The Missing Half

Synopsis: A mad scientist releases a virus on his home planet, believing it to be the key to saving the dying empire. Generations later, the descendants of the survivors must decide whether his legacy is a gift or a curse.

Tags: mf / ff / md / sf / mc

Fap Advisory: The second section of this chapter is purely plot/character development.

***

On the way to his tent, Ricoh looked back towards Blackwater City. The skyscrapers were dark except for a few spots of orange light: fires lit by poor souls who thought it was better to stay behind. He turned away. There was no future there. When the stores ran out, the city would be nothing without the infrastructure that moved its people, power, waste and water.

There were useful things to salvage, of course. The caravan had brought as much salvaged tools as it could carry. But the only hope for future generations was to build something sustainable, something that needed fertile soil, not dead concrete.

No one had expected the cost of rebellion to be this high and Ricoh took a moment to send a curse to Derrick Marlow, addressed to the deepest pit of hell. Sending the whole colony back to the dark ages with techburst missiles was only the least of the villain's sins! The other half of the missile volley had carried something much, much worse. No, the deepest pit of hell was too good for mad scientist. The demons had better dig deeper and find their own hell, then hand the madman off to the sub demons.

The torchlight illuminating the camp flickered in the wind, bringing him back to the present. He chuckled at how the novelty of orange light from burning gas fueled grim humor. Did a lifetime of nights lit by sterile white bulbs do that to you? Would brown earth make him think of faeries?

He walked deeper into the camp, listening to cries of lust filling the night air, louder than the chirping of night insects. By now, no one felt shame anymore. Some saw the nightly sex as a duty to their girls, who needed it to clear the mental fog that built up during the day. Others saw it as a vice, a way to cope with the dilemmas of the new world. Like many truths, the reality was a bit of both. And even if the virus had never hit, Ricoh would have encouraged people to make babies anyway. A nation needed citizens, after all, and the war had claimed many.

Finally, he arrived at his tent, receiving salutes from the two guards posted outside. The younger one did it with a blush.

"How's Michelle?" he asked the younger guard.

"She's fine, sir. Although she likes being called 'Shell now."

"You fucked her right before your shift?"

"Of, of, course, sir," stammered the guard.

"Good. I wouldn't want my daughter wandering around for a fuck while you're on duty." He gave the guard a pat on the shoulder and entered his tent. It was important to set an example to the men.

Then, after ensuring the tent flap was closed, he allowed his distress to show. He remembered that night, when he was still vice president and it had only been weeks since the missiles hit. At the time, it was hard to believe the stories of women becoming crazy or stupid. It was easier to place blame in panic and mass hysteria.

He remembered working at his desk that night, going over papers and trying to prove the lie that the female half of the population would be okay. To save space in the bunker, his family shared the whole room, although all he had left was his daughter. She was supposed to be sleeping at that late hour, but he began to hear muffled squeals as she masturbated in her bed. In denial, he just told her to keep it quiet. To his surprise, she obeyed.

He pushed himself to work, hoping that she would fall asleep before he turned in. Then, he heard a giggle and felt her lips on his cheek. When he turned, he saw that she was naked, her pajamas scattered on her bedsheets.

"Fuck me, daddy," she said.

He pushed her away and regretted it when his hand brushed a breast. The touch made him notice how pink her nipples were. "Go to bed!" he shouted.

She stared at him, conflicted by lust and the need to obey. Obedience won. She walked back to bed and continued masturbating.

"Stop that! Go to sleep!"

She pulled the sheets over her, letting some of her pajamas fall to the floor. It was obvious that her hands were still busy. She giggled with eyes closed.

"Go to sleep!"

"I will," she said. "When I pass out from coming so much! Want to help, Daddy?"

"No." He just watched as she tried to overdose herself with orgasm, afraid that she would pounce on him if he turned his back. He watched her writhe under the sheets until he finally broke down and accepted reality.

He left the room and interrogated the guard outside. The fellow seemed decent, so he ordered the soldier to go inside, lock the door and fuck his daughter.

Then, he gathered as much soldiers as he could and staged a coup. The president, after all, was a woman. It wouldn't be long before she was incapable of fulfilling her duties. They burst into her room and found all the proof they needed. She was spending the night using the case for her glasses as a makeshift dildo.

Ricoh demanded her resignation and she said she would do so under two conditions. The first was that he would lead the survivors out of this catastrophe. The second was that he would fuck her.

So far, he had kept both promises.

Now, the former president sat on her cot in Ricoh's tent. She stared up toward the lightbulb (a luxury few had), watching a moth beat its wings to it. Her youthful politician's face, designed to receive maximum rapport from the public, showed a content serenity. As ordered, she had stripped down to a lacy set of bra and panties while in his tent. It was easier to forget her old identity when she was dressed like this.

"Have you memorized the speech I gave you, Rina?" he asked as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "The one you're giving to the survivors at Gerrestown."

She stood up and giggled. "Yes sir, it's all in my head now!" Her voice was higher pitched than it once was. A pity, it had once been as optimised as her physical appearance.

"That's a good girl." He continued undressing, letting his clothing fall to the ground. She would clean up later, before they slept. "I'd like to hear it now."

Old habits kicked in and she assumed a more dignified pose. She stood straight and clasped her hands demurely in front of her panties. Her voice took on a serious tone that clashed with its pitch. "Citizens of Gerrestown, I know what you're wondering at the sight of me. Am I alright? Can I lead you to safety?"

"Fuck me now," he said. "But keep talking." He took a step forward to embrace her then kissed her on the lips. His tongue played with hers as she tried to speak and his dick brushed her hands aside to lie on her warm panties. She mumbled a few memorized sentences while their mouths were together.

"I'm not your president anymore," she continued once the kiss was broken. Her voice was still solemn despite the reddish blush spreading on her face. "I'm not even Katterina Hayder anymore." She took a step backward, letting him guide her toward the cot. "I'm just Rina, now. A good girl who does as she is told."

He shoved her down and she didn't show any fear or resistance. "It's the same for all women who were with you," she said while she fell onto the cot. Strands of her long hair settled on her face but she did nothing to fix it. "They're lost to you now." He pulled her panties down her legs. "But there is still hope." His dick waited at the opening of her pussy.

"All men and children were safe fr-" She moaned as he entered her, the first time she failed to sustain her act. "From the empire's viral strike." Her voice wavered. "They can. Still lead. Us to. Freedom." She said in time to his rhythm. "So let. Us girls. Help You. Allow us. To submit."

She moaned twice before deciding that it was better to speak quickly instead of breaking the sentences up. "We'll comfort your losses." She moaned again. "We'll carry your burdens." One long cry of pleasure. "And we'll give you children."

He came inside her and she orgasmed as trained. "Childrenwhoaren't. Aren'ttouchedby. Touchedbythissickness!" She arched her back and convulsed, holding on to that last "s" sound. Then, she continued. "This war isn't over ye-"

He put a finger to her lips. "That's enough, Rina. I trust you can do the rest."

She giggled and fingered herself after he withdrew from her, proud to serve him.

"I'll think of tonight when you make this speech in front of all those people," he said. "How does that make you feel?"

"How do you want me to feel, sir?"

"Aroused. Remember tonight when you give it, but stay behaved and hide it from them." He kissed her on the forehead then shuffled forward so that his wet, deflated member was in front of her face. "Clean me up and the tent as well. Don't take too long, Rina. You need your sleep and we've got far to travel."

"Yes sir," she said, then proceeded to obey.

***

Centuries later.

After a military parade that bored the both of them, Darrin and Annita walked together to the war room. The general and president went ahead, presumably to prepare the presentation and discuss state secrets. No one else was with the pair except for their security escort.

"This is ridiculous," she said, her voice muffled by the spare rebreather that also hid her identity. "After a whole day of being toured by your head honchos, I'm convinced that you, a mere history professor, must be the most suave man on this crazy planet."

"Well, I'm a specialist. If you were some furry alien, they'd have sent a veterinarian and your alien self would give that guy the same complement."

She laughed. "Women aren't that different!"

He wanted to make her laugh again. "The folklore would have you believe otherwise," he said. "Some say a woman can read your mind or, if the moon is full, control it. Another legend says that a woman's embrace will cure or cause any mental disease, depending on her mood, which is controlled by chocolate."

She laughed again. "I still don't see how being a historian helps you talk to me."

"The more crazy stories you know, the more you realize how much they contradict each other. The golden rule of history is to never believe what you read. Also, I'm not a folklorist. My main area of study is the life of Sophie Glass."

He felt insulted when she chuckled at the mention of his life's work. "Sophie's tits!" she said. "She's the one with the tits in that swear phrase?"

"She was more than that! She was the last woman we had! The last one to leave writings! The-" But they had arrived at the war room and he had no time to explain. There were more urgent matters. History would have to wait.

They took their seats beside the president. The general was in front, standing by a map projected on the wall. The rest of the staff stood to the side, out of the way.

The projected map was easy to decipher even if Darrin knew next to nothing about the workings of the military. Solid blocks of Marlowist violet were building up on the border, ready to pounce. The shades of Republic green stood in opposition, but only at a distance that suggested a hint of timidity.

"We are at the brink of war," said the general to his tiny audience. "The border skirmishes to retrieve crashed debris have escalated and the Marlowists won't back down so easily after posturing like this."

There was a click and a new image appeared on the wall, a chart comparing weapon specifications from both sides.

"What puzzles me," continued the general, "is the fact that this can only end in a bloody stalemate. Neither side has the technology to mechanize their forces and maneuver past layers of defense. Historical wars on Earth demonstrate this and the Marlowists aren't stupid enough to forget.

"The only logical explanation is that something has changed. In this case, it was the arrival, destruction and recovery of your starship. And the worst case scenario is that the Marlowists have salvaged something powerful enough to turn the tide of an entire war."

"Impossible!" said Annita.

There was a silence long enough to be awkward. None of the men were used to being interrupted by a woman.

"Are you sure?" asked Darrin.

"Of course! All the powerful stuff are too complex to work after being shredded into bits and pieces. Anything that made it through intact would be small and simple enough that it won't make any immediate difference in a war."

"I see," said Darrin. "Go on, sir."

The general blinked and continued. "The other possibility is that they think we salvaged something that could turn the tide in the future. If so, better to attack now, before we can put the find to good use." He waited for a moment, nervous. "I- I'm sorry to say this, miss, but the only recovery that fits such a profile is you. We tried to keep your existence a secret, but apparently, we have a leak."

"Wow," she said. "A war started over me. Be sure you don't accept any giant horse statues."

Only Darrin chuckled.

The general cleared his throat. "You're perfectly safe, of course. I have full confidence that our forces will hold the line. But," the projection changed to an appropriate chart. "The expected casualties are quite grim. Miss, if you could share any expertise you have with us, perhaps we can quickly bring this war to a close and minimize our losses."

At the request, Annita stood straighter and spoke without the playfulness she usually had. She was all business, now. "As I've said before, I'm not allowed to take sides in a local conflict while they are still independent of the empire."

"We already made the pledges," said the president. "Majority of the senate is in favor of reunification."

"It's not enough," she said. "The fleet will take time to arrive. You can't make any guarantees for the future."

"Then help us for your own sake," said the general. "If they somehow pull off a victory, the Marlowists will surely enslave you. They've also made it clear that they'll continue the rebellion against the empire."

"I only have your word regarding your enemies," she said. "I haven't met one of them or even seen their country. I can't make an informed decision."

"But if you went across the border to see for yourself," said the president, "you'd walk right into their hands."

"Which is why I must remain neutral, even if I'm grateful for your hospitality" she said.

"You'll think about it, at least?" asked the president.

"Of course," she answered. There was a long silence until she spoke again. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to return to my housing now."

"Very well," said the president.

There was an exchange of handshakes and goodbyes before Darrin and Annita left with a cold exit.

As they headed toward the transport convoy, he could have sworn that the air around her literally grew colder as if one of the folk tales were true. He wanted to bring it up as a joke, but was afraid it would just annoy her. Only silence seemed appropriate now.

The next time they spoke was when they were riding in the convoy on the way to the quarantine zone. "It's all wrong, Darrin," she said. "You just don't see it because you don't know any better. The training you give your girls is dehumanizing. I can't put my support behind such things."

Was that how she felt? She didn't seem that upset when she toured their training centers yesterday.

"Annita," he answered. "Giving girls a choice of what they could train to become gives them dignity in the face of unavoidable change. The choice they have makes them more human, not less. They might have looked unhappy, but they volunteered for it."

"That sounds like regurgitated propaganda," She paused to find the right words. "I don't know what to think, but it feels too much like a rationalization for training and keeping them as slaves. You get sex and servitude in one convenient package. This is the kind of world what every man fantasizes about."

That was it?! She was willing to have soldiers die for a feeling?! A feeling of envy at what she thought was a fantasy?!

"Of course not!" he said louder than he expected. "Haven't you realized how much we suffer? We grow up with mothers who can barely guide and comfort us. We're helpless to watch our sisters and friends drift away and become less than what they once were. Most of our wives can't be left unsupervised since they aren't able to fully take care of themselves."

"How can you call them wives they can't even reject your proposal?!"

This woman was impossible! Darrin's first impulse was to bring up how some Marlowists saw marriage, with their "wives" in harems and kennels! But when he started thinking about his own wife and marriage, it was hard to turn his thoughts toward anything else.

"You're talking about the marriage that we only have in legends," he said softly. "A union between equals that lasts until death. A pledge to take on the world as comrades in arms and build something in it for the both of you.

"It's different for us. My wife and I exchanged vows when we were ten. I promised to take care of what would be left of her when she grew up. She promised to practice housekeeping well enough to minimize the burden her future self would give me. All I have now is someone who reminds me of a girl who climbed trees and told me stories about the clouds. All I have is-'

"A pet," said Annita.

He nodded.

"And you want more than that," she finished for him.

"In this world, the only ones who can get a taste of that legendary marriage are the men who can love other men. Only they can get a true partnership that lasts past adolescence. It makes me jealous, sometimes."

She slumped down in resignation. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize." There was a moment of silence. "Just give me some time to collect myself. I'll do whatever I can to help."

He felt the urge to hug her but stopped himself when he remembered the story that women were made of glass. "Thank you," he said instead.

"I don't think my help will be too useful, though," she said. "Most of our engineering training only applies to space-level stuff. As a communications officer, the only archaic tech I studied were those related to the post."

"That's fine. We could always use better radios. Didn't you see those boxes they had to lug around in the parade?"

"I think I was napping when they walked by," she said with a smile. "But seriously, if you were lucky enough to rescue a military crewman instead of me, you'd get something with a lot more bite."

"Like what? A gun's a gun." And he couldn't imagine trading her for somebody else.

She shook her head. "The military types on the ship study the history of warfare. With your tech base, they could make mustard gas or napalm." She thought for awhile. "Maybe even nukes."

***

A few weeks later, across the border.

Terisa stared at the glinting crystals on the chandelier. The slightest shifting of the air and light changed the whole pattern before she could take it all in. She tried to keep up anyway, the futility of the task lost to her. All she knew was that the pattern was always pretty.

She had forgotten that she was tied down to the bed with soft but tough cloth around her wrists and ankles. She had forgotten about the gag in her mouth that prevented her from biting her tongue in desperate suicide and allowed them to funnel in the drugged food that made her too groggy to struggle. She didn't mind her nakedness anymore and the way they touched her everywhere when they sponged her clean.

Time passed without her feeling a single hint of boredom until she felt the brush of a finger on her nipple. Unlike the chandelier, this sensation was so much more intense and beautiful. She giggled and the gag in her mouth muffled the sound.