After hour four we stopped and I told Dave it was time for ‘lunch’. Take some nourishment from the suit and sit down and take twenty for a break. It was so bright we turned off our headlamps. I had maybe four and a half hours of oxy left, Dave had just under four. We had just under 250 kilometers to go. I took another dose of cannabinol and checked my suit temp. It was just under 105 F. I was perspiring profusely, and drank more water to assuage my building thirst. I ate a mouthful of nourishment supplied by the suit and sat for a few minutes to rest my tired legs. We were both so beat we hardly spoke. After fifteen minutes Dave stood up, turned to face me, pointed in the direction we were heading.
“Time boss?” I shook my head in the suit, said,
“Five more minutes kid, five more minutes.” He squatted back down. Patience is a rare good thing in the young, even when time is the enemy, the killer. After four more minutes I stood and Dave followed me up.
“Ready kiddo?”
“Let’s do it.”
“OK. Forward ho.” We leapt in unison. The break had given the heat time to rise up, but we raced on with a renewed sense of purpose and energy. Soon we were leap frogging each other, laughing occasionally. I expended precious oxy to praise his efforts, to cheer him on, to keep him focused.
“Good one Dave, keep it up, we’ll bang it out in no time.” Which we did. After another hour we had made great headway, we had covered over 74 kilometers. We had almost left the heat wave completely behind. My suit temp was down to 95 degrees F. My suit was having a hard time keeping up with my perspiration. I could feel my feet squish at every bound. I drank a half quart of water at the next break. My ankles were beginning to feel it too.
“OK, forward ho.” Dave followed, silently. I listened to his breathing over the comm.
Calm but forceful. Once again we made good time, but the heat wave was still way ahead of us. On our next break my suit said it was over 115 degrees F inside. It was so bright outside that if it wasn’t for the auto tint in the helmets, we would have been blind long before. We were holding in and hanging on and we had made another 70 k. I could feel my feet splashing in my boots. I drained another half quart and saw I only had about a quart and a half left in my reservoir. I emptied my bladder and motioned to Dave to start out again. I was dog tired. I could feel my ankles starting to swell. My knees weren’t giving me grief, but I could tell they were thinking about it.
It was during that next to last leg that things started to go bad. Dave started to sing halfway through the hour. Goofy stuff really. I was tempted to laugh, but lacked the energy.
“OOOH, I wanna be with you night and day, everyday, oh baby I want yer butt, every day, every night, every day, I wanna fuck yer tight little butt, every night and every day. Yes waaaaaaaay.” And so forth. We made barely 55 klicks, by the next break, which left 51 kilometers to go. My ankles were killing me, and my knee’s had started to let me know they weren’t too happy with me. I drank a full quart of water, and barely had anything in my bladder to feed the system. Dave had collapsed onto the surface as soon as I announced a halt. It was about 120 degrees F in my suit. Then a more pressing problem presented itself. Dave wouldn’t get up.
“Hey kid, let’s go, last leg ahead.” Encouraging like from me.
“Leave me boss, I’m done, I can’t go another step.”
“Bullshit, get your sorry ass up now and that’s an order.” He finally scrambled up, took a short leap and collapsed in an explosion of dust.
“Damn it.” I cursed and landed next to him. I quickly gathered him up and slung him over my right shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Figuring my right side was the stronger side, and his right was the unbroken side.
“Shitty time to give up on me kid.”
“Sorry boss.” He muttered through his ragged breath. I checked his suit stats and mine. He had maybe 45 minutes of oxy left and I had about an hour left. I leapt.
Leapt again. Again and again. Wondering why I was bothering. We might make it and we might not. That last hour was truly a bit of time span from hell. My ankles and knees giving my pain with every leap. The temp in the suit seemed to soar. I couldn’t stop, couldn’t quit. I hadn’t been raised that way. Winner’s never quit and quitters never win. Death might take me, but not for lack of trying. I could still stand, still move, still breath, still sweat, still see, still think, though not very well. My head was getting a bit jumbled. I was gonna get back and take a cold shower and then go make it with my wife Susan, or was it Karen? Some hot woman who wanted to slide all over my naked body with her own nakedness, kissing and rubbing and fondling me all over...maybe we’d be in a pool of cool water, oh, yeah, that was it, sex in a pool...drinking refreshing cool water by the bucket full, splashing down my front, looking down as it splashed on my wife’s head as she was giving me head and she looked up and smiled...
While I was carrying’ Dave over my shoulder, leaping 20 plus meter’s at a hop, he started gibbering.
“You should have come to service with us Drew, you should have come to service...”
I just wasn’t the religious type. Not that I have anything against people who believe, hell, Karen had started attending ‘services’ at their place a couple of months before, and that was fine by me, gave me some time alone, to do whatever I wanted, catch a game from Earth, read, listen to music, watch porn...
Later it changed to,
“It’s all my fault, don’t blame Susan, or Karen, it was all my fault...”
I put it down to a Christian need to ‘confess’. The whole guilt, expiation trip.
Little did I know what went on at those ‘services’.
Then Dave went quiet on me, and no amount of goading from me could get a peep out of him, not that I had much energy to spare what, with the exertion of trying to carry his sorry ass over 50 klicks to save it for him... With every bound I took, I was coming down harder and harder, and I could here the squish of my pooling perspiration in the boots and then the legs of my suit. I was sweating my self to death, if I didn’t end up drowning in it first. It felt like 200 degrees F in that suit, and I like a sauna to be 185 so I know what 200 feels like. I didn’t bother to check the suit temp. I no longer cared. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on another jump I saw the lights of the station. Like a shot of adrenaline directly to the base of my brain I jumped with renewed vigor and, quickly reached the nearest small airlock. Pushed the door release. There was a hiss I couldn’t hear but could feel through the suit’s gloved hand. Then I fell forward, dumping Dave on the lock’s floor and tumbled in right after and literally on top of him before getting up, groggily, and reaching out to hit the ‘close’ button, shutting the door and flooding the lock with air. As soon as the green light came on in the indicator panel I removed my helmet and promptly lost consciousness.
Then I was back in the med-unit, my wife going down on me, and my erection was almost painful, and I snapped awake. The portable table/tray, just within outstretch reach zone, but not in patient seizure/thrashing around distance, just blocked my groinal region and the tenting that was going on at that instant, from casual view. I knew someone was watching.
Chief Inspector of Base Security, John Fonagy, a bit of an obsessive compulsive and a base renowned hypochondriac, was watching me from outside the view panel. The guy was on his third consecutive five year tour because he liked living away from the living breathing mass of contagion spreading humanity, in a ‘clean environment’, meaning every breath was filtered and purified, every germ, every bacterium killed and pulled from the air, the water, and the food, except in the farm units, but they were sealed off, protecting the rest of the inhabitants from ‘contamination’. If he was a scientist he’d probably be stationed at Orpheus Base the research station on Pluto. The guy was such a freak, I wondered if, and when, he ever made love to his wife, did he wear a total body covering condom? Sex, good sex, is such a messy business, all that saliva, and stimulation of various and sundry mucus membranes to reach it’s desired end resu
lt, shared bliss... I had difficulty seeing that with a guy that was rumored to wear one of those nose, mouth, face mask/filters in his private quarters around his wife, who was, incidentally a stone fox of Persian, Egyptian, and Lebanese stock. I think her name was Fadiyah or Fadlah, didn’t see her much, even at community events where the whole base, that wasn’t on shift, would meet and have a potluck and discuss the latest company directive. I wondered then as many before me had, if she was an advanced pleasure device robot, a ‘sexbot’. The slang term for this most advanced of all Robot’s was ‘fucbot”. It was reaching a legendary level of urban mythic proportions that fucbot’s could feel in a rudimentary way. I say myth because you had to be super ultra wealthy to get one, and even then I had to wonder, we had been able to program a medium level of intelligence in to bots, but a sense of humor, feelings? Come on. Maybe in another hundred years...
Once we made eye contact, John entered my room/cubicle and, after wiping a steel hospital chair down with a steri-wipe, he took a seat to my right and fastened his probing eyes on me with a look of frank appraisal.
“How are you feeling Mr. Dunn?” He asked with the smallest amount of warmth allowed under the circumstances. After taking a huge chug from my ice water/electrolyte solution in a cup, I wiped my lips on the back of my hand and said,
“Like a dried out sponge left to burn in the desert. A little burned out, a bit light headed, but other than that, fine. Thanks.” I wondered when he would congratulate me for surviving my ordeal, and what, exactly, he was doing there.
“How long was I out?” This seemed to dismay him.
“The doctor didn’t tell you?” A look of concern crossed his face.
“No, Dr. Wali’s bedside manner leaves something to be desired, to say the least.”
He shook his head.
“Two days.” He looked away. Seemed to focus on the video cam in the upper corner of the room. He forced his attention back to me.
“Once you’re rehydrated properly, you should be released, probably in another day or so. I wanted to stop in briefly for two reasons, one, Chief of Ops Blamdin and Head of Admin. Suh would like to stop by tomorrow morning and check up on you, make sure you’re OK, and compliment your survival and your heroic effort to save Dave...”
I rolled my eyes. Dave, Dave, what about Dave? The last thing I remember was collapsing in the air lock, with a silent Dave over my shoulder, had he made it? I had been too dazed to check his suit stats. Was he alive in another cubicle similar to mine, receiving the same ministrations from his lovely wife Susan as I had received from my wife Karen? Was his heart still beating, his muscles twitching, eye’s shut up behind tightening lids? Breathing, drinking, gulping water like I was, for water is life?
“The memorial for Dave will be day after tomorrow.” Shit, Dave hadn’t made it. Even after all the gut busting effort. Would I do it again? Bet your ass, cause Dave would have done the same for me... Fonagy was also known to be one of the best poker players on the base, though for a man willing to take a gamble, he was very conservative, so I had to wonder what the hell he was doing here... Especially risking ‘exposure’ here in the med-unit.
“After that I’d like to see you in my office, I have some questions for you, after you give a full account of your experience of course.” He stood, rather solemnly I thought.
“What if it was Dave here instead of me?” I asked, tears starting to well up.
“Then I’d be asking him instead of you.” Which told my grief filling mind that something suspicious had occurred or was occurring, enough to raise suspicions in the mind of the Chief Inspector of Security of Doheny City. I would only have to wait two days to find out what cards he would be dealing my way...
2.
The Plot Thickens, As Do Other Things
Day 2
I woke from a dreamless sleep that was near stupor, corner of listless and, so hungry I could have screamed from the pain in my belly. I pounded the ‘call’ button and the Med-Bot appeared in the blink of an eye. She was cute in an average way, which is what they strove for in the best Bot’s. 5’ 6”, 125 lbs., 56 Kilo’s, 36-24-34, light brown shoulder length hair, green eyes, button nose complete with gold stud, full lips, smooth complexion, no dimples. Easy on the eye without being overpowering.
“Food, coffee, juice.” I croaked. While I waited for service, I drained my bladder in the portacup. In a matter of minutes she appeared with a tray laden with juice, a flask of coffee and a covered plate that was heaped with crisp hash browns, scrambled eggs, with mushrooms and onions mixed in covered in cheddar cheese and pepper, a dozen strips of perfectly crisp bacon and biscuits and gravy, which was always the big decision for me, it was either that or English Muffins or a croissant, but I went for the gut bomb. After I was half way through my second flask of coffee my bowels responded and I had the Med Bot help me to the can, where I enjoyed pissing in the toilet after a day of using the portacup, took a satisfying dump and after brushing my teeth for the first time in like five days I had her remove the IV’s and help me into the shower. I was surprised when she joined me in the shower, butt naked and hairless from the eyebrows down. I started to get wood as she ran the soapy washcloth over my back and stomach. After I rinsed off, I let her shut off the water and stepped out of the stall, where she helped towel me off, before wrapping it around my waist.
“You are programmed to do what, exactly?” I asked, really curious.
She licked her lips, like a real girl, and, looking at the floor, said, shyly,
“To assist in healing, to respond to patient needs, to be kind, helpful...”
“How helpful, just how? Like a massage?”
“Sure, what style? Shiatsu, deep tissue, Swedish...”
“How about full release?” She tilted her head to one side and looked up at me.
“Just say the right word.”
“The right word.” She bent down then, ass just brushing the lavatory sink and kneeled in front of me pulling the towel from my waist and dropping it on the floor. She then very gently, took me in her hand and slipped me into her mouth and started to delicately suck me. I swore I could feel the synthetic saliva fill her mouth. Soon I had her bend over the small lav with her standard cute asshole winking at me. It looked tight. It was non stinky and non threatening. It looked warm and inviting like a velvet hand puppet, something nice, soft and cozy to stick your hand into. So I stuck my right hand in it up to the wrist and made a fist. To which she barely gasped. I then pulled it out and swatted her on the left cheek with my left hand and guided my cock into her ass with my right. I felt no resistance. She felt warm and her skin was satiny smooth. She didn’t flinch, she just started panting, she just started panting faster and harder and her anus felt like advanced k-y systems lubricant, coating slick plastic flex tube walls. So I started slamming away, being careful to not strain my ankles and she started to moan, ever so softly. Till I told her,
“Stop that, talk dirty.” She said,
"Mud puddles,
bug guts on the windshield of lust,
full nasty diapers of dread,
flocks of pigeons flying over
a fresh washed car..."
As if I could
fuck AND think -
at the same time
when for once
I’m just trying
to feel...”
“Fuck the poetry, no, fuck your ass, more like, you like it in the ass. Ya know… That kinda shit, not that you can, which is a plus. And don’t call me daddy.” I said grunting lightly.
“As you spank me for what, exactly?” I was almost distracted from watching my wood slide in and out of her slippery ass. I noticed as I occasionally swatted her left butt cheek that it wasn’t turning red with all the attention I was lavishing on it.
“Oh, yeah, you love it...” And pretty soon she was moaning softly. Panting hard. Then she spoke up.
“Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck ME.” This was twice she had implied that she felt, ha
d feelings, could feel. Then as I fucked her so hard her head was bouncing off the polished stainless steel mirror over the lav I listened to my heart beat. I heard my heart beat and felt the heart beat of the city which was all about the mine, the heart beat of the gravity tide as it washed over and through the base and the city and then I heard her moan, loudly. Which caused me to lose it.
I dumped it on her ass right then and there, and grabbed a couple of paper towels to wipe her off, knowing if I dumped it into her it would be absorbed, to eventually help her lubricate her systems and also during processing would be copied and a date/time stamp would be put on my DNA. It would also help her create a tear she could shed at our parting.
‘Don’t cry no tears around me.’ Has always been my motto, as well as a damn fine Neal Young song from like 130 years ago. I tossed the towels into the pneumatic recycling chute.
I had a heads up just then over my blue fang brain implant comm link. It was the chief of security. The Head of Public Relations wanted to talk to me, before the Chief of Ops and the Head of Admin came to talk to me. Chief Fonagy repeated that he wanted to see me later, to get the scoop on what happened out there. How was Dave, had he acted or seemed strange in any way?
“We’ve traced the tampering of the drone chip back to Dave’s computer starting about a month ago, right up until five days ago. We were able to tap into it after we found it in your belt pouch.”
“His port or ?”
“No, his work station.”
“When he was actually there?”
“We have the vid recording’s.”
“No shit?”
“No, no shit.”
“What about the skimmer?” I was really curious now, but why would Dave have drawn me out with the drone and then sabotaged the skimmer when he knew he was going to be with me? It just didn’t make sense.
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