Smothered to Death
- 1 year ago
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When we got up the next morning we proved that the sleep-training worked. I used the bathroom and got out, then while Diana was in there I proved that I could get my coffee and donuts from the replicator, all without having to either stop and figure out how things worked or even ask for help. I was just realizing that I could probably function without the coffee when Diana came out, and we had breakfast - scrambled eggs and sausage for me, over easy with toast for her, coffee and orange juice for both of us.
While we were eating breakfast, I asked the AI what our schedule was today; what were we supposed to be doing? It told us that we were to report to the Admiral for a briefing when we were ready. What? He's an Admiral. Isn't that "As Soon As Possible"? No, he's with some other people, so no sooner than 15 minutes and 30 would be better. Let's find out if the shower works for two. It did, and that could have led to other things, but we had a schedule to keep. I promised Diana that we'd look into that more later, when we had some time.
I was trying to put my new suit on, and having more trouble than I thought I should, when the AI said that that suit would no longer fit properly; there was a new one for each of us at the replicator. I threw the old one in the recycle slot. It was right. The new one fit better. I was wondering if there was a problem with the materials, did they only last one day? That was useless for a combat protection garment, but before I got around to demonstrating how stupid I was it occurred to me that maybe the problem was me. I was changing.
My mind was working far better than it normally did this early in the morning, and I realized that I didn't really need my second cup of coffee. I was just doing things from habit. If the Confederacy could cure caffeine addiction they truly were an advanced civilization that deserved protection, and the human race should get behind this war effort and start pushing. Maybe it's a little thing, but that's what convinced me that we were doing the right thing.
We were walking down one of the passageways when the thing that had bothered me yesterday came into focus. Either this passageway was spinning, or it was twisted, or something even weirder that I couldn't explain. We stopped at some hatches about in the middle, and I asked Diana to walk back to the end that we entered it from and stand at that hatch while I stayed there and watched.
Sure enough, I didn't feel like I was moving or anything. Diana was walking at an angle before long, and she was standing at a 45-degree angle when she turned around at the end hatch. I called for her to stay there, and I walked on to the far end of the passageway, where it entered the main ship's hull. Everything felt fine. But, when I turned around, Diana was standing on a wall, 90 degrees off from me.
I gestured for her to come on, and I watched her gradually change from walking on the wall to walking on the floor in front of me.
"That is disturbing. Do you know what is going on?"
"Well, we know that these people have artificial gravity, and I think we just proved that their version doesn't have to be flat. Hmmm. AI, can you show us a see-through drawing of this ship for us?"
We got a kind of half-drawing/half-model of the ship, with little people in it. The two of us were outlined in red. I waved my hands over my head, and the little Roger mimicked me.
"Neat! Okay, can you show the floor for the path we just took, from our pod to here?"
That was it. The ship had several decks, like any ship. We were on the middle deck, which appeared to be somewhat larger than the others above and below it. The main hull was a cylinder, just like a submarine, so yes the middle deck would be wider than the upper and lower decks. Sticking out from the main hull were spokes which connected to several rings like in an old science fiction movie, and there were pods attached to the outside of the rings.
The important thing at the moment was that the main hull had gravity "down" towards the lowest deck, but "down" for the rings was towards the stern of the ship, not in the direction "from the highest deck to the lowest deck". In order to make those two match, the "spoke" that we had just walked through to get from the ring to the main hull was twisted 90 degrees. Your inner ear might or might not notice, depending on how distracted you were, and you wouldn't be sure what was going on until you watched someone else walk it.
I'd be willing to bet that people like gymnasts who lived off a highly-trained sense of balance wouldn't like that walk. I was going to have to find a way to get a parakeet up here, just to see if they could fly down the corridor without going crazy.
Should I talk about the ship here? As big and complicated as it was, I got the impression from the sleep-training lesson that the Confederacy considered it to be just about the smallest, simplest, cheapest, and most economical ship possible. Anything else we met would be bigger, more complicated, more powerful, and cost more, both to build and to run.
Anyway, think of a toilet plunger. That's the main hull and the business end of the main engines. Now, poke a hole in the middle of a round bath sponge -a loofa- and cram it all the way down until it's mashed up against the plunger. That's the engineroom, fuel tanks, and other important stuff. Next, drop three space-station rings down the plunger handle, but space them out some from the sponge and each other. Each ring has cargo pods attached around the circumference.
After that, find a child's bath ball, poke a hole in it, too, and shove it down to the middle of the handle. That was where everything was that wasn't in the engineroom. Control room, crew berthing, hydroponics tanks, in-use storerooms, shuttle bays, everything that wasn't cargo or engines.
Last, drop three more rings with pods onto the handle -don't forget to space them out some- and top the handle off with a little cap. That was a passenger lounge with huge picture window, forward docking point and emergency conning station, kinda like the one on a submarine's sail.
The only time you would use the forward conning station was if you were docking nose-first to something and you wanted to actually see what you were doing. Or if something had happened to the main control station, of course, whispered my naval engineering background in the back of my mind. I whispered back that I couldn't argue the point.
When we walked into the conference room -I was pretty sure I'd been in this one before, now that I knew my way around- I opened with "We're not dead yet. We can go home if we want."
Of course the Admiral bit. "What do you mean?"
"Mr. Robinson said that if we didn't come back from fishing, we would be assumed lost at sea and eventually we would be declared dead without a body. However, we didn't go fishing. We were in our house and just hopped on his magic transporter pad. Our boat is still in our yard, isn't it? Right beside our garage? Aren't our cars still home? How would anyone know we drowned? We can't be dead until after we take the boat fishing and some wreckage is found."
"Yes, but you're one of us now. You can't go home again."
"We can go home again, we just can't stay home. We're on board with this, we're coming back, but we've got to come up with a better story. If nothing changes, we're going to get added to that website of people who disappeared. Can we actually go fishing, and take one of those transporter pads with us? If we leave the truck and trailer at the ramp, that will tell people that there's still an 18-foot boat out there somewhere in the Bay. We'll get a receipt for the ramp fee and leave it on the dash and they will go looking and find the boat but no people. All we have to do is figure out how to get rid of the transporter pad."
The Admiral looked up. "AI? How can we recover or destroy the pad after it is used, if there is no one around to pick it up?"
Diana, the Admiral, and I all started laughing. A ship or boat at sea always has dust and dirt everywhere. You can't get away from it. If nothing else, just the salt water spray leaves a rime when the water evaporates. Forget identifying the dust. No one would even notice a little bit of extra dust drifting around, on an abandoned fishing boat.
With that out of the way we moved on to more important stuff. Namely, my performance in bed last night. I asked Diana to cover her ears because I was going to say something that sounded disrespectful if you weren't one of the boys, then reported to the Admiral that those med-tubes appeared to do their job. I had my health back and I had fucked the SHIT outta that ho several times last night. Further, I was willing and able to do it again as soon as the opportunity, um, arose. I appeared to be fully functional again.
When I was done, I pulled Diana's arms away from her head and told her she could listen again. We all pretended that she didn't hear what I had said while her ears were covered.
I wanted to talk about how wonky walking the access tube felt, but I got immediately shouted down. Aside from Diana and me, they were unanimous. Don't say anything. These ships are wonderful. If you can't say anything nice, just don't say anything.
George-the-soldier waved for quiet, then asked the AI "Can you show Roger what we had two weeks ago? An interior view?"
Suddenly I was in a huge tank with curved sides. I wasn't on the bottom, I was on the side. Or, the tank was on its side and I was on the side that was on the bottom. I was on a walkway with equipment, cargo, and various unrecognizable stuff all around.
ALL around. There was stuff on all sides of the tank as the sides curved around up and overhead. There was stuff on the top of the tank, a hundred or more feet above me. In the very center there was a shaft of some kind.
And, my eyes were watering. The whole tank had 'grey' as the base color. Blue-grey, dark grey, light grey, with various colors mixed in and a lot of them hurt. No human did this, and no human could stand this for long even though Diana could probably give the proper names for every shade.
My viewpoint turned and I was going along a path, up the wall. Nothing changed except that various stuff was going by. The tank looked the same. I turned around and saw someone where I had been, halfway up the wall and waving at me. He was standing out from the wall so he looked "down" from me even though I had to look "up" to see him. My head was beginning to hurt. I could feel the chair I was still sitting in, in the conference room, but all I saw was this huge tank and my stomach was thinking about getting rid of breakfast.
The Admiral said "That's enough, I don't want to get sick" and the tank went away; I was back in the conference room.
I got to the point. "What the fuck was that?"
The Admiral answered "That was the first ship they gave us. The Darjee, the people who brought it here, had bird-like ancestors and they prefer that kind of open space, or maybe, that kind of open sky. We, on the other hand, don't like land that curves like that, we don't care about the open space, and we REALLY don't like things that look like they are going to fall on our heads. We were spending all our time looking up instead of at what we were doing. We lost people because they weren't watching what they were doing."
"Every one of us complained of headaches, of nausea, and we demonstrated illness often enough to convince the AIs we had serious problem. They finally admitted that they had some older ships that had flat decks like the seagoing ships we build, and when we saw their plans we staged a strike until we got them. We love these ships, and we don't want to hear anything bad about them."
George said "We aren't built to live in that kind of ship. We need this kind, with flat floors."
The Admiral and I both said "decks" at the same time. Army guys. They aren't floors. They're decks.
"What's the difference?"
I didn't have a quick answer, but the Admiral did. "What's the difference between a Captain and a Major? A howitzer and a cannon? An APC and a tank? A cupola and a turret? You're on a ship. It's a deck."
George stood up, saluted the Admiral, and said "Aye, aye, Admiral" before sitting again.
All I could say was "You don't salute inside a building or ship unless you are covered. Don't they teach you Army guys anything?"
Back to business. "So, other than being a big trash can and making us sick or having decks and being normal, what differences do they have?"
"None at all. Both styles are the same on the outside, with rings holding pods. We're pretty sure that the different species in the Confederacy outfit the insides of the ship to suit their own needs. If we have it right, the first set we got were active ships being used by Darjee when they were sent here, and these we have now are unused ships outfitted for other species that the Darjee had in storage. If they don't want them, we certainly do." That was Randall, the intel guy.
"Mothballs. You don't just put a ship in storage like a pair of shoes. You go through a process to preserve them. It's called putting them in mothballs."
"It is so nice to have someone else who can teach these guys how to speak 'ship'. We spend half our time arguing terms." The Admiral.
I was almost immediately forced to back down from my "no remote-control shit in my brain" stand. It was all just too useful. I didn't have any emotional problems with any of the improvements -everyone wants to be the Six Million Dollar Man- I just wanted to retain control of it. That took some negotiating with the AIs, and some development work with all the headaches (literal in this case) that included, but we ended up with a set of improvements to the human body. Yes, we were all "fixed up" in that our bodies were all repaired back to perfect health, and then on top of that our bodies were modified as we wanted within reason, but we also got some improvements.
After the med-tubes were done with me I had what a human doctor would call "perfect hearing", yes, but I also had the option of turning on an augmented system that made my hearing much, much better. For instance, if I wanted I could listen to a motor's hum in any frequency range I chose and predict not only how long that motor would last but how it would fail when it went. Not that the aliens seemed to use the kinds of motors we used down on Earth but I'd find a use for the skill.
Vision was the same way, although that was driven by our fighter pilot (Frenchy) and our armored combat officer (George). I suspect that the Army really sent George up to keep an eye on Randall (What is that intelligence officer really doing up there?), but he had practical experience in an important field that the rest of us knew nothing about. Frenchy and George both wanted a tactical heads-up display that was built-in, no helmet or other hardware required that could fall off, get fogged up, or need batteries.
What they developed could give direction like a high-end GPS, highlight important objects (read that as "targets"), give ranges, vectors, and detailed information on those items like available weapons, keep track of current inventory (missiles, ammo, for all I know how many knives George was carrying), and so on. Since the hardware behind their HUD was programmable, upgrades happened instantly whenever they decided what they wanted.
And, yes, I got my goddamn red line back. I didn't mind too much. I'd made my point. Part of that system was two-way silent communications with the nearest AI; I could think myself asking a question (just not actually opening my mouth and making noise) and either hear the answer through the audio channel or see it, if that was more appropriate, on my own personal HUD. Once we got used to it, it was a lot more useful than a radio in my helmet that only helped when I was wearing my helmet.
That think-talking took some practice. The AIs insisted that they couldn't hear our thoughts. They could use the implant to drive impulses in our auditory and optic nerves that we interpreted as the AIs talking to us or whatever they wanted us to 'see', but that only worked for incoming audio and video. If we wanted to talk to them, we had to do something to generate nerve impulses they could collect and analyze. To do that, we had to pretend to talk. Some of us got it right away and some of us took longer. I expect that part of that was the AIs having to calibrate their implants at the same time the guy was trying different things. Sometimes they would hit on something that worked immediately, and sometimes it would take them awhile to get together.
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Harry and Rob sat in the local pub in their usual spot in the corner by themselves. They were having a discussion about what to do with Ethel. Rob has been adamant that he wants to hang Ethel by her ankles and butcher her. Harry strongly disagrees with him. Harry is convinced that if he talks to Ethel he can persuade her not to go to the authorities and they will be able to use her the same way the other men. Rob agrees to try Harry's way first but he says" if she wants to argue I'm going to...
kEthel sat with her tits nailed to the work table. Her tits were swollen to twice their normal size from the beating they had received from Harry and Rob and the axe handle. Ethel sobbed both from the pain and the feeling of despair and hopelessness. She knew she would not be able to sweet talk the men into letting her go without anymore abuse. Harry and Rob arrived and again Ethel begged and pleaded with them to let her go. The men laughed and told her they still had a few more things they...
Note : This story is completely fictional!In nineteen forty six Thelma Lou Anderson was married with three kids. Linda was the oldest. She was sixteen. Guy and George was ten and Guy seven. Thelma owned a beauty shop in Kansas City. She suspected her husband Lawerance was cheating on her again. She followed him one day when he thought she was at work and saw him go into a house. A woman opened the door and he went in. That was all the proof she needed. She went home and packed her suitcase and...
IncestThelma was 22 and like all of the young women at that time was still living at home with me and our parents in rural Kent; even though she had a good job in local Department Store. I was 15 and had just left school. The summer of 1965 was particularly fine so it wasn’t uncommon for me to sit around our secluded garden reading a Detective novel when my parents were at work. The difference today was that Thelma was on the first day of her annual holidays and had joined me wearing a very...
Ethel hung by her wrists while Harry and Rob left to get some rest. She nodded off from time to time but the fog of her mind cleared she realized that other than when they punched her she actually enjoyed the way they that fucked her so hard and so brutally. She enjoyed the helpless feeling as they ravaged her body. She believed that she could talk to the two men and they would release her without too much more abuse. She was wrong.As Harry and Rob drove back out to the warehouse they talked...
Ethel hated her name. She was born during the tenure of I Love Lucy. The beloved Ethel Mertz from the television show was the bane of the real life Ethel's existence. There were the jokes about her having to marry Fred. There was only one Fred in her high school class. He wasn't her type; not even if he was the last man on earth. Ethel was every bit the epitome of her name. At five feet even her looks, dress and vocabulary mimicked the character she despised. Although she fought to break the...
Ethel's Pa was telling a story. "A man comes into the garage wanting a new horn for his Dodge. The old bulb was torn. Well, we have horns; but they don't fit his brackets..." "What did he want with a horn?" Ma asked. "Dodge cars don't need them. They have 'Dodge, Brothers' written clearly on the front." "Oh, Nellie," Pa said, but -- at least -- he dropped the story. Ethel couldn't decide which was worse, Ma's jokes or Pa's stories. Pa was fascinated by anything mechanical,...
Cosmos In the beginning, Source projected the cosmos using music, arithmetic and geometry. He patterned souls after his Source spirit, mind and individuality. Angels were given the divine right to serve as co-creators of the universe. They mingled with the dust of stars and the spheres of winds. Feeling them, becoming part of them. Earth held the position of the third dimension in the cosmos. The planet was created with its own laws, its own plan and its own evolution. It was preordained to be...
Fantasy & Sci-FiDamn Katherine and her classy fashion sense... Once again my Mother-in-law had a new skirt suit which would work for brunch, mother-of-the-bride or some other fancy occasion, it was simply lovely. Tonight was one of those other occasions. The suit was perfect for the work awards dinner that my wife Veronica has dragged me too. Katherine, on the other hand, who was looking just so, was all too happy to attend. Katherine's suit is simply irresistible to me. The color, the style,...
Let me say right up front that Gunther was definitely not a young man.I knew he had been around the Santa operation at the North Pole long before I arrived with my bright ideas for cost reduction. I was called in to promote increased toy production by the easily distracted Elves. Those little imps preferred being silly rather than busy little workers focused on their quotas like dedicated employees. As a small-sized human male, I was able to relate easily to the female Elves because they liked...
Fantasy & Sci-FiWHISPERING DEATH by Emma Finn 1 Alexandru rode desperately fast; dangerously so; along the narrow road, flogging his horse, pitched forward in the saddle. The Carpathians were lashed with rain and that high up, the thin track was exposed enough for the downpour to be beating against him, making the hoof-falls of his horse unsure on the slick and rocky ground. It was almost fully dark and pitifully difficult to see but he couldn't risk stopping. If the horse fell exhausted then so...
from my supernatural~romantic novel set in Regency England from the diary of Betsy Corning, Darlington, England, September 1815 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am undone! I have given into temptation and trod the left-hand path. I did not tarry there long, I yet have a semblance of a conscience. But little good will it do me – I will be punished for it sooner or later. But oh, should any ladies read this, perhaps you, at least, will understand what provocation I had endured and grant me some...
When we entered the dining salon, all conversation stopped. I had changed from my travel clothes earlier, but was still in black. Esther was in a peach colored evening gown. As I said before, she was ravishing. Martha and Hatty walked behind us in their evening gowns. It was plain that everyone wondered who this girl was with the Royal Executioner and the Guild Master for companions. Certainly most of the apprentices and the other Guild members had not met, or been introduced to Esther. None...
“Are the statements, that the Lord Executioner made, true?” the Village Chief demanded sternly. “Yes, Un ... Uncle,” the young man finally answered very quietly. “A week in the stocks,” the Village Chief pronounced, “and the same for those two friends of yours.” The Village Chief then turned to me to apologize. “I am sorry I doubted you, Lord Executioner. It would appear that I need to pay closer attention to what is going on with the workers in the fields.” “An excellent idea,” I replied,...
"Language Theresa!" "But Mrs. Bradshaw, I only said..." "Hush Theresa, I will not have such rude vernacular spoken in my boarding house! Also, kindly remove your elbows from the tabletop. More over, the fork was placed on the left side of your plate for a specific reason." Theresa blushed as she looked around at the other five girls, some of them putting on airs. "I never ate before with my left hand Mrs. Bradshaw." "You are a student now in the most prestigious Ladies College in...
What follows is a dark fantasy medieval tale that may be a little too harsh for sensitive people at some parts. But I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (If you do, leave me a comment with your thoughts about it.) *That may contain some grammatical errors, since I'm not an native English speaker - more of a self-taught trying to look good out here. Point me out what you find if you please. Thank you.* **This text is subject to copyright protection and has been registered...
This is not the story of how my mother, my sister, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to escape the disaster into FTL only to be destroyed by debris, of our flight to and rendezvous at the lifeboats, of the 24-person lifeboat jettisoning with just the three of us aboard. There are at least a dozen such accounts from the 87 survivors from the Peg, and most, to be honest, are more compelling. This is not the story of the first tumultuous hours after the...
Esther III ? by: TamarainRubber Even though we knew we were going to be late for Lisa's party, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. For the next hour or so we grabbed each other like wild cats in heat. Her breasts heaving and her lungs gasping for oxygen, Esther still found the energy to warn me not to cum. At some point she did pull my cock out from behind my rubber bloomers and shoved every inch into her mouth. The clothes she had dressed me in only made me harder and,...
Devil In The Machine 2: No Vaccine For Death by Cabinessence Hans Richstag looked at the cold concrete colored walls of his small apartment and felt like he was trapped in a tomb built for the living, with a modem as his only lifeline to the rest of humanity. The antiquated computer and its printer companion stood together on a table in the corner, the lone concessions to the fact that the world outside his window had gone forward without him. Every other space in the room...
The next day I was in full Katherine mode from the moment I unlocked her door. I greeted Sunshine just like Katherine did, using the same tone of voice and gestures. Of course Sunshine reacted just she would with her female owner. As soon as I took her for a short walk and fed her, I went straight to my bedroom, well after the prior day I felt so much more comfortable there, I wanted it to be my bedroom. I took a shower and shaved everything again. I didn't know how I was going to...
Satomi Kato walked through her neighborhood near her house on the evening of the 25 April, 2016. Satomi was a young lady who was proud to be Japanese. She enjoyed her Aikido and Judo classes. She enjoyed wearing traditonal Japanese clothing. She loved the culinary arts of Japan. Satomi had traveled the world but had always returned to her beloved country. At 25 years old she had experienced a lot but still enjoyed her own country's culture. Satomi was walking that evening around 8 PM wearing...
Hope you like Esther's latest installment! ESTHER FOUR By TamarainRubber I obediently followed Esther down the long narrow hallway that led into an enormous room filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, soft whispers and a bevy of leather-clad women and men dolled up as maids, rubber babies, and crossdressing sluts like me. Strangely enough (and very much to my pleasure), there was little if any evidence of the S&M parties I had only read about, but never...
Mom and Dad had been planning to renew their vows that very evening, and Mom had arrived at the lifeboat directly from the station where she had been shopping and getting made up for the ceremony. She was already in her white dress, tight around her torso to accentuate her remarkable figure but flowing in the skirt to give her an ethereal look. She wore white stockings underneath, the lacy tops barely visible where the skirt had ridden up. Like the rest of us, she was shoeless, probably...
PART 1 Them fuckin’ Armed Services get all the credit, but who gets their asses blown out of the water to get them their crap, for chrissake? Us fuckers in the Merchant Marine, that’s who. Goddamn sub-bait. And then they don’t send nobody to fish us out. Goddamn Krauts. Goddamn war! Cookie bobbed in his lifejacket and watched his ship disappear, a sorry excuse for a vessel, to be sure, but nonetheless, his ship. Sailors deep-six all the time, the risk they signed on for, perhaps. Bad luck,...
Molly dropped to her knees beside Ken as the rest of her medical staff arrived, checking the wound she saw the blade had cut deeply in to the stomach between the esophagus and the duodenum. "Crap, this wound is bad, Nancy how about the side." Nancy Ortiz was examining the stab wound in Ken's side; it was a clean in and out. Grabbing her medical pad, she started scanning him. "I think his lung has been nicked, but I am not sure. Yet!" Nancy waited for the scanner to finish the scan,...
“Consider, if you will, what may be the most well-known and oft-copied works of a man named Henry Fuseli, scholar, man of the cloth, and painter of the different and disturbing. Like many artists, he sketched sometimes before mixing his pigments. The subject of our tale is a simple pencil drawing, perhaps a preliminary study for Fuseli's “The Nightmare” paintings. “Carl Singleton is a would-be art dealer. We will let him tell you about his find himself.” Not many people...