Dire Contingency
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 16
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 16 - A disillusioned special forces group stages a violent insurrection, stealing experimental weapons from a Navy black site and using them to take over a remote colony. With help months away, the only person who is in a position to oppose them is Ruza – an old veteran of the Kerguela war. The planet is plunged into a brutal conflict, with local resistance groups hellbent on breaking the occupation.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Military War Science Fiction Aliens Space Oral Sex Petting Size Politics Slow Violence
DAY 34 – HADES OUTSKIRTS – RUZA
Ruza crawled up to the top of the dune, two of his snipers flanking him. They kept low, using their leather cloaks to conceal themselves against the desert sand, their rifles clutched in their hands. As Ruza crested, he aimed his weapon, reaching up to tune the magnification on the scope.
There was a momentary lull in the sandstorms, leaving the sky clear and blue. The storms came in waves, and he could still see one building on the horizon – forming a dark wall of dust that would soon sweep across the planet’s surface.
More than a kilometer ahead of him was a cluster of old industrial buildings, his elevation giving him a good view of the site. It looked very similar to the place where he had first made contact with Bergmann – a long-abandoned strip mine once operated by ExoCorp, situated some distance from the outskirts of the city. There was a cluster of rusty old warehouses and structures, along with a few tall cranes rising into the air, the wind blowing the long chains and cables that hung from their gibs. Below were derelict earthmovers and forklifts, left to rot after living out their usefulness, probably too damaged now to be worth more than their salvage. At the center of it all was an open-air pit of considerable size, spiraling down into the planet, its tiered walls still occupied by machinery in places.
Ruza scoped in, scanning his sights across the industrial sprawl. The sand had piled up in many places with nobody to clear it away, forming dunes and partially burying some of the buildings and vehicles. It wasn’t completely abandoned, however. Hovering high above the site was a solitary spotter drone, the little vehicle slowly circling as its cameras mapped the ground below, and there was a conspicuous PDF armored truck parked near the entrance – the property marked by a dilapidated fence.
“Fifty-eight degrees low,” Ruza muttered.
His two companions shifted their rifles, tracking a squad of PDF. The troopers were sifting through the remains of the site with their rifles at the ready, Ruza watching as two of them ducked into an abandoned storehouse.
“Two groups of six,” one of the snipers whispered. “They look like they’re searching for something.”
“Concerning,” Ruza grumbled. “We have been operating from an old mine not dissimilar from this one. The enemy has never ranged out this far before – what has changed?”
“Is this random, or are they acting on new information?” one of the snipers wondered. “This is the third time in the last two days that we’ve caught patrols checking out old corporate mines.”
“They’ve been picking up a lot of people,” the other scout mused as he adjusted his aim. “We can’t stop all of the arrests. All it would take is for them to grab someone who has some vague idea that we’re operating from a mine.”
“If they are checking all of the abandoned mines, they will eventually check ours,” Ruza added. “We must take what we have learned back to our comrades.”
They began to retreat, crawling back down the dune on their bellies until they were low enough to stand without the risk of being spotted.
“Someone must have told them something,” Bergmann said as he leaned over the conference table. “The more people we involve, and the larger the resistance grows, the more potential there is for leaks.”
“Opsec is becoming an issue,” Rivera said with a nod of agreement. “The civilian manpower we gained through the FMU has been indispensable, but what we need are more Marines. We should focus our efforts on freeing personnel from the garrisons.”
“We civilians have been doing just fine so far,” Reed chided, giving the Marine a dirty look across the table. “Unless you’re forgetting who bailed you out, jailbird?”
“It’s a matter of discipline,” Rivera shot back. “We have a small core of trained personnel, but the bulk of our forces are still volunteers. They have families and friends who can be used to apply pressure, and they’re not trained to resist interrogation techniques.”
“We should continue to disperse our forces,” Ruza suggested. “The enemy encroaches ever closer, and it is only a matter of time before they discover our main base. If they hit us here, we will not prevail. I suggest that we establish longer-range outposts in the desert.”
“We’re not Rask, Ruza,” Reed sighed. “We can’t just put up a tent in the wasteland. Besides, how would we move all our equipment and stay in contact? You know better than anyone how much of a pain in the ass it’s been to build a hospital and stockpile all those supplies.”
“We can do without many of the amenities that we enjoy here,” Ruza explained. “The injured and non-combatants must be moved to a more secure location. I have found an isolated geothermal plant here, built into an exposed outcrop of rock,” he added as he brought up the holographic map with a gesture. It showed a location several kilometers from the city, the building in question nestled in the side of a rocky canyon. “The facility was under construction during ExoCorp’s tenure, but it was abandoned before being completed. The structure is sound, but moving our supplies there unseen would pose problems. There are no tunnels that lead there. It would best be done at night – perhaps during a storm.”
“Is this what you’ve been doing during your unscheduled outings?” Rivera demanded. “We need you here, Ruza, but all you seem to do is wander the desert with your scouts and do house calls. You’re one of our best fighters – and one of our few qualified surgeons. What happens if you’re killed or captured?”
“I do not take orders from you,” Ruza growled. “Had I not been scouting, we would not even know of this new threat.”
“If you ask me, I think we need to accelerate our timetable,” Astrid said from her end of the table. “I’ve been hearing reports on the net about the SWAR recruits that were taken up to the carrier. Their families have been informed that the surgeries were a success, and the recruits are now recovering. Ruza – how long do you think it would take before they can be deployed?”
“A good doctor would want to give such a patient several months of healing and physical therapy before they could return to duty,” Ruza replied, his feline brow furrowing as he considered. “Someone who cares little for his patients’ welfare could press them into service within weeks.”
“So, we could be just weeks away from SWAR inflating their numbers above pre-invasion levels?” Reed demanded as he glanced between Astrid and Ruza.
“And that’s just the first batch of recruits,” Omar said, shaking his head. “There are hundreds more candidates waiting for their turn. If Barbosa has his way, there could be thousands of augmented troopers running around Hades by the time the UNN shows up to restore order.”
“Based on the information you gave us about their combat exoskeletons, we estimate that the first batch is close to being finished,” Yohanes said. Ruza remembered the suited man from the prior meeting – he was representing the Factory and Metalworkers Union. “We’ve been able to identify a lot more of the parts that our members have been tasked with manufacturing. We’ve been doing what we can to slow down the process and introduce problems like impurities in the metal and substandard casting, but sabotage is a dangerous game with the kind of scrutiny we’re under. After the incident at the steelworks and the missing weapon shipments, there are often PDF on-site watching the line and checking inventory.”
“So, you’re saying that they’re close to having even more Bullsharks?” Reed asked. “Y’know – the things that are impervious to anything but a fucking industrial furnace?”
“The electronics and more advanced systems are likely being manufactured on the carrier,” Yohanes explained. “We don’t have the kinds of photolithography and specialized tooling we’d need on the surface. That supply chain is out of our reach.”
“We’ve noticed them sending lithium and silicates up the tether,” Henrik added – the representative from the Trade Association. “They’re doing something up there.”
“Can we get some of these suits?” Reed asked, spreading his arms.
“They can’t be piloted by unaugmented people,” Astrid explained. “We believe there’s some kind of neural connection required – an implant in the brain or spine.”
“And, they’d only have the means to install those on the carrier – right,” Reed grumbled.
“If they get an army of those things up and running, we’ll stand no chance,” Bergmann added with a frustrated sigh. “Maybe Astrid is right, and we need to make a big move while we still have the strength to do so. Chipping away at the enemy only worked as long as they had no access to reinforcements.”
“The mass attack against the garrisons is still our best bet to free as many Marines and loyal PDF as possible,” Rivera insisted. “I say we go with that plan. Storm season came at just the right time – we can use the next big one for cover. We put all of our chips on the table and just go for it.”
“I have another idea,” Astrid began, the men turning their attention to her. “Our propaganda and outreach programs have been working. Discontent is spreading throughout the population, and just as we’d hoped, the curfews and rationing have only worsened public sentiment. The enemy has been making inroads in countering our messaging, especially after the warehouse burning that was falsely attributed to us, but rumblings on the net paint a positive picture for the resistance. It’s not just the Unions – there are grassroots movements forming in opposition to the occupation. They’re peaceful, but a large protest could be just the cover we need to make our move.”
“Most of the PDF would be called away from the garrisons to handle riot control,” Omar said with a nod. “They’d be as vulnerable as it’s possible for them to be.”
“How much control would we have over when this protest happens?” Bergmann pressed. “We could coordinate with the other Union leaders and time a general strike to coincide with it – really stretch their resources thin.”
“I have my tendrils in a lot of intranet communities,” Astrid replied with a sly smile. “I think I could spread the word – get some control over the timing.”
“I worry about exposing the people to danger,” Ruza added. “We have seen the occupiers abuse their authority before, and they grow ever more brazen. I fear that we are not far from such disorder being quelled with a violent crackdown.”
“The only way we’re going to win this fight is if the people of Hades stand up for themselves and drive these bastards back into orbit,” Reed replied, slamming a fist on the table to punctuate his words. “We’re all in this together – they just haven’t realized it yet.”
“Things aren’t going to get better,” Amy added from her seat at the table. “The more time passes, the more abusive the Borgs will get. I’ve been on the receiving end of their hospitality before.”
Ruza lowered his head in a gesture of deference, the memory of her badly bruised features still burned into his mind.
“Besides, if the PDF are doing police work, they won’t be defending the garrisons,” Omar interjected. “We’d be minimizing their casualties too. It’s a good plan – the best we’ve got. Astrid has my vote.”
“I like it,” Rivera said with a nod.
“Let’s get it done,” Bergmann confirmed. “Henrik, Yohanes – let me know what your people have to say about it. We may even be able to involve the Municipal Employees Guild if they think it’s just a strike.”
Ruza turned his head suddenly, hearing rapid footsteps approaching down the nearest tunnel, one ear swiveling to track them. Amy recognized the gesture, glancing down the passage. A Marine soon came jogging into the conference room, pausing for a moment to catch his breath.
“Staff Sergeant, we have a situation,” he panted.
Ruza joined Reed, Rivera, and Bergmann as they followed the Marine down one of the tunnels, eventually arriving at a side passage where two more Marines were holding a man at gunpoint. He was on his knees in the dirt, his hands tied behind his back, his camouflaged fatigues identifying him as PDF. He glanced up at them as they stepped into view, a swollen eye widening at the sight of Ruza.
“We caught him near one of the checkpoints,” the Marine began. “His squad seems to have been mapping the tunnels by eye, and they stumbled upon one of our outposts. There was a brief firefight – no casualties on our side. They were as surprised as we were.”
“How close did they get?” Bargmann asked.
“Close,” the Marine replied solemnly. “There was a second squad coming down an adjacent tunnel, but they got taken out by a tripwire grenade.”
“Booby-trapping the tunnels was a good idea, then,” Reed mused. “They might have gotten through a passage that we couldn’t cover. It’s a good thing we set up those cells, or they might have walked straight into the base.”
“Here,” the Marine added, passing a tablet computer to Bergmann. “We pulled this off their squad leader, and our friend here was kind enough to decrypt it for us.”
“This is their map,” Bergmann marveled as he examined the display. “My my, they have been busy...”
Ruza glanced over his shoulder, seeing a somewhat familiar yet distinctly different layout. It seemed that the occupiers had access to records of the legal mines that had been dug beneath the colony, but the illegal ones – as well as the smuggling tunnels – had been slowly added in as they were explored. Ruza even recognized a few of the tunnels from prior operations. There was the warehouse where the resistance had staged the first ambush against SWAR, the exfil tunnels near Garrison Seventeen, and even the tunnels they had used to escape after the battle at the steel plant.
“We knew that they were exploring the network,” Rivera said as Bergmann passed the tablet to him. “It was only a matter of time until they started running into our patrols and checkpoints. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
“They have an excess of manpower, and it looks like they’ve been making good use of it,” Bergmann said. “I can see several tunnels where our fighters have encountered patrols in the last few days – they’re keeping a record of every one that doesn’t report back.”
“All the more reason to accelerate the timetable,” Reed said, Rivera leaning away in annoyance as he drew closer to get a look. “Shit – see this? If they’re running up against checkpoints and losing teams here, here, and here, that could help them triangulate the base. It would at least give them a better idea of where we are.”
“They are already scouting the outlying mines,” Ruza added. “They would need only to identify the nearest one to the tunnels where their patrols have gone missing.”
“The Borgs are using the poor fuckers as canaries,” Reed muttered as he glanced at the kneeling trooper. “Send ‘em in, and make a note of who doesn’t come back out.”
“Why do you look at me in such a manner?” Ruza asked, the captive turning his eyes to the ground rather than meet Ruza’s gaze.
“I know who you are,” he muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’re the Rask terrorist. They say you’re some kind of mad doctor – that you eat people.”
“And you’ll be next on the menu if you don’t tell him everything he wants to know,” Reed said, crouching down in front of the trooper with an unkind smile on his lips. “We call him the cannibal.”
“That wouldn’t technically be cannibalism, would it?” Rivera mused.
“I ... I already told you everything!” the trooper stammered, starting to tremble now. “I don’t know anything else!”
“Do not torment him,” Ruza grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever your superiors have told you, it is not true. You will not be harmed here.”
“What are we supposed to do with him?” Reed asked as he stood back up. “We can’t let him go – he knows where the base is, and he’s seen Bergmann.”
“As much as I’d like to dump him down a mine shaft, he’s a PoW,” Rivera replied. “Ruza is right – we have a responsibility to care for him. Find him a cell. I think someone was supposed to have set some up.”
“Y-you’re not gonna kill me?” the trooper asked, the disbelief evident in his expression as his two captors hauled him to his feet by his bound arms.
“Nah, we already fed Ruza today,” Reed joked as the man was guided past him.
“This is a disturbing revelation, but it doesn’t change anything,” Bergmann began once the trooper had rounded a corner and was out of earshot. “The plan still stands.”
“It’s certainly another fire under our ass,” Rivera grumbled. “There’s no way of knowing how much information the Borgs have or what they might be planning. If our roles were reversed, I’d want to hit us as hard and as fast as possible. We can’t even rely on Omar to give us a heads-up anymore, because these new Roach and Crow characters have been steadily cutting the PDF brass out of the decision-making process. If they decide to launch a lightning assault, he might not know about it until it’s too late. They might not involve the PDF at all.”
“We would be wise to operate as though such an attack is imminent,” Ruza added. “It will take Astrid time to organize the protests and strikes. Perhaps we should use it to begin moving our personnel and supplies.”
“If you want to go set up shop in that old geothermal plant, be my guest,” Rivera replied. “You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t take orders from me – or anyone else, for that matter. Vacating this base entirely is going to be impossible, even if we managed to move under the cover of the storm. We have patients we can’t move, too many supplies, and too many people. Not to mention the water and power situation. We’d also be in a far worse strategic position without easy access to the city or the tunnels. Yeah, we might survive an attack, but whatever was left wouldn’t be able to put up a fight against the Borgs.”
“Maybe you should listen to Ruza,” Reed added, glancing between the two as they stared one another down. “We all agreed to establish those cells and caches, right? He’s done this kind of thing before.”
“I won’t allow our forces to be split up so close to such a pivotal operation,” Rivera insisted, standing his ground as he folded his arms stubbornly. “We need to be at maximum strength, and we’ll need all of our people on deck. This coming fight could shift the course of the war in our favor.”
“Rivera does have the most military experience,” Bergmann added. “I’m inclined to let him manage the operation.”
“Very well,” Ruza conceded, knowing that arguing further was pointless.
DAY 34 – HADES ORBIT – BARBOSA
“We think a lot of it is coming from a single source,” Song said as he swiped a hand through the holograms that floated above the observation deck’s glass floor. “Some of the activity is organic, but a lot of it is clearly a result of a dedicated information campaign. We can’t trace it back to its origin point, of course. It’s all encrypted and bounced between a dozen different servers. If I had to guess, they probably have some kind of hardlined private network in play, too. They’re only using public access points.”
“They’re not being coy about what they’re planning,” Barbosa mused, walking through one of the hovering displays to examine the one behind it. He moved it through the air with a gesture, repositioning it. “Tens of thousands of people are going to be attending the protest, and all four major unions are striking at the same time. They want us to know that this is happening...”
“Could be some kind of diversion,” Song suggested. “We know that they like to bait and switch – like the attack on the ASATs.”
“In their position, I might try to attack one of the garrisons to free more prisoners,” Barbosa said as he pulled up a map of the city. “It won’t be the anchor – they don’t have the numbers, and the ASATs are too heavily defended. A large protest like this one will force us to commit the bulk of our PDF forces to riot control, which leaves the garrisons vulnerable...”
Barbosa pulled up another display, pressing a mechanical finger to his aural implant. A moment later, a three-dimensional image of a man’s head appeared to float there. He was riddled with facial scars, his jaw and parts of his lower face replaced with dark polymer, giving him the appearance of having a black beak at a glance. It had been a mortar, if Barbosa recalled. The shrapnel had destroyed the mandible, the maxilla, and torn off his nose. By some miracle, his vital anatomy and even his eyes had been left untouched.
“Crow,” Barbosa began. “How’s the search going? Have you managed to locate their base of operations?”
“We’re honing in on them, Commander,” he replied with a voice that was distorted by his prosthetics. “We’ve scouted several of the larger abandoned mining sites, and we’ve narrowed it down to a handful. Three squads of PDF were tasked with mapping tunnels near one of the remaining candidates today, and only one reported back. It’s safe to assume that the rest encountered resistance and are KIA.”
“Do you have the locations of the tunnels in question?” Song asked, sidling up beside Barbosa to join the conversation. “With enough data points, we could triangulate a likely location of their base. Any heavily defended tunnels will be protected for a reason.”
“That’s if they didn’t just fall down a mine shaft or get lost,” Crow muttered. “Sending the data to you now, Song.”
It only took Song a moment to apply the new data points to his growing map, showing distinct tunnels where their progress had been halted. Even without further analysis, Barbosa could see the pattern that was starting to emerge.
“They have to be somewhere inside this zone,” he said as he made a circle with his digit.
“Running a check,” Song muttered as his fingers danced across a virtual keyboard. “Here – one of the ExoCorp mines that was recorded on the Governor’s map has some significant tunnels and chambers that lead into that area. They’re all legal and on the books. It hasn’t been scouted yet.”
“That has to be it,” Barbosa hissed. “Crow – I want you to send a team to check out the site for any signs of recent activity – and quietly. We have to be sure before we commit. Find ingress points, scan for defenses, and stay dark.”
“I’ll get my people on it,” Crow replied. “Once we have confirmation, do you want us to go in and smoke them out?”
“We’ll wait,” Barbosa said, clasping his hands behind his back. “They’re going to try something during this protest – there’s no doubt about that. Put some reliable agents in charge of security and loosen their leashes a little. If the insurgents want to foment an uprising, we need to be ready to crush it before it begins. I want you and Roach to assemble a strike team. Pick men who are quick, quiet, and who have experience fighting in hives.”
“We’ll make it happen, Commander,” Crow replied with a nod. “I already have a few candidates in mind.”
“The insurgency seems to believe that we’ll have our hands full with this protest,” Barbosa mused as he looked over the map of the mines. “Whatever their plan is, it will draw their fighters away from their base, leaving it vulnerable. That’s when we’ll hit them.”
“They won’t be expecting us,” Crow added, his smile reflected only in his eyes due to his skeletal mouth. “If they try to retreat, they’ll be walking straight into another firefight.”
“There’s nothing like a quiet knife in the back to solve a problem,” Barbosa replied.
DAY 35 – HADES – PETROVA
“I don’t think you should go,” Petrova said.
“Why not?” Fran asked as she zip-tied a high-vis jacket to a broom handle. She was sitting in her prefab along with Sam and Carl – the trio hunched over the kitchen table as they assembled their crude signs and flags.
“It could be dangerous,” Petrova insisted as she watched them from her seat on the couch. “You’ve seen firsthand how out of control the PDF is getting, and the last protest started a full-blown riot.”
“We have a right to protest,” Fran replied as she passed a roll of duct tape to Carl. “If it’s not safe to go out into the streets and make ourselves heard, then we really are living under an occupation like the resistance says.”
“Besides, it’s not like we’re going to miss work,” Sam added. “We don’t have much else to do.”
“They really need to set up an arcade or a casino around here,” Petrova muttered. “You factory workers are a menace when you’re left to your own devices for too long.”
“Unlike the cultured electricians from across town who play croquet and sip champagne in their free time,” Carl chuckled.
“At least don’t wear those vests when you go out,” Petrova pressed. “You know the insurgents are using those colors to identify each other, right? You might get mistaken for terrorists.”
“Everyone is going to be wearing them,” Fran explained as she held up one of the reflective work vests. “They’re a symbol of the workers. Practically everyone has one in their home, whether they work in sanitation, a mine, or they drive a truck.”
“Even the PDF wear a reflective sash when they’re on traffic duty,” Sam added.
“Anyway, it predates the resistance,” Fran continued as she set the vest back down. “If anything, they adopted it from us.”
“If I was a resistance fighter, I might want everyone to dress the same way I did to make it harder for the security forces to find me,” Petrova muttered. “I just have a bad feeling about this protest. Bad actors could turn it into another riot, there could be a crackdown, or the insurgents could use it as cover for an attack. I don’t want you guys getting caught up in that.”
“Relax, Val,” Sam replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’ll be fine. Tons of people will be there.”
“Seems like half the damned colony is attending,” Fran confirmed with a nod. “If the Governor sees how many people are unhappy with the state of affairs, and how ready the unions are to shut production down, maybe everything will go back to normal. What are they gonna do – arrest thousands of people?”
“I don’t think these Navy guys will take kindly to unrest,” Petrova warned. “That’s what concerns me.”
“Are you buying into the resistance line about them being imposters now?” Carl asked.
“No, but ... these people aren’t police – they’re military. If they get pushed too far, they might fall back on their training, which involves eliminating threats with prejudice. Don’t make the mistake of expecting them to react the same way the PDF would.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Carl suggested, looking up from the sign he was working on. “You handled that situation with the troopers the other day.”
“Yeah, you can name-drop your brother again if they mess with us,” Sam added.
“She doesn’t have to come if she doesn’t want to,” Fran chided. “We won’t declare you an enemy of the class struggle if you don’t want to be out in the sun all day, Val.”
“At least it’ll be a clear day,” Carl said. “There’s no storm scheduled – I don’t think they’d be able to get anyone out of their prefabs if there was.”
“No, Sam’s right – I think I should come along,” Petrova conceded. “Not that I don’t trust Fran to take care of you two, but you might need someone to drop a name if things get heated.”
Not to mention that if there was any insurgent activity, there was a good chance that her target might be there. The Rask seemed drawn to violence and chaos like a moth to a lamp.
“The protest isn’t for a couple more days anyway,” Sam said with a shrug. “You have time to think about it.”
“Well, I’d better get going,” Petrova said as she rose to her feet. “I’m not cutting it too close to curfew, but I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time. I’ll see you guys later.”
“See you!” Sam replied with a wave.
Petrova said her goodbyes, then headed out into the street, bundling herself up in her leathers to protect herself from the storm. She knew the streets well now, able to navigate them even in low visibility. The seasonal storms here were strange, seeming to come in waves with brief lulls between them, and tonight was another harsh one. As she walked, she considered her next course of action.
The Commander certainly knew of the protests and had likely already devised some kind of plan. The insurgents weren’t being quiet about it, and their fingerprints were all over it. The chances of them using the cover of the protest to launch some kind of operation were very high.
When she returned to her prefab, she climbed the steps and headed inside, hanging up her dusty coat by the door. Her spartan abode was a stark difference from the warmth and the lived-in qualities of Fran’s prefab, leaving it feeling cold and sterile in comparison.
As she shed more clothing, stripping down to her tank top and shorts in appreciation of the air conditioning, she considered her conversation with Barbosa. He had dismissed her worries that SWAR were growing too far removed from the people they were charged with protecting – almost becoming a different species in their own right. Talking with Fran and her friends, hanging out in that tiny house – it made her feel more human than she had in a very long time. Maybe since leaving her parents.
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