index


Message-ID: <41309asstr$1047874204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: simon_48@hotmail.com (Simon Wagstaff III)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: 16 Mar 2003 18:12:10 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} HURTLING PLANETS Conclusion Pt2 a new-wave space opera long by Simon Wagstaff 3rd
Date: Sun, 16 Mar 2003 23:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

THEY MEET AT LAST. Hanging in the gray mist of an empty place, the
amazed newcomers gape in astonishment at those there before them. They
deserve a second look:
	MARKA KEPULOVIC: a dark-haired woman in her fifties, once beautiful
and still striking, with hot black eyes and pale skin.
	SABOR GRUNDY: a short, wide man with graying black hair and a wide
mustache; his eyes are pits into hell. There is indefinable blur of
horror around his body.
	CHARLES SOAPER: a nondescript gaunt black man in his early forties,
with short hair and a thin mustache. His face has a surprised, kind
look and his movements are quick and sure.
	RAKKAR GANDAT: as inhuman as a human can look; the dark, roundheaded
man is obviously a member of an unknown branch of mankind.
	THE DREE: several gray limbs seem to vanish and reappear as it moves;
topaz eyes and a wide mouth are the only features. It is unnatural,
like a moving statue.
	ENSIGN KAREN POWTER: her eyes are slightly crossed and she is dressed
in mismatched clothes. Her natural beauty is negated by the awful
cloud around her head.
	ARMIDA CONCHON: the mindreading barbarian woman is dressed in gaudy
robes and wears a fortune in jewelry. Her long plain face has an easy
arrogance, somewhat deflated by recent events, and she hangs on
Powter's every word.
	The amazed newcomers stare at each other next:
	CORNELIUS VOM ACHT: a prince of the royal house of the Terran Empire.
Corny is tall, blond, and homely (can't win 'em all, as he says), and
one of the great devious minds of his day. Much effort was dedicated
to keeping him and his sense of humor safely away from the succession
to the throne. Luckily for the universe, his older brother now has two
legitimate male children.
	THE HONORABLE RICHARD BONFORTE, PRESIDENT OF THE PLANET DIVA: Richard
is impressive enough to be a planetary president; tall and handsome
and Jimmy Stewart-like. He is impassive, eyes taking in the
surroundings, not giving away any points.
	CAPTAIN HARLEIGH OF HAMMER: tall and built like a brick shithouse;
Joan is a sandy-haired Amazon warrior with a closet full of degrees.
She is clutching Richard's arm and staring at the Dree, on the verge
of pissing her pants.
	CAPTAIN DENNIS OF REACHER: six feet of muscle; Dennis is brown-haired
and heavily-muscled. His hands are like big clamps; he is also an
effective commander and smarter than he appears. His face is like a
mask, dark and closed.
	THE MYSTERIOUS PLANET MAN, a middle-aged unremarkable fellow whose
chair and 'deadman switch' have somehow followed him into gray
nowhere. Invisible on his hands is the blood of thousands of lives.
His eyes are dead as he smiles sadly at the picture of a young woman
fastened to his shadowy console.
	"Dennis! What the fuck is happening?" Vom Acht and Harleigh bellow in
harmony. Corny sketches a bow to her. "Ladies first," he nods.
	" - the fuck is happening?" Harleigh finishes wildly. "Where are we?
Who are these people, except you and the Duke? Are we prisoners?"
	Dennis smiles sadly. "We could be, but I think we're among friends
for now. I recognize Mr. Bonforte, so I guess you've settled the Diva
problem. I went after a lost officer in my gig and ended up crashed
with her on a lost planet. We were mentally attacked by the locals as
soon as we landed; somehow my ensign turned their mind powers around
on them and killed them all but now she can't release the power she's
grabbed. This alien appeared and offered to kill her before she could
become a menace; then suddenly we were here, by the power of this man,
Grundy, who's in a similar position of power. The dark man is from an
ancient human race, trying to prevent this mindpower from recurring.
They sent me back to my ship, then returned me here in a few minutes.
Where were you?"
	Joan is still staring, this time at Gandat's forehead. "We were in
the middle of addressing the whole population of Diva on a live link.
Richard was telling everyone that all the surprises were over, and
that a general amnesty would be considered. Then we vanished. Probably
another war by now."
	Vom Acht points at the small man. "I want that man; he's a murderer
on a planetary scale. I've seen his damned face on the com as we
argued. He's got a chain of planets following a mining singleship on
hyperdrive control. Where he got that many motors or found that many
planets in a lifetime, I can't say, but he's been smashing seed
colonies and bases, both sides, on his way towards Earth and the Solar
system. He dies now; either here or back in our ships. My mother's on
Earth; over my dead body and a million others will he get close to
her."
	"My mother is dead," the small man says in a bored voice. "So is my
wife, and most of the people I knew, gone when the war destroyed my
home planet. Did you put your million bodies between the war and my
wife? No? A pity, because when you killed her you killed the most
important person in all of human history. More people will die for
that mistake than any war has ever killed; if I have my way I'll kill
you all. There's no future for me now, so why should any of you
matter? I found it in my power to destroy you, so I've begun. There
were four of us; accidents and time got the other three." He raises a
hand wearily. "In her memory I'll give you a last chance: stop the
war. You're fighting over nothing, both sides of you. A plague on both
your houses; you've made worm's-meat of me. Cease fire, and turn your
energies outward again. Otherwise my fleet of planets will disperse to
every inhabited world I can chart, and I'll get most of you before you
can dodge."
	Sabor waves a thick-knuckled hand. "You may consider yourself to have
failed in that plan, sir. Your controls are dead, and I'll turn you
into bloody chunks before I see you back in that ship feeling the way
you do; even though I agree with you about the war." He stares the man
in the eyes. "I was the Bomber of Ismail. I've done your crime, and
found playing God is a shitty mess. You may all believe that you are
alive right now because I hate playing God."
	Everyone begins to talk at once, except Marka, Charlie, and Armida,
who watch helplessly as the others exchange information at high speed.
When everyone has been introduced and brought up to speed, and Koko is
as close to Dennis as she can get without injuring him, the
conversation begins to assume a more normal tone.
	"So why do you assume you're off the hook just because I won't let
the planet man here send his worlds off to kill you?" Sabor is asking
Corny, Dennis, Joan and Richard. "You're all on my shit list. I've
been picking your brains about this war while you talked, and I've
never seen such a mess. Let me see if I can sum this up: the Empire of
Earth paid to colonize eighty percent of human space, and they're
going to starve without a payback on their big investment. The
Alliance for Progress wants to be 'free,' but they go back to the
Mafia and Cosa Nostra as well as some ugly labor unions, and they use
ugly tactics to get worlds to join up. The Empire's the better deal
all around, but they inflict higher taxes and rule with a tight fist."
He grins. "Hmmm. Better let them defend themselves in person." He
waves a hand and two more men join the group hanging in gray mist.
They are dressed in the shiny pajamas that pass for business suits in
the Third Millenium.
	"What the fuck?" screams the heavier man in a frantic falsetto. The
other man glances his way and clutches his arm. "Dunno, boss, but
we're way outgunned," he grunts. "Cool it." They both stare in horror
at their companions.
	"Michael Zazetski, president of the Union Alliance for Progress, and
Samuel Cole, his second-in-command. Gentlemen, you are in the deepest
shit of your entire lives right now," Sabor booms out, "but, then, so
are we all." He snickers and waves his hand at the others. "Know
anyone already?"
	Zazetski nods to Corny. "Duke," he says calmly. "A novel way of
bringing us to a meeting. This your idea?" He looks sour. "Same
technology that let you kill Kriegplatz?"
	Sam 'King' Cole's lips are moving as he recognizes some of the
others. "Bonforte?" he says incredulously. "Harleigh? and Holy Mother,
an alien!" He turns to Sabor and recoils. "God!" he barks
incredulously. "The fuckin' BOMBER OF ISMAIL!" He shakes his head. "He
took out the whole planetary government of Ismail, then turned himself
in. You were executed, or else, but I remember you testifying against
the others, sir. 'Just a dupe,' you said, then you shook your fist and
looked right in the camera. 'I killed the wrong ones. I should have
killed them instead.' They played that over and over. I was just a
kid, but I remember." He shakes his head again, then stares at Sabor.
"Is this your show?" Sabor nods, he turns to Zazetski and clips, "Deep
shit all right, boss. We are in the hands of an honorable man."
	"Great," grunts Zazetski. "Just what I needed." He squares his
shoulders. "Right now, Jackson Wyn is taking the oath of office in my
place. You've gained nothing by kidnapping me."
	"Fine," shrugs Sabor. "We've got a matter of minutes to decide
whether or not to end the war, incidentally stopping this little shit
from busting up the Capek system, which I believe is an Alliance
possession, and what the terms will be. If you'd like some input into
the future of the Alliance, MISTER President, we'd be happy to listen.
Otherwise, you might as well be dead." His hands crunch together
audibly as he demonstrates. Cole gulps.
	Zazetski is impassive. "If you mean this, keep talking." He folds his
arms.

	"I HAVE ALL THE CARDS. Right on the table. Nothing up my sleeve."
Sabor flexes his hands like a conjuror. "But while you were watching
my right hand, you forgot my left."
	The Dree makes a grating sound. Sabor is pleased. "A first-rate mind!
Bet I could teach you chess. You see now?" It grinds again. "While it
was distracted, I read the alien's mind. It is one of the Dree,
personally identified as PBBknx*, and it actually means well, although
its motives are selfish. Like Captain Gandat, it fears that Ob, or the
new creature forming around poor Koko here, will destroy us all. It
risks discovery to prune mankind's diseased limb. But it knows many
things, things Ob never knew, that Bennek maybe should have known." He
laughs exultantly. "I've got the answer he missed!" He frowns. "At
least I THINK so."
	They stare at him, even the Dree. He seems to expand, glowing with
power.

	Once there was an alien race, he told them. They were made of meat,
much as we are, though they were shaped more like T.Rex. They ate,
drank, got laid and drank and smoked, or their equivalents, and had
the equivalents of philosophy, bad tv, literature, porno tapes and
fine art. And they went on until they were an old, tired race, only a
few thousand on a stripped-bare world. They never thought of space
travel since they had no moon and few stars in their night sky, and
they were running out of everything. They had an Obtar Bennek, too,
whose mind outgrew his body, and he taught them all to transcend as he
had. But they failed by the thousands, and the race called Dree was
destroyed, all but seven. These seven saw at last that a mind cannot
divide between the second and fourth levels of reality without losing
parts of itself to the void; they pulled their entire selves into the
fourth level and were transformed.
	"And I can see how they did it! Either I'll survive, as myself, or
I'll die and kill Ob. But the knowledge increases my power, and my
power increases my knowledge. Dree, have you learned yet to watch my
left hand?" Everyone turns to stare at the alien; in that instant Koko
shrieks and falls to the ground. Armida snaps her whip at Sabor too
late, then grabs the collapsing Koko. The whirl of mindwhips is gone
from her head, her hands clutch frantically at her forehead. Sabor
laughs triumphantly.
	His laughter has an infectious quality; it becomes louder and louder.
Sabor is only partly visible at the center of huge whirl of power. "I
did it! Damn, I'm good at playing God." He has punched Koko OUT of the
whirl of whips, grabbing them with his own; they all whirl now around
his beaked-octopus shadow-head.
	He waves his hand and a huge oval table appears; suddenly everyone is
seated, even the legless Dree. Koko topples forward, eyes crossed and
giggling. She is babytalking moronically, badly mindripped; Armida
glares at Sabor with total hate. Zazetski and Cole find they are
across from Vom Acht and Bonforte and that copies of a unilateral
withdrawal and peace treaty are on the table before them. They begin
to haggle, finding that the papers rewrite themselves as amendments
are agreed upon. The Alliance and the Empire will stake claims to new
worlds, turning their energies outwards as they cease their
unprofitable infighting. Joan is at Richard's side, helpfully bringing
up bargaining points. They seem to drift away, voices fading, as Sabor
sits beside Charles Soaper and Marka. He takes Marka's hand, smiles.
"We're free now, Marka. What would you like to do?" He smiles and
kisses her cheek. "Besides that, I mean. Hmmm." He turns to the former
pirate. "Charles, if you hadn't pulled me out of hell, that little man
would have killed half the galaxy. God knows what the Dree would have
got up to, and Powter would be running mad on a lost planet full of
innocent people, like a time-bomb for the next ship to land there.
Would filling your holds with platinum nuggets make up part of what I
owe you?" Soaper's eyes bug out. "And would Marka make up for some of
the rest?" Marka is suddenly about twenty physically; she looks like a
young Sophia Loren as she smiles at the ex-pirate. "She hates being
alone and she wants to be rich and see the galaxy." Finding himself
younger as well, Soaper grins and shoves Sabor out of the way as he
grabs Marka. They spin around as they kiss, suddenly realizing that
they are aboard BLACK CROSS in the dark of interstellar space. Marka
shrieks "Sabor!" and he appears, smiling.
	"It's all right," he tells her. "Forget me. I'm gone. Make each other
happy." He fades again. They stare at the spot where he vanished for
long minutes but they never see him again. Soaper realizes that he is
now a trained astrogator and pilot, capable of running the ship. Marka
will start to name her firstborn Sabor but realize how bad it sounds
with Charles' surname.

	Dennis and Armida are united in concern for Koko, who is drooling and
giggling. Sabor appears and gently raises her head, stroking her
forehead. "Brave," he approves. "This one is strong, and full of fire.
Worth any sacrifice, worth years of pursuit. But she's yours, Captain,
down to the bottom of her soul, and you'd be damned forever if you
hadn't come after her. Long after her fine little ass is as big as
your starship and her sassy little tits hang down to her knees she'll
still be worth a good man's life. Wake up, Koko." He touches her
forehead -
	Karen Powter, locked in the dark closet on the gig, sobs in the dark.
With a bang the door is torn open, bright light shines in her eyes,
friendly hands help her up, out, back to the light. She remembers it
all: the rapes, the drug, the slow rotting of her brain, her triumph
over her captors, her agonies of loneliness and horror in the
darkening, stifling gig, her rescue by DENNIS! Her heart leaps up as
she recalls the shattering orgasms, the tenderness, the caresses; and
she realizes that she is no longer sprouting the horrifying bristly
tendrils from her mind, that she is thinking clearly for the first
time in many days, and that Dennis is holding her hand and grinning as
her eyes clear. They hug, over his shoulder she squeezes Armida's hand
and whispers "thank you." Armida's eyes blur with tears as Koko's hand
becomes insubstantial; she and Dennis are gone, still locked in an
embrace.
	"I wanted her," Armida says involuntarily to the empty air. Sabor
pats her shoulder.
	"She wouldn't have known what you meant, and she'd have gone 'ugh' if
you explained," he chuckles. "Besides, those two have a destiny. Now,
you deserve a reward, too. Hmm." She feels a warm, masculine mindwhip
wriggling in her brain; her nipples stand up and she blushes. Sabor
chuckles. "Oho, you DO like men. I know just the place for you," and
Armida is strolling down the Esplanade on the planet MonteVerde,
wondering how she knows what all the signs say and what the money and
credit vouchers in her new purse are good for. Her legs are suddenly
long and muscled; she catches sight of herself in a store window and
gasps. She is beautiful, but still herself. A thief snatches her purse
as she gawks; her mindwhip flies after him and brings him back
squawking with pain. Rich and beautiful and the only firehead on a
decadent pleasure-world? I can stand it, she decides as the thief
shivers in fear. She compels him to follow her and open doors,
thinking 'I'll need someone to carry the packages."
	She turns her eyes to the sky, realizing that she knows the galactic
coordinates of her home world and that she will return one day to
bring it back to mankind, mystics and fireheads and all. Then the
delicious smell of a restaurant brings her thoughts back to
practicality. Everyone inside turns to look, gaping as she enters; her
firehead charisma stops conversation as everyone feels her presence.
Waiters cluster around as envious diners speculate on the
fantastically-dressed mystery woman's identity. Every single man in
the place becomes aroused and curious. Her new valet is left to wait
miserably outside as she dines, emptying a bottle in toasts to Koko
and Sabor.

	The planet man and Rakkar Gandat sit uneasily at the table, trying to
avoid each other's eyes. Sabor sits down beside the planet man.
	"So, what's left for me? Are you going to raise the dead for me?" he
says bitterly.
	"Sure," says Sabor, nodding briefly. 
	The planet man's eyes go suddenly wide. "God," he says after a
moment. He begins to shake and his hands become fists.
	"Better hope there ain't," Sabor snarls. "Those are the voices, the
grief and emotions of the next-of-kin of the people you've killed.
Amateur. Did you manage to even kill ONE member of any armed forces,
or were you deliberately going for a maximum number of dead babies?
You dumb shit."
	"Captain," he turns to Gandat, "You're in bad shape. Half your crew's
dead and you're all old and feeble. You've made your last voyage. The
Dark Fleet's gone. I'm taking Ob with me. It's over." Rakkar shivers.
"Want a new job?" Rakkar's head comes up quickly. "It pays well."
	Rakkar is suddenly a young man, strong and handsome. On his apelike
features youth sits roguishly and his smile is proud. "Anda," he
blurts.
	"All your crew," Sabor promises. "Just enforce the peace we're
forging here. Stay hidden; keep your secrets." He whirls on the
now-sobbing planet man. "Take this piece of garbage and his planets
along. Try to heal him. If someone breaks the truce, drop one of his
god damned planets on them." Rakkar nods curtly.
	"And you, piece of shit." Sabor raises the little man with one iron
hand. "Learn from these folk; make friends for us. A new human race!
They must have seen our history in its beginnings. We've got a lot to
learn. You are hereby exiled from the human race you've sinned
against. Bring back our lost brothers one day and you'll have redeemed
yourself for your murders. I'll stop the voices now; you've got work
to do. But I pray that you meet that woman whose picture you're
talking to in some afterlife so she can slap your dirty face. Remember
who I was!"
	Rakkar starts to accept, but he is on the bridge of his ship, Anda
beside him. She is startlingly young, younger than when they first
met. All the crew is young, even the planet man standing beside him
gawking. The planet man is staring at Zoda, who was an elderly
astrogator until seconds ago. She is now a sleek beauty with a huge
chest, staring fascinatedly at this odd pale youth with the captain.
Anda is staring past Rakkar at the suddenly-new viewport; she whoops
and points just as the rest of the Dark Fleet comes into view. The
communicator crackles and the voices of the lost ships come crackling
out, demanding to know why they are suddenly awake and young again,
and in perfect repair. Rakkar whoops with delight, then sobers. Can
Sabor force himself out of this plane? It's all for nothing if he
survives as Ob.

	The conference table vanishes as Corny and Zazetski shake hands; Vom
Acht finds himself standing before his aunt, The Queen of Earth, fresh
from her royal bath. She shrieks and almost drops her towel; it takes
Corny some moments to convince her that he is handing her a peace
treaty signed by Zazetski and Cole. She does drop the towel then;
Corny's eyes bug out in an amazing way. The Queen's got a GREAT set of
hooters, he thinks, running down the hall as small breakable objects
fly past his head. Long live the Empire.
	Zazetski and Cole find themselves in the office they vanished from,
no one having noticed their absence. They solemnly shake hands, then
begin making calls.
	Bonforte and Harleigh materialize in Joan's cabin and immediately
grab each other, falling onto the dark sleeping pad in companionable
lust.
	
	BUT I FOLD MY HAND. Sabor smiles at the Dree, which makes the
grinding noise again. "You must be willing to die, and more than die.
Remember how it was, PBBknx*?" Sabor shimmers and becomes a being of
light. The Ob-body outside vanishes silently as he concentrates, an
empty husk now. For long moments he wavers, then his physical body
vanishes with a loud pop.

	ALIEN CREATURES REGARD EACH OTHER. There are now eight Dree, and the
eighth is the largest. Sabor seems to smile at them as his tentacles
shift. "So, what do you do for amusement on this plane? Seen any good
shows lately?" They stare in silence. He shimmers, becomes Sabor
Grundy again. "Hmm." He studies the seven, who glare silently. "Well,
well. PBBknx*, my friend. You are female, I see, or were. What a fiery
wench you would have been - " he stops and smiles evilly. PBBknx*
shimmers and becomes a naked, redhaired human woman with green eyes
and huge jiggling breasts. She squeezes them experimentally; her eyes
widen and her jaw drops comically, then she changes back to a Dree and
wriggles away hurriedly, looking back once over her shoulder. Sabor
grins after her. It will be a long pursuit, but he has no doubt of the
outcome. He waves his hands and a chessboard appears. "These are the
rules," he tells the remaining Dree, who suddenly know them all. "I
will beat you easily at first, of course, but in time you may be able
to give me a good game - oh, this annoys you? Good." He moves first,
as always.

	                                    +++ EPILOGUE +++
	 Koko and Dennis break their embrace to discover that they are in the
familiar bed on board the gig CESTUS, last seen on the lost firehead
planet. Dennis rushes to the control deck, to report that they are a
week out from a large Empire base and fully fueled, with nothing to do
but kill time for a few days.
	Koko shyly begins to strip. "Do you still want me, Captain?" Her face
is red at the thought of some of the things she has said to Dennis -
and DONE to him!
	"I gave up my ship for you, Karen Powter. I may be court-martialed
yet, although I think Vom Acht will help me out." He steps forward,
big hands opening up. "We're a team, Powter." Her shirt becomes two
rags as his hands close on it; her pants rip as she tugs them off.
Dennis barely gets his pants down; his cock is a huge pole. Koko gives
him her brilliant smile again, the one that haunted his sleep.
	"Time for a little teamwork, Dennis," she pants as her little hand
grabs his cock and begins to guide it into her. His hands squeeze her
breasts, fondling the nipples; a red fog seems to fill her mind. True,
she thinks, it's true, Dennis and I are lovers and the war is over.
	Dennis unconsciously echoes her thoughts. "I've dreamed of this, of
doing you, since you came aboard three months ago. And it was soured
by having to take you when you were demented. But this, oh Koko," his
voice breaks as the emotion and pleasure overtake him, "I love you!"
And his hands close convulsively upon her breasts and his mouth comes
down on hers, and locked in wordless pleasure, they find that Koko's
capacity for amazing orgasms is unchanged. As she shrieks and swoons
and Dennis tirelessly and tenderly pumps her through the most
emotionally charged and pleasurable experience of her life, so far,
the gig falls away from our viewpoint, dwindles, becomes a shiny
sphere, then just another point of light; adrift in a universe of
uncaring stars, frozen rocks, and hurtling planets.

THE END
HURTLING PLANETS
A NEW-WAVE SPACE OPERA
by Simon Wagstaff III

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+