Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Science Fiction, Cheating, Cuckold, Amputee, Violent, Military, Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science-fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story, science fiction military story, sci-fi cuckold story
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Prologue - An SOF operator is wounded and given a second chance through the gift of science. This is his struggle. Note: some non-sexual story codes left off for plot reasons
He let the boom swing over. The line went slack, he ducked as it passed by. A dull bump signaled its stop on the other side. He moved the tiller, the bow turned filling the sail with air. The boat tacked back the other direction. As it picked up speed, he adjusted course to maximize the angle.
They were surrounded by an endless blue-green expanse. Warm tropical waters crested, foaming from the wind. The aptly named "Seeker" criss-crossed against the prevailing winds. He stood tall at the stern, hand resting lightly. He piloted by feel now, weeks of mental effort and hard work paying off in a new skill.
He admired his companion, sunning herself on the deck near the bow. Unending days in the sun resulted in her long auburn hair turning fiery red. She kept it off her back in a poly-tail, tucked under her neck. Her tan, lean, fit back, tight buttocks and model-length legs painted a beautiful picture. Purple eyes closed, arms outstretched, she still sensed his study.
"Picturesque tropics all around us, and you spend all day staring at the half-naked girl." She teased him without looking.
He snorted. "Like you have room to talk."
They hadn't seen a soul in nearly a week. He'd stocked the galley at their last port. Plentiful fishing extended their supplies. The boat did have an engine, but he husbanded the fuel, saving it for need. A boat that didn't sink, a beautiful woman's affection and an enemies list a mile long. He wasn't sure they balanced out, but so far as he could tell no one had a line on them.
They zig-zagged across the endless sea. Let the wind take them where it would. He hoped the randomness would prevent being predicted.
To boldly go where no man has gone before. He tried to remember if that was a quote. An unspoken mental tap on the anonymous satellite 'net antenna told him it was. The tag-line for a television program already old when he was born. The series, and its spinoffs retained popularity even today, nearly a century and a half later.
Amazing what stuck with you. He cared nothing for popular entertainment. Maybe watched a few episodes randomly when younger, remembered nothing but the phrase that started it all. He shook his head. Media.
For several thousand years, after graduating from cave walls, man used flat plant sheets to transmit ideas to each other. Then someone realized electric current running through a wire could do the same. Didn't replace paper, but certainly sped the transmission up. That lasted maybe half a century. Radio was next, added to paper and wires it had an even greater effect. Television to computers to handheld multimedia devices, erroneously called phones after the devices originally invented to take advantage of all those wires strung up everywhere. Every technological generation giving way to the next with increasing frequency.
Until mankind breached the skin. Nanoscopic processor chips implanted in the cerebral cortex permitted humans to offload their thinking. No longer did media transmit ideas. Now it moved the thoughts themselves. What is a brain? It's an organic computer whose purpose is running the ideas, thoughts, emotions that made up a "person". Once those things reside not on neurons, but silica chips, hasn't man himself become A.I?
He held his arm up in the sunlight. He was tall, he knew that. He wore cutoff shorts with an inflatable emergency belt. The hairless brown surface, looking like he spent most days outdoors reflected dully back. After uncounted replacement therapy sessions, repairing the damage caused by lying too close to a detonating bomb, then multiple burns, combat wounds, even the odd toxic biologic agent, he wasn't sure the covering counted as human skin anymore.
He sighed. She insisted he was as human as anyone she knew, but he wasn't so sure. His inorganic cognitive matrix had long since stretched beyond his skull. The damn thing distributed across his entire body. Good thing too, competent enemies tended to aim for his head, hoping to at least incapacitate him if they didn't kill him outright.
A month at sea couldn't erase a century of warfare. He still retained the innate drive, an unwillingness to quit that served him so well when he first wore a uniform. He scanned the waves again, made another minute course correction. Still alone, not even an island dotted the horizon. He checked the compass, computer navigation aids. Plenty of depth, still generally heading west.
His eyes returned to the woman. After all he'd lived, and loved, and lost, he ended up with someone he'd thought a figment of his imagination. Watching him—.
The boom slammed into his shoulder. What the? He stumbled, ducked to let it swing past. The loose line trailed across his back, ends frayed. He checked that line himself! He stepped over, the other end still hung limply from the cleat. He looked down the hull, a black-clad form hung from the bulwark, knife glinting.
He shouted a warning, pried at the hand. Something hammered his back, shoved him overboard. He held onto the man's wrist, dragged him under.
Well, this sucks!