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From: simon_48@hotmail.com (Simon Wagstaff III)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 6 Dec 2002 22:10:36 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} HURTLING PLANETS  a new-wave space opera by Simon Wagstaff III SF, sex, adventure
Date: Fri,  6 Dec 2002 20:10:05 -0500
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On a lost planet, a mystic points to the sky. Two men hunch over
a hastily-built device in a darkened basement. A naked girl is
held down and injected with powerful drugs. Captain Dennis feels
a sense of impending doom. One ship containing renegades
discovers a terrible secret. Captain Harleigh can barely control
herself. The first world dies.

HURTLING PLANETS A  NEW-WAVE SPACE OPERA by Simon Wagstaff III 
PART II

  ON A LOST PLANET, A MYSTIC POINTS TO THE SKY. His hair is long
and braided, his eyes bloodshot from the smoke of drugs. But his
voice is steady as he tells a group of powerful nobles about his
vision.
  "I have seen it in my sleep," he tells them, "and others have
perceived it. Our ancestors are returning, in their mighty ships
of the stars." He staggers slightly, smiling.
  "They will think to make us their slaves," remarks a bearded
warrior, hand upon his sword. "They will see us as children,
playing at games." He waves a hand, taking in a vista of green
fields and thatched huts. Castles built of white stone are
visible in the distance from the balcony where they stand.
  "They will not see what is really here until it is too late for
them," said the seated man, who is the most richly dressed. "They
will see only lost children, until they bow to worship us at
last. We will meet again in three days to discuss what to show
them first."
  The others bow respectfully and rise into the air. Like clouds,
they sail away easily towards their castles. The mystic soars the
highest, towards the sun. Scantily-dressed serving women come out
to wait upon the seated man. As the red sun sinks they begin to
caress him and remove his clothes. A choice little blonde kneels
before him and slowly sucks his cock as he stares up at the stars
slowly becoming visible in the sky.

  TWO MEN HUNCH OVER A HASTILY-BUILT DEVICE IN A DARKENED
BASEMENT. They manipulate equipment attached to an alien machine,
which seems like a piece of sculpture. Over their heads hangs a
glowing sphere, in which images come and go with flickering
rapidity. A spark snaps and the bearded man swears and jerks his
hand away.
  "We're getting something now," encourages the tall, thin man,
his handsome face smiling. "You're on the right track."
  "Yeah, but I can't lock onto anything. I'm not even sure what
I'm locking on to. This is so different from our ideas about
communications. The signals seem to be pre-existing, as if I'm
hanging my detect fields on a railroad track instead of pulling
in - hello!" He falls back, expecting another shock, as bright
light began to glow over his head. The two gape in awe as a
three-dimensional image begins to build up over their heads. They
see a tall sandy-haired woman stretched on a dark sleeping pad,
enthusiastically masturbating with both hands. She is making
little happy noises and thrusting her hips. The whole scene is
repeated invitingly in a mirror, revealing every detail. The men
gawk admiringly at her long legs and light bush and at the high,
dark-nippled breasts jiggling furiously.
  "We shouldn't be watching this!" The tall man giggles, blushing
furiously. The bearded man pushes a toggle and the light begins
to fade, but not before the nude sits bolt upright, gasps "Who?"
and rolls out of sight.
  Something funny about that room she was in," frowns the bearded
man, checking the settings on the device.
  "She was an angel," smiled the tall man. "I bet she was
lonely."

    A NAKED GIRL IS HELD DOWN  AND INJECTED WITH DRUGS. Koko is
screaming and begging as they shove her face down upon the table.
Her tight brown buttocks wiggle invitingly.
  "God, no, please don't do this to me!" she begs. "I swear, I'll
do anything you say, don't fuck me up. I'll give you my parole,
we'll join up and go somewhere neutral, don't DO this! I won't be
MYSELF ANYMORE!"
  The beefy blond man holds her leg still long enough for the
injector to press against her skin. The lean dark man pulls the
trigger; with a last screech of "Dennis!" the girl goes limp.
  The tall pale man who has stood with his arms folded grimaces
in disgust. "I feel better now that the spray's empty. At least
WE don''t have to worry about you injecting us in the night,
Robbie."
  The blond man smirks. "Do you a world of good, James. You'd
make a good janitor or cook after a dose of Encef. Wouldn't argue
so much." He slaps Koko's firm ass. "Ooh! That's prime. I want
her first, when she wakes up happy."
  The fourth man,  a thin fellow with Asian features, grins
unpleasantly. "I'll toss you for her."
  The lean dark man looks unhappy. "It's the only thing I can
think of besides just killing her. She'll be docile and happy
now, and she won't be trying to kill us in our sleep. If you
think we'd have gotten halfway to Kobold with a starship officer
without her trying something you don't know officers. Besides,
we'd have had to fuck her soon. She's driving me nuts just lying
there."
  The four discuss their plan to land on the new planet Kobold
and disappear into its population as the girl sleeps, the
injection mark on her thigh slowly turning blue. She begins to
snore, then wakes up suddenly. "Where am I?" she asks groggily.
  "You've died and gone to heaven, honey." Robbie takes her by
the upper arm and raises her to a sitting position. "We're your
new owners, and you're going to make us all happy. Isn't that
great?" He smiles happily, and after a moment Koko begins to
smile too. It is a happy smile, a goofy smile, the smile of a
moron. It is nothing like the glowing smile that tortures Dennis.
 Robbie leads her off into the cabin, his hand upon herbuttocks.

  CAPTAIN DENNIS FEELS A SENSE OF IMPENDING DOOM. He paces about
the command bridge of REACHER, often pausing behind the officers
at their controls. He feels as if he is missing something, as if
something heavy is hanging over his head. Koko's face returns to
his mind; he pushes it away. Dead now, or as good as dead. If
only Harleigh had a free ship to chase that gig with. The gig.
Something . . . Dennis sucks in a breath. "Don't anybody talk to
me," he warns, collapsing into a chair. Log tapes. Not enough
sleep. He shakes his head impatiently. The gig. No refueling
capacity. How much fuel did it -
  "Get me a playback of the gig escaping," he barks. Chubby
Second Officer Warren touches several keys, turns and points:
"Screen Two, sir." An external camera had recorded the blowing
out of the hatch cover and the emergence of the gig AMATEUR,
which tumbled away, then blurred in hyperdrive. "Back up, slow it
down. Do we have a fix on the direction?"
   Ames nods sleepily from Third Chair. "We traced the
interference waves for a couple light-years. They just went
straight ahead, no vector that we could discern."
  "Damn." Dennis' dark face becomes darker. "And that's what
bothered me. Those were ordinary crew, and Alliance riff-raff to
boot. There's no one piloting that gig. They expected Powter to
pilot, or else thought it was on autopilot. She's ... denied them
her piloting skills. and they're going to accelerate until they
run out of fuel. Where will they - "
  " - be when they run out, assuming," mutters Warren. His hands
fly over controls, his board blooms with displays. "Assuming they
carry standard tanks for a courier boat, and that they were full
- "
  " - and that they don't even think of turning." Ames chimes in
lazily. His screens are echoing Warren. "No, assume they turn at
every possible place, and plot a globe of all points reachable.
Then, analyze ... "
  Dennis's ears are making a roaring noise. He has been stupid.
There had been a chance. Ceres was stable now. He should have
pursued instantly. What was happening to that sweet brown girl at
this moment? He stumbles away from the other officers, puts his
head against a bulkhead, and breathes heavily. Stupid, he tells
himself. It's a war, almost. People die. It's not your fault.
  Yes it is, he tells himself back. A man protects his woman. A
captain his crew. The strong protect the weak. I blew this one.
  "Captain," Ames calls. "I think we have three good chances."
Dennis goes to his duty.

  ONE SHIP CONTAINING RENEGADES DISCOVERS A TERRIBLE SECRET.
Charlie Soaper is a nasty fellow. What police call "A real piece
of work." He has never liked working and was big enough to steal
at an early age. A few trips to Juvenile Court hadn't changed his
habits, only taught him new ones. After a multi-planetary career
of small crime and sneaky murder, he wound up as a crewman on the
slow freighter STEAMTRAIN. After several trips, he realized that
the captain and crew were superfluous if one had the confidence
of the engine room crew, all trained astrogators. The resulting
mutiny resulted in Charlie as First Officer to a huge brute named
Mister Jones, who grunted a lot and was content to let Charlie
issue orders. Charlie's first order was to spend a great deal of
cash on new motors and grapples. The grumbling stopped when the
use became apparent: they matched velocity with another freighter
and grappled, then boarded and robbed it. They had become space
pirates, not the first to have that idea. They found that Her
Majesty's Fleet had fast ships, too, with grapples that could
pull in a small asteroid. All in all they were ahead and making
money, but they slept lightly and drank heavily.
  Recently their luck has been on the downturn, and they have
been chased out into the Big Dark: the region of intergalactic
space where no suns shine. Finding a rogue planet fleeing
endlessly through space, they set down and hitch a ride. They
have been on its surface for two weeks, and are going slightly
stir-crazy.
  Charlie is dressed in a piratical costume of mismatched finery
taken from ships he has robbed. He is watching a row of detectors
and screens as he talks. Several of them show the endless plain
stretching out on all sides of the ship, now renamed BLACK CROSS.
Several men in suits march around carrying boxes.
  "This place gives me the creeps," growls Charlie Soaper as he
watches his dials. "I wanna take off, but I know we ought to sit
tight." His thin dark hand adjusts a slider.
  "The colder the better," grunts Benny the Martian. "When they
get them detectors opened up they can see you for light-years. I
feel pretty safe with the whole bulk of this planet between us
and the galactic arm." He scratches one of his huge ears with a
thick finger.
  "Charlie's right," mutters Verna Colter, peering through a tiny
thick porthole at the planetary surface. "This place gives me
major paranoia. Something's watching us. Something . . . dead. A
dead mind, still thinking. On a dead world."
  Benny stares at her thin buttocks, barely covered under a thin
kimono. He rises and cups a  huge hand around her breast from
behind.
  "I know what you need, baby," he says slyly. "You need some
cheerin' up." He begins kissing her neck, leaving little hickeys
among her tattoos. She turns and kneels, smiling wickedly up as
she opens his fly.
  "You the one needs cheering, sport," she chuckles as her lips
engulf his cock.
  "Don't call me no mutant," Benny says automatically. "Ooh,
that's good. You could have come along as official whore even if
you weren't so damn smart," muffled cursing interrupts his
pleasure, "Hey, don't STOP?" He wraps his big hands companionably
around her shaved head. Charlie watches for a few seconds, then
shrugs. Watching two ugly people shank isn't his idea of a porno.
Not that he would shove Verna away if she wants to blow him next.
His screens have changed while he watched. He starts to rise in
consternation, then sees it is the forward view changing. A new
system is coming into detector range in the starless dark: a
faintly glowing protosun circled by one dark planet. Charlie
frowns. He distrusts that planet. No, not the planet. The sun.
The dark sun. He can feel it looking at him. At everyone.
  Verna and Benny slow their rhythm, looking dazed. Even dull
Benny feels the eyes watching him. He comes in Verna's mouth with
a feeling of dull foreboding.

  CAPTAIN HARLEIGH CAN BARELY CONTROL HERSELF. She almost
vibrates with rage and frustration. Someone had peeked at her
while she masturbated. They had giggled! Worst of all, they had
stopped her short of a mindblowing orgasm. Her brow began to
sweat at the mere thought of how close -
  She stalks her bridge, glaring at her officers and crew. They
are mystified at her rage; Second Chair Smitley is probably
thinking she's having a bad time of the month. The creep. The
main screen shows a view of the planet Diva below. One of the
smaller screens displays positions of the enemy ships.
  "Someone penetrated our security," she tells them again.
"Either one of you jerks has really gone too far, and I have your
assurance that this isn't the case, or someone on the planet
below has the power to look through our screens like they're
mist. And it was two-way! An insane waste of power. I could hear
them, too." She fights not to blush. How long had they watched?
Was she recorded, even now being viewed admiringly on the
conflicted planet below?
  Joan Harleigh straightens her back proudly, thrusting out her
magnificent bosom and tightening her splendid ass. Let 'em look,
she thinks. I have four university degrees and five years of
command experience, AND I look like a queen. One day I'll be old,
but I can't help loving it right now. She fights not to blush.
Let 'em broadcast it all over the galaxy.
  "Rerun the scan tapes," she tells the Chairs. "Find the
intrusion. Tell me what it was. I need answers. If this stalemate
breaks I want it to break my way."
  First Officer Chan, older and wiser  than Smitley (but
unfortunately for Harleigh, gay), smiles over his shoulder at
her.
  "Cap'n, don't ya know a pretty gal like you hasta expect
peepin' toms once in a while?" He giggles good-naturedly. "If
it's a new Alliance device, they'll be desertin' in bunches and
comin' over t' our side once they get a glimpse of you. Screen
Five, watch this."
  He flicks a toggle and a burst of data squeals by, straight
green lines and red dots. "There's our output an' detected input
over six hours, includin' the intrusion time. There's no action.
Micropower tightbeams couldn't get through without adding some
micro-input. This is just, well, non-existent."
  Joan wishes it had been a hallucination. Starship officers were
not subject to hallucinations. Someone was playing peekaboo with
her, using planetary-class devices.
  She hopes they are having to take cold showers right now. LONG
cold showers.

  THE FIRST WORLD DIES in a shower of fiery sparks. The balding
little man on his little ship smiles knowingly at the flat
picture of a girl, taped crookedly to the console with which he
had controlled the big dry planet which had slammed into the
uninhabited world below. The oceans were milky with bacteria and
the mud green with algae, working as planned by human
terraformers to produce a new world of breatheable air in a
century or two. Tiny wiggling things die by the millions as the
world explodes, hit by a power greater than thousands of atomic
bombs.
  "That's one for you, baby." He says remotely. "The next one's
bigger." He sets a timer, settles back to sleep in his chair.
  "The next one has people," he mutters as his eyes close. A
thousand hurtling planets follow in his train.

  In a dark basement, two men hunch over an alien device. Captain
Dennis plays a hunch. They hunt their game upon flying steeds.
Captain Harleigh is reluctant to bathe. They approach the dark
sun. Koko is extremely compliant. The black fleet cruises
endlessly in the dark. Worlds collide in fiery ruin.

  HURTLING PLANETS
  A NEW-WAVE SPACE OPERA
  END OF PART II 

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
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