3 comments/ 17257 views/ 11 favorites Pilot 01: A Saucerful of Secrets By: past_perfect A Saucerful of Secrets Author's note: This is the first part of a series of stories that will be continued with The Dark Side of the Moon - the titles will sound familiar to many and are indeed intended as an homage to Pink Floyd. Chapter One - The Homecoming The headlines you noticed about a UFO crashing in the African savannah, weren't a hoax for once. I can attest to it, since I was the pilot of the craft. I am neither Martian nor a "Grey", I am human, born and bred in Acton, London, England. Sixty-six years ago, I had left Earth; recruited by the Aliens you call "Greys". Their actual name is Scnrgsis by the way, the craft that created the massive crater somewhere in Africa had been built by them. They are intertwined with the human race in a fashion that would make your mind reel, but that is another story. I was born on the 2nd December 1921, and picked up by the Scnrgsis when flying a patrol mission in Southern England at the end of May 1943. My radar showed me something of immense size and ridiculous speed and before I could radio in my discovery, which I then thought was probably one of the secret weapons of the Krauts, I found myself in a blinding white light and then a hangar of enormous size, next to four other planes, to my dismay three German Messerschmitts and a Japanese plane, the model was unfamiliar to me though. I could not move; something had paralysed me. The engine of my Spitfire had stalled; it was unnaturally quiet, as if time stood still. Then they came, slender grey figures that moved with an astonishing grace and ease, big heads with black, abyssal eyes. I was transported through the glass of my cockpit, without breaking it, I just passed through it. I would have screamed if I had the ability to move any muscle. Something strange and soothing entered my mind, reassuring me, telling me to relax, but not with words, rather with a feeling, although that doesn't quite describe it properly either. Contrary to the ideas of writers of Science Fiction, telepathy doesn't work as easily between members of different races as they had imagined. What telepaths can express, however, is a tendency that might be understood if the brains are similarly wired. They did just that to me, and escorted me, hovering in mid-air mind you, through corridors of spectacular dimensions full of amber lights and incomprehensible mechanical contraptions, until we reached what looked like a mad scientist's laboratory. The soothing mind-wash soon lost its calming effect when I was strapped to a metal bunk and felt an iron band pressing down my head. A long spike with a glowing tip descended from the ceiling and then I lost consciousness. I awoke in a small room with no windows and a rather Spartan interior. A "bed", which appeared to be stuffed with some gooey substance, adjusting to my body in every position almost as if lying on water, a table and a chair. It was hot in there, humid, and it smelled funny. I touched my head, where I recalled the spike to have entered it, but apart from a small bump, there was no discernible injury. I noticed that the light in the room increased as soon as I moved, although I could not see an actual light-source. The memories of the events leading up to my awakening returned with a vengeance, and with a rush of panic I noticed that there was no door in this room, just odd looking matte metal that was slightly warm and strangely energising when touched. Before I could adjust to what then felt like the weirdest imaginable nightmare or start to explore my cell, the wall opposite me lost cohesion and glowed in mellow amber, through which one of the frightening figures I recalled from my first encounters stepped. The wall immediately reverted to its metallic state. "Do not be alarmed." Who would be alarmed by a tall grey alien coming through a solid wall and speaking to you in flawless English? I noticed that I had heard no sound, just a high pitched whisper, so I really couldn't have heard that sentence. What was going on? "We have implanted a device that makes communication possible. I am Shneet, my function is to inform you about our intentions and help you adjust to your new environment, if you so wish. You are not our prisoner, but our guest and you will be treated as such." "Who are you? Are you working for the Nazis? What do you mean by 'implanted a device'? What the heck is going on?" The creature rubbed its chest, which as I later learned was a gesture of impatience and resignation, not dissimilar to a sigh. "I appreciate that you have many questions. Some I will answer now, but to comprehend the full extent of your current situation, a somewhat more involved procedure will be necessary. You will have to be patient." Patience wasn't exactly one of my dominant traits, but I could see that my situation was way beyond the realm of what I knew and understood. "I'm listening." "Good. We are the Scnrgsis, one of many evolved races living in the galactic community in peace and harmony. We are what you would consider scientists. Your planet is part of a controlled experiment we are conducting on behalf of the Salarmorn, the benefactors of all sentient species in this part of the galaxy." "What kind of experiment?" Shneet rubbed his chest again. "You will get a full account of that later, if necessary. Please do not interrupt me." "Go on then." "The Salarmorn are amongst the oldest civilisations in this galaxy, and, contrary to others, they found the ideal way for evolving and influencing their neighbours, sharing technology and wisdom whenever they found a species to be ready to leave their isolation and come into the fold of the galactic community. To give you an idea – their civilisation is approximately two hundred thousand of your years old. Ours in comparison just a mere thirty thousand. There are roughly five hundred different space-faring species belonging to our community, all of which have benefited from the wisdom and technological superiority of the Salarmorn. The galaxy was a peaceful and productive place, a community of enlightenment and progress." "Was?" "Yes. It was. Then the strangers came. We don't know where from exactly, but we surmise they came from another galaxy. We call them the Pret." "Pratt?" "Pret – it is the Salarmorn word for dangerous stranger. They came with a small fleet of forty ships and annexed several planets, none of which was inhabited by sentient beings. All attempts to communicate with them ended in disaster. Contrary to our community, they are vicious, war-like creatures. They fired upon our ships and destroyed them without warning. While the community considered the options to deal with them, they stripped the planets they had annexed of materials and constructed massive industrial complexes as well as what we suspect to be a gateway to their home." "So the initial fleet was like pioneers." "Yes, that appears to be an accurate observation. Their technology is almost as advanced as our own, but we had never had to construct or use weaponry, as our community lives in harmony and cooperation. Aggression and war are concepts found in child-races in the early stages of their development." "So we are children?" "In a fashion, yes. You are evolving, more quickly now than before, and in a few millennia your species will also be ready to join the community, unless it self-destructs." "How comforting." Shneet's mouth formed an O, which I later learned was their equivalent to a grin. They have a weird sense of humour, but at least they have one. "That wasn't meant to belittle your species or its achievements. You have come far in a short period of time. You are being isolated from the community until such time that you are ready to join – it is a procedure that has served the community well. The process you call evolution is a natural force, which can only be furthered through minor adjustments, but in essence has to play out by itself." "I see. And now your benign community is faced with predators that don't fit into your pipe-dreams of controlled evolution." "A crude but not altogether incorrect statement. The Pret are an anachronism, at least by our galactic standards. We know next to nothing about them. They simply ignore all attempts to communicate and spread like a virus. Their base already encompassed hundreds of systems, before we had found a way to contain them, which could be only temporary." "You mean you started fighting them?" "No, we are containing them at present. We have erected a psionic field around the area they control – a field they have not been able to penetrate as yet. However, probability assessments indicate that this is just a question of time." "Psionic field?" "A field of energy generated by hundreds of generators that is being charged by the mental abilities of the Salarmorn. It would take too long to explain it to you now in detail, but suffice it to say that the Pret cannot fly through it due to the impact on their vicious little minds. Sooner or later they will find the means to protect themselves from its effects. In the meantime they are building a fleet that will overrun our galactic civilisation, unless we find the means to stop it." "I see. And because that involves fighting and war, you are recruiting children who still have a taste for it." Shneet flailed his arms in a gesture of despair and resignation. "You cannot grasp our reasoning, or what it means to go against everything we know to be right and true. However, in essence you are correct. And even your word 'recruiting' is close to what we have in mind. We are giving you a choice to become part of the struggle to rid ourselves of that virus. which would destroy everything we have built in thousands of years. Your solar system is but eight-hundred light-years away from the psionic field now – your planet will be amongst the first to be overrun, if we do not find a way to stop the Pret. You would not be fighting for a community you are yet to learn about – you would actually be fighting for the survival of your own species." "Eight-hundred light-years? You mean they might come here in more than eight-hundred years?" "No, they are capable of travelling faster than light, as all evolved species are. Their technology is in many ways different from ours, but based on similar principles." "Faster than light? That is impossible." "By your limited understanding of the nature of the universe, it would appear so. My people for instance live on several planets roughly three thousand light-years from here towards the galactic centre." Now it was my time to sigh in frustration, getting a glimpse of how backward and uneducated I really was according to Shneet's standards. "Long way from home, chap. Does that mean anything to you, home? You know, there is a war going on here, don't know if you noticed. Right now I was defending my country against the greatest threat the world has ever seen, and with my country I mean my home, my family, my friends. And you are asking me to abandon all that and go off to fight some space Nazis?" Shneet rubbed his chest again. "I appreciate that this might look important to you. But, to put this into perspective with an analogy, you are worried about the outcome of a pub brawl while at the same time someone is about to drop an atomic bomb on your city." "Atomic bomb?" "That is actually something your scientists are developing right now. Do not concern yourself with this war; our probability assessments are favouring your side there anyway. The Germans are defeated already, they just don't know it yet." I bit my lip and tried very hard to digest all the information Sheet had given me. "How long ... do you think it is going to take? Am I ever going to see my family again? You know, we are not engaged as yet, but I have a girl ... " "I am sorry, but you would probably not see her again. I would surmise the struggle will take several hundred of your years. You would not return before its end." "Several hundred years? Um, you seem to have neglected to inform yourself about our life-span, which is ... " " ... which is shorter due to your inferior medical knowledge. If you decide to join us, we would implant yet another device that will slow down your ageing process considerably, approximately ten times slower than what you consider normal. It will also enhance your physical and mental capabilities." "I see. So, if I understand you right, the only human beings I am going to see are those Krauts and the Japanese fellow, whose planes I saw in your hangar for several hundred years? Doesn't sound overly exciting a prospect to me ... " Shneet's mouth formed an O again. "Actually, you wouldn't be seeing them at all, since you will be posted on a star ship with a mixed crew comprising several species, some which might in fact be human. We have relocated some of your people in the past, which was part of our experiment. In fact, one human colony is already situated in the Pret's domain. So if you fight for us, you will already fight to liberate your kind, or at least, your distant cousins." "Wow, other planets inhabited by humans? Fascinating. How many are there? Do they look exactly like us? Where are the other planets? Can I go and see some of them?" "All in good time. I don't think these questions are relevant at the moment. Many of them would be answered during your initial training. Does that mean you want to stay with us?" Thousands of thoughts rushed through my mind. Images of Emma, my girlfriend and my family appeared before my mind's eye. My friends, my brothers in arms, our house in London, even my favourite pub. Space ... memories of my childhood, gazing at the stars, wondering what was out there. All interspersed with the one question that still moved and confused me. "Why me?" "We have scanned millions of your kind. You are gifted, not only do you possess the potential for considerable intelligence, but also an intuitive, almost instinctive approach to flying and fighting. We are assembling a small, but exclusive force of extraordinary beings, all with very special talents, according to our estimates what will be required for them to succeed. The Salarmorn have very specific plans, and you can be part of them." "But wouldn't it be more efficient to approach our governments and let our race join the struggle as a whole? You could unite our world this way, and you'd certainly get a fighting force that could cope with your Pratts." "No, the fact that we have to engage in activities alien to us and our philosophy doesn't mean we are going to abandon all our principles. Your race is not ready yet to join the community; your race armed and space-faring would be a threat almost as great as the Pret." Shneet was probably right. Of course, I had to think about a decision that would change my life forever for a while. Thirty seconds later, I shook his strangely moist hand and told him I would sign up. --- "Emma, time to impact?" "Thirty seconds." "Hold on to your knickers, sweetie. I hope we'll both make it." "So do I Jon." Emma's approach vector and the velocity with which we hurled down to Earth made this a pious hope. Emma generated a protective form-energy bubble around me, which should shield me from any harm for as long as she managed to keep it up. "Ten seconds." By now, Emma was a blazing fireball in the sky, followed by hundreds of pairs of eyes in horror and amazement. Her hull screeched and vibrated before we dug deep into African soil. 'Home at last', was my final thought before I lost consciousness. --- Emma's hand helped me out of the mechanical safety-ribbons attached to the pilot's chair, as I regained consciousness. The cockpit was filled with smoke and the smell of burned insulation. She had extinguished all minor fires at least in this area already. "Thank you sweetie. How are we doing?" "Badly, Jon. I have lost my other hand, and I am still bleeding. The energy reserves are down to eight percent now and falling. I suggest that you leave me immediately in case I cannot maintain the shield I have erected around me." Emma's "hands" were in fact two perfect androids, constructed for emergencies and away-missions initially, but since it had been me programming Emma's personality, she had served different purposes also. In fact, her hands weren't the only features that gave me an awful lot of pleasure during the sixty years of our relationship. "I'm sorry sweetie." "I have to go to the generators; the Nanos cannot stop the bleed." The bleed she was referring to was what brought us here. We had engaged the Pret roughly a hundred light-years from here. Yes, as you will indubitably deduce from that, the war against the Pret was not going well. They had advanced, and the psionic field was about to fail. Emma had two engines, one photon drive for sub-light speeds and the shifter-drive, which allowed us to travel faster than light. Both drives were dependent on massive amounts of energy that was drawn out of subspace via a funnel. We had been hit in the generator section and escaped narrowly by jumping into shift. The shifter-engine basically followed energy lines that emanate from and converge in stars and planets. They are like ripples in space-time, more pronounced in and around stars, but also present around and on planets. You slingshot around a star and catch the next line on a planet to orientate before shifting out to the next star. All this happens within nanoseconds, and it has to be computed in real time, as the lines and their vectors aren't precisely constant and the progression and expenditure of energy to hang on to the lines is critical. We had managed to slingshot around the star that turned out to be our good old Sol, but lost the line when approaching Earth, as we had not had enough energy to hold on to it. We managed to engage the photon drive to slow down, but not enough to avoid the crash. The Nanos were tiny machines that repair any damage to the ship as it occurs. However, if they couldn't get through to damaged sections, Emma's hands had to take over. There was nothing I could do to help. Although I had learned more less everything about the principles and the design schematics of my ship, I was not an engineer. I was a pilot. And a bloody good one. "Do we have communication? Did you send a distress call to Mother? What about the kids?" "I sent out a distress call before entering shifter mode, but I am afraid communication is down now. I witnessed three more of our kids being destroyed before we shifted." Our kids were thirty-one fully automated units virtually identical to Emma – controlled by me and Emma, but fully capable of acting independently from us. Eight of them had already been destroyed by the Pret before we had been hit. Mother was our carrier ship; its real name actually was Snay. The Snay was the type of vessel Shneet had been talking about when recruiting me, with a crew of seventy-five, all specialists from different species of our galaxy. When we were ambushed by a large contingent of the Pret, I had taken out Emma and the kids to keep them busy long enough for Mother to escape. I had to leave Emma. She had erected a force-field around herself that would keep curious Earthlings from prying into this saucer full of secrets mankind was still not ready for. However, if she couldn't manage to keep that up, she would self-destruct. That is why she wanted me out. I quickly gathered an emergency kit, knowing full well that I would have to look for some more inconspicuous attire as soon as I was out. My flight-suit made out of pitch-black poly-saturated alloy certainly didn't look anything like the current fashion here on Earth. Pilot 01: A Saucerful of Secrets I have kept up with the development of Earth's cultures, even watched some of your television programs. The Scnrgsis maintained a small observational outpost on the dark side of the moon that fed all information gathered into the galactic information network. I even got hooked on some of your admittedly hilarious SF-programs, like Star Trek. Contacting the lunar station would be our first priority. I had a short range communicator in my emergency kit, but its range was just under the distance to the moon, designed predominantly for communication with Emma when being in orbit. I had a device sending out a long range distress beacon also, but due to the current volatile situation on the front line, this might as well have attracted the Pret to my location, and therefore Earth. And believe me no-one would want the Pret here. I gathered a small bag of rough diamonds from Chetna IV, which were actually as common as pebbles there, but might serve me well to get what I would need down here. I climbed through the half-jammed door to the generator room, where Emma's hand was crawling around conduits to fix the problem that was causing the energy loss, her marvellous behind and perfect pussy beckoning me for a last kiss good-bye. "Emma, I am leaving through hatch four. I hope you'll fix yourself, sweetie. But if you don't, transfer all tactical data to your hand and follow me. You might want to put on some clothes though to avoid complications. We stay in touch. It pains me to see you hurt so badly. Come kiss me darling." Emma's hand backtracked from the conduit for a brief hug and kiss. "Good-bye Jon. I will do as you instructed me to. Hurry now. There will be spectators here shortly. Use the deflector." I grabbed her sweet buttocks one last time and hurried to hatch four, where Emma opened the field just long enough for me to pass. I used the antigrav unit of my flight-suit to get out of the ship and hovered above it to assess the damage. It looked bad, very bad. I couldn't see what happened to the front section, as it was buried deeply into the African soil, but the tail had been badly damaged by the Pret's weaponry. However, Emma's self-healing capabilities had surprised me on several occasions before, so I didn't want to write her off just yet. I switched on the deflector, which made me invisible to the naked eye and flew out of the crater. Your scanning equipment was much too primitive to spot my emissions. Fortunately, we hadn't hit any human habitation. To be able to hide and mingle, I would have to locate any such though. My portable information system showed me that there was one roughly forty miles south. It was called Zinder, a city in Niger, quite large actually, about one hundred and eighty-thousand inhabitants. I could spot military and other vehicles converging on our impact crater, as I flew into the other direction following the main road to Zinder. I heard their communications in my communicator unit, the instructions to their air-force to stop several press helicopters trying to get to the area and cordoning off everything on the ground also. They were following a protocol all governments on Earth had adopted – this wasn't the first time one of our vessels had crashed, but contrary to common belief, not a single one had been retrieved by anyone. Our safety protocols saw to that. Strange, I was home now, within a ridiculously short distance to where I had been born by galactic standards, and yet so far away from everything that mattered to me. I touched down on the outskirts of Zinder, but left the deflector on until I could steal some clothes and change. After sixty-six years, my feet touched the soil of Earth again. Chapter Two - Stranded I had procured some clothing that would probably identify me as a normal tourist trying to look African. The town was alive despite the sweltering heat and omnipresent sand-clouds. The tower of an old fortress and a huge mosque dominated the skyline. Not far from the marketplace I found what I was looking for, a cute prostitute, offering me a good time in French. She could have used her native Hausa also, since the translator in my head allowed me to speak roughly one hundred thousand languages. Prostitutes tend to be connected to the underworld, especially here, and I did need a passport and a buyer for some of my diamonds with no questions asked. She nodded when I approached her with my request and beckoned a young skinny boy who would relay her message to her contact, while we waited in a near-by house. The house was surprisingly cool and smelled of fruit and frequent sex, which sounded like an excellent option to while away the time until her contact arrived. We both stripped off our clothes and reclined on the filthy mattress in the far corner of the room; she was certainly pretty, small perky breasts and a softly rounded belly, which is typical for African women. Some discolouration on her skin, which pointed to some disease or other, probably AIDS. Well, it was her lucky day, the medical implant in my body has transformed my immune system, not only would it protect me from catching an illness, but it would aggressively combat it through my bodily fluids, which I intended to donate in copious amounts. More than sixty years ago I would have found her beauty exotic; after all I had lived and fucked through in the meantime however, her eager mouth descending on my half-erect cock gave me another cosy feeling of homecoming and familiarity. I relished the earthy scent of her body, partially displaced by some cheap perfume, as she sucked my dick with the expertise and listlessness of a professional. While her right hand clasped my shaft, her left hand massaged my balls in my tightening ball-sack, before she aggressively visited my rear-entrance with her index finger. That was something I really enjoyed and probably none of her European counterparts, at least not of my time, would have volunteered to do unasked and without any extra payment. My hands got stuck in her curly, somewhat straw-like hair, as she deep-throated me, all the while her probing finger successfully struck the g-spot gold of my prostate. Obviously she intended to get me off quickly, understandably so, but I had no intention to do so, as my enhanced mental powers served me in whichever way I wanted, here to teeter on the brink forever. In any case, the arrival of three shifty looking characters seemed like a good moment to allow for the inevitable to happen and shoot my load down her throat, in order to be able to focus on the business at hand, which might have been a tad more dangerous than suspected for anyone but me, since the drawn weapons indicated that their way of conducting business was a wee more on the rough side. I might have been naked and unarmed, but I was in no danger whatsoever – thanks to the amazing technology provided by the Scnrgsis, in this instance an energy shield, impenetrable to most handheld energy weapons, leave alone antiquated bullets or anything else you'd find on our beautiful planet. Well, maybe the blast of a cruise missile could have singed me a tad, but only if it had actually hit me. The girl made sure she got out of the line of fire, while the tallest of the three men ordered me to put my hands up and lie down on the floor, which indicated that he was not the brightest button that ever shone. I got up from the mattress and leisurely walk to my clothes, telling him in passing that he should get over his Hollywood-villain crap and get ready to do some business. He seemed a little irritated, but short-tempered and really quite trigger-happy, as two shots rang in the small room, most likely cutting our quality time there short. I turned around and grinned into his incredulous face, remarking that he should use the time I needed to dress to think of a better location for conducting our negotiations. One of the guys was spooked enough to run off, the other two were frozen, as was the girl. "Are you a ghost?" And interesting question, sometimes I actually had felt like that, ripped out of my natural habitat and experiencing things that the word surreal couldn't even begin to describe. This wasn't the time for philosophical questions though, as I quietly shook my head. "No, not a ghost. And yet, you cannot harm me. Accept it as it is. No hard feelings, by the way. I would still like to conduct business with you. Catch!" I took out two of the smaller diamonds and lobbed one to him, the other to the petrified girl, who didn't manage to catch it immediately. The shooter took only a quick look, then apologised profusely and asked me to hurry and follow him, as there was a small chance that someone had reacted to the gunfire and called the police. I left the room with the two guys, fear and greed doing a square dance in their eyes, while the girl crouched on the floor, her eyes transfixed to her salary that would probably change her life marginally if she didn't have to give it up to some sort of pimp. But of course the more radical change had already been initiated by my load of spunk earlier. I followed the guys through a labyrinth of dusty and busy narrow lanes; despite the fact that the police might have arrived at the scene, they didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. I understood: this was their turf, their territory, which the respectful attitude of the people we passed clearly indicated. Just as we ascended a small flight of stairs inside a larger building we had entered, guarded by a small army of really young looking men, I heard Emma's voice in my head. "Sorry Jon, I cannot stop the bleed. My hand will follow you. I will home in on your current location. Self-destruction sequence activated. Coded report sent to Mother. Self-destruct in eighty-eight seconds. See you, Jon." That was sad news, but I had suspected as much when I saw how battered my little Emma looked, before I had left her. It meant much more to me than just losing a cherished piece of technology; after all, Emma had contained a fair amount of bio-matter, and a great personality besides. I counted down the seconds to her final destruction, whilst sitting down with my prospective business partners at an ornate oriental table, where a fat old man rested on a heap of thick cushions as if on a throne on the opposite side. The room was air-conditioned, so my new-found friends seemed to do quite well for themselves. The fellow who had taken a shot at me earlier quickly reported what had transpired in his boss's ear, who furrowed his brow in disbelief, but all indignation seemed to vanish when the diamond was presented to back up his story. A faint rumble and a high pitched squeal announced the demise of my little darling, stemming from the conversion of matter to energy, which is then released into subspace. All that will ever be found by the military is a massive crater and the unsubstantiated reports of something massive dissolving into thin air before the eyes of the guarding platoon. Some of the men looked out of the window, but the scene was too far away for their prying eyes. Producing a few more of my diamonds helped focusing their attention on the business at hand again. The fat chap was now grinning from one ear to the other and enquiring about my wishes in excellent French. Within minutes, we managed to agree to a price that was probably so far under the actual value of the trinkets here on earth, that I imagined him smiling in his sleep for the next couple of days because of that bargain. I announced that we would be joined shortly by a white woman, whom he should let through to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. He thought that was a good joke, not knowing Emma's hand, who could be, shall we say, more than a little persistent to get to me, if she was thus inclined or instructed. --- I was offered a nice cup of tea, while we waited for her and his contact, who would take photographs of us for the papers I require. An interesting blend, something tasting remotely of cinnamon, although deep inside me I longed for a good old cup of English tea, something the advanced food synthesizers of Emma and Mother had never quite managed to replicate for me. Emma's hand arrived without incident, clad in a large piece of blue cloth she had wrapped around herself in the fashion of local women, barefoot though. We both needed Western clothing for our journey, and were provided with that quickly, being offered a wide variety of choices from suitcases whose owners probably had had a lot less luck doing business with these fellows. I had forgotten to tell Emma that dressing and undressing in front of strange men was a somewhat unusual behaviour in this culture, but their eyes almost popping out of their sockets when they were confronted with her stunning beauty so unexpectedly made that omission almost worthwhile. The photographer taking our pictures for the passports took quite a few more on the spur of the moment. Who was I to deny him that innocent pleasure? We parted ways almost amicably, although one fellow felt compelled to grab her arse when we went down the stairs again, which he would probably still remember when his wrist-bones had healed again, as Emma didn't like to be touched by strangers. Being vested with passports, money and some suitcases to keep up appearances, we entered the best hotel in town to rest and arranged for the earliest possible flight to America. Of course we could have crossed the ocean using our antigravs, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea as there were too many unknowns in my calculations. "You are tense, Jon. Let me massage your back." Emma always knew how to cheer me up. Getting to America wasn't the problem, but from what I knew about Earth as it was now, booking a ride to the dark side of the moon might have been a tad more difficult. From what I had seen in your news programs, no-one really fancied going there any more since the sixties or seventies, couldn't remember. Well, I would come up with something. Maybe Emma's hand could modify one of the current space craft. She had magic hands you know. As a testament to that, I quickly fell asleep. Chapter three - Mile High The passports seemed convincing enough for the Niger custom officers; from what I understood they were real, only the pictures had been exchanged with great care. So now we were Mr. and Mrs. Nichols from Witney, Oxfordshire. I had insisted on British passports, not wanting to put on a fake American accent, although it would not have been overly difficult, as my implant would have taken care of that too. Who knew when I would ever be back to this sparkling blue marble I once called my home? So at least I wanted to revel in my heritage. The plane was bound for Madison, Wisconsin, where we would catch our connecting flight to Orlando in Florida. The plane was astonishing comfortable in first class, although I found it difficult to feel at ease in this, from my point of view, antiquated contraption. I would have felt much more comfortable if I could have piloted it myself. Emma alerted me to a gloomy looking chap sitting in business class. "He is carrying a weapon. Do you want me to disarm him?" "No sweetie, I think he might be one of these air marshals we heard about. Nothing to worry about." I asked her to pretend to sleep when everyone else did. The airline tea was astonishingly good, so I overindulged slightly and consequently had to answer several calls of nature during the night. This time I arrived at the door of the rather spacious and luxurious bathroom at the same time as a stunning blonde woman I had already noticed earlier, mainly because of her incredibly large tits. I yielded to her, which she acknowledged with thankful smile, her eyes lingering on me a bit longer than would seem appropriate before she entered the loo. She took her sweet time before the door opened again, a waft of strong perfume assaulting my nostrils; however, she apparently had no intentions to leave as yet, gesturing me inside. Somewhat mystified I entered; my puzzlement grew when she locked the door behind us. Okay, maybe I had been born yesterday, but even with this slight disadvantage I finally understood what she had in mind when she opened her blouse and flashing her spectacular tits at me, covered only by an almost translucent white bra. It would have been churlish to let a lady extend an invitation like that for nothing, especially since she continued and opened the bra's clasp located in front – yet another surprising fashion development, I can easily see the wisdom of. I cupped these marvels, not entirely of nature, as I soon discovered, so at least I was not the only one with implants here, but they felt pleasant enough to linger and make my cock twitch. Yet there was the bladder matter I needed to take care of first. She understood my apologetic look and watched me take out my already slightly swollen member and relieve myself with a fascinated expression on her flushed face. She even assisted me in shaking off the last drops of urine, before kneeling down in front of me and taking my growing pride and joy into her mouth. I started wondering whether she was also a professional or just a very dedicated amateur, as her flawless technique of sucking and licking pointed to a great deal of experience. When she licked down my shaft to continue with sucking on my balls, I was ready to give her extra points for ingenuity as well. Her hands however appeared to search for something on the floor, which turned out to be the handbag she had disposed of earlier. The reason for this was a rubber johnny, which we of course wouldn't need, but I gathered was advisable for everyone else for chance encounters like this. Her eyes sparkled when she covered my rock hard knob with it, then hiked up her short skirt and bent over, propping herself up on the sink. Either she had prepared herself for my visitation earlier, or she liked being unencumbered as a general rule, as her pear-shaped taut arse and completely hairless pussy entered my field of view instantly. With a sense of gratitude for the evolution of mores on my home planet I pushed into her glorious grotto, where I was welcomed warmly and wetly. I sensed that she was trying to be quiet, as the groan she uttered sounded muffled, but relieved. I grabbed hold of her enhanced boobies, kneading them appreciatively whilst pumping her hard. Good thing I have something to hold onto, as I felt the overwhelming desire to smack her beautiful bum, which I sensed would be appreciated, but perhaps a little too noisy in the current circumstances. She had trouble enough as it was to keep quiet, failing more and more often as time went on and her first climax approached. Well, most of the passengers had appeared to be asleep anyway, so the chance that the few that really heard her throaty outburst when she did come take offence seemed remote. I imagined a few smiling faces instead, and I was fully prepared to give them and her even more reasons for that. Maybe this added to her pleasure also, as it didn't take long before she erupted again, whimpering and moaning as her vaginal muscles contracted palpably. I could have gone on longer, but I anticipated other passengers would sooner or later have wanted to use the facilities, either for the intended purposes, or following the inspiration generated by us in one way or the other, so I pressed on and allowed myself to come as well. I took my leave with the hint of a bow, assuming that she would want to freshen up, before returning to my seat, relaxed enough to snuggle up and sleep in the arms of my little Emma, who had of course registered what happened, but thankfully had no jealousy written into her program. I saw the blonde again in the morning when we arrived at Madison Airport, a big smile on her face, despite her obvious attempt to look inconspicuous when she noticed Emma at my side. I congratulated myself on using a plane rather than the antigravs and with an equally big grin I stepped onto American soil.