Lost Colony Ch. 12-3

As if to confirm his thoughts, she suddenly twisted away. “Hey, help me with this.”

Baffled, Sparr followed her back inside. Calista went into the bedroom, and before Sparr could catch up with her, began tugging the mattress off the bed.

“What the fuck, Cali?”

“You’ll see, help me.” She was grinning, pleased to have some plan that he wasn’t in on.

Together they dragged the mattress into the living area, then halfway onto the balcony.

“It’s thirty degrees outside,” Sparr said, “and humid as fuck.”

“So get naked, then.” Calista took another sip of whisky, then, making sure Sparr was watching, tugged off her top. Her fine blonde hair scattered in disarray, but she shook it back, the motion jiggling her full breasts.

Pulling off his own shirt, Sparr caught his reflection in the balcony door. He had kept up his exercise routine during mission preparation, and it showed. His waist was still trim, his abs noticeable, and a few new muscles had made themselves visible on his shoulders and upper arms. He had been leaner in his early twenties but ten years later felt a touch of pride at how well he had taken care of himself.

“Pants, too,” Calista said impatiently. She wriggled out of her tights, again putting on a show with her toned legs and round ass. “On your back, big fella.”

Sparr complied, hastily yanking off his trousers and flopping down on the mattress. His upper body lay in the open air of the balcony, with the launch platforms visible to the left. Above, as many stars as could, shined through the humid air.

“This guy,” Calista said, addressing his cock. She took a quick glance at her watch. “I should say hello to him.”

“Yes you should.”

Calista bent to her work, laying between his legs. Almost lazily she lifted his cock, assessed it, then licked slowly from the base to the tip. “Hello, Alain Junior,” she said.

“Alain Junior says hi back.”

“Yes he does.” Calista licked again as Sparr’s organ swelled in her hand. “He’s happy to see me.”

“Isn’t he always?”

“Yes, you’re… I mean him. He’s reliable that way.” She gave another deliriously long lick, this one starting at his balls and not ending until she had repeatedly circled the head. Her hair spilled across the tops of his thighs.

Sparr groaned with pleasure, but Calista wasn’t interested in giving a blowjob. As soon as she had him hard, the blonde mounted him. With just a wriggle, she aligned the head with her already slick center.

“Yeah, the first couple of minutes,” Calista said, drawing in a breath, “have to go slow.” She worked herself onto him gradually, her face revealing an occasional trace of discomfort. “After that,” she sighed, “we can pick it up a bit.”

“Take your time.” They were both now more outside than in. Sparr’s feet were tickled by the last of the suite’s cooled air, but elsewhere he was embraced by the tropical heat. He caught a whiff of jasmine. Above, thin clouds scudded by, briefly concealing then exposing the brightest of the stars. “And I admire your creativity but, ahhh, what inspired the indoor-outdoor session tonight?”

“You’ll see,” Calista said. She was still moving slowly, eyes mostly closed.

Sparr let the evening embrace him. He slid his hands up Calista’s flanks, lingering where the elastic of the sport top had left impressions in her flesh, then stroked forward to caress her breasts. She made a small, pleased sound when he brushed her nipples but otherwise ignored him. He decided to do the same, fondling Calista’s breasts and stroking her thighs, but mostly just letting her ride him. The sheets were already a wreck.

“There it is,” Calista said with a groan. “This is good.”

“Yeah?” Sparr asked. “How would you rate your balcony sex experience so far?”

“Four stars. The dick is good, and the delivery platform is good,” she continued, tracing her hands across his shoulders and chest, “but I’m subtracting one star for excessive chatter.”

“Fine, I’ll shut up then. Maybe I can earn that star back.”

“Mmmaybe.” She ground against him easily now, finding the positions that suited her. Like Sparr, Calista was feeling the effect of the heat and humidity, her skin showing a light sheen of perspiration. “We need to cum together tonight.” She gave another quick glance at her watch.

“You’re driving the train.” Whatever Calista was up to had something to do with time, a secret schedule she had chosen to conceal from him. It would be like her to want to fuck longer than they had before, setting some kind of record.

Together they drew closer to the brink. Calista slid forward, offering a breast for Sparr to lick and suck, but only for a few heartbeats before pulling back. “The other,” she said huskily. Again he teased her flesh, enjoying a taste of salt as he circled her nipple with his tongue. Calista groaned, but like before, pulled back. “Yeah, fuck.”

The muffled sounds to his left seemed louder, more urgent. Even through the fog of lust Sparr sensed something unusual was happening, heavy machinery in action or some sort of drill. He ignored it, letting the bliss of Calista’s slick insides carry him toward release. Perspiration dotted his skin. His breath grew rough. “Fuuck, Cali, I-“

“Not yet!” she cautioned, easing up a touch, not taking him as deep as before.

Suddenly Sparr laughed, his body tightening and releasing. He shook his head.


“I get it now.” He couldn’t help but grin.

“You do?” Calista was smiling, too.

“Yeah, I mean I can’t say I never thought about it, but…”

“So you know we have to time this just right?”

“Yeah, but like I said, you’re the one driving the train. And wearing the watch.”

“Right, and I’m not telling you when. Just follow my lead.” Calista had stopped riding him when he laughed, but now she resumed, her body pressing against his, slick and hot.

Whatever time Calista was targeting better be soon. With the blonde riding him, Sparr had no control over the pace, couldn’t ease up if he got too close, or even use shallow strokes. And if he read Calista properly she was right there with him. She was trembling, and not just from fatigue. Instead of arching up like she had earlier, she was leaning forward, her arms on his chest. “Oh, Alain.”

“I’m right there, Cali,” Sparr gasped, his fingers squeezing her thighs in warning. Bliss was surging through him, impossible to resist.

Finally, with Sparr perched on the brink of release, Calista slowed. “Me, too,” she groaned.

Then just when Sparr thought they wouldn’t make it, he heard a booming sound from his left, cutting through the night.

“Ten,” the amplified voice called out.

“”Bout fucking time,” he groaned.

“Nine.” The sound echoed across the entire compound.

“Oh yes,” Calista sighed. She pushed herself onto him, enveloping his full length.


“Fuuuck,” Sparr gasped. He slipped past the turning point, the orgasm ready to swallow him entirely.


“Gawwwd,” Calista groaned. She wriggled, finding just the right spot, pressing Alain’s straining organ against her clit.

“Six, five.”

“Ahhh, fuck.” Sparr tumbled into the abyss, aware of nothing beyond Calista’s deliciously slick pussy.

“Four, three, ignition.” A heavy rumble bullied its way into Sparr’s awareness, more felt than heard.

Calista’s pussy tightened as her nails dug into his chest. “Oh, ooh, mmmh.”

“Two, one, liftoff.”

A thunderous roar erupted across the compound as four jets of channeled flame lit the night. The rocket surged.

“Yesss!” Calista cried out triumphantly, her head arching back, breasts quivering. Droplets of perspiration dripped along her flanks, accentuating her lean strength, lingering on fine blonde hair before dropping to caress Sparr.

They had timed it perfectly. Sparr stiffened, his cock buried deep within Calista’s slit. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, releasing a spurt of hot cum. The intense, undeniable pleasure of orgasm consumed him, a wave of ecstasy to match the launch tearing apart the night sky less than a kilometer away.

Calista was laughing and cumming at the same time. Her mouth was open in a perfect O, eyes shut, and head thrown back. The blooming light from the rocket’s engines threw shadows across the hollows of her neck, between her breasts, and glittered off of her skin and lips. The spray of her hair was lit like a halo. She was frozen in the harsh light, her beauty burned into Sparr’s memory.

“Unhh.” Sparr’s hands locked onto Calista’s thighs as he unloaded, injecting her with another shot of cum. The wave of delight dragged him along as the rocket tore into the sky, a combination of noise, light, and clumsy metaphor.

Calista writhed atop him, smiling, moaning, and dragging out every possible second of orgasm for them both. At last she collapsed, spent and happy. Her skin was flushed and damp, her breath, like Sparr’s, ragged. For more than a minute neither spoke, until at last Calista answered his earlier question.

“I’ve decided,” she said, “after some thought, to change my rating to five stars.”


Sparr, Tracee, and Bogg slipped out of Seille before dawn, hoping to attract no further notice. With Tracee wrapped in a hooded cloak which mostly hid her cybernetic lenses, the trio followed the road out of town just as the fishermen and other early risers were rubbing the sleep from their eyes and shuffling into the cool morning. Feta, the planet’s small, pale moon, raced through the sky, providing just enough light for Sparr to find the clearing where he had concealed the air car.

Tracee pulled her hood back, gaping in astonishment. “The Skymaster 400 series! Very stylish.”

“Skymaster? Tracee, no one knows what this thing was called.”

“All the more reason to give it a sweet name,” Tracee explained. She walked the length of the car, trailing her hand over the rails, the roof, and the humps that accommodated the thruster housings. “Seriously, you built this?”

“It was kind of like building a kit,” Sparr explained, “but yes. I have to apologize though, I might not have built a seat for you. You can sit on the floor with Bogg. There’s a bunch of furs if you get cold.”

“Such a gentleman,” Tracee grumbled. “How ’bout I drive, and you cuddle with Bogg?”

“How ’bout you help me pack these supplies?”

While Bogg foraged for an early-morning meal of grubs and berries, Sparr and Tracee loaded the air car with provisions. The flight to Neeva wouldn’t take long, no more than two days, but he had no idea how long he might have to spy on the Odysseus camp before he could figure out an approach. Kevin had almost certainly set up tight security.

“Wish I could have eaten this well when I was a prisoner,” Tracee said wistfully. She was loading a bag of root vegetables alongside one stuffed with figs.

“Yeah, you were starving.” Sparr loaded a crate of his own. “And that reminds me, would you mind going over exactly how your capture played out?” Like some of her other revelations, Tracee had rushed through the story of her capture by the slavers. Sparr was eager for any detail he might have missed.

“Oh, it was great. Highlight of my visit so far.”

Sparr waited patiently for her to realize he was serious.

Tracee sighed. “Okay. So at first we weren’t allowed to leave the camp. The locals knew we were there before we realized how close to Neeva we had started to build. And we didn’t know the language yet. We sent out high-altitude drones to scout, and security set up a perimeter, but mostly we were focused on building housing, securing access to water, etc. A few people got sick from being woken up so abruptly from hibernation so I set up a little clinic. That kind of stuff.”

“But at some point people started to take, what, day trips?”

“Sort of. The locals had trampled down a spot where they gathered to watch us, so we started to trade there. Nothing technical, but we sent out drones to catch some game, which they liked.”

“You learned about the tokens.”

“Yeah. At first we thought they were just coins, which I guess they mostly are. Later, we figured out what they were originally designed for.”

“And you figured out how to produce them?”

“Produce?” Tracee gave him a perplexed look. “No, we kept a few but mostly bought stuff back from them to keep up a friendly trade. It’s in the protocol handbook, Alain.”

Sparr had more questions about trade, but decided to put them aside for now. “That doesn’t explain how you got captured.”

Tracee finished stowing a water jug and rested against the side of the car. “You want the holo-film rights, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’m picturing you out gathering medicinal herbs when the slavers surround you. You’re outnumbered, but fight back valiantly. At some point your flight suit is torn, partly revealing your lithe body.”

“Ohhhh,” Tracee said, pretending to fan herself. “So you think I have a lithe body?”

“The actress who’ll play you in the film will.”

Tracee flung a fig at Sparr. “Anyway, you have it all wrong. Except for the part about how hot I am.”

“Okay, correct me.”

“I wasn’t gathering medicinal herbs. After six months in the camp Fowler started letting small groups take excursions providing security kept an eye on them. They’d fly a drone nearby and if you signaled distress then it could stun anyone threatening you. Anyway, there was an original colonist site that a bunch of us were interested in seeing, several abandoned vehicles and gutted buildings.”

“Let me guess,” Sparr said, “Kevin was operating the drones that day.” He had already shared his suspicions about Calista and Kevin.

“I don’t know,” Tracee shrugged, “maybe? I had no reason to think about it, honestly. I was just happy to be getting outside of camp.”

“So you went to the site?”

“Yeah. Five of us. It was fun. I guess no one knows why the original colonists gave up on their tech, but they certainly stripped it clean after the fact. I brought a gene sequencer with the idea that I’d figure it out. That cute guy from the anthropology team was there, and we traded theories about what happened. Anyway, we wandered around a bit, but when it was time to rendezvous, my communicator went haywire. I got completely lost.”

“And before you knew it, you had been captured.”

Tracee nodded morosely. “You really think Kevin had something to do with this?”

“Were you suspicious of him or Calista? Could he have overheard you somehow?”

“Overheard? No, there wasn’t anyone I would have talked to about them, but… shit.”


“I did journal. And yeah, Calista is so fucking secretive, and Kevin is creepy… I guess I might have written a few things about them. I knew all those rumors about you were bullshit. Could Kevin have read the entries?”

“He could have. Assuming you journaled on an Alliance computer, he could have hacked it. With his access level he could make sure the drone was too far away, and interfere with your navigation so you got lost. Plus I assume that security teams left the camp often. He could have already made contact with the slavers.” It made sense, and reinforced the dangers of approaching the Odysseus camp. If Kevin was running the camp’s defensive systems he might be able to intercept Sparr and Tracee before they could even get close.

The two finished packing in silence.


With the air car, Sparr saw more of Kaybe than he had in over half a year of journeying by foot, wagon, and ship. He flew them well to the east, avoiding the coast road and the smaller towns that dotted it. There, he discovered a range of mountains, worn soft by rain and ice. Some were imposing, craggy, and edged in white, but more were lower and gentler. Here and there they spotted roads which curled through a pass to the dry plains beyond.

There were other discoveries. Sparr had sampled the variety of produce in the Seille markets, and now he saw the fields that grew them. Tiny villages, each little more than a crossroads with four or five slouching homes, fanned out into compact orchards of a dozen oddly-shaped plots. Grape vines strained trellises next to groves of apple and plum. Sparr thought he spotted almond trees, or at least a close relative.

When they landed to take a break or camp, Sparr continued to collect DNA samples. Trees, vines, tubers, insects, and moss all proved to be closely related to Earth equivalents. He laid several strips near the burrow of a rodent-like creature which turned out to be a cousin of the spiny mouse. A feather proved to be from an owl he had heard but was yet to see.

He dabbed a strip against a cluster of frog eggs and read them into the scanner.

Sarcohyla cyanomma (extinct): 98.9% match

Sparr sucked in a sharp breath. He had grown numb to the realization that Kaybe somehow was overflowing with Earth species, but finding an extinct animal jarred him. It was yet another mystery on a planet that had more than its share.

Neeva itself was beautiful. After another half day of travel, with Bogg mostly asleep and Tracee alternating between rattling off a humorous travelogue of the sights and criticizing Sparr’s driving, the city appeared before them. Nestled against and between two of the larger mountains, it more resembled a cluster of villages than a single cohesive city. A hundred or more streams poured from the mountain or bubbled up from springs, each carving its way toward the sea. Scores upon scores of bridges, some relics abandoned by the original colonists and some newer plank and rope foot bridges, connected the different neighborhoods. Among them Sparr spotted clusters of buildings large enough to include an avenue of original structures and a cluster of streets lined with impromptu homes. Others were no more than a few shops and huts.

Somewhere to the north lay the Odysseus camp. Tracee had explained it was close enough for an enterprising merchant to lug her wares during the morning, trade in the afternoon, and be safely back in Neeva before nightfall. By air car it would be only a few minutes away. They were already uncomfortably close.

As he had in Seille, Sparr landed a safe distance outside of town then walked the rest of the way in. With Tracee once again doing the best she could to conceal herself in the cloak, the two found a nondescript inn and checked in, Bogg in tow. The outlines of a plan were emerging.

“I’ll take the air car and do a wide loop around the camp. They don’t know we have the car, so as long as I fly high enough I should be fine. I’ll look for any defenses, drones, etc.”

“And if you find them?” Tracee was reclining on the bed, one hand hanging over the side to scratch at Bogg.

Sparr had given it some thought. “If an approach in the air car doesn’t look safe I think our best bet would be to get to the trading area you told me about. Approach from Neeva like we’re locals. If we can get close enough to contact someone in the crew then they can escort us in.”

For once the petite woman didn’t have a snappy reply. Both knew the risks of approaching the camp. “And if you don’t make it back?” Tracee’s lenses were unreadable, but the concern in her voice was unmistakable.

“Here.” On their way to the inn Sparr had stopped to purchase charcoal and a piece of parchment. With Tracee watching he made a careful drawing, rolled it, and bound it with string. “If I don’t come back, take this to the house of the Precipice. Tell them where I went. Tell them,” he struggled to remember the proper phrase, “that I will help quiet the planet. Repeat it.”

“You’ll help quiet the planet. Whatever the fuck that means. Alain, I just don’t understand. That drawing, the message…”

Sparr had told Tracee his story, but hadn’t yet had time to fill in some of the details. “I don’t understand half of what’s going on here myself. I once did a favor for the Precipice. At the very least they may be able to escort you back to the Odysseus camp.”

As he had the last time the two separated, Sparr left Tracee with the light pistol, a pouch full of tokens, and a small stockpile of food. He left behind the gene sequencer but donned the bearskin coat he had been given by Miah weeks earlier.

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