Dire Contingency
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 6
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 6 - 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 10 – HADES OUTSKIRTS – RUZA
It took a couple more days before Ruza was contacted on the old two-way radio. He returned to the meeting site, the guards posted atop the old cranes letting him pass this time. There seemed to be more activity now, the miners moving unmarked crates and containers into the mine, unloading them from industrial trucks.
He expected to find Bergmann waiting in the office again, but he was outside supervising, looking over a group of burly workers who were passing boxes down from the bed of a trailer.
“Morning, Doc,” Bergmann said as he turned to greet the towering Rask. “We’ve been busy since you and I last spoke, and I think we’re just about ready to make a move. I want to introduce you to someone,” he added, putting his fingers in his mouth and creating a high-pitched whistle. It got the attention of one of the miners, and Bergmann waved him over.
“Ruza, I’d like to introduce you to Mister Reed,” the boss said as the stranger arrived at his side. Reed was an inch taller than his boss, with broad shoulders and a stocky build – a brick of a human. His exposed forearms were so hairy that Ruza found himself questioning whether the man had any Borealan ancestry.
“So, you’re the Madcat,” Reed began as he extended a hand to Ruza. The Rask took it, giving it a shake and finding it rough and calloused. This man had clearly performed a great deal of labor in his time. “Glad to have you onboard.”
“Mister Reed is what you might call my lieutenant,” Bergmann explained. “I’ve made him responsible for overseeing a lot of our more ... aggressive business operations.”
“You used the term Madcat,” Ruza replied. “You served with the Navy?”
“For a time,” Reed replied. “There were words thrown around like discharge and dishonorable, but you don’t need to concern yourself with that. I don’t like bullies, and bullies don’t like it when you break their jaw – especially when they’re your commanding officer. I like Hades a lot more than the Navy. A man can be wholly responsible for himself out here.”
“He has a great deal of expertise when it comes to firearms and small unit tactics, and he’s going to be turning some of our miners into fighters,” Bergmann continued. “He’s also going to be responsible for planning and overseeing a lot of our operations, so I thought you two should get acquainted.”
“We gonna have any issues?” Reed asked as he sized up Ruza. “I gotta warn you – I didn’t really see eye to eye with a lot of the cats I served with. They were pushy. I’d rather get the whole dominance thing out of the way before we begin.”
“I have left the pack life behind me,” Ruza replied. “I have no more use for such things.”
“Good to hear,” Reed replied with a nod of approval. “I’m told you’re some kind of veteran – served in lots of different theaters, switched sides more than once. Heard about how you fucked up those guys who came knocking at your door, too. If you want to bring some of that energy to getting rid of the assholes who have set up shop on our colony, I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“That is my goal,” Ruza replied.
“Not much of a talker,” Reed said, giving Bergmann a glance. “I like him.”
“I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,” the boss replied. “Why don’t you bring the good doctor up to speed on our plans, Reed.”
“First thing’s first,” Reed began as Bergmann left to supervise his workers. “You can’t have a successful resistance movement without a secure means of communication. Phones and radios are out, because those can be triangulated, and the bad guys can switch off the intranet whenever they like. Fortunately, we have no shortage of construction workers and supplies, so we’re going to be setting up our own bespoke network.”
“How do you plan to do this?” Ruza asked curiously.
“The Boss showed you the tunnels, right? Those old mines and smuggling routes run beneath the city and the surrounding wasteland for miles. We’ve tasked some of our boys with running fiber optic cable through them between key locations. They’ll be totally undetectable from the surface. Hard lines don’t give off any emissions, and they can’t be tapped if nobody knows where they are.”
“A creative solution,” Ruza replied. “We should strive to limit our above-ground activities. When the enemy grows suspicious, the powerful imaging tools on their carrier will be able to take high-definition photos of the whole colony. It would be wise to leave as little evidence of our passing as possible, even in these old abandoned sites. A single misplaced crate or parked transport could give away our presence. Their orbital guns are precise and bring death swiftly.”
“Timing is everything,” Reed replied. “Speaking of which, I like the plan you pitched to Bergmann – attacking the ASAT sites to draw out their forces. That’s a smart play. I think you’re missing something, though.”
“What is that?” Ruza asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I think we have to earn a little notoriety first,” he explained with a grin. “If we want these guys to respond in force, then they have to see us as a threat, right? We gotta toss some rocks at the hornet’s nest – rile ‘em up a bit, get ‘em good and angry. When we move on those ASAT sites, it needs to look like the culmination of some grand plan rather than just a distraction.”
“Your reasoning is sound,” Ruza conceded, silently wondering what a hornet was.
“We’re gonna cause a little chaos,” Reed chuckled. “We’ll stage some attacks – make them look like reprisals for the riot, maybe.”
“One thing concerns me,” Ruza added. “We should avoid targeting the PDF wherever possible. We shall win no favors with the Hadeans by killing their sons and brothers.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that after the crime scene photos I saw,” Reed replied skeptically.
“A regrettable necessity,” Ruza growled. “I take no pride in it.”
“It’s good to learn that you’re not crazy, I suppose,” Reed added. “On the subject of the PDF, I have someone else I’d like you to meet. Follow me.”
Reed led Ruza through the compound, passing by rusting heavy machinery that had been all but abandoned to the sands, the more recent additions standing out starkly with their comparably clean hulls. Nothing was ever truly pristine on Hades – the airborne dust got everywhere.
They entered an old mine shaft, the walls and ceiling of the wide tunnel supported with aging metal frames – some of them appearing dangerously rusted. There were tracks laid on the ground, presumably for some kind of transport, and the growing darkness was driven off by the faint glow of dusty lamps mounted on the walls. They were powered by snaking cables that had been strung up in crude bunches.
Far from being abandoned, these tunnels were a hive of activity, the humans carrying all manner of cargo back and forth. They were stacking crates near the entrance, readying them to be transported deeper below ground. It was hard to discern what they contained at a glance, but food, munitions, and other supplies were likely.
As they traveled deeper below ground, and the air began to cool, they emerged into a larger chamber. This one was furnished with rows of metal shelves similar to those he had seen in the warehouse, along with tables and seating. It was unlikely that the miners had been given enough time to move all of this equipment in only a few days, so it might be a holdover from the time of the Syndicate.
“We didn’t really have any use for these tunnels after the mobsters left,” Reed explained, noticing that Ruza was looking around. “A lot of their shit is still here. The authorities didn’t know about it, and we certainly didn’t tell the UN. You never know when you might need some secret passages.”
“Were you involved in their activities?” Ruza asked, glancing down at him.
“Back in those days, everyone was,” he replied with a shrug. “If you wanted to take the moral high ground, you’d end up buried in the desert. I ran guns for the Syndicate, so I’m more familiar with these tunnels than most.”
“I suppose that your knowledge serves us now,” Ruza said.
“Don’t climb too high up that ivory tower of yours,” Reed replied, crossing his arms. “From what I was told, you fought in the Rask Rebellion against the UN. Your paws aren’t clean.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Ruza added. “Hades is a place where many come to escape their past, and I am no exception. What we are about to undertake will not be bloodless by any means.”
“There he is,” Reed continued, leading Ruza over to a table where a man was working on a tablet computer. He looked up as they approached, seeming momentarily alarmed by the sight of the towering Rask. The stranger was a human with a dark complexion, the camouflaged clothes that he wore identifying him as PDF. “Omar,” Reed began. “This is the guy.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Omar replied as he stepped away from his desk to glance up at Ruza.
“Omar here was recently released from one of the garrisons,” Reed explained. “He’s our best source of information about what’s been going on behind those walls. Tell him what you’ve been telling us, Omar.”
“A lot of what the Governor has been saying in his addresses is bullshit,” Omar began, still seeming a little wary of the Rask. He might never have encountered an alien face-to-face before. “It’s probably coming straight from the Borgs. There’s been no corruption in the PDF – at least, nothing that would warrant that kind of response. The UN was really good about reforming the organization after the occupation. The night they hit us, they came in hard, and they caught most of us while we were asleep in the barracks. There was very little warning, and they killed anyone who fought back.”
“Do you know anything about those being held?” Ruza pressed.
“Oh, sure,” Omar replied with a nod as he leaned a hand on the table. “The first thing they did was round everyone up and secure the garrisons. They housed a lot of people in the jails, but most were sent down into the emergency bunkers, where the Borgs were setting up makeshift cells. They gave us all a choice – join them or stay locked up indefinitely. A lot of guys just told them what they wanted to hear to get out, same as I did, but quite a lot of troopers are buying the spiel. The Borgs are well researched, and they seem to know a lot about Hadean history and pain points.”
“Spiel?” Ruza asked with a tilt of his head.
“The Borgs are feeding them some crock about making them into elite soldiers and turning Hades into the next Proxima. They’re offering them expensive gear and augs, too.”
“Sounds to us like they’re trying to inflate their numbers,” Reed clarified. “They’re trying to build an army and fortify Hades ready for when the UNN arrives, but nobody has any clue why. What the hell does a rogue special forces group want with our shithole of a colony?”
“Why do you call them Borgs?” Ruza asked.
“Shorthand for Cyborgs,” Omar explained. “These guys are augmented to the gills – I don’t think I’ve seen a single organic limb since they arrived. One thing I can tell you is that they don’t trust us. They’ve been keeping the PDF away from sensitive sites, and more than once, I’ve overheard them refer to us as dirt farmers or weekend warriors. It’s pretty safe to say that anyone you see marching with them has done something to curry favor.”
“That lines up with what Ruza said he saw at the ASAT sites,” Reed added. “Sounds like legitimate targets to me – fucking traitors.”
“Plenty of our guys are holding out in the bunkers and refusing to cooperate,” Omar continued. “There are a lot of good people still stuck down there, and I can’t imagine that conditions are going to be improving over time.”
“Certainly not with the tether blockaded,” Reed scoffed. “Dirt is the only thing we farm down here – they’re right about that.”
“This is very important,” Ruza interjected, leaning a little closer. “During your time at the garrison, did you see any UNN personnel being unloaded from transports?”
“Sure did,” Omar replied with a nod. “I saw maybe a hundred guys wearing Navy uniforms being marched through the bunker while I was still being held. They took them to a different area of the shelter, though – away from the PDF.”
“Probably because the Navy guys know something the PDF don’t,” Reed mused. “The Borgs don’t want them mingling and sharing intel.”
“We intend to free your comrades,” Ruza said, placing a large hand on Omar’s shoulder. “The crew of the carrier, too. We shall find out what they know about the enemy – these Borgs.”
“First, we need a suitable target so we can get their attention,” Reed added. “A hard target, with a low chance of PDF or civilian casualties. Some of my guys had some ideas about that, actually.”
They proceeded deeper into the mine, coming across another large chamber, this one filled with racks of humming servers and desks strewn with tablet computers. Behind a holographic display that was being cast from a small projector was a woman who was hard at work, stopping to glance at them as Reed announced himself.
“This is Astrid,” he began. “She’s good at managing the union’s books, but she’s even better at managing intel. She’s become somewhat of a spymaster for us.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Reed,” she replied as she swiveled in her office chair. “You must be Doctor Ruza.”
“Don’t worry – he’s quite tame,” Reed joked.
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she replied as she craned her neck to meet the Rask’s gaze. “I don’t care what the rumor mills are churning out – you treated my sister’s kids when they had pneumo and there was a shortage of inhalers. Whatever you did to those guys, they must have deserved it.”
“Ella and Oscar,” Ruza replied with a subtle bow of his head. “I trust that they are well?”
“Thanks to you,” the woman replied.
“We hoped you might have some intel on that convoy,” Reed added.
“It just so happens that I do,” she replied, turning to her displays again. Reed and Ruza drew closer to get a better look as she pulled up a map of the city, a red line drawing from the anchor to one of the nearer garrisons. “We’ve had people watching the route. As you probably know, the Borgs are occupying the anchor, which is where all goods and traffic come in and out of the colony. It’s probably the most strategically important location on the planet. Once a day, like clockwork, they cycle out their troops and bring in a fresh batch.”
“I guess even robots have to sleep sometime,” Reed mused.
“Based on the number of men they’re bringing in and out, it’s likely that there are far more of them inside the anchor and up at the station, so the tether is never left undefended. They seem to have duty shifts, though. Every day, three armored trucks leave the anchor and head to this garrison here,” she said as she pointed at the location on the map. “From what we can observe, there are no PDF at the anchor and no PDF in these convoys.”
“Just like the ASAT sites,” Ruza said with a nod.
“That lines up with what Ruza and Omar said,” Reed added. “The Borgs don’t trust the PDF, and they’re not gonna let them near such an important location. This could be an ideal target for us.”
“We’ll keep watch,” Astrid said. “I’ll talk to Bergmann and get his okay.”
“Until then, I will continue to observe from a distance,” Ruza replied. “It is difficult for me to pass unseen in the city.”
“Yeah, there aren’t many eight-foot dudes walking around,” Reed said. “Once we’re properly established in the tunnels, you can move through those instead. We’ll be able to pop up wherever we please like angry gophers. C’mon – I’ll show you some more of our operation. The armory is this way.”
DAY 12 – HADES – REED
Reed moved between the prefabs, his figure shrouded in a long shawl, his face obscured by a rebreather and tinted goggles. It wasn’t hard to travel unseen on Hades. With everyone wearing protective gear, there was nothing noteworthy or suspicious about hiding one’s appearance. Briefly checking his phone to make sure he was still on time, he hastened a little, weaving through the dusty back streets. Pausing beneath a humming air conditioner that jutted from the side of a sandblasted prefab, he glanced out into the road that led away from the tether, the massive anchor rising up above him to dominate the sky. It was visible from anywhere in the colony, forming a mountain of weather-worn steel up close, the black thread vanishing into the blue haze.
Nearer the anchor, the homes and small businesses gave way to storage lots and warehouses where cargo waited to be loaded onto the tether or hauled away on trucks. He continued on, the white, capsule-like buildings on their stilts transitioning into more permanent and industrial structures. There were warehouses filled with cargo, parking lots and loading bays for trucks, and paved areas that were home to great stacks of colorful containers piled as high as buildings. It looked like a lot of the usual traffic was backed up now – the cargo waiting to be delivered to freighters that had never arrived.
He was soon in view of the ambush site, ducking behind some cargo containers. Before he had even seen the APCs, he heard their engines rising above the wind. They were right on time – the Borgs were nothing if not punctual. He knelt to sift through the sand, brushing it away with his glove, taking a few increasingly frantic moments to find the end of the det-cord.
Buried along their route on both sides of the road were IEDs made from mining charges packed with scrap metal, angled to catch the trio of transports on their way through. With most of the colony’s construction and maintenance workers in the unions, it hadn’t been difficult to come up with a reason to do a little routine roadwork. The streets frequently needed to be repaired and cleared of sand. There were few civilians on the streets after the riot, and even fewer workers with the strikes still largely in effect. It wasn’t as if the truckers and dockworkers had anything to do while the occupiers were blockading the tether, anyway. The only thing inside the projected blast radius were the Borgs.
The APCs were in sight now, trundling down the road, their six wheels kicking up clouds of dust. Reed drew back a little, sinking into the shadows when he saw the operative who was sitting with his torso sticking out of a hatch on the roof of the lead vehicle, an XMR in his hands. Those buckets of bolts were Navy surplus, and probably outdated when they were new – not affording anywhere near the level of protection something like a modern Puma IFV would. His heart starting to race, he drew the detonator from beneath his shawl, holding his breath as he waited for them to reach the mark. Slowly, he began to wind the end of the cord around the contacts on his device.
The lead vehicle passed the first hidden charge, and the moment the third truck was in position, Reed pressed the button. Two dozen mining charges exploded, timed to detonate one after another with an almost imperceptible delay, a series of deafening thuds like a burst of automatic gunfire making Reed’s ears ring. He was maybe two hundred meters down the street, but he still felt the explosion in his soft tissues, the shockwave that swept down the road visible in the way it disturbed the sand. The windows on the nearby warehouses shattered as the blast reached them, sending broken glass raining to the ground.
The lead APC was tossed into the air like a toy, reaching a good ten feet, its armor shredded and pocked by the shower of deadly scrap. Its ruined hull was deposited back on the road a moment later, landing on its side with a thud, its chassis crumpling like it had been made of paper. A loose wheel bounced away as fragments of its warped chassis rained down around it, each one creating a splash in the sand. There was no sign of the man who had been riding atop the hatch – he was just gone.
Like a giant was throwing great handfuls of dust, a dark plume rose above the street, looming ever higher. It lingered in the air, casting a shadow on everything beneath it as it slowly drifted with the wind, carpeting the nearby structures in a layer of dirt. There were secondary explosions – bright flashes of light flaring as what must be their hydrogen fuel cells ignited, forming jets of blue flame that burned through the smoke like welding torches.
Reed didn’t stick around to confirm that the other two vehicles had been disabled – this was enough to send a message. Just as quietly as he had appeared, he cut the cord and slunk away, disappearing into the city.
DAY 12 – HADES – HOFF
“Eleven men dead and nine critically injured,” Hoff growled as he looked out over the ruined street, his PCE giving him an elevated view of the carnage. “How the fuck did this happen?”
The IEDs had excavated great craters in the dirt, revealing exactly where they must have been buried, forming two neat rows to either side of the road. Between them were the three armored personnel carriers, now torn and blackened by the explosions. Their armor had been ripped apart like sheet metal, the holes and tears easily visible as the exposed alloys reflected the sunlight, drive trains that had been twisted like pretzels and unidentifiable fragments of engine littering the ground. It looked like a goddamned orbital strike had hit them. He could see a few burnt bodies even now, too tangled with their vehicles to recover, melted polymer and charred bone encased in the ruined hulls.
The site was crawling with SWAR, the operatives investigating the nearby buildings and sifting through the wrecks. Just like the last crime scene, the street had been cordoned off, but they weren’t letting any press through this time. The last thing they needed was for the perpetrators to have high-def photos proving the efficacy of their operation.
“I warned you that this would happen,” the Governor said, withdrawing a little as Hoff turned to stare down at him angrily. “When you overplayed your hand at the protest, I told you that you’d lit a powder keg, and here are the results.”
“An I told you so isn’t very helpful right now,” Hoff growled.
“You’re probably facing a full-blown insurgency at this point, so I hope you’re happy,” the Governor grumbled. “Fuck, I haven’t seen anything like this since the final days of the Syndicate.”
They were interrupted as a SWAR agent walked over to them, holding up something to Hoff.
“Looks like a piece of lead wire, LC,” he began. “Probably from a blasting charge.”
“So it’s the goddamned miners,” Hoff growled, closing a metal fist with the sound of grinding metal. “I’ll rip their fucking arms out of their sockets!”
“This colony’s entire economy is based around mining,” the Governor scoffed. “If you want to arrest everyone who might have had access to blasting charges, you’re going to need a lot more cells. Listen to me,” he added, wagging a finger at the scowling operative. “They didn’t do this because they wanted to kill your people – they did it because they wanted to send a message. This is an escalation. They want to make you angry, and they want you to tighten your grip, because that’ll drive more people to their cause. What we need to do now is remain calm and think before we act.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking alright,” Hoff grumbled as he looked out over the smoldering wrecks.
“Is that painful for you?” the Governor muttered, Hoff giving him another scowl.
“What these jokers don’t realize is that Barbosa cut his teeth fighting insurgents before half of them were even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye,” Hoff continued. “Before people even knew that aliens existed, he was rooting out separatists and terrorists in the outer colonies, making them disappear for the UN. Counter-insurgency was his specialty. They have no idea of the hurt he’s about to bring down on their heads.”
“Well, your Commander has told me that I have to give another address tonight,” the Governor sighed. “I am to denounce the terrorist attack and reaffirm our commitment to the UN.”
“I sure as hell hope you’re going to denounce this,” Hoff growled, turning to loom over the portly Governor angrily.
“You think I want these people running around blowing up my colony? Unlike you, I was elected. The citizens of Hades chose me to represent them because they trusted me to lead them into a free and prosperous future. The last thing I want to see is burning wreckage and dead bodies in our streets.”
“Save it for the address,” Hoff said. “Mark my words – there will come a time when Barbosa doesn’t need you anymore, and when that time comes, I’m going to fly you to the far side of the planet and leave you there.”
“Yeah, we’ll see...”
DAY 12 – RESISTANCE BASE – RUZA
“That certainly got their attention,” Omar said as he walked down the tunnel beside Ruza. “We’re seeing reports of over twenty casualties, and all of the garrisons are on high alert. The Borgs have ordered more patrols, which means more of them on the streets interacting with the locals.”
“They have demonstrated that they lack the temperament for such things,” Ruza added as they turned a corner, passing a couple of workers who were carrying a crate between them.
“The PDF will be taking on the bulk of the work,” Omar explained. “These are their hand-picked troopers – people they’ve deemed loyal enough to carry out their orders.”
“Enforcers,” Ruza grumbled. “The Matriarch used her Royal Guard in the same manner.”
“What that means is more targets for us,” Omar continued. “Reed says we need to make the Borgs feel like they’re under constant attack, and when they start lashing out, that’s when we move on the ASATs.”
“We must take measures to protect civilians,” Ruza added. “We cannot allow the people to suffer unduly because of our actions.”
“At a certain point, I don’t think we’ll have a choice,” Omar continued as he glanced up at the Rask. “Martial law is a certainty, and they’ll use force to keep people working the mines and factories regardless of what we do. The faster we act, the more we minimize any potential losses.”
“Still, we must not forsake the people of Hades,” Ruza insisted. “We cannot let anger and vengeance guide our actions. We are not a sword, but a shield.”
“I’m with you there,” Omar replied with a nod. “Maybe you should spend a little more time with Reed. You might rub off on him.”
Through the passageway, the familiar sound of gunfire echoed, the pair following the noise until they arrived at another large chamber. This one had been retrofitted into a shooting range – some two dozen men lined up behind a row of desks, their surfaces strewn with parts and spare magazines. They were firing XMRs, shouldering the weapons and loosing slugs downrange, where a series of paper targets had been erected against the dirt wall some fifty meters away.
“Welcome to my humble range,” Reed said, spreading his arms dramatically as the pair entered. “It’s small, I’ll give you that, but it’s a bigger setup than we used to have on the carriers.”
“You have already received your first shipment of weapons?” Ruza asked, walking over to one of the tables. He lifted an XMR, finding the medium frame paradoxically small and light in his hands, inspecting its configuration. “Bullpup, standard CQB with a short barrel,” he mused. “Holographic reflex sights for rapid target acquisition. Your experience with the platform is evident, Reed.”
“Told you I wore blues for a while,” he replied, crossing his arms as he proudly watched his students loose another volley. “And the whole gun-running thing, of course. That Borg armor stands a decent chance of stopping five-seven caseless, but even at subsonic, these slugs are gonna shred them. The UNN doesn’t even attempt to produce armor that can stop slugs because there’s no fucking point.”
“At least until now,” Omar added. “We have no idea what those giant suits of armor can do.”
“Yeah, we’re not engaging those unless we have to,” Reed replied. “At least they don’t seem to have very many of them.”
“Perhaps we could find a way to secure blueprints,” Ruza wondered aloud. “They must have weaknesses that can be exploited.”
“Worst comes to worst, they can’t be much more durable than those APCs,” Reed added with a smirk. “It’s nothing a few blasting charges won’t solve.”
“Omar tells me that you and Bergmann have plans for more attacks,” Ruza prompted.
“That’s right,” he began with a nod. “The bombing was a loud opener – it got their attention, but we need to keep up the pressure. We don’t want the Borgs feeling safe anywhere in the city. My suggestion is that we use the tunnel network to fade and strike. We pop up, ambush a patrol, and vanish again before they can respond. A lot of these old smuggling routes come out inside buildings, so we don’t stand much risk of being stopped and searched. We can deploy fully armed fireteams with the same mobility as a squad of Marines in a dropship.”
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