Honor Matters
Chapter 1: Casey's Flight

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Reluctant, Coercion, Mind Control, Slavery, Lesbian, BiSexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Space, Light Bond, Group Sex, Harem, Polygamy/Polyamory, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Fisting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Water Sports, Pregnancy, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Double Penetration, Tit-Fucking, Analingus, Nudism, Military, Royalty, Politics,

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1: Casey's Flight - This is the story of Peter Simon Wolf going into retirement. As a reward for outstanding service, Wolf is given a slave girl--and a coded message to flee the planet. Getting off-planet and out of the star system was just the beginning.

My birth name was Peter Simon Wolf. I was "Sergeant Casey," a security consultant on assignment to a backwater world beyond the borders of the Consortium. It was cover for an operation as Agent Kasai—I'm told that my code name means "uncontrollable fire." I was in deep trouble because I had thwarted an assassination attempt by a member of the nobility. My client: Minister Sunday, chief of the planetary police force. Still, a commoner laying hands on a noble was a capital crime.

A valid question: why did the chief of a planetary police force need an off-world security consultant to upgrade his estate security? I don't know the answer, only that I had derailed three previous assassination attempts. They were all commoners, though. E2 was Minister Sunday's nephew.

Despite my crime—committed in the presence of Minister Booksmith, the justice minister, I retained my sidearm and wasn't restrained. They bade me to wait in the Grand Reception Room. I waited but an hour. It could have been longer. Force professionals have four functions: we use force in the name of others, we are bullet magnets (trouble has to deal with us before trouble can get our patrons), we are scapegoats (we used force and take the blame or we failed to use force and get blamed for that), and we wait. Force professionals wait more than any other function. Being a scapegoat is usually a one-time thing, and then we die. An hour wait wasn't unreasonable. Besides, I was fairly comfortable and hadn't been executed yet. I could wait. I still had the pistol, a fifteen-shot slug thrower, with two spare magazines.

"OY! OY!" announced the estate herald, rapping his staff on the floor. "ALL ATTEND! MINISTER SUNDAY AND MINISTER BOOKSMITH!"

The few people in the Grand Reception Room stood a respectful distance from the dais. Both ministers were in formal robes of office. When they both sat on their respective thrones, the herald bade me to come closer. I marched to my mark, stood at attention and snapped a salute. Minister Sunday acknowledged my salute with a wave.

"We are grateful for your service, Sergeant Casey," Minister Sunday said. "We cannot ask for more faithful service. You completed your contract ahead of schedule and under budget. If more of our contractors were as faithful—but that's why we needed your services. You went beyond the contract, saved my life four times. For that you've earned a bonus. Bring out concubine Yums."

"BRING OUT THE CONCUBINE!" the herald announced with a rap of his staff against the floor. I happened to have instructed the herald in using his staff as a weapon. A trained man can do a lot of damage with two meters and two kilos of staff.

It was rumored that the harem master and his assistants were eunuchs. I cannot verify that. It was none of my business. I wasn't even permitted access for a survey. The harem master brought out a figure in a hooded cloak. The harem master stopped the concubine in front of me and whipped off her cloak, leaving her naked. She knelt, head bowed.

"I leave you with your just reward, Sergeant Casey," Minister Sunday told me. "Take her and go with the gods. Forever seek their mercy because Man has none."

That was a coded message to leave immediately. Hopefully, I didn't show any reaction when I received my coded orders from an unexpected source. That would really be awkward, and unprofessional, too.

"I thank you," I saluted. "May the gods find me worthy."

The herald announced their departure and then it was proper for me to leave. I started down the corridor to my assigned quarters, but ducked into a utility closet with silent Yums. The closet was an access point to the secret passages of the estate. Yums shied away until I applied pressure to a point above her elbow.

"This is a shortcut," I said as I opened the hidden doorway. The inside of the secret passage was dimly lit. "I want to hurry. I burn with anticipation."

Yeah, silly. I didn't expect a passenger on my evac. I wasn't set up for a passenger. We had to travel through a kilometer of tunnel network before emerging in the open. I took off my coat and wrapped it around the shivering woman. Naked, remember? I had a remote and called my ride from the bottom of the moat where I had hidden it. It had been a lightweight point defense star fighter, but the weapon mount was removed and its space filled with additional fuel and life support. I carried the woman to the little spacecraft and pushed her through the top hatch, crawled in behind her. Closing the hatch behind me and pushing another button submerged the tiny spacecraft. Inside the cargo compartment was a cyroberth. Yums stiffened when it opened.

"Master, you can't," she began—I applied pressure to a point under her ear and she lost consciousness. I was able to stuff her in the cyroberth and trigger the field, putting Yums in suspended animation until revived or until the power ran down.

My rendezvous was six days away. I had a schedule of RV times and places in the event that I'd have to leave in a hurry. Not a problem. I could remain aboard the Marsh Hare, my little spacecraft, and use it as a submarine until it was time to fly to the jump point.

The fighter had a single crew position, and the cargo compartment held rations and supplies. The cyroberth was something I put in as a lark. It had just proven its worth because Yums was essentially a prisoner. Life support aboard the Marsh Hare would support one person for ten days. Two people would reduce that to four or five days, depending upon how careful the second person was. Boredom and fatigue were going to be my biggest enemies until my RV with a starship at its jump point occurred. Well, the civilian was safely contained and I had a report to write—and I was going to make an underwater journey to a point in the open ocean, a five-day journey. Sometimes the fastest escape was a slow journey.

My initial escape had taken all of fifteen minutes. I didn't think that the alarm had been raised yet, but I was on the move anyway. I could operate to about 100 meters below the surface of the ocean, so I stayed as deep as I could without running into something on the river bottom. Hours passed. I was in approximately 15 meters of water, occasionally stopping and sinking to the bottom to allow a river barge to pass over the Marsh Hare. Mealtime. Potty breaks—there was a chemical toilet in the back. I could snooze in the pilot couch. It wasn't luxury but I survived worse.

On the day of rendezvous I donned my space suit and sat in the cockpit making final checks. Six days cooped up underwater—I'd apologize to Yums afterward—if were both were still alive. Carefully I broached the surface, scanning to avoid running into anything. I wasn't in the maritime shipping lanes and I wasn't near the air lanes. When I lifted off, I accelerated to supersonic, then Mach 2, and then near my red-line speed. When I cleared the atmosphere I went to full acceleration. Monitoring the space control frequencies, I departed orbit and raced towards the jump point.

Nobody challenged me.

It took me three hours to reach the jump point. I established contact with the starship that was supposed to take me out of system, exchanged recognition codes.

"Marsh Hare, this is Lightning Bolt," a female voice said. "You are clear for approach and docking."

Other than my haste, it was a smooth docking maneuver. When fully latched, the gray of the jump field enveloped me and it was time for debrief.

"Agent Kasai?" I recognized the voice over the intercom. "Commander Manchester, Where's Agent English?"

"I think she's in my cryoberth," I said. "Was she using slave girl as a cover?"

For the rest of this story, you need to Log In or Register