Dire Contingency
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 24
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 24 - 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 43 – GEOTHERMAL PLANT – PETROVA
“I wish you’d leave me alone,” Petrova grumbled. She tried to tear open a protein bar, sighing as her undervolted prosthetics struggled to get a grip.
“Allow me,” Ruza said, extending a hand.
She rolled her eyes, then passed it to him, crossing her arms defensively as he peeled it open.
“I might be grateful if this wasn’t your fault in the first place,” she sneered as he passed it back to her. She began to eat, scowling up at the alien as he watched with those yellow eyes. They were sitting in the cafeteria, which now served as her common room. It was the only place with tables and some musty old couches to sit on, situated beside a long-empty vending machine. The damned alien hadn’t left her alone since she had arrived, departing only for brief periods of time or to sleep. There was a curiosity in him that she found deeply annoying.
“Rivera wishes to see you today,” the Rask continued. He was seated on a couch adjacent to hers, so large that he filled a space meant for two, his hips wedged between the armrests.
“I’m not answering any questions,” she replied, taking a bite of her bar.
“Still, he will try. Cooperation only benefits you.”
“You can all fuck off, cyka.”
“You still have not offered me your name,” he continued, ever calm in the face of her insults. She kept testing him – prying at the gaps in his armor, trying to provoke a reaction worthy of a Rask, but he always resisted her. It was like he was high on sedatives or something.
“Why should I?”
“I have offered you mine,” he replied. “You have many names – is that not so? Omar knew you as Anna. I believe that you are Lieutenant Commander Petrova, the very same who trained the PDF and selected them for surgery. Perhaps even that is not your true name.”
“What’s your point?” she sighed, crossing her long legs. “I’m a spy – spies have many identities. It comes with the territory.”
“A name is important,” Ruza replied. “A name is like blood. It is given by your parents, and it ties you to your people and to your home. Your name is your pride, your reputation, and sometimes your shame. You seem to cast it off easily. Perhaps you cast off your pride and your shame along with it.”
“You know, this is what pisses me off about Borealans,” she said as she jabbed her protein bar at him like an accusing finger. “You think you’re this noble warrior culture, but history has demonstrated that you actually suck at warfare, and anyone who doesn’t stoop down to your level and roll around in the dirt with you is considered dishonorable. Besides, it’s not like the Rask are strangers to low, deceptive tactics.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “I will not defend the deposed Matriarch or her actions, nor will I attempt to justify my own during that time. I am simply trying to understand your viewpoint.”
“Why?” Petrova demanded, the wrapper crackling as she threw up her arms. “Why can’t you just leave me alone to rot in peace?”
“I wish to learn how you think, and why you believe the things that you do. It is important.”
“Know thy enemy?” she scoffed. “You want to know what I think?” she continued, pausing to take another bite. “I think that we could have turned your entire territory to volcanic glass in minutes, and all your posturing is only happening because we chose not to. This would be a very different Galaxy if the Admiralty would just take off the kid gloves and stop doing everything in half measures.”
“But you did not,” Ruza replied with his usual infuriating calmness. “To wield great power with restraint and humility is the mark of an honorable person. To have the option to kill and destroy with impunity, but to choose the harder path. That is the source of human strength, not the yield of your warheads.”
“I’ll take a ten-kilo sabot when it comes to killing my enemies, thanks,” she scoffed as she leaned back into the dirty couch.
“The Brokers founded this Coalition many hundreds of years ago,” Ruza continued. “For a time, they fought alone beside the Krell. It was only thirty Sol years ago that your species became a member. In a tenth of that time, membership ballooned from two to six – eight, if we include each Borealan territory separately. Why is it that the Brokers could not achieve this with all their weapons and technologies?”
“They’re protectionist,” she replied. “They’re selfish squids who keep to themselves and hoard their technology. A Broker only acts if he sees a direct benefit to himself, and he’s just as happy to put a knife in your back as a Rask.”
“Yet, when the humans encountered the Valbarans, valuable technology was given freely with no expectation of recompense.”
“They needed it to win,” Petrova replied simply. “It was pragmatism, not charity.”
“My people, too, were given technology freely. Before the rebellion, you armed us, and you are helping us rebuild even now. Where you could profit or exploit, you instead invest in strengthening your allies, just as a farmer tends his crops. Then, there is the matter of the Jarilans. You could have slaughtered them – perhaps many would have chosen that path. When they were at their weakest, and they pleaded mercy, you granted it to them. In exchange, you have received perhaps the most loyal and adaptable fighting force to ever exist in this Galaxy, the potential of which I do not think you fully understand yet. When the Polars asked for asylum, you granted it to them. When the Araxie called for aid, you answered.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that I have seen every act of loyalty and mercy be rewarded with tremendous power. You have positioned yourselves at the center of the Coalition, not through a projection of force or technology, but through the ties that you build. Even the Brokers have now forfeited their comfortable position and are being drawn into your web.”
“And where did that get us?” she demanded. “We’re spending lives and resources protecting planets that have nothing to do with us. We don’t even have the fleets to police all of human space consistently, yet we spare entire CSGs for patrols to Borealis and Valbara. We have PDF on backwaters using caseless weapons and surplus garbage, but aliens are getting top-of-the-line XMRs. Half of the allies you mentioned have fucked us or are slowly positioning themselves to fuck us in the future. The Brokers lied to draw us into a war, the Rask stabbed us in the back, and the Jarilans are slowly modifying our very genomes. What kinds of allies are those?”
“And your Commander has told you these things,” Ruza muttered. “The lies of the Brokers have put them in your debt, and it is the reason that they now emerge from hiding. Our new Matriarch is friendly to your people, and the Jarilans would never betray you. You would know that if you knew them as I do. Mercy and forgiveness have strengthened your position, not weakened it.”
“Whatever,” she sighed, waving a hand at him dismissively. “You’ll never accept that you’re the bad guys in this situation, so what’s the point of talking to you?”
“I am a reformed bad guy,” Ruza replied. There was rarely any hint of humor in his tone, but now, he seemed even more serious. It was enough to pique her interest. “Perhaps I am still bad. I fought for a selfish, greedy Matriarch who promised glory and riches, and I learned hatred for those who had shown me nothing but friendship. Like your Barbosa, she refused to adapt to a changing Galaxy, and instead sought to return to a way of life that was no longer possible. I was betrayed and cast aside. I suffered for my choices, and justly so, some might say.”
“What, did you get a fine and a slap on the paw before the MPs turned you loose?”
“An exposed fission reactor was my judge and my executioner,” he replied with a rasping chuckle – the first time she had ever heard him laugh. “My sentence was to be a slow and painful death. I left my homeworld and ventured out into the Coalition, offering my services to those who would employ me, purchasing what medication I could to keep my condition from worsening. I found my way to Kerguela, where I learned these truths. I forged new bonds of friendship, and through them, I was healed. Perhaps the Universe deemed me worthy of existence once more. There were no Rask on Kerguela, and there are none here. Fighting against Barbosa and protecting the people of Hades does not benefit my kind. I fight because I can, and so I must.”
“I think you came here seeking forgiveness for what you did during the rebellion,” Petrova replied. “You’re still ashamed of being on the wrong side. You think that giving away free vaccinations and kissing a few booboos is going to atone for whatever fucked up shit you’ve done in the name of the Matriarch or in the pursuit of money? The Universe isn’t some mystical consciousness that watches what you do and judges you,” she snapped. “Only people can forgive you.”
Her thoughts turned to Tom and Fran, and she closed herself off, blocking him out with her crossed arms.
“Perhaps you are right,” he replied. “One could argue that trying to do good in search of atonement is a form of selfishness. Maybe I am motivated by a desire for forgiveness rather than pure altruism. Even so, you cannot deny the effect such acts have on others. We have healed the sick and fed the hungry. We have protected those who could not fight for themselves. If Hades has any shred of hope remaining, it is because of our actions and our sacrifices. Compare the actions of your SWAR, and think on it.”
“This is all your fault,” Petrova snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “Barbosa wants to make this colony into a bastion for humanity – he wants to elevate the Hadeans and make them the equals of Proxima or Mars, and your insurgency has fucked it up every step of the way. You bombed peacekeepers, burned down warehouses full of food, and you hid behind innocent civilians. Don’t you fucking lecture me. How many people have you personally killed?”
“Many,” he replied, a kind of shadow falling over his face. He bared his teeth, his eyes reflecting the light. “SWAR and PDF alike, with blade, slug, and claw. I have lost count of their number. I resent it, but I do not regret it. Tyrants will continue their abuse until a greater force stops them, and anyone who threatens me or those under my protection will be shown no quarter. I will stack corpses to reach your carrier if I must, and I will bring the fight to Barbosa. There is no suit of armor that can protect him – Hoff learned that lesson.”
Petrova lunged from her seat and swung a clenched fist at him, a sluggish punch connecting with his jaw. He didn’t even try to avoid it, and the blow left no mark, her undervolted servos about as powerful as those of a child’s toy.
“Hoff was my friend,” she hissed, her face reddening in anger.
“If you remain blind to his actions, then perhaps you are beyond help,” Ruza replied as he gently eased her hand away. “We never burned down that warehouse,” he added. “If your Commander has lied to you about that, consider what else he might have lied about.”
They were interrupted as there came a knock at the door, Ruza shifting his attention, his head turning to follow his swiveling ears. The panel opened, and a man wearing Marine garb stepped through. His uniform had seen better days, and what must have recently been a clean-shaven face now sported unkempt stubble, his dark hair creeping past regulation length. She recognized him as Rivera, remembering the plasma scars.
“Everything alright in here?” he asked, glancing between the two skeptically.
“Yes,” Ruza replied, rising from his seat on the couch with a creak. “I will leave you two alone.”
He strode out of the room, Rivera turning his head to watch the alien leave. When Ruza was gone, he focused his attention on Petrova, walking over to stand a short distance from where she was seated. She folded her arms and leaned back into the cushions, peering back at him defiantly.
“Lieutenant Commander Petrova,” he began. “Ruza has his own way of approaching situations, but as the highest-ranked member of the UNN on-planet, I’m representing the Navy and its interests here. You are a prisoner of war being held for crimes against humanity and high treason – I hope your generous accommodations haven’t led you to forget that fact. I’m not here as your therapist or your friend – I’m here to gather actionable intel.”
“Better break out the nipple clamps, then,” she scoffed. “The good cop routine hasn’t worked, and neither will the bad one. Trust me when I say that there’s absolutely no technique you can employ that I haven’t been trained to resist.”
“Nobody is going to torture you,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Though, if some of the guys outside that door had their way, you’d probably be buried in a shallow grave in the desert by now. Alas, my hands are bound by this little thing we call the law. You don’t seem to be very familiar with it.”
“Maybe you can tie all of that red tape into a pretty little bow for your hair,” Petrova sneered.
“I don’t think you realize how much trouble you’re in,” the Marine continued. “It may feel like civilization is a lifetime away right now, but the full might of the Navy is going to crash down on this colony like a super railgun round, and there’s no clever plan that’s going to save you from that. You’re looking at a court-martial for sedition as a best-case scenario. Now, the UN isn’t too fond of the death penalty these days, but the accommodations on asteroid penal colonies are a lot worse than these.”
“But you can put in a good word for me if I give you what you want,” Petrova said with a smirk. “Sorry, but you don’t even have the power to do your own laundry anymore. What makes you think you’re in a position to bargain? Your little rebellion didn’t last two months before it was decisively crushed. Your forces are dead or scattered, your base is in ruins, and nobody is coming to help you for the better part of a year. I wasn’t sent to win the war – it’s already won. My job was to mop up the loose ends.”
“I’m not like Ruza,” the Marine continued, his expression dour. “I’m not here to lecture you about the intrinsic goodness of humanity and the healing power of redemption. I don’t care if you leave this building with a fresh outlook on life, or a tungsten slug embedded in your skull. All I care about is that you have something I want. The only chance for you to ever see the light of day again is to cooperate, and to cooperate hard. Give me actionable intel – something that makes a real difference. That’s the only thing that might buy you some leniency.”
“Or I can just wait for my people to find me,” she replied, making a show of inspecting her non-existent nails. “The same guys who tore up your base are going to tear through this place, and you won’t live to see the Navy arrive.”
“They won’t find you,” he replied confidently. “We know that you were close to Barbosa, and that you were heavily involved in his operations on Hades. You were part of his inner circle – one of his hand-picked Lieutenants. There must be operational weaknesses, vulnerabilities in his plan, logistical bottlenecks where we can apply pressure to have a disproportionate impact on his occupation. You were heavily involved with the PDF, too. Where are they holding prisoners? Which garrisons? Are there other black sites where you’re keeping our people? Tell us about the PCEs. What are their weaknesses? Do the prototypes have shortcomings that could be exploited? What is the operational status of the production models? Where are they being assembled and stored?”
Petrova opened her mouth in an exaggerated yawn, the Marine scowling at her.
“I refuse to answer on the grounds that I do not give a fuck.”
“Think it over,” he replied. “You’ll have plenty of uninterrupted time to reconsider. There are some very captivating walls to stare at down here.”
With that, he walked out the way he had come, leaving her sitting alone in the cafeteria.
He wasn’t wrong – there wasn’t much to do other than stare into the distance and ponder her situation. Rivera seemed almost as annoyed with the Rask as she was, so perhaps they really weren’t playing roles in some elaborate act. Rivera wanted information, but Ruza seemed to want to prove something – whether to her or himself, she wasn’t sure. What was his deal?
She reflected on their argument before Rivera had interrupted them. The alien’s words about Hoff especially had stung, and she had made a show of being outraged rather than reacting in a way that reflected her true feelings. Hades had brought out something ugly in Hoff – that had been obvious towards the end. Maybe it was Hoff’s way of dealing with the chaotic nature of their situation, maybe it was a lack of oversight and boundaries imposed by command, or maybe it had always been lurking just beneath the surface. She found herself questioning whether he had ever really been her friend, or if they had simply been bonded by a kind of dogged loyalty and tribalism. Being with him hadn’t felt like being with Fran and the others...
The warehouse fire and the attacks on the colony’s food supply had always struck her as strange. It was in the interests of the insurgents to make Barbosa’s occupation look as incompetent and unjust as possible, because that created the conditions for further unrest. The more angry, hungry Hadeans there were, the more potential recruits could fill their ranks. On the other hand, SWAR was no stranger to false flags and psychological warfare. It wouldn’t be the first time they had faked an attack to sway public opinion and fabricate a justification to respond with force. But if what Ruza was saying was true, that would mean Barbosa had lied to her, and he wouldn’t do that. She was his second in command – his chosen successor. Nobody was closer to him than she was.
She clenched her fists as tightly as she could manage, feeling powerless in more ways than one.
DAY 43 – GEOTHERMAL PLANT – RUZA
“I don’t think we’re gonna get anything useful out of her,” Rivera said, taking a sip from a steaming mug of coffee. “You guys could have at least pretended that there was some threat to her safety. We don’t have any leverage now – she’s happy to wait us out.”
“I wasn’t going to have her sitting alone in there worrying about being tortured or assaulted,” Amy replied, lifting her nose at him from the other side of the table. “We’re better than that.”
It was dinner time in the plant, and many of the surviving resistance members were clustered around a couple of the tables, sharing MREs and discussing the recent events.
“Rivera is kind of right,” Omar said with a shrug, pausing to stir a bowl of rice that was being reheated over a camping stove. “I don’t see the point of trying to interrogate her any further. She’s not going to help us if she has nothing to gain. Maybe I’m a little biased due to the whole attempted assassination thing, but I don’t think we should have brought her back here in the first place.”
“I believe that she will change her attitude, given enough time,” Ruza added. “Isolation and boredom will wear her down.”
“I suppose we’re gonna be sitting around here for months if we don’t think of something,” Rivera sighed. “Fuck, this MRE coffee tastes like dirt, and it has about the same texture. I never thought I’d miss the mess hall on the carrier.”
“Can we really just sit around here waiting out Barbosa?” Amy pressed, glancing around the table. “All the while, they have the run of the colony, and they’re starving and abusing people? That’s not who we are, is it?”
“We still have one advantage,” Ruza replied.
“What’s that?” Omar asked.
“He’s talking about the AMR,” Rivera replied, taking another reluctant sip from his mug.
“If strategic victory over Barbosa’s forces is unachievable, we can at least weaken them prior to the Navy’s arrival and try to give them a fighting chance,” Ruza continued. “The AMR is a long-range, precision weapon capable of dispatching PCEs.”
“You still need to be in visual range of the target,” Rivera replied. “You can’t fire it from outside the colony. It requires us to get too close for comfort, and getting to the city unseen is now more difficult than ever. Barbosa has effectively negated our greatest asset, which was the ability to attack from cover with impunity anywhere in the city. It takes us half a day’s ruck across open ground to get into position now. Once storm season ends, I honestly don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“What we need is information,” Omar interjected. “We’ve lost our network of spies and informants, and without them, we have no idea what’s happening on the ground. Even if we managed to find Bergmann, Astrid, and the union leaders, and we somehow managed to spring them, they won’t be in a position to help anymore. The same goes for me – they know my face, and they’ve canceled all of my security clearances. I’m useless.”
“You’re anything but useless,” Amy chided. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d never have gotten this far, and I’d still be rotting in a cell.”
“What about the Borg?” Rivera asked, looking to Ruza. “Do you really think you can extract any information from her?”
“She is filled with anger and doubt,” he replied.
“Yeah, probably because we kidnapped her,” Omar scoffed.
“To dismiss our enemies as simply evil is a mistake,” Ruza continued. “To do evil intentionally is to be insane – senseless, and our enemies are not insane. An insane person cannot out-think and out-maneuver a sane person. They are cold, calculating, and careless. Some of them delight in violence, certainly, but their leadership is not mad. Barbosa has plans for Hades that we do not fully understand, and this woman may be our only chance to learn more. It is my belief that Barbosa is manipulating his own forces in the same way he manipulates the Hadeans.”
“Why do you say that?” Omar asked. “He’s leading the PDF around by the nose, sure – I’ve seen that firsthand. I don’t see why he’d need to concoct false narratives for his inner circle, though. Outside of this bull about the Coalition being evil, I mean. They’re already committed.”
“The prisoner seems to believe that we are responsible for the arson attack that destroyed the warehouse, along with other disruptions to the food supply. It was an accusation made in anger, and I see no reason that she would lie about that now. It may be that Barbosa is giving his agents conflicting assignments and playing them against one another, or perhaps running operations in tandem without informing their counterparts.”
“Why would he need to do that?” Amy asked. “Surely they’ve proven their loyalty by now?”
“I think Ruza is right,” Rivera said with an appreciative glance at the Rask. “It’s not about loyalty. They could be the most loyal, reliable people in the Sphere, and it wouldn’t matter. Barbosa maintains control through division, and he’s likely positioning himself as the only person who really knows the full scope of what’s going on. He makes himself indispensable and, in doing so, ensures that the occupation can’t function without him.”
“People like Barbosa do not trust – they control,” Ruza continued. “They are loath to defer power or responsibility, even when it is the wisest course of action, and so they must always maintain some advantage over their subordinates. What tyrants fear most is the threat from within their own ranks – that their own generals and ministers will rise up and supplant them. I have seen it firsthand, when the Matriarch’s shipmasters turned against her during the rebellion.”
“I’m sure we all remember the fall of the USSR, the Korean unification, and the collapse of the CCP from history class,” Rivera said with a nod. “It’s all the same shit – leaders playing the powerful against one another to ensure they can’t unite or break that dependence. One guy tries to hoard all the cards and keep everyone else from seeing the full deck.”
“Until they do,” Omar added.
“Right,” Rivera replied with a determined nod. “It means that Barbosa is the glue holding the occupation together. He’s the only guy who knows exactly what’s going on, and if we remove him, the whole house of cards will come tumbling down.”
“Really into card metaphors today, aren’t we?” Amy joked.
“What Barbosa covets most is control, so we must take that from him,” Ruza said. “If I can convince our captive that her loyalty is misplaced, and that Barbosa is not the man she thought he was, she may be a great asset to us. We must create a wedge between them.”
“Speaking from experience again?” Amy asked.
“I know well the anger that comes from betrayal,” he replied. “I see in her the same doubts that once plagued me, and the same defensiveness – the same rage. She lashes out rather than consider my words because she fears that she may be wrong. Anger and fear are two sides of the same coin. One rarely exists without the other.”
“Keep putting the screws to her, I suppose,” Rivera replied. “Figuratively speaking,” he added when Ruza gave him a concerned look. “Omar and I will try to figure out how to gather intelligence in the city. Maybe there’s some evidence we can uncover that might convince her. Either way, we have to do something, and quickly. The storms are the only thing keeping us alive, and we probably only have a few weeks left before the skies are clear and our route to the city becomes a shooting gallery for that carrier.”
“Once again, we find ourselves unable to choose between caution and haste,” Ruza sighed.
DAY 44 – HADES ORBIT – BARBOSA
“She can’t have just vanished,” Barbosa growled. “What do you mean there’s no trace of her? With all the resources and technology you have access to, you can’t find one fucking person?”
He paused his tangent to take a sip from a crystal glass, the amber liquid inside sloshing around a pair of ice cubes. There was a time when such spirits would have burned on their way down, but no longer – his synthetic throat was unable to replicate the sensation. What was the point of savoring the real thing anymore – of truly tasting it, when he could probably just tweak the software that controlled his sense of flavor to make water taste like whiskey if he wanted to? He reached behind his head and idly rubbed the socket on the back of his neck, already missing his PCE. Every time he left its warm embrace, he felt as though he discovered some new pain or ache that he hadn’t noticed before.
“All we’ve been able to determine is that the Rask was present at their meeting,” Song replied, a holographic representation of his upper body hovering above the polished coffee table. “We found hairs matching his species at the site.”
“Great,” Barbosa scoffed, gesturing with his glass. “I could have told you that.”
“I do have some positive news,” Song continued, swiftly moving the conversation along. “Some of the new recruits are now strong enough to begin training, and the first batch of production model PCEs are ready for field trials.”
“The PCEs are ready?” Barbosa asked, raising an eyebrow above an array of sunken lenses.
“We did have some difficulties during the production process,” Song clarified hesitantly. “Nilsson identified impurities in some of the alloys used to make parts, along with a handful of obvious attempts to sabotage the machinery. There were also some instances of simple subpar manufacturing. We believe that the defective parts have all been removed.”
“How many units were affected?”
“Of our first batch of twenty, twelve are combat operational.”
“What?” Barbosa hissed, slamming his drink down on the table. “You mean to tell me that those dirt-farming yokels have already neutralized almost half of the first batch without firing a shot? Through fucking weaponized incompetence?”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Song replied. “Another is that we’ve just tripled the number of PCEs we arrived with. With our new recruits, we have not only replaced the losses we’ve endured since the beginning of the operation, but exceeded our initial strength with more on the way. With the insurgency routed, our position has never been stronger.”
“You’re a real glass-half-full kind of guy,” Barbosa muttered as he refilled his drink from a decanter. “Are we sure that the operational units have been thoroughly checked?”
“The electronics and more advanced systems were manufactured on the carrier and installed by Nilsson and his team,” Song replied. “There is no phase of the supply chain where bad actors could have tampered with them. The completed units are in operational condition. They do lack some advanced features of the prototypes, which is to be expected, as Nilsson no longer has access to the same resources he once did.”
“Which features?” Barbosa asked suspiciously. “I wasn’t informed of this.”
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