Vanejin VI Port Authority to unidentified spacecraft. Hailing unidentified spacecraft approaching coordinate sector 43 degrees north, 72 degrees west. All spacecraft in sector 43N, 72W, please activate identity beacons. We repeat: Vanejin VI Port Authority to unidentified spacecraft. Hailing unidentified spacecraft approaching coordinate sector 43 degrees north, 72 degrees west. All spacecraft in sector 43N, 72W, please activate identity beacons…
A pillar hurtled across space, a composite of exotic metal and synthetic materials. It rode on a plume of irradiated plasma. In its guts a dense, magnetic core resisted a fantastic pressure, containing a reaction of chemicals and energy that could only be properly described by thousands of numbers. Those thousands of numerical symbols were sifted by a computer, measuring out energy as necessary to sustain the reaction. That same computer detected a signal originating from a point in space nearly coinciding with the destination stored in its memory banks. A circuit connected, analyzing the message, deeming it relevant, assigning the task of handling it to a subroutine. Somewhere, affixed to the power core, opposite the inferno streaming out from the reactionless drive mechanism, electricity flooded to conduits held dormant for weeks.

<query> : Sensor= (3.7x+61y)
:Sensor=radio
--prompt list
<retrieve-radio
:attachment (radio)
<query> TRANSLATION
Vanejin VI Port Authority to unidentified spacecraft. Hailing unidentified spacecraft approaching coordinate sector 43 degrees north, 72 degrees west. All spacecraft in sector 43N, 72W, please activate identity beacons.
<isolate—form list: (Vanejin Port Authority identity beacon)=command variables present
If CV/activate 21R
:activate 21R
<activate 21R

Opposite the reactionless thruster, a room was mounted upon the ship. The room was held within complex walls, a sandwich of radiation filters, insulators, superconductors, and piping. Inside the contents were sparse, the interiors of the chamber smooth, antiseptic, and blue, as if a robin’s egg had been turned inside out. Clustered arbitrarily at the edges of the compartment was a computer terminal modeled after the human fashion, blank monitors mounted on a frame like so many sheets of paper, several boards printed with symbols in a language called English, a prolific human speech. Manual manipulation tools composed the remainder, along with holographic display modules. One section was screened off, containing tools and packages of rations stabilized to resist entropy. Three columns rose from ceiling to floor. The cylindrical objects were massive, affixed in their positions. Panels of some transparent material allowed a view into the interiors. Etched into the metal above these panels were the figures CRYOGENIC SUSPENSION HABITAT #12G5 565 01Z. Only one of the cryogenic sleep devices was inhabited. As the computer’s subroutine completed its task the panel of the inhabited tube was obscured in fog, and a low hum sounded in the lonely chamber. Minutes later, a nude female, apparently human, pushed herself out of the freezing coffin, trembling from the aftereffects of reawakening. Stimulant chemicals stirred her blood and warmed her. She gave in to disorientation and allowed herself to drift for a few moments, ignoring for the moment the message displayed upon the computer setup. Finally, she sighed, stretching in midair.

“Natsuki Saika, voice pattern activation.” She recited a string of code. “Recognize.”

“IDENTITY CONFIRMED. PRIMARY USER: NATSUKI SAIKA.”

“Run program Leopold. First tier permission.” A monitor in the corner flickered to life, awash in color. The hues blended hypnotically, and resolved into the face of a middle aged human male. The visage was clean shaven, hard eyed, and smiling. The representation moved a hand onscreen and ran it through his chestnut hair.

“Salutations Miss Saika. Sorry to be abrupt, but we are approaching our destination, and Vanejin officials are demanding an introduction. Shall I take the liberty of activating the ID beacon?” Natsuki’s slim, naked figure hung canted at right angles to the computer.

“Manufacture some attire for me Leopold, and give the Port Authority their introduction.” Natsuki smiled backward at the simulated personality. She raised an arm over her torso to hide her pert breasts. Leopold’s nose twitched, and he took on a grave expression. “Your modesty is my utmost concern Miss.”

Personal transport vessel, Classification B7, Ivory Tower, requesting permission to land groundside at the city of Marmillion.

Port Authority here, identity confirmed. Ivory Tower requesting transport groundside. Your vessel is certified for atmospheric maneuvers. Will you be docking at Vanejin VI Starport, or landing at Marmillion City?

Request to bring Ivory Tower to ground at Marmillion, confirm.

We read you Ivory Tower please hold for screening…


“Bring up relevant news from Marmillion Leopold.” Natsuki’s gown billowed about her, pale lavender with white lace. She ran her hands along the ribbons of her corset. “You did a good job this time, by the way. This dress is as light as smoke, but perfectly opaque. Mmmmm, it’s better than silk.” She purred.

“Thank you Miss. I aimed for delicacy and modesty, with a concentration on the sensuality of the texture. Does it feel appealing?” Natsuki nodded generously, to Leopold’s reserved delight.

“Excellent. As for Marmillion, today is the third day in the turbulent season on Vanejin VI. At the latitude of Marmillion at present and the distance from the nearest star, climate is unstable. I took the liberty of waterproofing your garments, but you may want to take a parasol. It is an official holiday, celebrating the proliferation of flora and fauna that will come out of dormancy during the season. Xenozoology and xenobiology represent strong markets as a consequence of this phenomenon, so the population of the city is estimate to double within the next day or so.”

“Good. I should be able to acquire my specimens without trouble then.” Natsuki readjusted a prominent white bow at the small of her back, whose tassels trailed a quarter of the way down the embroidered expanse of her long skirts. She kicked her ankles, making lace ruffle.

“I’m glad you’re pleased, Miss Saika.”

Port Authority here, transmitting trajectory calculation to Ivory Tower. Please proceed along assigned flight path.

Dominique had gone far too long without a mission, and she was getting restless. She had been in Marmillion City for a week now, watching the place get ready for its big annual celebration. Everyone seemed to be excited and smiling and ready to party, except for Domi.

Dressed in civilian attire that felt far less comfortable than her armor, the fit raven-haired beauty was passing the time besting men in physical challenges in a bar. Her short black hair was held out of her face with a headband, and she wore a simple white tank-top and green camo pants. She had a thick green jacket on the chair behind her. This planet's weather drove her crazy: too humid for heavy clothes, but too wet to go without a jacket.

Beads of sweat stood out on Dominique's golden-brown skin. The slightest exertion in this damn place soaked you in perspiration. The bar's ventilation system wasn't working properly, and the place smelled of alcohol and human bodies.

Dominique's pouty lips were settled into their accustomed scowl as she stared down the hairy-faced man in front of her. The man spit into his palm, then held his meaty hand open, his elbow on the table.

"Let's go, woman," he growled with disdain. Domi narrowed her eyes and clasped his hand with her much-smaller one, and the arm-wrestling began.

Domi's biggest advantage was her deceptive strength. Her body, while clearly fit, was covered in soft curves and padding that hid the powerful muscles underneath. Her large breasts and exaggerated ass made it so men never dreamed of the strength she had - they were too busy dreaming about other things.

Using surprise to her advantage, Domi threw her force into a strong opening that the man was not prepared to counter. His hand slammed on the table, and his jaw dropped open.

The bar was full of jeers and hoots at Domi's triumph. She grabbed the expensive cocktail that was her victory prize, sipping it slowly as she left the dark tavern. The alcohol combined with the flush of victory made her skin tingle, and her dark nipples hardened within her tight sports-bra. She held her jacket over her shoulder and stood on the front steps of the bar, watching the masses of people walk the streets. A light rain was falling, but in her flushed state she was far too warm to wear her coat.

Dominique sighed, leaning on a post, and wished again for excitement.

Scanning the crowds, her mind wandering, Dominique's eyes locked on a young human girl, walking seemingly by herself along the crowded street. What was she doing here? Didn't she know how dangerous it was?

Back home in New York, Domi had learned quickly that you avoided the "wrong" parts of town, and whenever you walked anywhere questionable you had to go in a group. She had followed those rules until, when became a Junior in high school, she had started to work out and practice martial arts, and puberty had blessed her with her impressive height. After that, she began to seek out the "bad" parts of town, teaching would-be attackers lessons they never forgot.

In the crowd around the girl, Domi saw a few men who seemed to be too interested in the young girl. She wasn't sure of their intentions, but she suspected they were slavers.

"It's not a mission," Dominique said to herself, "But it's something to do." She put on her coat and stepped out in to the crowd, her confident stature clearing a way for her as she moved towards the men and the girl.

Her hand dropped to her pistol as she saw a man take out what she thought was a weapon, but she relaxed when she saw it was only a small device. The slaver waved it around a little in the direction of the girl, then looked up and saw Dominique approaching. He looked back at the device, and his face twisted in fear. With a signal to the other men, all of them began to back off, and were soon gone into an alley.

With pride in her step, Dominique pushed her way through the crowd towards the young girl, who was all dressed up like some sort of doll. Domi reached her and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face her. For a second she looked almost familiar - but Domi was too impatient to pursue the thought of where she knew this girl.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing out here by yourself? Don't you know it's dangerous?"

Dominique crossed her arms across her chest as the girl backed away. The ADD Agent's generous breasts were pressed upwards by her disapproving posture, although Domi didn't notice. Rain was rapidly dampening her short black hair and her mood, and although she had her coat on her shoulders, the zipper was broken, and so the garment hung open wide and didn't protect her chest from the weather.

A drop of water clung irritatingly to Domi's small steel nose-stud, and she shook it off with a flick of her head, watching it for a moment as it fell past her green pants and on to her black leather boot. Then she looked back at the girl.

“Oh no! You’ve ripped it! And after Leopold did such a good job. You could have been more careful.” The girl complained, stamping her foot girlishly. Dominique looked, noticing that she had indeed torn the sleeve of the girl's elaborate, doll-like dress. The dress plus the girl's delicate size and stature made her seem very young and helpless. Rather than softening Domi's attitude, however, this just made her more angry. What the hell was this girl thinking?

Shaking her head at the little airhead, Domi said, "So I've ripped your dress, which means you'll have to go home, or at least to wherever you are staying, which is where you should be right now anyway. You've wasted enough of my time saving you, so move along now. Run home to your mother."

Domi's eyes lingered over the girl's willowy form, which had just enough curves to interest the slavers and other lecherous types who swarmed over this planet. This girl was a fool.

Dominique shook her head at the girl's pitiful display. She was like something out of a children's story, a poor girl all alone who got herself into trouble. She was just lucky that Domi found her before the big bad wolf did!

"Alright, Charlotte, I can help you," Dominique said, annoyance in her voice. She couldn't abandon the girl to her foolishness, as much as the little thing deserved to learn a harsh lesson. The proud agent was extremely irritated that, rather than a combat mission, she was wasting her time with a glorified babysitting job.

"I'm not a policewoman, though," Domi said, taking the girl's arm firmly and pulling her out of the way of the crowds, under an overhanging tarp that protected Dominique's rapidly-dampening shirt from the rain. "My name is Dominique, and I'm..." she hesitated, unsure if this girl had ever heard of the ADD, or whether telling her would be permitted, "I'm a sort of spy/soldier. I'm Dominique, but I'd prefer it if you called me Ma'am. It's more polite."

Domi noticed the girl looking at her chest strangely, and the agent noticed the near-transparent state of her shirt. Pulling her broken coat around her damp breasts, trying to keep them covered, she tugged the girl along behind her, scowling. "It's not polite to stare, Charlotte. You should know that. Now where is this Leopold? I'd like to talk to him."

Dominique felt at angry blush at the girl's comment, but her dark skin hid it well. She had worked long and hard to be recognized for something other than her tits and ass, and she didn't appreciate this little brat's attempt at a "compliment."

"Yeah, yeah," Domi said in response to the girl's compliment, "I'm stacked, thanks for noticing." She huffed and held her coat closed over her chest with one hand, gripping the girl's slender shoulder with another. The girl's own curves were much more modest, but suited her body well. Dominique wouldn't have minded spending some time alone with her, but her "helpless little girl" personality irritated her far too much. The girl obviously lacked the strength of will, body, or intellect to challenge Domi, and so she was nothing more than a nuisance.

"How long is this Leopold going to take? Where did you last see him?" Dominique was wet and cold, and the girl's glances had made her wish she could go back to her room and change into some heavier clothes. She always felt naked out of her armor, and so never paid much attention to her civilian clothes.

Dominique sat down on a stone bench under the overhanging tarp, her well-cushioned ass protecting her from the hard, cold stone. Forcefully, no longer caring if she caused the irritating girl some discomfort (she would have gotten far worse from those slavers!), Domi gripped her wrist and pulled her close.

"Sit down here and wait," Domi ordered, pointing to the bench. Due to the agent's generous hips, there wasn't much bench left, but the girl was petite enough to squeeze into the remaining space.

The buzz of the cocktail had quickly burned away, along with the earlier excitement she had felt. Now Dominique was surly, and, on top of everything, she had to pee. She crossed her powerful thighs and sighed, wondering if she could get away with handcuffing the girl to a pole and just leaving her there for "Leopold."

Dominique stood up from the bench and shook Leopold's hand, squeezing it hard in her grip to test him, as she always did with new people.

The agent didn't know quite what to make of this well-dressed, proper-looking man. He wasn't the type she was used to dealing with. Glancing at the smirking Charlotte, Domi's annoyance returned, and she let Leopold know exactly how she felt.

"Yes, Leopold, she's told me all about you. I'm Dominique, and if it wasn't for me she would be on a slaver's ship right now, tied up and gagged! What the hell were you thinking, letting her wander around this part of town with no escort, no weapons, and dressed in that silly outfit? If she gave you the slip, then you need to pay more attention, dammit, and that's not an excuse, just an admission that you failed."

The dark-haired woman's rant was catching the eyes of a few passer-by. Domi used a lot of gestures when she was upset, and she had forgotten about the state of her shirt once again. Her coat had fallen open, and her large breasts and dark nipples were visible through the damp fabric as she waved her arms about, expressing her disbelief with Leopold's irresponsibility.

"You're lucky I don't handcuff you and take you back to ADD headquarters and throw you in a cell," Dominique muttered angrily, not realizing the significance of what she had said.

Domi watched the strange pair walk away, shaking her head. Those two were...odd, to say the least. But now they were out of her life, and she never had to see that little airhead again! Thinking again of the girl's lush curves and well-formed body, Domi shook her head.

Shame about that mouth that girl had, Domi thought to herself as she walked. The only fix for that would be to put her lips to work between my legs.

The arousing thought reminded the agent that she had to get back to her hotel room, to pee and to change out of her damp clothing. She remembered her broken jacket once again, realizing the show she must have given Leopold when she was yelling at him. She scowled angrily and began to walk through the streets.

She loved her body, of course, and wasn't ashamed of it...but at the same time she hated getting attention for the way she looked. She was strong, powerful, intelligent, and a great warrior - being reduced to just a pair of big tits and a huge ass always made her frustrated and, deep down, embarrassed.

By the time Dominique got back to her room, she had almost wet herself. She threw open the door to the bathroom, not even bothering to close it, and sat down with a sigh of relief. Once she was finished, she stripped off her damp clothes and got into a hot shower, feeling irritated and dirty after her strange encounter with Charlotte.

Domi took her time cleansing her light-brown skin, enjoying the feel of the water on her body. She noticed some stubble around the edges of her thick pubic bush, and set to work with a razor to get everything trimmed. Most women these days had discarded razors in favor of permanent laser-removal treatments, but Domi preferred to do the work herself, with a blade.

Finally stepping out of the shower, the agent scrubbed at her short hair vigorously with a towel. She decided she'd had enough of looking at people, and decided to stay inside. Wearing nothing but black cotton panties and a black sports bra, the agent began to stretch, a form of Yoga designed to strengthen her muscles and improve her reflexes.