Crash Landing
Badmiral Biscuit
Being grounded sucked.
Her ship had taken damage, and she’d had to make a decision. Take her chances in space, or land on the nearest habitable plant.
It wasn’t an easy decision to make; the engine was still running and that might be enough to get her back to base, back to her friends, back to repair parts.
Or it might not, and then she’d be drifting through the merciless vacuum of space until the life support failed or until she ran out of food.
Landing was safer, but this was a planet with no spaceports, no known repair facilities (it was noted as having a well-established, peaceful civilization, at least), and it was doubtful that she’d have enough thrust to take off again unless repairs were made. The flight computer spit out different results with every calculation—if she was stingy with fuel when she came down, if there wasn’t much maneuvering and if the computer was correct about how damaged her engine was, she could fly again. If not—
Well, dropping down from the stratosphere in an unpowered craft was a quick end.
So she’d done the smart thing, she’d run scans and she’d picked a landing spot that was clear enough of obstructions—normally, she could use retro-rockets, but given the engine damage it was safest to assume they wouldn’t fire right—and close enough to a big city she could potentially get repair parts locally.
If not, she’d be waiting for them to get dropped from a supply ship.
•••
The landing had gone as well as could be expected. She hadn’t broken anything more on the ship, which was all the more impressive since the retro-rockets had failed a dozen meters above the ground. Struts were built strong for a reason. Shame her spine wasn’t.
As far as she could tell, she hadn’t broken anything of value on the ground. The ship wasn’t sitting in the flaming rubble of an orphanage, for example.
She’d rapidly cycled through her after-landing checks, taken a glance at the various gauges on the ship to make sure that the local atmosphere was actually breathable. Scans from space had said it was, but no probes had been dropped to confirm this.
And then she’d made a radio call, detailing her current position, suspected damage to the ship, and the external readings for good measure. Pulled off her helmet, shaken out her hair, and reached up to pull the canopy release when she noticed two figures outside, both looking in.
Thunder Flap and Zoom Zephyrwing, as she’d later find out. Both guards in the employ of Queen Haven, current queen of Zephyr Heights, which was near where she’d landed.
They were equine, about her height and build, wearing Romanesque armor and helmets and carrying spears in their hands. Whoever had made their breastplates had included nipple detail, which looked appropriate enough on Thunder Flap, but just odd on his female partner.
Since they were up at the level of the canopy, looking down, she assumed they’d set up ladders or perhaps had some kind of jetpack or levitation gear.
Zoom tapped on the canopy to get her attention, and she popped it open. Maybe not the smartest move if they were hostile; the ship wasn’t exactly built to sustain heavy fire while on the ground, but the canopy was certainly spear-proof.
The two of them were gesturing and giving orders in a strange language.
She kicked on her universal translator. That wasn’t on the after-landing checklist, but it should have been.
It took it a moment to start processing, and since it only had a very small sample to work with (and whatever had been monitored and fed in on previous surveys), it wasn’t a great translation, but the gist was “You’re under arrest, come with us.”
Not exactly the welcome she was hoping for.
•••
They didn’t recognize her staff or blaster as weapons, or maybe they weren’t supposed to take them from her. Maybe the translator was wrong. For now, her best bet was to go along with them and do what they wanted; at worst, rescue was only a few days away.
•••
She got tossed in a cell in—well, it was too modern to call it a castle, but it was a castle. It felt more like the kind of ‘we don’t know what to do with you just yet’ sort of cell, which suggested that it wouldn’t be very long before somebody came to interview her and she could explain the situation.
And indeed, that was the case.
By now, she’d noticed that all the equines had wings rather than jetpacks, and the translator had started to get better speech samples, improving its translations.
That bit of kit had gotten the attention of the first interviewer, and he’d sent another one in, this one a vapid blonde named Dazzle Feather.
That interview was less concerned about her spaceship and the emergency landing, and more focused on what she was, why she’d come, how many others there were, if she was a predator, and what her space suit was made out of. Really ran the gamut.
It would have been more concerning, but the two guards who had arrested her and were now flanking her cell had exchanged looks a couple times, and the stallion had rolled his eyes when the questions about her spacesuit started.
And then she was free.
“Sorry about that, Krystal.” The female guard had opened the door and motioned for her to come out. “Better to be safe than sorry, you know.”
“So we’ve been ordered to guard you,” the stallion said. “After that crazy bitch got access—”
“Thunder!”
“She’s crazy and we both know it. Got her head up in the clouds so she knows which way the wind’s blowing, she’s practically a weathervane.”
“ANYWAY we’ve got a room for you, and tomorrow we’re gonna go out with a crew of mechanics and see if we can fix your engine.”
They didn’t have spaceflight, at least as far as anyone knew, but then they didn’t have to build a functioning engine from scratch, just fix the damage on hers. She hadn’t gotten a good look while she was being guided away from her ship, but most of the damage seemed to be on the cone, and if that was hammered back into shape, it ought to work.
Fuel was the other issue; if the engine was fixed she’d have enough to get into space, do a mid-air refueling, but if they could provide some that would simplify things.
Later on, they could negotiate over the radio for costs; there was plenty that could be dropped down for barter.
•••
The room was nice enough, certainly more spacious than anything a spaceship had to offer. Good views out the window; these ponies liked building up. Modern tech, but she didn’t spot any aircraft—of course with wings, maybe they wouldn’t bother.
She unzipped her suit as soon as she crossed the threshold into her room; it was hot and uncomfortable and the sooner she was out of it the better. She dropped it to her waist and then bent over to unfasten her boots, and that was when she noticed that the guards had followed her into the room.
Krystal had expected that they’d stay outside and guard the door, like they had in her temporary cell.
Zoom already had her face firmly plamed, while Thunder watched wide-eyed. Krystal continued disrobing, entirely unconcerned with their thoughts on the matter.
She’d spotted a closet and hung up her space suit, set her boots in front of it. “This place got a shower?”
“Down the hall.”
“Great.” She reached back and unfastened her bra. Thunder watched with interest, Zoom tried and failed to put a professional expression back on her face. “Either one of you want to give me directions?”
Thunder’s hand shot up at the word ‘one’.
“Well?”
“It’s, um, down the hall.”
“I already know that.”
He leaned his spear against the doorframe. “Follow me.”
“One sec.” She stripped off her panties. “Soap and stuff in there?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zoom had managed to regain at least a trace of professional countenance. “Towels, too. Maybe even a robe.”
•••
Water conservation on a spaceship was important; here not so much. She could, and did, take a long, luxurious, decadent shower while Thunder guarded the door. Or diddled his piddle, she didn’t know or care. She was more than capable of taking care of herself and had an idea she could take on both guards if it came to it.
But she wouldn’t, because if she did, they might send someone more capable and that might be a disadvantage if things went sideways. “Hey, Thunder.”
“Yeah?”
“How long you been in?”
“In?”
“The service? A guard?” She lathered the shampoo in her hair; it was a pleasant floral scent, a nice change from the usual space supplies.
“Three years.”
“Zoom your senior?”
“She’s—no, she’s not been in as long.”
“Really.”
“She was one of the best in her class, and she’s really serious about her job. You’re kind of bothering her.”
“Am I.”
“’Cause you—well, you know.”
“Nope.” Krystal finished rinsing out her hair and shut off the water. She shook off as much water as she could before sliding the shower door open and grabbing for a towel. “No idea, I think she doesn’t like me.”
“I think that she’s just upset that you’re not wearing clothes.”
“No reason to.” She walked out of the shower, still toweling her hair dry. “Besides, all I’ve got is that suit and it’s hot and uncomfortable when I’m on the ground.”
He tried and failed to hide the fact he was checking her out.
“You should have ...” His voice trailed off; higher mental processes had been deactivated.
“You wanna just fuck?”
“What?”
Krystal draped the towel over her shoulders. Its tails almost covered her breasts.
“Way I see it, all the room’s got going for it is a TV I don’t care for, books and magazines I can’t read, and a view. Night’d go a lot faster if I wasn’t alone in the bed.”
“I’m supposed to guard—”
“Nobody’s going to get to me if you’re right there, now will they?” She ran a finger across his chin. “You got a rule against fraternizing?”
“Um.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Zoom.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“That a chance you want to take?”
•••
Zoom wasn’t happy.
Promising her a turn with Fox—if and when he arrived—didn’t do anything to change her mood.
She also refused to leave the confines of the room. Guarding from outside wasn’t good enough, apparently.
Which was her loss, or maybe it wasn’t, depending on what she was into. Krystal wasn’t going to judge, she had her evening’s entertainment all lined up.
He leaned his spear against the wall and proceeded to unfasten his armor, his fingers fumbling on the straps. Krystal decided to help him out; there was no reason for this to take too long. She was already keyed up and it was obvious he was, too.
Whether he’d be any good was open to debate. He gave off ‘inexperience’ vibes, but then he might be more willing to listen to instructions.
His breastplate was made of some lightweight composite material that only looked like bronze, and his undershirt was a stretchy fabric. By the time she got down to bare fur on his chest, he was sweaty—he might not have started out that way.
Attempting to unbutton his pants with her mouth wasn’t exactly necessary, but it was fun, and gave her a chance to figure out what he was packing.
Even bad sex is better than watching TV.
Which was a shame, because if she’d been watching TV she would have seen that Dazzle Feather, the vapid blonde, was a news anchor with an agenda.
His cock was quality, at least. She could feel it pressing up against the front of his pants, she could feel the heat as her lips worked the buttons, and then he helped her out and flopped out a good cubit of cock.
She was already on her knees, and her mouth was right there. She licked her lips and dove in, taking him to the back of her throat as a warmup, fighting the usual fight against her gag reflex, and then she dove in all the way, slamming her muzzle into his groin.
He’d been attempting to step out of his pants, which she already knew was a lost cause unless he bent over and got his boots off first—and he didn’t need to take off his pants, she had access to all she needed right now.
He lasted longer than she thought he would; he might have been a shitty guard but he was, so far, an okay lover. He’d even gotten bold enough near the end to wrap his fingers in her hair and hold her head against his crotch.
She swallowed down every drop of cum and then pulled back, letting his saliva-soaked dick slap against his thighs.
“Get your pants off and join me on the bed.”
Thunder was still reeling from the blowjob and he got his instructions reversed, hobbling over to the bed and then getting his boots disengaged and his pants untangled. The process would have been easier if he’d used both hands, but one of them was firmly planted on a boob.
“Zoom ever fuck you?”
He shook his head.
She lowered her voice. “You ever want to?”
He nodded.
From the hallway, sing-song. “I can ~i]hear~ you.”
“And you’re welcome to join in,” Krystal offered. “Having two guards in my bed would make me twice as safe, now wouldn’t it?”
Zoom didn’t dignify that with a response.
•••
Thunder had held her head against his cock, now it was her turn to hold his head, to guide him in the finer points of cunnilingus. She steered, he licked, and she’d occasionally let him do his own thing while she played with her nipples or fingered herself, hitting all the spots he was missing.
But she’d give him good marks for enthusiasm. He wasn’t great but he was trying; more importantly he knew he wasn’t great, so by the time his tongue had started to get tired she faked an orgasm and let him rest with his head on her breasts.
That was good until he started to doze off. She pushed him over and then ran her hand along the length of his dick, getting him hard again. Tempting though it was to say something about the short endurance of guys, she kept her mouth shut. If he was embarrassed he wouldn’t do as good a job.
Zoom was hoping that once the eating pussy sounds had subsided and no new ones had taken their place that the two had been sated—she was about to find out that was a false hope.
Krystal worked his cock until he got hard, considering for a moment just continuing on until he shot his load all over his stomach. That would be funny, especially if he had to go by Zoom to wash himself off, but she wouldn’t get much pleasure out of it.
Instead, she straddled him, sliding down his chest until her butt was against his cock, teasing him with her cheeks and the base of her tail. Letting him get a good look at her body, her boobs.
She reached back and took hold of his dick, then she lifted up and steered him, stroking his head along her slit, and then she lined him up and sat on him.
It’d been a long day so far and she didn’t feel the need for much in the way of foreplay; he was hard and she was ready and that was good enough and if he didn’t finish her off for real he was going to be using his fingers and tongue again.
•••
He wasn’t the best lay that she’d had, but his staying power on the second round was a lot better than on the first. This time she hadn’t had to fake it; she’d found the right angle and he’d hit the right places and she’d kept him in as long as she could after he came, then they’d snuggled until he fell asleep.
Once he was snoring, she got out of bed and covered him up, a faint smile on her lips as he cuddled with her recently-vacated pillow.
Were she planning on escape, she had an opportunity. She wasn’t; where would she escape to? A spaceship that could barely fly? Somewhere else?
She got a drink of water out of the bathroom sink and toweled herself off with a washcloth—Thunder might not have been the best lover, but he was a prodigious cummer.
Krystal walked to the window and looked out at the city spreading around her. There was something powerful about getting a view from above, a privileged vantage point that not everyone got. Her mind went back to when the city was unknown, mere coordinates on a map, barely visible from spade—a gray spot amongst the fields and forests. She’d imagined what it might look like in her head, she’d been mostly wrong, and yet she’d been right where it mattered.
Tomorrow the mechanics would be inspecting her ship, seeing what they could do. For now—
She looked over at the doorway, at the silhouetted figure standing statuesque. Still wearing her armor, still doing her duty, unnecessary as it was.
She could see Zoom’s ears pointed right at her, see the gleam of sclera in the reflections of lights from below. It was a long shot; she’d already guessed how Zoom approached her duty. And yet, a shot not taken was always a shot missed.
Krystal padded across the carpet until she was standing right in front of her second guard. “I kinda wore out your second—you wanna have a go?”
Pure professionalism would say no. Instead, a sigh, and then: “Sure.”
