Dire Contingency
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 46
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 46 - 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 141 – MU ARAE BLACK SITE 1 – VOS
“You can’t play cards?” Vos demanded, leaning on the little table in the deserted galley. It was little more than a few tables and chairs strewn about a cavity that had been hollowed from the asteroid, lit by halogen strips that he could swear flickered at a frequency just noticeable enough to annoy him. To his right were windows that looked out over the empty vacuum beyond, the view little more than black nothingness pocked with a field of faint stars.
“UNNI agents involved in an ongoing investigation are prohibited from fraternizing with suspects,” his chaperone replied from across the table.
“You’ve been following me around for weeks,” Vos sighed, shuffling the pack. “You stand outside the bathroom door and listen to me piss, and you watch me sleep. You can’t play a round of Go Fish to pass the time, Hemmer?”
“Regulations prohibit it.”
“If I die of boredom, is that considered a dereliction of duty on your part?”
“No.”
“If you watch me play Solitaire, does that count as fraternizing?”
“No.”
“Then get ready for the most entertaining few hours of your life,” the Admiral muttered as he began to place the cards on the table. “I’m actually looking forward to getting arrested, if you can believe it. I hope you’re going to count my stay aboard this godforsaken station as time served.”
“I doubt that very much.”
He cursed as his prosthetic hand slipped, dropping some of the cards onto the floor, muttering more obscenities under his breath when he reached down to pick them up.
“The situation has been resolved regardless,” he continued, returning some of the cards to the table. “Brenner hunted down the defectors and retook control of the colony, just as I knew he would. The Tirad is back under Ortega’s command, and Barbosa is KIA. They even managed to secure all of the stolen Coalition technology. A job well done, if you ask me.”
“That doesn’t absolve you of responsibility,” the agent replied.
“Yes, yes, I know. You haven’t let me forget it...”
There was a flash of light outside the windows, Vos snapping his head around, staring through the thick glass as a familiar shape emerged from a spreading cloud of technicolor dust. It was the rounded profile of a Jump Carrier, the mammoth vessel flanked by a whole strike group’s worth of ships. There were nine angular frigates in tight formation, the colorful residue reflecting off their dark stealth coating, along with more ships that took him a moment to identify.
There was a Martian Battleship, its 350-meter hull split down the middle by a spinal accelerator that launched shells the size of tractor trailers. Its pair of super railguns were already deployed, the two massive turrets large enough to dwarf a building in their own right. He could already guess the ship’s purpose. Brenner had sent word back to the station via Courser, and he was in communication with the Admiralty via Hades’ comms satellite, but the relief fleet had set out almost half a year ago. They had no idea what kind of situation they would be jumping into, so they had brought the Battleship as a contingency plan, intending to put down the Tirad if it became necessary.
Alongside them were two Assault Carriers – ships designed to transport an armored battalion and three thousand Marines apiece. Wherever the fleet had eventually received their orders to redeploy, there must have been reinforcements waiting to join them. He was surprised to see a trio of Jarilan troop carriers floating in formation beside them. Like all Jarilan tech, they were partially biological, shaped like some kind of deep-sea shrimp with rows of spindly legs hanging beneath them. Their colorful segmented bodies were covered in onyx-black plating, the same kind used on UNN vessels, with clear lettering and markings to avoid friendly fire. There were also three freighters trailing the fleet, their hulls laden with cargo containers that were likely filled with food for the relief effort.
“The fleet has arrived,” Agent Hemmer mused, glancing out of the window. “It’s about time.”
“Looks like they’re stopping off at the station before proceeding to Hades,” Vos said. “They’ll want to know if we have any intel for them. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately if you’ve been living on a carrier for who knows how many months, they’re not going to be seeing any action. I suppose I should head to the control room.”
“You’re not a serving Admiral anymore,” Hemmer chided. “They’re not coming to receive orders from you.”
“Maybe not, but I still have plenty of information to offer,” he replied as he rose from his seat. “Unless you’d prefer to sit here and watch me play Solitaire?”
Hemmer rolled her eyes, then rose to join him, the two walking out of the cafeteria through the winding warren of the asteroid base. They passed beneath segments of metal ceiling and exposed rock, heading up to the control room, passing by recessed trenches filled with personnel working behind computers. The station commander was standing on a raised platform that housed more banks of monitors, greeting Vos with a curt nod.
“It appears that we have visitors,” Vos began as he climbed the steps to join him.
“The fleet we’ve been waiting for just jumped in,” the commander confirmed as he turned to his displays. “The UNN Ronceveaux has hailed us, and Captain Lambert is on his way over by shuttle for briefing.”
“Lambert,” Vos muttered.
“Do you know him?” Agent Hemmer asked.
“A rather disagreeable man,” Vos replied. “He cut his teeth during the Kruger campaign, where he commanded the French contingent to some acclaim. He serves under Admiral Renaud, which he seems to believe empowers him to get a second opinion whenever he receives orders from anyone else – especially me. The Admiralty couldn’t have asked for a better man to come and cart me away.”
It wasn’t long before the captain in question was entering the control room, his white dress uniform and cap announcing him beneath the glare of the lights. He was accompanied by a pair of Marines in combat armor who waited by the door like sentries.
“Captain Lambert,” Vos began, stepping forward to greet the captain with a handshake as he climbed the short flight of steps. “What a pleasure it is to see you again. I trust that your journey was an uneventful one?”
“Admiral Vos,” Lambert replied in his thick accent, giving him a shrewd smile. “I was sorry to hear about the pickle you’ve found yourself in. You’re not wearing your uniform – do I still refer to you as Admiral?”
“I haven’t been indicted just yet,” Vos grumbled, returning the insincere smile.
“I have to hand it to you,” the captain continued, glancing at Vos’ prosthetic arm pointedly. “You seem to be in remarkably good spirits for someone in such a... precarious position.”
“We all do what we must,” Vos replied. “This is Agent Hemmer – she’s responsible for making sure I don’t open an airlock and swim to freedom, and this is the station commander. We’ve been waiting a very long time for your arrival.”
“Almost five months,” Lambert continued with a nod. “I have to say, my men weren’t too happy about being reassigned immediately upon returning to port. We’d been on patrol near the Eta Corvi system for about six months, which means most of the crew hasn’t had shore leave in nearly a year. I half expected them to organize a strike.”
“I’m sure the extra pay will make up for it,” Vos replied.
“We all do what we must, no?” Lambert added.
“If you’ll please come this way, Captain,” the station commander began. “We’ve prepared a full briefing for you with the most up-to-date information we have available.”
“What are we dealing with?” Lambert asked, all business now as he strode over to the holographic conference table. “Was Brenner’s strike force able to achieve its objectives? I would very much prefer not to have a carrier’s railgun batteries or a MAST pointing at the Roncevaux when she enters orbit.”
“The situation has stabilized considerably since you set out,” Vos replied, clasping his hands behind his back as he took up position on the opposite side of the table. “Commander Brenner was able to achieve his goals, meaning that the tether station, the Tirad, and the MAST launchers are all back under Navy control. Barbosa and all of the rogue SWAR personnel present on site have been hunted to a man, and the local elements that allied themselves with him are in the custody of the colonial authorities. No prohibited technology escaped the colony as far as we know. The situation is contained.”
“That’s good to hear,” Lambert replied, leaning over the table as he examined the data readouts that hovered above it. “I was worried we’d be facing a well-prepared and entrenched enemy force in a worst-case scenario. Am I to understand that the deployment of peacekeeping forces to the surface won’t be necessary?”
“That will be up to the planetary governor, but I’m sure they’ll appreciate any help you can give them,” Vos replied. “It sounds like a little shore leave wouldn’t go amiss, though I regret to say that Hades isn’t exactly renowned for its spas.”
“How is the supply situation?”
“Stable for now, Captain,” the commander replied. “Rationing is still in effect on the colony, but the government is confident that they can stretch their supplies without any significant risk to the population. They’ll be relieved to see those freighters.”
“We’re towing about sixty thousand containers full of food and other assorted goods,” Lambert continued. “That should tide them over until trade is up and running again.”
“I dread to imagine the amount of compensation claims the Navy is going to be paying out after all these trade disruptions,” Vos muttered. “I have it on good authority that this conflict saw the first combat loss of a Beewolf to a cargo container.”
“Putain, I fear to ask,” Lambert grumbled with a shake of his head. “What a mess.”
“I suspect that the only help the Hadeans will be needing is humanitarian,” Vos continued. “And make sure to be respectful when you arrive. They’ve had a rough time of it, and I don’t think they’ll be wholly trusting of the Navy after what they’ve experienced. It may require a light touch.”
“My dear Admiral,” Lambert replied, giving him a smile across the table. “Have you ever known me to be anything other than respectful?”
“I believe that UN law permits me to refuse questions that may incriminate me,” Vos replied.
“Très bien,” Lambert said, standing up straight. “It appears that the situation is far more stable than the initial reports led me to believe. We’ll initiate a close jump to Hades as soon as our drive has charged sufficiently. It’s only a short trip.”
“I’d offer your men some time aboard station, but I’m afraid that our facilities leave a lot to be desired,” the commander said. “We’ve not been resupplied since the initial attack.”
“I will see what I can do about that,” Lambert replied.
“That would be appreciated, Captain,” the commander said.
After a full briefing, Lambert took Vos aside, Hemmer following as she always did. They made their way back down to the cafeteria – perhaps the only common area of the station, sitting around a table by the window to watch the fleet drift outside.
“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going to happen to you now,” Lambert began.
“Last I heard from Brenner, I was to be remanded into your custody,” Vos replied.
“I have orders to take you back to Proxima,” Lambert confirmed. “I’ll do you the courtesy of not keeping you in the brig during the journey, but make no mistake that you’re under arrest. We weren’t in port long enough to get more than a cursory rundown of the situation, but there are big shakeups in the higher echelons of power. Admiral Renaud sent me a personal communique warning that the UN Security Council is talking about abolishing the War Powers Act and reigning in the Admiralty. UNNI is all over them like flies on shit, and SWAR teams from across the Sphere are being called back to base for review. There’s talk of restructuring, more civilian oversight, investigations ... it’s a real mess.”
“I heard as much,” Vos replied. “It seems that the era of the Admiral as a warlord is coming to an end. You’ll have to forward my apologies to Renaud for flying too close to the sun and pissing in his Cognac.”
“I’m almost glad to be out here instead of at home,” Lambert sighed as he watched his carrier through the glass. “It’ll take us another five or six months to get back to port, not including whatever time we spend on Hades. Hopefully, the worst of it will be over by then, and I won’t have to deal with any of the fallout.”
“Are you sending me home by Courser?” Vos asked.
“While I don’t doubt that Agent Hemmer is as capable as she appears, I was ordered to take you into my custody, so in my custody you shall remain. You’re too valuable to be let out of my sight, so I’m keeping you aboard the Roncevaux. I don’t want you pulling off one of your clever tricks and mysteriously disappearing.”
“Ah, a stay of execution,” Vos declared with a sarcastic flourish. “I do so enjoy dragging out the inevitable.”
“Agent Hemmer is of course free to remain with you, and we shall provide her with suitable accommodations in the officer’s quarters,” Lambert added with a nod to the woman. “We leave as soon as the carrier’s drive has charged enough for the jump. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a while, Admiral.”
“I suppose I can’t complain,” Vos sighed. “Far be it from me to refuse your gracious hospitality. On that subject – may I offer you a styrofoam cup of the station’s finest? The nameless moonshine brewed in the empty waste tanks is especially good this year.”
“Maybe I will send you home on a Courser,” Lambert sighed.
DAY 143 – HADES – RUZA
“I can’t believe they’re actually here,” Omar said as he adjusted his uniform nervously. “I was starting to feel like it would never happen.”
“These certainly aren’t the circumstances I was expecting to be greeting them in,” Reed added. “It’s just like the Navy to show up after all the hard work is done.”
“At least try to be respectful,” Brenner chided. “It’s not every day that you get visited by two captains.”
“Best behavior,” Wasp warned in a menacing hiss, Reed recoiling a little.
“Yes, let’s try to make a good first impression,” the Governor sighed as he reached up to slick back his thinning hair and adjust his tie. “If we want to be treated like the legitimate government of Hades instead of a mob, we have to act the part. I’m still not sure the beret was necessary,” he added with a disdainful glance at Reed.
“I got put in charge of the military, so I get to design the uniforms,” Reed protested as he reached up to straighten the fabric hat. It was a tan color, matching the camouflaged PDF coveralls that he was wearing, adorned with a golden badge depicting a sword. On his bicep was a high-vis armband of the same kind they had worn during the rebellion. Omar was dressed much the same way, minus the hat. The newly minted Hadean military had adopted many of the stylings of the PDF, albeit with some changes and additions to reflect their new status as the colony’s official security force. It was still very much a transitional process, with new units gradually being formed and trained.
“I hope the delegation arrives soon,” Bergmann added. “I’m going to catch my death not wearing a mask out here.”
Ruza watched them squabble, the wind blowing little clouds of dust across Garrison One’s courtyard. It was bustling with activity in anticipation of the Navy contingent’s arrival, PDF and Marines hurrying back and forth between the buildings. Brenner’s team was standing around near the landing pad, as were most of the higher-ups from the resistance – now the government.
“Looking dour up there, Doc,” Rivera said as he gave Ruza a nudge. “Aren’t you happy that the fleet is here?”
“I am,” Ruza replied. “I merely hope that the Navy will not object too much to what we have accomplished here.”
“That’s kind of what the show of force is about, isn’t it?” Rivera mused as he glanced out at the busy compound. “It’s a welcoming committee, but it’s also a thinly-veiled warning.”
“Captain Ortega has been amenable,” Ruza replied. “As for this Captain Lambert, I have not met him, and he has no shared history with us. I hope that he does not entertain any notions of bringing Hades under martial law.”
“I doubt it,” Rivera replied as he glanced up at the tether, shielding his eyes from the sun. “I’m sure that Ortega has given him the rundown by now.”
“I was told they brought sixty thousand containers of food,” Amy added as she stood beside the Rask. “If that’s true, it means the rationing will be over, and things can start getting back to normal.”
“Alright, people!” Reed barked as he turned to address some of the nearby troopers. “Look lively! Let’s show the nice captains that we can stand in formation like proper soldiers!”
Two dozen men hurried to form two neat rows in front of the raised landing pad, securing their camouflaged helmets and hefting shiny factory-fresh XMRs onto their shoulders.
“Stand up straight, Perkins!” Reed added. “Fuck’s sake. They’re gonna think Petrova’s guys are cooler than we are!”
Ruza heard the sound of heavy footfalls, turning his head to see another procession of troops approaching from the far side of the compound. Even with their desert camouflage and yellow livery, the sight of the PCEs still had him bristling. There were eight new production models marching in two neat columns, lumbering across the sand with their massive boots, heavy XMRs clasped in their mechanical hands. Rather than the painted teeth worn by the prototypes, these production models sported a sword decal on their sloped canopies – the same that Reed wore on his badge. It had a line down its center, representing the vein of copper in Lily’s magnetic blade. It was a fitting choice of emblem to represent the armed forces.
Between them were another thirty men walking in lockstep. They wore long Hadean leather cloaks over their camouflaged armor, their prosthetic limbs painted with the same desert colors. Each trooper held a modified XMR with a prominent bayonet that shone in the harsh sunlight. At their head was Petrova, still clad in her SWAR garb, leading them up to the landing pad. They fanned out into two rows, with the men at the front and the PCEs at the back.
Petrova glanced over at Ruza and gave him a smile, which he returned. The Governor had accepted her request for asylum, of course, and she had been using her wealth of skill and experience to train the recruits left behind by Barbosa. A dozen had been too injured to pursue the program, and a dozen more had quit once Barbosa’s betrayal had been revealed, given the promise of limb replacements in the future. The rest had remained, resuming their training after finishing treatment. They had signed up to protect Hades, and they had been promised tutelage, so Petrova had molded them into a crack unit.
They were the Hadean First Company now – augmented soldiers trained by SWAR veterans and backed up by heavy infantry in the form of the PCEs. Ruza had assisted where he could, teaching them much of what he had learned about desert survival and unconventional warfare tactics. Rivera and Reed had done much the same for the PDF, training them up to a standard worthy of the Navy. Ruza was confident that, should a second incident occur, Hades would now be far better equipped to handle it. This was only the beginning. Knowledge would disseminate throughout the growing force, more modern equipment and PCEs would be produced, and technology from Coalition allies would be incorporated to gain an edge on any potential adversaries.
Whether there would be more augmented recruits, and whether they would find a way to operate PCEs without dangerous surgeries remained to be seen, and Ruza would be able to oversee that process as a member of the ethics board.
The sound of engines distracted him, and he looked up to see a Leadbeater descending from the sky, jets of blue flame belching from its thrusters as it transitioned to VTOL mode. It extended its gear and set down on the nearby landing pad, kicking up a cloud of dust, its ramp starting to lower. Two men in white dress uniforms descended from the shadowy interior, shining like beacons in the Hadean sun, dark glasses protecting them from its glare. One was Ortega, and the other must be Lambert. They were dressed identically, but the color and configuration of the ribbons on their chests differed. They were accompanied by a fireteam of six Marines who waited at the top of the ramp as the pair descended the steps, the Governor walking out to greet them.
“Welcome to Hades,” he began, shaking each man’s hand in turn. “Captain Ortega, Captain Lambert, I trust that you had a pleasant trip?”
“Captain Lambert, this is Governor Serio,” Ortega began as he introduced them.
“I’ve been hearing a lot about what you’ve accomplished here,” Lambert replied. “I came expecting a fight, but it appears that you’ve done my job for me,” he added with a glance at the PCEs. “I should very much like to examine those if there’s time.”
“Certainly,” the Governor replied. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll introduce you to some of my valued colleagues and collaborators. You already know Commander Brenner and his team. They were instrumental in orchestrating the operation that retook control of Barbosa’s assets.”
“Very nice work, Commander,” Lambert said as he took Brenner’s prosthetic hand. “I’m sure that commendations are in order for all of you.” He shook the hands of a few of the nearby agents, including Harlequin’s four-fingered appendage, the Jarilan seeming surprised to be acknowledged alongside the SWAR operatives.
“This is Bergmann,” the Governor continued as they moved along the row. “He’s the leader of one of the colony’s largest workers’ unions, and he’s one of the founders of the resistance movement that fought against the occupation. None of this would have been possible without his foresight and resourcefulness.”
“It must have taken a tremendous amount of courage to be among the first to make a stand,” Lambert said, giving Bergmann’s hand a solid shake. “Your workers have clearly put their faith in the right person.”
“This is PDF Captain Jabril,” the Governor said, moving along to Omar. “He worked on the inside to pass information from the PDF to the resistance, putting himself at great personal risk. He was even briefly captured by the enemy. He’s now in charge of the Planetary Defense Forces and colonial security.”
“It takes a strong will to handle that kind of uncertainty and stress,” Lambert began. “Working within the belly of the beast to undermine it. Commendable.”
“Allow me to introduce you to Reed, the acting commander of our burgeoning Hadean Self Defense Forces – the HSDF. Along with Bergmann, he was there at the start of the occupation, and he coordinated the bulk of the resistance’s military operations.”
“Ex-Navy, as I understand it,” Lambert said as he took Reed’s hand. “You could have left the job to other people, but you took responsibility. You might have left the Marines, but you still embody their values and resilience.”
“Somebody else might have done it wrong, Captain,” Reed replied with a smile.
“This is Sergeant Major Rivera, newly promoted,” the Governor said as they proceeded down the line. “Stationed aboard the Tirad, he was among those interned in the garrisons by Barbosa’s forces. He was freed during a resistance raid and took command of the Marine forces operating on the ground. His tactical acumen and knowledge were a cornerstone of the resistance’s success.”
“You’re too kind, Governor,” Rivera said as he shook the captain’s hand. “I simply did my duty as the highest-ranked Marine available at the time, Captain.”
“Duty first, regardless of the circumstances or the odds,” Lambert replied with an approving nod. “Exemplary of the Corps. You have a fine crew, Ortega. It’s a well-deserved field promotion.”
“This is Amy Lewis,” the Governor said. “She started the war as a secretary, then used her skills to manage logistics for the resistance base. Ammunition, food, medical supplies – she oversaw it all. She’s now in charge of distributing food throughout the colony.”
“It’s always encouraging to see normal, everyday people stepping up to do the right thing,” the captain said as he took her hand. “You weren’t trained for it, it wasn’t your responsibility, you weren’t powerful or influential, but you still did what needed to be done. That’s a special kind of strength. I hope that the supplies we brought with us will go some way towards alleviating the food problem.”
“Oh, it will!” Amy replied as she beamed back at him.
“I’m sure you’ve already heard a lot about our resident family doctor,” the Governor added with a gesture to Ruza.
“Yes, he needs no introduction,” Lambert replied as he lifted his chin to meet Ruza’s gaze. “The right man in the wrong place. The way I hear it, the resistance might have failed a dozen times over if it wasn’t for your intervention. Loyalty and bravery hardly cut it – you made the fate of every person on Hades your responsibility. These aren’t your people, and this isn’t your home, but your sense of justice is stronger than any blood ties. The United Nations owes you a great debt. Anything you ask for that is in my power to give, you shall have.”
Ruza gave the captain a curt bow of his head, engulfing the human’s tiny hand in his own. He moved past the Rask, approaching Petrova where she stood at attention in front of her rows of troopers, her hands clasped behind her back. She watched the Captain approach, a hint of nervousness marring her stoic expression.
“Agent Petrova,” Lambert began. “I came here with orders straight from the top to arrest all UNN personnel who collaborated with Barbosa. It’s my understanding that you are his last surviving Lieutenant.”
“I believe you would find that extremely difficult, Captain,” Reed chimed.
The PCEs lined up at the back shifted their stance in unison, creating an intimidating chorus of whirring servos and grinding metal, their footfalls shaking the ground as they moved their weapons from parade to ready positions. They weren’t aiming at anyone, but the implication was obvious enough. The Marines waiting by the dropship on the landing pad shared nervous glances through their visors.
“Yes, I have to concur with that assessment,” Lambert conceded as he eyed the suits.
“My government has granted asylum requests for both Agent Petrova and Doctor Nillson,” the Governor explained, pausing to dab at his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m afraid that we won’t be able to turn them over to any UNN authorities. It wouldn’t be legal.”
“We did manage to negotiate some visitation rights,” Ortega added hurriedly. “UNNI will be permitted to interview Nilsson under HSDF supervision.”
“We can all vouch for Petrova, Captain,” Brenner added.
“Your friends are very protective of you,” Lambert continued, addressing Petrova. “That says a lot. It takes a different kind of courage to admit fault and work to make things right. I’m told that you’re the one who put an end to Barbosa. That’s proof enough for me of where your allegiance lies. I’ll have to let my superiors know that attempting to take you into custody would be ... unproductive.”
He extended a hand, and she took it, Ruza’s hackles lowering.
“Now that we’ve finished the introductions, we can proceed with the tour,” the Governor said. He sounded relieved, hurrying the two Captains along with a wave of his hand. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll show you around Garrison One. This is the headquarters of both the PDF and the HSDF, and it was the location of one of the most pivotal battles of the war...”
“I thought that went pretty well,” Reed said with a shrug once they were out of earshot.
“Could have gone better,” Brenner grumbled.
“Could have gone worse,” Amy added cheerfully. “Can we go home now? It’s hot, my feet hurt, and I can taste dust in the back of my throat.”
“Yeah, I have places I’d rather be,” Reed replied, turning to wave at his men. “Alright, you can all fuck off home now. I mean, uh, dismissed!”
Everyone began to disperse, and Petrova walked over to join Ruza, the pair walking towards the main gate of the compound.
“Seems like I’m going to be allowed to stay,” she began.
“That was never in question,” Ruza replied. “The question was whether anyone would be foolish enough to object.”
“Either way, I’m glad that it didn’t result in any needless conflict,” she added. “I don’t want anyone shedding blood on my part.”