed, further promoting their sense of youth and strength.

  There was sex, but no intimacy here. It was a business meeting, preceded by the carnal celebration of what their position offered them: the intensity of youth with power unrivaled by any two others alive.

  Along with youth, beauty adorned them both. This was not luck; bloodlines had been modified by pre-Obliteration genetic mods and manipulations. Gen-mods, outlawed since The Obliteration, had a lasting effect on the human species—many good, some bad.

  Beauty had been a heavily selected trait, and the culture of that era had been force-molded by the result. Those able to afford the lowering cost of Genengineering had been blessed with stunning children, and it was this next generation that began a cultural shift.

  At that time, recipients who bought gen-mod packages, also received a hardening-off splice: a bulletproofing of the human genome against many threats and diseases, including those sexually transmitted.

  In those decades, this largess of allure and safety from sexual diseases further weakened faltering taboos and restrictive mores. Changes in sexual code-of-ethics gained strength in Europe; in the United States, the Youth in Rebellion movement embraced the change a generation before The Obliteration.

  Remarkable beauty was ever a benefit to those who’s will led them to climb to the top positions of corporate power structures such as these two occupied. And the very rich were often isolated within their own worlds, as their parents before and their children after. This was the case with these two, these siblings. Incestuous trysts amongst the very rich, very beautiful, were common enough… just not discussed in polite company.

  Having spent the hormonal lust of their youth-come-again, they slipped robes over nakedness to discourage the distraction that would return quickly. She bound her dark hair back and adjusted the gravity further downward until a slight floatation blossomed. “So, brother dear, I see you have been toying with the admiral.”

  “I never toy, as you know. I craft. We need to make some decisions about what actions we want our puppet to take. He has lately been like an unbroken, wild horse.”

  “Yes. Things are moving quickly, and so must we.”

  CHAPTER 34

  EVENT: DAY 8, 1030 UT

  “Hey, this is Hahn’s bunk.”

  Jennifer was surprised.

  Smiling back at her, Taylor knocked when the door didn’t slide open like she’d hoped it would. She replied, “Ah ha, you’ve been here before.”

  Jennifer’s face pinked as she said, mildly defensive, “Well, you knew the way pretty well yourself, TJ.”

  “Oh, don’t worry Jen, I rode Mr. Hahn’s wild ride, too. Quite a thing to start off a mission with.” Jennifer chuckled. Taylor continued, “I guess Lev’s not here. We’ll have to have our talk later.”

  “No, I can get in. He gave me privilege.” Jennifer traded places with Taylor and got the scanner to check her eye, then she blinked a code and the door opened. “He won’t mind us going in.”

  “No, in fact I’m sure that he’d be delighted to know that there were two attractive women in his bedroom. He’d be here if he could, I have no doubt.”

  “Well, TJ, what did you have in mind?” Her note of curiosity was tinged with nervousness as the door slid shut behind them.

  It wasn’t lost on Taylor. “Well, we both know what happens in here.” She waved a hand to include the crash web that hung limply in the space over the sleeping pad. Jennifer’s cheeks reddened again, but Taylor didn’t want to mess with her new friend’s head too much.

  “I’m not proposing we do that.” Taylor waited a heartbeat, catching the flash of mixed emotion that crossed Jennifer’s face. Smiling inside, she continued. “What I was thinking… well, I’ll just show you.” First she went to the console and brought up some funky music selections, turning the volume up loud. Then, she walked to the sling; it was still paired up as a double; she spun it. It whirled about tightly.

  Jennifer was watching with a puzzled expression on her face. The music was loud enough that Taylor cupped her hands around her mouth at Jennifer’s ear. “Take off your boots and climb in.” The look Taylor got back made her laugh. “It’s okay, Jen.” Removing her boots, the girl deftly climbed in and fastened a couple of straps so that she wouldn’t float out under the null gravity of the present flight sequence. Taylor climbed in next, belly to belly. It was a bit awkward without gravity, and she did not recall having this much trouble with Lev—but of course, things were a bit of a blur there. Fighting the arrangement, she managed it, moderately winded, face to face with Jennifer. “Cozy?” Jennifer only nodded, with a strained smile.

  Taylor vaguely recalled that Lev had started the thing with his foot on the bunk below and the wall to the side. She slipped a leg back out. “Ready?” She didn’t wait for an answer; she just pushed off, and pushed a bit with each rotation, improving her rhythm until they were spinning at a good clip. Then she brought her leg into the tight web with slight difficulty against the rotational force that she’d created. Now she could talk.

  Against the minor centripetal force, Taylor moved her lips close to Jennifer’s ear, speaking with a deliberately slow pace. “Okay, Jen, first I’ll tell you why I did this. I suspect that there aren’t any places on the ship, even a privy, or here in this cabin, where I could say something that isn’t getting picked up, filtered and sorted. Maybe I’m wrong, but better not to take a chance, especially since this is so easy. See, the spin is going to cause our voices to get chopped up from the standpoint of any pickups in this room.”

  Jennifer let out a sound of sudden understanding after long confusion.

  Taylor was about to continue, but the hammock assembly was slowing down, bringing the girls closer together, but defeating Taylor’s purpose.

  “Just a second.” She stuck a leg out and got it ramped up again, struggling once more to bring her leg back into the sling. “Anyway,” she said, catching her breath between her
words, “I was going to ask, what are the rumors that you’ve heard?”

  “I’m getting a little dizzy, TJ.”

  “Just close your eyes, Hon, pretend you’re in takeoff.”

  “Okay. Yes, that’s a little better. Alright, the rumors. So, one of them was that all the crewmembers on the Seeker were killed in the accident, and another was…”

  Taylor interrupted her, “Hold on a sec, Jen, this thing is slowin’ down again.” Taylor didn’t remember Lev having to constantly stick his foot out when they were … oh fuck! Taylor’s face went so red that Jennifer noticed it immediately.

  “Taylor, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, well… it’s just that when Lev and I wanted to keep this thing going we… well I just realized how this works, see… we were into it, you know…”

  “Yes, I know all about that…”

  “Well, did you ever ride a swing set when you were a kid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “So do you remember the phrase ‘pumping’?”

  “Oh… yeah, that’s when you use your legs to keep it going.”

  “Right.” Taylor paused, hoping that the obvious would occur to Jennifer, but it seemed that it wasn’t that obvious. “Well,” she continued, “that’s how this thing works. You see, when Lev and I were spinning, we were ‘pumping’…”

  “Oh,” then, “Ohhhhh.” Jennifer got it.

  “Yeah, you see what I mean now, we gotta pretend that… to keep this thing spinning.”

  “Okay,” Jennifer chirped. “I mean, I want to have our talk, you know.”

  “Alright, I’ll get it started again.” As they’d glided to a slow barrel roll, Taylor stuck a leg out once more. After they were spinning at a decent pace, all body parts pulled into the slings, she hesitantly said, “Okay, let’s try it.”

  The girls went into a simulation of sex, thrusting their hips in and out. They were both blushing and feeling a bit warm, being fully suited. It took a some practice to get the timing right, but once they had the rhythm of it they found they could really get the hammock spinning as fast or slow as they wanted. At that point all concerns for how they might appear to each other evaporated, and they began laughing like two playground playmates.

  After moving past the novelty of it, Taylor brought them back to their original discussion. The conversation that ensued sobered them both, and they had to focus to keep a rhythm for the spin. Taylor saw how worried her friend became and gave her some reassurances that seemed to help.

  The important part of the conversation over, they fell into an automatic thrust and release. While it had quickly become natural, it was still a lot of work. That sexual stunt with Hahn had left Taylor’s abs and glutes tight but extremely sore the next day. Still, it was easier this time, not being under the extra Gs of acceleration.

  Easier was good; Taylor probably couldn’t have kept up a more strenuous pace with Jennifer since there was not the extra, driving sexual energy, as with Hahn. Thoughts of that act, combined with her pelvis thrusting against Jennifer’s, brought extra warmth to her already heated body. Their conversation had petered out. Jennifer’s face was only inches from hers, and all else that Taylor could see was a straight blur in motion. From this singular perspective, in a flash of vision, Jennifer’s features were rendered into super high-definition. It brought a sudden, unexpected intimacy, they shared a timeless moment as they looked into each other’s sweat-sheened faces. The moment passed. They both blushed again.

  Before anything was said, they heard the door slide open. Over the music, a familiar voice remarked, “What the…”

  The girls’ simultaneous shriek immediately turned to gut-busting laughter. Their rhythm completely fell apart as they laughed while the sling coasted to a near rest. They looked out at a slack-jawed Hahn slowly rotating past, and their guffaws renewed as they struggled, comically, out of the sling set-up, unable to concentrate on the critical moves needed.

  Hahn watched wide-eyed and grinning, swept up by their contagious laughter. He said nothing, just stared, as the girls performed captivating but ungainly acrobatics, until they managed to slip their feet into their boots. They stumbled past, moving toward the door, laughing harder each time they looked at him, and left him to wonder and decide for himself just what was going on—exactly as they’d done in the mess hall.

  CHAPTER 35

  EVENT: DAY 13, 1630 UT

  General Hanson hoped in vain for a diversion.

  Despite the spin ring’s point-eight Gs, his feet were leaden as he walked slowly toward Admiral Swan’s office. The admiral’s acidic mood seemed to worsen by the hour. Hanson really wanted nothing to do with his commanding officer at the moment. Of course, there wasn’t anything that would change his course to the man’s sparse office.

  Lately, Hanson had been summoned more frequently by way of the admiral’s private hail. This reinforced his feeling that the man was hiding his actions. And it certainly seemed likely the man had something to hide.

  Hanson had been riding on protocol during his new assignment break-in period. Coming up from planetside duty, he was in unfamiliar territory. He reported directly to the top of the command chain so there was no interceding officer on-station to whom he could take a concern. There had been no chance to make any connections beyond casual encounters in a Vegas bar. No one to “show him the ropes.” So, as harsh as the scenario with the deceased private had been, the situation was too strange for him to know if everything had been by the book.

  Strange was an understatement. Hanson’s stomach for this assignment wasn’t as strong as it needed to be. He looked the part: chiseled, square-jawed, flat-top haircut. His dark-blue-eyed gaze looked out from under an eagle-emblazoned cap. He appeared more a drill sergeant than a general. His presence said “intimidation,” but when staring into the reflection of his serious face, he was well aware of the lie his looks told. He had never expected the kind of duty that he’d been faced with. It was not the exciting promotion that he had anticipated.

  Something in his CO’s actions led Hanson to deduce there would be a strong reaction at the news of the two captains fucking. In fact, Swan’s anger was worse than he’d anticipated. The actual intel that the admiral was gathering from their mission was not available to Hanson, but he’d seen the collection effort and the amount of data queued for Swan’s review. Besides the horror show with the dead private, there was some other manipulation in the works. He hadn’t put a finger on it yet.

  But Swan was dirty, he was sure of it.

  The general was dreading whatever turn of events would come in the next days as the departed ships performed their search.

  The admiral’s hail did not relay the substance of this latest request, but of course, after the last visit, Hanson assumed that it would be about Captain Astra. Shoot the messenger was the phrase he had in mind as he walked through the door. Swan ignored him, as usual, and so Hanson settled into his attention-stance, prepared to wait as long as he was made to.

  To his surprise, Swan just held out his arm, something between his fingers, and, without looking up, said, “Send this to QB1, direct from Comm, as before.” Relieved, the general stepped forward and took the Orders chip. He turned, making quick-time toward the door, but not fast enough. “HANSON!”

  The general turned back toward the admiral, but not before he replaced the grimace on his face with a carefully neutral mask. “Yes sir!”

  Swan fixed him with his piercing gaze. “That’s top-secret, my eyes-only. Not yours, not anyone’s, until it reaches Captain Astra. And it’s top priority! Sent-yesterday priority! Get my meaning? Now move it!” The general made the mistake of taking the time to salute, and was rewarded with a shout. “I SAID MOVE IT! DOUBLE-TIME!” The general picked up his pace, a profound sense of resentment growing toward this man who treated him like an enlisted.

  * * *

  The admiral had
been right-on-the-money about the treasonous intentions of his two lab rats. But being right gave him no pleasure under the circumstances.

  And as much as it pained him, it also gave Swan a twisted pleasure to watch the recordings of Bartell and Astra, pretending that she was naked in his arms again. When he was able to come down from his fantasies, his seething anger would set in, and he could coldly scrutinize all the nuances of their exchanges.

  Scraps of sub-vocals; snippets of conversation picked up by his experimental nanotech; the facial expressions caught on the vid; and the admiral’s own suspicions; it all added up to his conclusion: it was just a matter of time before the two committed out and out treason, sharing Bartell’s orders.

  He had to poison Astra against Bartell.

  The orders he’d just sent would respond to her only, and quickly fade away, just as Bartell’s. That might give Bartell pause, but it wasn’t the main thrust; those orders were mostly innocuous, an excuse to send the data that he’d planted locally, within the zephyr.

  Swan had used one of his special soldiers, trained in this type of tech, to set up a duplexing of the display. Instead of Astra’s orders simply dissolving, the zephyr would appear to malfunction. Her orders would not reappear upon it, but instead, a condensed version of Bartell’s sealed orders would flicker to life on the sheet. With some carefully crafted anomalies, the single page was still easily decipherable, quickly digestible. It meant giving away the game, but Swan saw that coming no matter what.

  He hadn’t quite worked out how this would end, but that didn’t matter to him; what he wanted now was to make Astra unhappy; ruin anything she might be feeling for this scum-piece-of-shit pirate. He wanted to turn things upside down for the both of them. Let them tear each other up. Maybe the mission was in jeopardy, maybe not. Maybe they’d just pull away from each other and complete this farce of an assignment. And maybe that would achieve his original objectives. He couldn’t see the final outcome, but he wanted to see their pain in the meantime.