Dire Contingency
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 29
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 29 - 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 55 – GEOTHERMAL PLANT – REED
“Comms are back up,” Reed said as he examined his phone. A few of the SWAR agents were sitting at a table with Brenner, sharing some of the scarce alcohol supply.
“Good,” Brenner replied. “That means the first stage of the operation was a success. Their EWAR ship has been taken out.”
“Don’t make any calls,” Wasp warned. “Just because the jamming has stopped, that doesn’t mean Barbosa can’t zero in on anomalous transmissions and drop a sabot on them.”
“I’m not stupid,” Reed chided, turning the phone off and stowing it in his pocket.
“You sure?” she asked with a sarcastic tilt of her helmet.
“I’ve been leading the resistance since before you even arrived,” he shot back. “I know all about OPSEC.”
“You were the leader?” she scoffed. “I thought that was Bergmann and Rivera.”
“I mean, I was basically the most important one,” he replied. “I sprang Rivera, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” she added with a derisive snort from beneath her helmet.
“I’ll go inform the others,” Brenner said, his chair legs scraping against the floor as he rose to his feet. “I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. The first shot has been fired, and this operation begins in earnest tomorrow. I want you fresh and well-rested.”
Reed hung back as he watched the handful of SWAR agents down the last of their drinks and head off, filing away towards their makeshift barracks. Only Wasp stayed behind, leaning against the wall with her prosthetic arms crossed, watching him through her opaque visor. At least, he thought she was watching him. It was hard to tell where she was looking sometimes when she had her helmet on, but it always gave him a strange feeling, like a sixth sense.
“Why do you wear all that shit?” he asked, gesturing to her clothing. She was wearing her plates and her rig, the segmented armor panels concealing much of her torso and protecting her thighs, the charcoal color of the ceramics matching her black uniform and her similarly dark augs. Many of her belts and pouches were laden with equipment, a sidearm stowed on her hip, but her chest carrier was empty.
“We’re technically in a combat zone,” she replied. “Barbosa could come smashing through that door at any moment, and I’d like a gun in my hand if that happens.”
“Isn’t all that body armor heavy?”
“Not to me,” she replied, lifting a hand and flexing her robotic fingers. “My legs don’t exactly get tired.”
“What about the heat?” Reed pressed. “I couldn’t even wear a jacket in here.”
She reached for the collar of her uniform, opening the zipper down to the beginning of her chest plate, revealing pale fabric instead of skin. There were little wires and cables crisscrossing it, making it look like it was covered in a network of veins. He could have sworn that a few of them were gently pulsing.
“UNNI survival suit,” she explained, zipping herself up again. “It’s like wearing a cool breeze. These things circulate coolant around the body and recycle sweat.”
“Still seems excessive to me.”
“Since when are you so concerned about what I’m wearing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed.
“Big day tomorrow,” she continued, her servos making a quiet whining noise as she shifted her weight. “You’re going into combat with us, right? Are you sure you can keep up?”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been fighting Borgs for months,” he replied. “They’re not all that tough. Sure, they’re a little stronger and faster than the average person, but they go down when you fill ‘em full of tungsten just the same as anybody else. So, yeah, I think I can keep up with you.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said, the tone of her voice suggesting that she was hiding a smile. “You know, I never asked. Why did you get kicked out of the Navy? I know that you were hit with a dishonorable discharge, but what happened? How long were you in the Marine Corps?”
“I broke my commanding officer’s jaw,” he replied.
“Really?” Wasp laughed. “Why?”
“They’d sent us to Chara Two,” he began, sitting down on the edge of the table. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but compared to Hades, it’s the ninth fucking circle. That place is so cold and the atmosphere is so oxygen-poor that you’ll die in hours without an environment suit and a rebreather. I don’t know why we were even fighting over it, to be frank. I sure as hell wouldn’t sign up to live there.”
“I’ve known people who were deployed there,” she replied, seeming more interested now. “They didn’t have very pleasant things to say about it.”
“I’m not sure how the Bugs even survived there, but they can adapt to anything,” Reed continued. “The ones we were fighting had this covering of shimmering, white fur, kind of like the stuff your friend Harlequin has around his neck. Made them look like evil Yeti Crabs or something. Anyway, I’d cut my teeth by then, and they’d put me in charge of a squad.”
“Really?” she snickered, sounding as amused as she was impressed. “You made Sergeant?”
“Is it so unbelievable after having witnessed my charisma and tactical acumen firsthand?” he asked.
“A true leader of men,” she snorted. “Go on, Sergeant.”
“We were deployed to the rear line,” he continued. “The Navy had set up a series of drop-and-go FoBs, and our job was to protect and maintain them. That involved setting up defensive fortifications like digging trenches, planting mines, and putting up concertina wire. It was grunt work. Well, they’d given us these trenchers – basically a big armored tractor built on a Kodiak hull. They have this giant chainsaw-looking thing that digs into the ground. Sounds like a pretty rugged vehicle, right?”
“I suppose,” Wasp replied.
“They’ll work in the vacuum of an airless moon, and they can ford rivers deeper than they are tall, but ice absolutely fucks them up. We had to keep their engines running pretty much continuously day and night to ensure they didn’t freeze and seize up all the workings. Well, the base commander didn’t appreciate that – said we were using too many fuel cells.”
“I think I can guess where this is going,” Wasp mused.
“This dickhead had his sycophants shut off all the engines overnight, so when we woke up the next morning and started our shift, they were popsicles. Half of them wouldn’t even start, and the ones that did were so caked in ice that the tracks and saws were frozen solid. This guy basically bricked the whole fleet.”
“Couldn’t you thaw them out?” she asked.
“Oh, we tried,” Reed insisted. “You throw boiling water on the things, and it turns to mist before it even touches the metal. We tried going at them with blowtorches, but it would have taken all damned day. So, the commander gets impatient and tells us that we still need to get the work done regardless of whether the trenchers are working or not. He gives me and my squad shovels and sends us out onto the ice.”
“What an asshole,” Wasp chuckled.
“When it’s that cold, the ground gets as hard as rock,” Reed continued as he rapped his fist on the metal table to demonstrate. “Even if it was loose soil, it would have been shitty work, but it was basically impossible in those conditions. You have to be really careful working in environments like that, too,” he added. “It’s dangerous to overexert yourself in low temperatures. Your suit keeps you warm and shields you from the elements as long as it has a battery charge, but you’ll cook yourself and become dehydrated really quickly. King dipshit didn’t take that into account.”
“I take it he wasn’t giving you regular breaks.”
“He knew that the trenchers seizing up was his fault, and he was taking it out on us,” Reed sneered as he reminisced. “He worked us like a penal battalion until one of my Privates started getting woozy and had to stop. We’d dug probably ... six feet of trench by that point.”
“I’m surprised you managed to get even that much done.”
“Yeah, well, having some douchebag yelling at you is very motivating. I ordered everyone to stop, and when the commander saw us taking a break, he threw on a coat and a rebreather and came marching out to yell at us some more. I gave him a piece of my mind and told him that I wasn’t going to let him work my squad to death just because he fucked up and broke the trenchers. He started getting in my face, shouting, threatening me with this and that. You’ll be cleaning the FoB with a toothbrush, I’ll transfer you to the front, I’ll have you written up for insubordination – that kind of bull.”
“Sounds like a real piece of work.”
“I’m probably not doing him justice,” Reed continued. “We were nose to nose by that point – he’d have been spitting on me without the mask. He made it physical and took me by the collar, so at that point, I’d had enough. I swung at that fucker as hard as I could,” he said, miming a swift uppercut. “I punched him so hard that I shattered half of his teeth and fractured his jaw in two places – hit the snooze button on that cunt. I probably would have hit him again while he was down if my guys hadn’t dragged me off him. The funny thing is that if he’d been following regs and wearing his helmet, he would have been fine.”
“He deserved it if you ask me,” Wasp said. “There’s no reason to act like a drill instructor once your subordinates are out of basic.”
“The result?” Reed asked, spreading his arms. “He got to spend most of his tour with his jaw wired shut watching movies on the carrier, and I got kicked out of the Corps. That’s how it goes. You throw your weight around and bully people, and the system rewards you for it. The Sphere is full of petty tyrants,” he added, his brow furrowing into a scowl. “From troopers stopping you on the street to some shift manager bossing around new hires. People get a little taste of authority, and it goes straight to their heads. Give ‘em a little sip of power, and they start acting like prison guards.”
“So, you left Chara and came to the hottest place you could find,” Wasp said.
“What can I say?” he replied with a shrug. “I’m hot-blooded. I need an environment that suits my personality. It’s easy to find work on Hades, and it’s the kind of place where you can live your own life without too much bureaucracy bogging you down.”
“Did you get involved with the Syndicate?”
“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted. “I did some smuggling – ran some guns for them. Staying on the good side of the law never got me anywhere, did it?”
“I think I have a better idea of why you joined the resistance,” she continued, appearing to appraise him through her helmet as it tilted subtly.
“A little credit, please,” Reed chided as he placed a hand on his chest. “I started the resistance with Bergmann. There would be nothing to join without me laying the groundwork.”
“You have problems with authority, you don’t like being told what to do, and you have an oddly consistent moral compass for an ex-criminal who was fired from the Navy for sucker punching an old man.”
“I prefer the term preemptive strike.”
“A bunch of Navy guys coming to Hades and trying to control your life must have driven you crazy, ” she continued with a laugh that made him feel an odd flutter in his belly.
“It was a good opportunity to work through some of my issues,” he replied. “Very therapeutic.”
“Do we need to worry about you?” she asked, sauntering over to him with a rustle of her gear. She stood beside him, planting her prosthetic hands on her wide hips and cocking them, the whir of her electronics reminding him of an XMR being loaded. “Are you going to obey Brenner’s orders?”
“I don’t know about obey,” Reed began. “I’m not really an obeying kind of guy. I don’t work for him, or for you, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want. But, as long as Brenner is killing the same people I am, I don’t see why we can’t have some kind of mutual truce based on shared respect.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly the way he sees it,” she replied sarcastically. She drew a little closer, sitting down on the table beside him and crossing her long legs. “So ... are you doing anything tonight?”
“What do you mean?” Reed asked suspiciously.
“Well, there’s going to be a huge operation tomorrow,” she began as she bobbed a foot in the air idly. “We could all die. I’m interested to know what Jameson Reed does during his last night alive.”
“Don’t call me that,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.
“What, Jameson?” she giggled. “Why not? That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“It’s a dumb name,” he replied, his face starting to warm. “I prefer Reed.”
“How about Little Jimmy?”
“Don’t push your luck,” he grumbled. “If you must know, I was going to get a good night’s rest like the good commander suggested. We’ll need to be fresh tomorrow.”
“Man, you really are as stupid as you look,” Wasp sighed as she reached out to press a treaded fingertip against his forehead. “I’m asking if you want to fuck, idiot.”
“W-what!?” he stammered, leaning away from her.
“I haven’t fully decided if I want to kill you or lay you, so I’m making a call. I can reconsider if you prefer. C’mon – I’ve seen you checking me out. You’re about ten percent as sneaky as you think you are, eyeballs.”
“How do you know I’m not just a huge fan of the automotive industry?”
He felt her polymer fist grip his collar, then there was a sudden flurry of movement, Wasp swinging a leg over him and slamming him down onto the table. She was sitting beside him one moment, then straddling him the next, her lithe frame surprisingly heavy thanks to all of that armor and equipment. He blinked back at her opaque visor in surprise, seeing his own distorted reflection peering back at him, his head spinning with the rapid motion.
“Tell me to get off,” she purred, her sultry voice taking on a synthetic timbre through her helmet’s speakers. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave.”
“The last interaction we had was you throwing a steel canteen at my head,” Reed grunted as she kept a firm grip on his collar.
“Can’t a girl show a little affection around here?”
“You spec ops types are fucking crazy,” he muttered.
“I know – isn’t it fun?”
“If I refuse, it’ll make the mission tomorrow very awkward,” Reed continued. “For the sake of unit cohesion, I think I should take one for the team.”
“Oh, you’re gonna take more than one. You bragged about being able to keep up with me, remember? Don’t leave me disappointed.”
She slid off him, her combat boots hitting the floor, then yanked him upright by his collar. With his nose only an inch from her visor, he realized that she was a couple of inches shorter than he was.
“I know somewhere we can be alone for a while,” Reed said, straightening his shirt. “It has some musty old mattresses on rusty cots – everything a good love nest needs.”
“You’ve already wooed me with that romantic MRE macaroni dinner,” the agent replied sarcastically. “Don’t spoil me, now.”
They scurried off together, heading down one of the hallways, Reed glancing around warily in fear of running into someone. He didn’t know what he was doing – he didn’t want to have to explain it to Rivera or the SWAR guys. His heart was starting to beat faster now, anticipation filling him with a kind of tingling energy that set the hairs on his arms on end.
When they reached one of the empty rooms filled with old beds, Wasp took him firmly by the hand and dragged him inside, her grip tight enough to make him wince. Releasing him, she made a beeline for the nearest cot, pulling the mattress from the frame and tossing it to the floor. The displaced air created a wave of dust that swept all the way across the room, making Reed’s nose itch.
“What’re you doing?” Reed asked, watching as she set a few more mattresses beside it.
“You ever try to fuck in a bed made for one occupant?”
“No,” he replied with a shrug.
“What – you weren’t popular with the girls on your carrier?” she scoffed as she kicked one of the mattresses into position.
“Not as popular as you were, clearly.”
“Poor baby,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t worry – I’ll do all the hard work.”
“I’ve gotten laid before, dumbass.”
“Not like this, you haven’t,” she snickered. Seeming pleased with her makeshift bed, she stepped back to appraise her work, placing her hands on her hips again.
Reed felt no need to curb his voyeurism now, admiring her. They were on one of the higher levels, and there were a few dirty windows that let in just enough moonlight to bathe the room in a pale glow, one of the rays spilling through the gap between her thighs. Even beneath all of her obscuring armor, that slim, athletic figure was on display. Her uniform clung to her tightly, the sleeves and legs cut off where her prosthetic limbs started, fitting snugly to create a seal. It made her look like she was wearing black latex thigh-highs and sleeves, the polymer molded to mimic the toned musculature of a woman who matched her build. She wore some kind of harness that rode right up her ass, accentuating her cheeks to a degree that it had to be intentional.
“I’ve got eyes in the back of my head, Jimmy,” Wasp chided as she turned her helmet to peer back at him. “You gonna come over here, or are you just gonna gawk at me? This ain’t a museum.”
“Could have fooled me,” he muttered, each footstep kicking up another puff of dust.
Once he was in range, her robotic hands shot out again, taking fistfuls of his shirt and dragging him closer. There was a clatter of armor and a rustle of belts and pouches as she pressed up tight against him, encouraging him to wrap his arms around her. Through all the layers of clothing and between all the straps, he trailed his fingers down to the small of her back, letting a hand wander across her cheek. It was firm and springy, yielding beneath the tough Kevlar when he squeezed.
“What’s that look?” she giggled as his breath misted her visor.
“Are you gonna keep that thing on?” he complained, nodding to her helmet. “I was hoping...”
“What, that I’d kiss you?’ she asked with a sultry laugh. “Is that what you’ve been imagining when your mind wanders, Jimbo? You been fantasizing about making out with the mean old Borg?”
“Pick a name and stick with it,” he grumbled.
“Tell you what,” Wasp whispered. “You were in the Corps, right? You should know how a lot of this equipment works. Anything you can take off me stays off. Put that tiny brain of yours to work.”
“I’m gonna make you eat those words, if I can just...”
He bit his tongue as he concentrated, fumbling with one of the clips that kept her chest rig attached.
“God, if you can’t handle that, you’ll never get my fucking bra off.”
“Will you shut the hell up?” he complained, disconnecting the second clip. “There,” he said triumphantly as the empty chest rig sloughed off her and fell to the floor about her boots. He slid a hand down the hourglass curve of her waist, unfastening the strap on her hip that held up her sidearm and gently lowering it to the ground. “You’ll weigh maybe ninety pounds once I get all this shit off you.”
He lurched as she cupped the growing bulge in his pants, another synthetic laugh leaving her speakers.
“Careful with those things,” Reed warned. “I saw Silverback crushing cans earlier. I’m not in the habit of putting my junk near industrial machinery.”
“I know the difference between flesh and metal,” Wasp replied, giving him a gentle squeeze that sent a throb pulsing through him.
He stripped off a few more extraneous belts, then started on her combat armor, struggling to locate the clasps by touch.
“Having trouble back there?”
“This isn’t exactly standard issue,” he replied.
“If you think I won’t plow you wearing full ceramics, you’re sorely mistaken. Clock’s ticking – better figure it out, Romeo.”
Reed managed to get the chest piece off, along with the segmented plates that protected her lower torso, having to strain a little as he underestimated its weight. He felt the thud reverberate through his boots when he lowered it to the floor, leaving her upper body mostly free of gear. He could make out the outline of her chest now, her breasts creating a subtle mound beneath all the fabric.
He lifted a hand to her helmet, pressing a finger to the touch panel on her temple, leaning in and parting his lips as he triggered the visor to snap open. He balked, her giddy laughter filling his ears as he saw that she was wearing something beneath it. Instead of exposed skin, he was met with some kind of pale, flexible hood. It must be part of her environment suit – he could see the little tubes filled with liquid pulsing as they circulated coolant. There was a pair of goggles built into it, along with a rebreather that covered her mouth, her smiling eyes peering back at him.
“How long have you been planning this?” he marveled as he unfastened her chin strap and pulled the helmet free.
“I’m always one step ahead of you, Jimbob,” she replied as she snatched it from his hands and set it down on a nearby cot. “That’s why I’m a SWAR agent and you’re not. I don’t suppose you know how to get into a classified Naval Intelligence survival suit without triggering the protection system?”
“I’ll figure it out,” he said, gripping the zipper of her Navy uniform. He pulled it down to her chest, exposing more of the off-white and Navy gray material. It felt oddly plasticky beneath his fingers, the little electrical cables and tubes that covered it giving it a veiny texture. It was even tighter than her uniform – perhaps the intention was for it to be in contact with her skin. He felt like he was peeling the layers off an onion.
There was a seal at her neck, and he managed to figure out the mechanism, the hood separating from the collar with a hermetic hiss of escaping air. He began to pull it up her face, sliding his fingers beneath it and cupping her cheek as he went, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb. He stopped before it was all the way off, drawing her in for the kiss he’d been waiting for, their lips joining. Their first embrace was tentative, but the second was greedier – more aggressive, Wasp pressing into him and slipping her tongue deeper. Even her lips were cooler than the surrounding air thanks to the environment suit, like the cold side of a pillow on a hot night.
Her tongue coiled and stroked, almost seeming to wrestle for space in his mouth, the agent biting his lower lip and pulling it when she drew away. Reed pulled off the rest of her hood, letting it fall to hang down her back, finally revealing her face again.
Wasp had chiseled features, as though her straight nose and defined cheekbones had been carved from stone, marred only by a single scar that ran from her eyebrow to her lip. It cut across her left cheek, standing out pink against her porcelain skin, as though the sculptor’s chisel had slipped. It made her no less beautiful, her lips full and pink, a pair of gray eyes peering back at him hungrily. Her blonde hair had been buzzed short for practicality. Hair like Amy’s would probably be a nightmare to get into a helmet.
“Push me down onto the bed,” she demanded.
“Why?”
“So I can call whatever happens next self-defense.”
He began to lower Wasp to the mattresses behind her, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, jumping off the floor and crossing her long legs around his waist. She let herself fall back, pulling him with her, the two of them crashing to the mattresses with a creak of rusty springs. Before the dust had settled, she locked him in another ravenous kiss, pouring her desire into each stroke of her eager tongue. It was her turn to start undressing him now, Reed feeling her polymer fingers prying at his shirt, popping open the buttons one by one as she moved down his chest. After seeing Silverback crush cooking pots like they were made of foil, he’d been apprehensive, but Wasp could be so dexterous and gentle when she wanted to be. Her prosthetics were capable of the same precision as flesh and blood hands.
She tore open his shirt, running her hands across his chest, following the contours of his muscles. Reed hadn’t kept up with his Marine regimen after leaving the Corps, but there were few jobs on Hades that weren’t in some way physically demanding. It was such a strange sensation, his every instinct telling him that he should be feeling soft, warm skin instead of tough polymer. Its texture was smooth, save for her rubberized fingertips, so her touch wasn’t unpleasant.
“What can you feel with those?” Reed asked, peering down at her hand as it came to rest above his heart.
“Everything you can,” she replied with a smile. “Your skin, your sweat, your heartbeat...”
Reed drew away from her, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it aside hastily. He was kneeling atop his partner on the spongy mattresses now, Wasp still keeping her legs locked around his waist, holding him close. Her grip was like a vice – he wouldn’t have been able to break it if he tried. It felt as though a cartoon character had bent an iron girder into a pretzel around his hips.
“I’m still conspicuously dressed,” she complained with a sordid smile, splaying out on the mattress before him. Reed leaned over, dragging the zipper on her black uniform all the way down to her waist, the agent cooperating as he pulled her arms out of their sleeves. As the garment slipped away, more of her survival suit was revealed, its pale coloration contrasting with the dark Kevlar. He could see more little bulges that presumably housed electronics and pumps, joined by the network of snaking cables. Like her uniform, the suit ended at her shoulders, where there were more seals for connecting sleeves.
She wriggled beneath him as he undressed her, making a point of grinding against him, his bulge pressing into the crotch of her uniform. When he reached her waist, she finally uncrossed her legs so that he could go lower, dancing in place to help him get the snug garment past her hips. Her boots were in the way, and she lifted them one by one, allowing him to tug them off her with some difficulty. There was no danger of cutting off circulation or creating blisters, so they were on damned tight, and she had no need for socks. Like her hands, her feet were perfect replicas of their human counterparts, complete with little polymer toes that wiggled as he tossed the last boot over his shoulder.
Lifting both legs with all the ease of a gymnast, she pointed her toes at the ceiling, letting him pull her uniform the rest of the way off. Before she could lower them again, Reed took full advantage to run a hand from her ankle to her thigh, where the seal on her survival suit connected to the prosthetic. He traced its contours with his fingertips, letting them dip into the molded details of her muscles, at once more perfect than reality and somehow more alien. Her toned calves, the dimples in her polymer housing – it was all reproduced with incredible attention to detail. They were nothing like the more functional prosthetics he had seen his fellow Marines wear. The material was smoother than skin, devoid of any little hairs or imperfections, but there was no give to it at all.
“You’re tickling me,” she snickered as he stroked her inner thigh.
“You feel that?”
“How many times?” she scoffed. “Yes, I can feel everything. These things are hooked up to my nervous system same as my Mark Ones were. The only difference is I can turn off the pain receptors.”
“So, if I scratched your leg, you wouldn’t feel it?”
“Scratch up my finish, and you’ll be the one feeling it,” she replied sternly.
He leaned over her again, running his hands up her waist and sliding them across her flat belly, feeling her shift and tense beneath them. Between the cables and bundles of tubes, where the suit was thinnest, he could feel a little of her tantalizing warmth bleeding through the insulation. Her survival suit clung to her like a body glove, adhering to every inch of her lean frame, showing off wide hips that tapered into a suitably wasp-like waist.
Desperate to see more, he struggled to locate her zipper, her chest rising and falling beneath his fingers as she laughed at his clumsy attempts.
“C’mon, Jim,” she giggled. “I swear, it’s like watching a rat solve a maze.”
“I got it, I got it,” he insisted as he located a seam that ran down her torso. There was a flap that closed over the zipper to protect it, and he peeled it open, unzipping the suit. He started at her collar, slowly revealing more skin as he went, Wasp biting her lip when he passed her chest. Just like her face, her lily-white skin was patterned with a few sparse scars here and there, but there was nothing akin to Brenner’s grisly collection.
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