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Archive name: m01.txt (Mdom/F, size, exh, bond, sci-fi)
Authors name: JackBro (jackbro_99@yahoo.com)
Story title : Mission to a New World - Part 1
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Mission to a New World - 1 (Mdom/F, size, bond, sci-fi)
by JackBro (jackbro_99@yahoo.com)
***
An X-rated science fiction story. Debbie and Brian are
two explorers from Earth sent to an alien planet to
recover a crashed surveillance satellite. On the surface
live the Longtons, a humanoid, pre-industrial revolution
culture where the women are subservient to the males.
Debbie soon discovers why the women willingly allow
themselves to be subservient, and in the end she wants
to stay.
***
Chapter 1: The Mission D-6
Warning: The following story is fiction, and the acts
depicted in the story should remain fiction. It is
intended for the entertainment of mature adults only. Be
advised explicit sex is contained within and should not
be read by minors.
***
"Come in Ms. Kitlras," Captain Rileymen offers. "Have a
seat. We have much to discuss, and I think you will find
it most interesting."
His office looks better furnished than my apartment. A
couch sits along one wall, a desk in front of the other.
Large paintings hang on the wall; all display scenes of
ships and seas. An end table has one of those antique
sailing ships in a bottle. It is strange to see such
luxury so far out in space, but then Captain Rileymen had
many years to collect it. He is a graying old man now,
approaching retirement, but I think he must have once
been a young ensign on the seas of earth in the infancy
of planetary space travel.
"Debbie," I introduce myself, attempting to sound
confident when we shake hands. "Please, call me Debbie.
I'm a civilian scientist you know; not an officer."
"Then Debbie it is," The Captain agrees. "I know you're a
scientist, but I must say that you don't look like a
scientist."
I am not sure if I should take this as a compliment or an
insult. I suppose he expected some preppy, stern old lady
with her hair tied tight in a bow at the top of her head.
Instead, I am a young woman, 34-years of age, short in
stature, with brunette hair that comes half way down my
back.
He motions to the two chairs sitting in front of his
desk. They look like they are made from finely lacquered
wood. So does his desk, although I figure both must only
be plastic simulations. Even a person of Captain
Rileymen's esteem could not gather the resources to get
real wood this far into space.
"Now Debbie, do you know why you are here?" He asks me. I
notice he properly waits for me to sit first. He is the
perfect gentleman, nurtured in the romantic traditions.
"No one told me anything, but I think I know." I answer.
"I suspect it has something to do with the lost
satellite."
"Excellent deductive capability," He speaks a thought.
"You are correct, but that is only the beginning."
He fumbles with something in his desk and then hands over
an orange colored file. "This explains the mission,
provided you care to accept it."
I take it with interest. Orange means Secret. Higher than
Classified but lower than Top Secret, it sits in the
middle of the echelon of classified information. My
security clearance allows me to read Secret, but I seldom
get the opportunity. On those rare occasions when I do,
it is like candy to my eyes. I feel an urge to look
inside.
"You'll have plenty of time to go through the file
later," He speaks before I get the chance. "You can take
it with you. For now, let me explain."
I let him, of course, and lay the folder on my lap
unopened.
"As you already suspect, we lost a satellite," He dumps
his big arms on his desk. "Two days ago we lost contact
with Spy-3. No warning signs. No messages. It simply
stopped transmitting."
He is right. I already know this. As a research
scientist, it is my job to study the images radioed back
from the three surveillance satellites orbiting the
planet. The pictures from Spy-3 stopped in mid-frame two
days ago, just like he said.
"What you don't know is that it dropped into the
atmosphere," He continues. "The Engineers don't know why,
but they theorize one of its maneuvering thrusters stuck
in the open position. It lost orbital velocity, which
caused it to lose altitude, and it fell into the
atmosphere. We just located the spot where it crashed.
You have the details in your hand."
I never could be patient. I undo the clasp of the
envelope and pull out the lap-screen computer when he
pauses. When I touch it, a keyboard appears on the
display. I have been around classified information enough
to know this is where I am supposed to enter my personal
identification code and password.
"Most of the satellite burned up in the atmosphere,"
Captain Rileymen speaks uninterrupted as I page through
the file. "But it looks like the most dangerous segment
survived - at least partially. The nuclear reactor core
landed largely intact but heavily damaged. The first set
of pictures show it resting at the bottom of a crater,
but later images show it moved. We do not know where it
was moved to, but we assume it was to one of the
surrounding Longton villages. Naturally, we are concerned
about its plutonium fuel causing injury to anyone who
might choose to investigate. We also have concern about
its advanced technology creating a danger to the pre-
industrial culture living on the surface. The Longtons
are an inherently curious people, and we expect they will
eventually want to investigate it."
The "Longtons" that he talks about are an alien
civilization that inhabits the planet. I know a lot about
them because it is my job to study them. It is the reason
I live in deep space and the reason I analyze satellite
imagery.
"I would say there's a near certain chance they will try
to open the container," I tell Rileymen, assuming he
wants my expert opinion on the subject. "They are an
inherently curious culture, much like Humans of about 300
AD. However, even more dangerous, they are a religiously
fragmented community. There's danger they might discover
the satellite and treat it as sign of a deity; a God..."
Rileymen puts up his hand to stop me in mid-sentence.
"That's not why I called you into my office."
I sit before him confused.
He explains. "Our mission is to research on a non-
interference basis. That is why we use spy satellites.
Some say this is wrong. It is an evasion of privacy, even
dishonest, but it allows us to look down upon the planet
without interfering with the natural order of things. The
crash, however, presents a problem. It creates a
potential for interference, and we need to take action
against it."
I look at him confused. I agree with everything he says,
but who am I to do anything about it?
"We plan to organize an expedition down to the planet's
surface," I think Rileymen reads my mind. "The plan is to
land at night in the central desert, away from any
substantial Longton population. The expedition will then
travel first by vehicle and later by foot into the
Longton village closest to the crash site. You will pose
as visiting travelers from a far off land. The mission is
to interface with the Longton culture, discover as much
as you can about the crash, and then take whatever steps
are necessary to prevent any damage."
I notice he uses the word "you" - as in "me" or "myself."
Me, Debbie Kitlras. At first I think he makes an
inadvertent slip of the tongue, but from the way he looks
at me I can tell he has not.
"You don't mean?" I look at him in disbelief. "Not me! I
can't possibly go on such an expedition!"
"Why not?" He questions simply. "I'm told you are the
most qualified expert in the lab. You selected the
Longtons for your master's thesis. You've worked at the
analysis lab for two years. They tell me you are better
than anyone else at speaking their language."
"Well, yes but..." I start to say. What he says is true,
but...
"I am even told," Rileymen interrupts. "That you
criticized the past expeditions. You voiced objections to
the director about your training of the Military teams.
You said it would be more valuable if a civilian research
scientist was included in any future expedition."
I feel embarrassed. "That's true, but I didn't mean
myself," I explain. "I said it in a moment of
desperation." Two previous expeditions traveled down to
the planet's surface, but that was years ago. The teams
consisted of Military professionals with months of
preparation. "I am just a civilian scientist."
"This is your chance to put your money where your mouth
is," He continues as though he does not hear me. "We need
to remove the satellite, and we need to remove it as soon
as possible. The longer it sits on the surface, the more
danger it could potentially create. There is no time to
gather a Military team together and do months of
training. We need someone down on the planet's surface in
a week; if not sooner."
A buzzer rings on his desk. It interrupts his speech.
"I said not to be disturbed!" He practically yells into
the phone. I feel sorry for whoever might be on the other
end, but then he nods and calms back down again.
"I need to go for a few minutes," Captain Rileymen
apologizes. "I'm very sorry, but something's come up that
demands my immediate attention. Why don't you stay here
and read through the rest of the file. I think you will
find it very interesting."
He rises before I can object. He leaves me alone in his
office. I am left sitting in confusion and disbelief.
The news overloads me. The information is too much to
process at one time. It is too shocking; too much out of
the ordinary of my every day life. I am accustomed to
obediently go to my job each day on the research station
Crion, located on the dark side of the moon by the same
name. At night I walk a few feet outside the lab to
return to my quaint cabin to study and do my exercises. I
have been on Crion for three months now, orbiting the
Longton planet and secretly conducting my research. It is
the same monotonous existence day after day after day,
and now this.
It is not at all what I expected when I received the call
to fly up to the Starship Cruiser Atlantis and meet with
the Captain. I suspected he sought my advice on the lost
satellite, but not to go down to the surface and pick it
up myself. I need time to think.
I look through the rest of the secret folder and find it
is worse than Rileymen lets on. One page shows an
overhead picture of the crash site, no doubt taken from
one of the two remaining satellites. I see a streak of
burnt forest with a crater at one end. I think I even see
a few Longtons looking down inside from the rim.
Obviously, the plutonium remains safely intact inside the
reactor. If it leaked out, the Longtons would already be
dead. I can't help but think they soon will be. I know
from my own studies that they will eventually crack open
the reactor.
The next page shows the location of the crash site on a
planetary map. It is near the central desert, which is
good news. The Longtons do not dare venture into the
central desert, so an expedition can easily make a
landing close to the crash site. They will not have far
to walk.
Another page is a written assessment of the situation. It
speaks of the Longtons as a curious people who will
almost certainly want to investigate the contents of the
crater. If the reactor's plutonium core isn't open
already, the assessment predicts it soon will be. I have
to agree. Then it talks about the religious factions and
mentions the same thing I told the Captain about the
Longtons possible attempt to worship the satellite as a
religious deity. I agree with everything it says. I could
have written it myself, and maybe I even did write parts
of it. Some of the sentences look as though they might
have been pasted directly out of earlier reports.
The Longtons first came to my attention back at the
University. According to the most popularly accepted
theory, they descended from the same ancient seed as
humans, planted by an unknown and very advanced
civilization some 1 million years ago. This means they
greatly resemble Homo sapiens in appearance. Their bodies
enclose the same basic structure: The same double arms
and legs, the same two eyes, two ears, and a single nose.
Everything of importance looks the same, but only in
general terms. As with any two humanoid species separated
by a hundred light years distance and million years of
evolution, subtle differences exist.
The two most noticeable differences exist in the facial
area. The first is a flattened Longton nose that makes it
look as though they have all just been punched squarely
in the face. The second is hair just above the nose. It
is a single eyebrow that goes straight across the
forehead. Another difference derives from height. The
Longtons live on a planet with 80% the gravity of Earth.
This makes them grow taller. The average Longton male is
about 20% taller than the average human male, although
this only occurs with the males. For some reason, Longton
females tend to be slightly shorter than human females.
No one has yet been able to explain why.
More important differences are cultural, which is the
reason for my research. My job is to study how a
civilization totally foreign to Humans can live,
communicate, interact, and do the thousand other things
we take for granted every day. I often think my job is no
different than the National Geographic researches who
first went to study the ancient stone-age tribes of the
jungles of Magascascar in the 19th century. My only
advantage is technology. While they wore cameras around
their necks, I rely on cameras that look down from
orbiting satellites.
I also listen. Several years ago - back when I was still
in graduate school - humans made two high-risk
expeditions down to the planet's surface. A group of
three young men received plastic surgery and several
months of specialized training on the Longton culture and
scientific research methods. All three were military men,
specially selected because they were quick to learn and
strong enough to defend themselves in case they got into
trouble. They landed on the planet's surface, traveled to
a distant Longton village, and posed as fellow Longton
men traveling from a far-off land. Although unable to
speak the Longton language, they made face-to-face
contact and were able to communicate on a limited basis.
The expedition taught us things we never could have
learned solely from satellite imagery.
Lucky for me, the expedition also planted microphones.
While on the surface, they buried miniature microphones
under the soil to listen to the Longton conversations in
the hope of deciphering the language. It is these
microphones that got me my job, and most of them remain
operating to this very day. I've always had a gift for
languages, and the language of the Longtons is no
different. Called Longtonese, I first assisted and then
later became its foremost expert. I now translate the
language for others.
***
"Sorry about the interruption," Captain Rileymen walks
back into the room. He walks in quickly, as though he is
in a hurry. He appears out of breath.
"As I was saying, we need to send an emergency expedition
down to the surface," He talks fast from behind his desk.
"Your purpose will be to find the satellite's reactive
core and dispose of it. This may be done by burial or by
returning with the core. You are given leeway to decide
for yourself once you reach the surface and study the
landing site. We know the core is fundamentally safe
because we witnessed Longtons in close proximity. They
physically moved it with no ill effects. The reason we
chose you for this mission is obvious. We have no time to
train someone new, and you speak Longtonese fluently."
I accept this, but his conclusion is wrong. "Not
fluently," I correct. "And I only translate it. I have
never spoken it to a live Longton before."
"At least you speak it better than anyone else," He
proposes.
I nod my head. We both know this to be true.
"In any case, it will be sufficient to conduct the
mission. You will pose as Longtons from a distant land.
You are on a quest for knowledge. This should give you
sufficient cover to make up for any language
deficiencies."
I nod again. It is the same cover used by the previous
expeditions. I realize if the previous expeditions made
it without speaking any Longtonese, I should have no
problem.
"The choice on whether or not to accept the mission is
yours." Captain Rileymen offers me with his hands. "I
need not disguise the dangers involved. This is
especially true for you. You, being a woman."
I suddenly remember. The thought rushes into my head like
a bolt of lightening. I should have realized it the
moment he first suggested I go down to the surface, but I
guess I suffered from information overload. It is the one
thing about the Longtons that disgusts me.
"As you know," The Captain tells me what I already know.
"The Longton culture is still very primitive when it
comes to relation between the sexes. As I am sure you are
aware from your studies, men are in charge and the women
are essentially the equivalent of servants."
I know this very well. In fact, I know it exceedingly
well, and it is the one thing I vehemently dislike about
the Longtons. Captain Rileymen's use of the word
"servant" is actually too kind. "Slave" would be a lot
more accurate. Although not physically abused - at least
not as far as we can determine - Longton women are
treated more like property than real people. It is the
ultimate male chauvinistic society.
I try to push this aside. By inherent definition - as I
have to continuously remind myself - alien cultures are
supposed to be different. Most of the time it comes from
the way they look or the way they act. For the Longtons,
it happens to concern the relation between the sexes. A
colleague once told me that a visitor might be equally
disgusted with Humans of the 17th or 18th centuries if
they witnessed the subjugation of African Negroes. I must
continually remind myself of this as I study the
Longtons, and now I remind myself again.
"I understand sir," I try to act like his explanation is
no surprise. "I will have to play the part of a female
servant."
The Captain nods. This seems to please him.
"Then you are also aware," He goes on. "You will need to
blend in with the alien culture. This means, of course,
you will have to dress like them."
I momentarily forgot about this as well, but now it comes
rushing back to me.
"You look as though this greatly disturbs you," The
Captain notices before I can recover.
"No, not really," I almost choke on my own words. "I mean
it does, a little, I guess, but I know all about it.
After all, I see them every day on the satellite images,"
I let out a nervous laugh. "I guess I've just become so
accustomed to the way the Longtons dress that I forgot
about it for a moment."
"I hope it does not disturb you," He emphasizes. "Because
it can't! If you are going to blend in with their
culture, you need to dress like them."
"Of course," I agree with fake confidence, remembering
the clothing of the Longton women - or more specifically,
the lack thereof. I realize this is even truer in the
southern desert region where the satellite crashed.
The planet of Longton is hot. It experiences temperatures
a lot warmer than Earth. It is so warm that plants and
animals only exist at the poles. The entire equatorial
region is one big, massive, desert; a thousand times
bigger than the Sierra. As the sea covers two-thirds the
surface of Earth, so a desert covers three-quarters of
the planet Longton. The Longtons live north of this
desert, north of 50 degrees latitude, in what would be
roughly equivalent to Northern Canada or Siberia on
Earth. But even here, the heat remains. The Longton
climate at the Arctic Circle is roughly equivalent to the
equator on Earth.
People who live in a warm climate naturally wear little
clothing. It is true on Earth, and it is true on Longton.
And it is especially true of the women, given their
subservient cultural position. The women, in fact, walk
around in the bare minimal of clothing. This is one of
the reasons why I got the job to study them to begin
with. The sparsely clad women keep distracting the men
from doing their jobs.
"I do not mean to embarrass you," The Captain interrupts
my agonizing thoughts. "There is no way for me to say
this delicately, but this expedition may be especially
difficult for you, given your..." He brings his hands to
his own chest. "Let's say, your physical makeup."
I know what Rileymen means. He is referring to my size.
That is, he hints at my big boobs. I am a short girl with
ample breasts. Longton attire will leave little to the
imagination.
"I understand Sir," I try to retain my composure against
the unavoidable embarrassment.
"In fact, the very reason you are best suited for this
mission is because of your physical makeup. As I'm sure
you already know from your studies, men with the highest
status are often served by the women with the largest..."
He does not need to continue. It is another oddity of the
male dominated Longton society. Female breasts are used
as a way to display status. The leader of a village
nearly always has the mate with the largest boobs. The
same is true for an unusually rich or successful man. My
own double-D cups means my male companion would be a very
important man, but that assumes I will have a male
companion.
"Can I assume I will be with someone?"
"Of course," The Captain fills in the blanks. "A woman
traveling alone on the Longton planet would instantly
arise suspicion. It would be culturally incorrect, and it
might also be dangerous. You will be the female traveling
companion of Lt. Stockton."
"Brian?" I questioned. "Do you mean Lt. Brian Stockton?"
The Captain nods.
"But sir, he only just arrived a few weeks ago. He
doesn't have any experience."
"But he is the most suitable," Rileymen does not appear
to hear my objection. "He is an ex-Marine, specifically
assigned to your analysis lab to learn as much about the
Longtons as possible. It was our intent to eventually use
him on another mission down to the planet's surface once
we got approval from the politicians back on Earth. He
will just be going down a lot earlier than planned."
"But sir," I try to object. "A lot of others know a lot
more about the Longton culture than Brian... I mean Lt.
Stockton."
"I see you are already on a first name basis," Rileymen
notes. "That is good. It will make the training go
easier."
"Training?"
"You need to give Lt. Stockton - or Brian - a crash
course on the Longton culture. Forget about the
structured course. He needs to learn as fast as possible.
The doctors tell me it takes 5 days for the swelling from
the plastic surgery to go down. You will have that long
to work with him."
"But Brian?" I continue to object. "Beg your pardon sir,
but there's others in the lab who are a lot more
deserving."
"But the others are all female," He points out. "Out of a
staff of 32 personnel, I believe there are 30 who are
female. And we can't very well send two females down
there together."
His numbers are correct. That is one disadvantage of a
lab full of women.
"The mission is yours if you want it," He tells me. "As I
already hinted, we don't have much time. We need an
answer right away. A doctor is already standing by in the
infirmary. He tells me the operation will take about two
hours, and you are on his schedule for tomorrow morning."
I feel a momentary desire to jump at the chance. I
picture myself leaping up and telling him that I am
honored to accept the mission. It is the opportunity of a
lifetime, a chance to put my many years of study to the
test. I often dreamed about going down to the surface and
meeting a real live Longton. I feel stupid to resist.
Yet when the opportunity is thrust upon me, I hesitate. I
feel only anxiety. I worry my knowledge is inadequate and
my assumptions are all wrong. I can't help but imagine in
my mind what it will feel like to walk around in the
sparsely clad Longton clothing. I grow with trepidation.
"The mission is yours if you want it," Captain Rileymen
offers me again. "Your acceptance will be a tremendous
service to your country. It will even help to serve the
Longton people, and you will probably save the lives of
whatever Longtons eventually succeed in opening the
reactor."
His words fall heavy on my mind.
"However, I will not disguise the fact some danger is
involved," He argues against himself. "The mission is far
from safe, and I am sure it will be very difficult. Many
things could go wrong, including a radiation leak."
I haven't considered this, and it frightens me. Even a
small radiation leak could put me at a higher risk of
cancer for the rest of my life.
"Do not accept right now," He cautions wisely. "I want
you to check into the infirmary tonight so the doctors
can conduct some tests. If all goes according to plan,
you have until morning to make up your mind. You need to
sleep on it and think it over very carefully. I obviously
prefer you to accept, but you need to be certain for
yourself. There will be no turning back."
I look up to see him standing. We are done. Rileymen is a
busy man and has many other jobs to do.
"Thank you for the offer," I shake his hand. "It is a lot
to consider."
I bid him goodbye and ask his secretary directions to the
infirmary.
***
I laugh at Captain Rileymen's instructions to sleep on
it. If he expects me to sleep, he is greatly mistaken. I
lay wide-awake in bed. I lay on a hospital bed in the
infirmary, dreading the morning and feeling confused and
very hungry.
The doctors refused me anything to eat after they
completed the physical. "It might have a negative effect
on the operation," they told me; something to do with the
drugs they will have to give me to perform the plastic
surgery...provided I am still willing to go through with
the surgery.
I still am not sure. There is a lot to consider.
There is the fear of failure. 'What if I can't speak the
language well enough?' I ask myself. I never conversed
with a Longton before. 'What if I do something stupid or
make a mistake?' And there is the further danger of
walking into a village contaminated with plutonium.
Radiation cannot be ignored. I might have to walk around
the rest of my life in fear of an increased risk of
cancer.
But on the opposite side, it is the opportunity of a
lifetime. It will be a chance to fulfill my curiosity and
pose all my questions. It will be my only opportunity to
test my knowledge of the Longtonese language and
interface with the subjects of my study. I know I will
never get a chance to go down to the surface again. Any
future expeditions - assuming the politicians back on
Earth even allow any future expeditions - will almost
certainly be by all- male teams. They will never let a
woman go except for the most dreadful circumstance.
Yet the very fact I am a woman scares me. I will have to
live in a society where the men are masters. I will be
merely a slave, forced into subjugation of my male owner,
forced to wear the clothing of the Longton women.
And then there is the clothing to consider. Longton
clothing scares me, especially given my figure. I am not
accustomed to wearing provocative clothing, yet on the
surface of the planet I will be forced to wear little.
The most clothing I will ever be able to wear is the
equivalent of a small bikini.
Another problem is Brian. I couldn't voice my objection
in front of Captain Rileymen because he would never
understand, but I don't like Brian. The problem is that
he's been trying to hit on me since the first day he got
to Crion, probably because of my big boobs. I despise men
who treat my boobs as a prize and my body like a piece of
meat. I haven't known Brian for very long, yet I already
get the impression he is a stereotypical young Marine who
thinks he is God's gift to women. I have difficult time
with him in the lab. On the surface, I know it will be
much more challenging.
Still, Brian does have one redeeming feature. He has a
tall, muscular build and handsome appearance; traits
specifically selected so he would someday more easily fit
in with the Longton men. This will make him look
excellent, I know, when clothed in the attire worn by the
Longton men, for their clothing is just as meager as the
females. I like looking at men in loincloths.
To be continued...
Comments welcome (JackBro_99@Yahoo.com)
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the
hands of children. They should be outside playing in the
sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 18