First Immortals

First up I would strongly suggest that if you haven't read the earlier chapters please do so before reading this one, it will explain a lot of things...

Apart from that, enjoy. BB1212

"So," I asked the assembled bridge crew, "who has been running things up here in our absence?"

"Me," Amy Ho said, "along with Bira and Elspeth." I nodded, it made sense. "But because you are, well were, second in charge of the mission it's now you."

"Thanks," I said. She was right, but we had a long way to go to get home and we all needed to be working together. "We have seven pilots left," I said, "and twelve science officers." They nodded, we all knew the numbers.

"We'll go with three main shifts," I said, 'Each with two pilots and four science officers. The remaining pilot will take over care of the shuttle and will fill in if someone is sick."

"I'll do that if you like," Bira said, and I nodded.

"No other volunteers?" I asked, but there weren't.

"OK, Amy is now 2IC, shift commanders are Amy, Elspeth and Me," I said. "Second pilots are Neale, Feliss and Dreea in that order..."

I sorted out the responsibilities quickly and then I looked at the assembled team. We were on the bridge at the time, because it was the only way to get everyone together in the same place. The job we had now was to get home, and with the auto pilot back in operation we were hoping that the only question would be how long it would take. I was fairly sure that we had done too much damage to the YW's for them to chase us immediately, but I was not too sure that we had seen the last of them in a longer term view.

The male survivors fell into two distinct categories. Hugh, Neale and I felt fine, but we had nothing like normal readings on any of the tests that they did on us. The others were extremely sick and they all seemed to have serious lung damage and were prone to developing pneumonia. They all survived in the long run, but it was almost a year before Heith Xang was able to return to work, and some of the others took a couple of months. We had no idea why they were bad and we were good, and at the time we just assumed it was the thickness or makeup of the atmosphere in the different areas where we had left the planet. Meanwhile the medical staff poked, prodded and sampled all of us relentlessly. But what had happened to the three of us was totally beyond the scope of existing medical science at the time.

It took a pretty nasty accident for us to get our first clue as to what was going on. Hugh Scrindle was working out in the gym about a month after we escaped, and an entire rack of weights broke away from the wall and fell on him. We eventually discovered that it was a combination of high frequency vibration from one of the main power generators combined with incorrect stacking that caused it, but that was not the biggest issue. As the rack fell it crushed Hugh's right arm horribly and severed three of his fingers. They took him to the sick bay and the surgeon program told us to operate straight away to try and re-attach his fingers but Hugh, who had remained fully conscious for the entire time flatly refused. He wanted his fingers taped back on and bandaged.

We argued, we begged, we threatened and I ordered but he was absolutely adamant, and in the end we gave up and said OK, but we would look again in the morning. Hugh had changed on the planet, all of us who had survived had, and I didn't want to take away his liberty again by forcing him to do something that he was so strongly opposed to. I just hoped we would still be able to reattach his fingers when he realised that was what was needed.

Looking back at my log book I can see that I went to my quarters and fucked a girl from catering called Rheeley. I can remember wondering why someone would call their kid Rheeley, but I can't remember the girl or the sex. For nine tenths of our return trip this was how it was. The men who were fit had to try and look after the needs of all the women who were interested, and this led to a few great experiences and far more that were mediocre at best.

As the Commander I had to set an example, and I took this seriously, but a later interview quoted Birra as saying that I ruled the ship with an iron rod. I grinned at the analogy and just had to agree.

I went to see Hugh early on the day after his accident, and he looked troubled.

"How are you Hugh?" I asked.

"Well," he said hesitantly, "a lot better than expected."

"Really?" I asked, surprised at the reply.

"Logic would tell you that my hand would be... well stuffed," he said, and I nodded, "but it isn't."

"Right," I agreed, wondering if Hugh had finally cracked, and he must have seen my doubt.

"Look at this," he said, and he started unwinding the bandages.

"Are you sure..." I said, and then I stopped, stunned. Hugh's fingers were attached. They had some angry red lines around the base of them, but there was no other evidence of his trauma. I watched in astonishment as he flexed his fingers.

"How the fuck?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Last night I knew deep down that the logical action would be for me to let the micro surgery robot reattach them, but something else made me refuse."

"Quite rightly," I observed, and he nodded.

"Not only that..." he said, and then pushed up the loose sleeve on the medic gown, "but also this." The crushed arm was an angry bruise from one end to the other, but it was totally the right shape.

"Bloody hell," I observed, and he grinned ruefully.

"We haven't come back from there the same as we were when we went."

Thinking about it I had to agree.

"Some sort of health credit for surviving sex with a YW?" I pondered aloud.

"Only the three who did got through the exit unscathed," he observed.

"And we are the only ones who can't be scanned by the machines anymore," I said.

"Yes," he said, and swung around on the bed. "I suppose I'd better get to work."

"Sorry, but no," I said, and he stopped. "Even if you feel fine we need the medical staff on this just to make sure."

"I understand Josh," he said, "but this is just too boring here." I nodded.

"Ever been to Sydney?" I asked, and he looked confused.

"No."

"Just near Sydney are the Blue Mountains," I said.

"So?"

"There's this great place called the Three Sisters," I continued, "you just can't be bored there, it's special."

"Not much help here," he said.

"We have our own version," I told him, "Bira, Tish and Tash."

"The three sisters," he said, suddenly looking interested, "you think you...?"

"Be patient and wait here," I told him, "I think it could get much more interesting."

Then Shamoa came in.

"He should be resting and getting proper medical help," she said, sounding a bit grumpy.

"Don't know how, but he's healed," I said, and to her astonishment Hugh showed her his hand.

"Wow," she gasped.

"I want him tested and observed, but he does not need treatment," I said and she nodded. "He's bored too, so I am sending down some playmates. You can get things going if you want." Shamoa grinned eagerly.

"You don't think I would break him?"

"I'm more worried that he will break you." Hugh was looking at Shamoa with a very obvious level of interest.

"I think Commander," Shamoa said, "that visiting hours are over, and it's time for this patient to have a very thorough sponge bath."

I got out quickly. I know when I'm not wanted.

Medical science was stumped. Within two days all the indicators that Hugh had had an accident were gone. Everything worked perfectly, his skin was smooth and unmarked and the x-rays showed not bones that had knitted, but bones that had never been damaged. If I hadn't seen his severed fingers myself I would not have believed that it had really happened. None of us could work it out. Over time we started to notice that Hugh, Neale and I were the only ones on the Mayflower who never got sick. You might think that in such a controlled environment there wouldn't be any sickness, but that isn't how it worked. There were always germs back then, well there are still germs now too, but at this stage we've got them beat. Back on the Mayflower we had germs that had evolved over more than six years, and medicines that hadn't changed at all. We were also at the end of the usefulness of antibiotics and the defender posvirus wasn't introduced for another forty odd years. Man, did that change medicine for the better.

But pretty soon we realised that all three of us had whatever it was that Hugh had. If we were injured we would just wait and it would quickly heal. Not only did we not get sick, but we were also a cure. If one of the women was coming down with something, then just having one of us fuck them and empty our balls inside would clear it up in a matter of hours. It was good for the operation of the ship but I tell you that screwing three or four women every day who were sniffing and moaning in discomfort, not passion, is about as romantic as shaving a camel's balls.

We were still relatively young and extraordinarily fit, so we did what was needed. Sex did become almost a chore sometimes because we had to try and make sure none of the interested ladies was ignored, and we then had to restructure our plans to include those with an illness. After a couple of years we had enough evidence to realise that the girls we had sex with were less likely to get ill in the first place, and the demands grew even stronger. I felt a bit like one of the old doctors in the historic movies, but my injection was all natural and it only pierced where the grand design had intended it to.

Even in that environment we also had our more memorable liaisons.

We had stopped travelling and were orbiting a large icy purple planet. We had to do some outside maintenance on the forward channelling deflectors and we were going out in pairs for two hour shifts. My partner was Dillit Savine who had shipped as an observer when she was just eighteen, which was the minimum age for the voyage. She had pretty soon got sick of observing and had used the on board training program to acquire some pretty good science skills. I had met her professionally a couple of times, but she tended to spend her time with what most of us called the 'kindy clan', which was an informal group of around thirty youngsters who had been less than twenty-one years old when we started out.

Anyway Dillit and I had the task of re-coating the deflectors, and this is one of the most boring jobs around. We only stayed outside for two hours because it was too damn cold out there to stay any longer and it wasn't worth doing less because of the time it took for the floater suits to acclimatise. The earlier work of alignment and charging was much more intense, and the exercise would keep the floaters doing that at least a little bit warm. But coating meant about ten minutes of work, then an hour break, then check the lamination and push a button, another hour break, check the lamination and push the button again and then finally back inside. We would be followed by two more teams who each had to do the check and push the button twice and then come back in, so they had shorter shifts.

We had the connections made, and the static diffuser was in position.

"Commander Scabbard," Dillit said over the communicator, "can you like isolate the comms and vision? I want to say something er... private."

"No worries," I replied and hit my communicator. "Isolate local," I said, and the system tone confirmed it was done. There was nothing unusual about this, in normal cases all sound and vision was available to anyone who wanted to tune in, so you had the ability to make it private. Once you had isolated it the archives were only viewable by me in my role as the Commander. I could access the files for security reasons or anything else that I decided was very important. I never took up that privilege; I didn't have the time or the inclination, and was lucky enough never to have the need.

Dillit helped me with the final check of the system and then we moved back to a safe distance and I hit the button. We saw the tell-tale clouding around the deflectors which meant the first application had worked. Now we had to wait.

"So Dillit," said in a deliberately friendly tone because some of the younger crew members were a bit in awe of me at that stage, "what did you want to say?" I was expecting a request for a promotion, or a move to better quarters or any one of the other normal requests I was now fielding on a daily basis.

"Um, do you think I'm attractive?" she asked.

"Normally, yes." I said, and I meant it. Dillit was a striking girl rather than a pretty one. Her figure was still almost pre-pubescent with very small breasts and not a lot of flare around the hips, but she carried herself with the grace and poise of a dancer and her long flowing brown hair went almost down to her waist. I think she was the only girl on the Mayflower who had not coloured her hair, and this really stood out amongst the lurid tones that were the norm for the time. She had a cute oval face that lit up when she smiled.

"Normally?" she asked, sounding deeply concerned.

"It's hard to look attractive in a suit," I explained, and she grinned ruefully. The floater suits we wore when we were doing outside work were a dull mustard yellow colour, and they were baggy enough in the upper back to fit over the breather but were then strapped tight at the lower back where the propulsion pack mounted. The hoods were clear all around, but for someone with hair as long as Dillit it just meant that their hair was crammed awkwardly up against the hood. It was not a good look.

"Yes," she agreed, "I really didn't want to wear one of these things. Like, ever. This is actually the first time."

"Ah," I said, wondering if I had just turned her off from ever wearing one again, "what made you change your mind?"

"Oh, well I..." I could see that she was bright red with embarrassment, so I just waited.

"Um, the kindy clan are sort of, well, scared of you," she finally said.

"Really?" I asked, and she nodded gravely. "Why?"

"You've done, like everything right, and we've done like nothing."

"You guys are still young," I said encouragingly.

"I know," she said, "but by the time you were my age you were like famous everywhere."

"Uh, huh," I agreed, it was true.

"So I, uh, wanted to try to do something nobody else has done before too," she finally blurted out.

"And what is that?" I asked, quite unsure of where this was going.

"I want you fuck me, like right here," she said quickly, her face glowing brightly.

"Here?" I asked doubtfully, "it wouldn't work, we'd freeze."

"Not if we just used the emergency apps," she said, and I stopped to consider this idea.

The floater suits were pretty darn good technology way back then. Space can be cold, really cold, and the suits had heating built in which made it possible for us to be out there for a couple of hours without becoming solid. The science techs had also conquered the worst problem of all, the need to have a piss in the middle of your shift. The suits were fitted with an extraction system and if you wanted to go then you just did. At the end of the shift you just unplugged the bag and all was well. It made putting on the suits more interesting for the men and it must have been the same for the women too. The emergency apps were for use if the extraction system failed. You basically unzipped the suit and let fly as it were. That was all well and good, but as far away from a star as we were at the time, even that brief exposure could turn your pubic hair into icicles that would snap off as soon as you turned around quickly.

"Wow," I said, not really capable of more intelligent conversation as my mind raced. We would create our own warmth I reasoned, and the chance of my cock getting frostbite and dropping off would be greatly reduced by both being inside Dillit and by my ability to heal from damn near anything. But she didn't have that advantage.

"Please," she said, "I really want to try this. I've like always been the boring one, the kid that everyone else feels a bit sorry for because their life is so uninteresting. That's like why I joined the mission, but when I got here everyone else was even further ahead of me."

"I, uh..."

"Don't you find me attractive?" she asked, pulling the female trump card. 'Sure,' I thought, 'you are hidden in an ugly yellow suit with your hair mashed up against the hood. From this distance my eyes can see no evidence that you are female.' But, of course, I didn't say that.

"I think you are beautiful," I said, and normally she was too.

"Then why not?" she demanded.

"You could get, er... frostbite," I suggested.

"Not with the right amount of friction," she said and she walked the couple of steps it too to reach me and her gloved hand went to the front of my suit.

"See, you are interested," she said, and it was hard to deny it as she squeezed my half erect cock.

"Yeah," I agreed, and I reached for her. Through her suit I could definitely feel that she was all woman, even if on a smaller scale than I was used to. We groped each other for a while and the Dillit looked into my eyes.

"On the count of three?" she said and I nodded and reached for the emergency app tab.

"One," she said, reaching down.

"Two," I said as she turned away.

"Like, three," she said, and then gasped as she bared her pussy and bent forward. I had my cock out too and felt the brutal cold attack me for the couple of moments it took to undo the extraction chute, line up her wet pussy and then drive myself deep into it.

"Oh fuck," she gasped, "that's so cold already."

"Don't worry," I assured her, "it's getting warmer." And it was.

Normally when I fuck a woman, particular a less experienced one, I am careful to take it very slowly at the beginning to let her adjust to the size of my cock. But already I could feel a dull ache in my balls from the cold and what I needed to do as fast as possible was get them up against Dillit's skin, and the only way to do that was to get full depth inside her. I managed to do this after only about ten strokes.

"Holy shit Commander Scabbard," she exclaimed as I pulled her against me.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Just like stretched," she said, 'but don't stop."

"For now you can call me Josh," I suggested.

"No way, I like want to be fucked by the famous Commander Scabbard," she said. I wondered what was in a name, but I didn't have to wonder what was in Dillit.

I waited for just a moment longer and then I started to fuck her with short strokes so that the cold wouldn't get between us too much and so I could create some warming friction as well.

It was one of the most memorable sexual experiences of my life. Very quickly I was screwing her fast, more like the pace that I would use when the woman is about to cum and I want to accelerate my release to match. But out there in the freezing cold there was no immediate risk of me getting off early. I held Dillit from behind, my hands grasping her hips firmly as I fucked her furiously but I felt like I was going to last forever. It was glorious and she gasped repeatedly as I plunged into her depths.

"Damn this is good," I gasped, quite surprised that it was.

"This is like really amazing," she agreed.

It took Dillit about five minutes to reach her first orgasm, and when she did cum she cried out with pleasure as her pussy grabbed my cock. I didn't stop, that would have been too cold, and I just continued my assault as my rock hard cock felt the extreme contrast of the icy cold of outer space on the back stroke and the cosy warmth of Dillit's pussy as I slammed into her.

As far as workouts go this was one of the most intense that I have ever experienced. I fucked Dillit at a furious pace for ages, and she came seven times around my cock over the next forty odd minutes. She was a shuddering mess, and barely able to keep standing as I checked the time display and realised we had to do the next application on the deflectors soon.