This is not the story of the Exoplanet Protection lodge's attack on the orbital station above the frontier satellite Mariachi-2, of the plan to dissent by shutting down the station reactor, leading to the meltdown of the reactor, destruction of the station and a 12 nearby ship, and a rain of orbital dust that devastated the fragile and primitive ecosystem of the very major planet they were trying to protect. You can get that taradiddle from the news and, someday I'm sure, the chronicle book.

This is not the narrative of how my mother, my baby, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to fly the coop the calamity into FTL only to be destroyed by debris, of our flight to and rendezvous at the lifeboats, of the 24-person lifeboat jettisoning with just the three of us aboard. There are at least a dozen such chronicle from the 87 survivors from the Peg, and most, to be honest, are more compelling.

This is not the story of the inaugural tumultuous 60 minutes after the lifeboat launched, of our lifeboat getting pummeled with dust from the Peg, tumbling and burning for hours before it stabilized while we cried and screamed, vomiting and pissing ourselves in sheer holy terror before the lifeboat finally stabilized and we collapsed into an expel sleep. I never want to revisit those twelve hours again so long as I live.

No, this is the story of the three months after that, the time between waking up on the lifeboat and getting picked up two calendar month ago by a patrol ship out on the bound of explored space. The story of what happened with my mother, my sister, and I. It is a very personal story, not to be released before my death, but one that is very important to me. Even if no one else ever gets to read it, I wanted it to be written.

Before we get to that story, let me bring in the casting of reference, my family.

We'll offset with my dad. His name was Michael Bloom, and he was 55 when he died down on Mariachi-2. Long before I was born, he grew up on Hestia-3, went to college, got his MBA, got married, and started working in incarnate finance. They had a couple of kids, but I guess thing just gradually started to decrease apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech company on Podarok-2 where he met my female parent, the final nail in the coffin for his marriage. He and my mom got conjoin soon after the divorcement, I was born a year later, and my sister was born a year after that. He was a good dad, and seemed to be a good hubby, although he poured so often muscularity into his oeuvre that we all kind of had to nominate the most of the fourth dimension he had barren. And he was apparently large at what he did, because he got picked to be an executive director vice chairman of this big financial armed service firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our tripper. That's why we took it - he was taking a break between occupation to finally bask some prison term with his family. He was a good guy.

My mom is Anne peak, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kg. She was a adolescent beauty pansy on Podarok-2, but her family couldn't afford the variety of impost genetic improvements needed for her to piss a vocation out of it, so after mellow school she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new secretary on sight, a sure preindication that he had already mentally left his marriage. She kept working until after my babe was born, by that power point Dad was really raking it in. She was a lady of the house after that, but the racy, glamourous sort. I don't ever remember her lifting her helping hand to do actual housework - that's why we had a home staff. Her main job was to host political party and look good, and she managed both with a bang-up sentience of flair and an amazing hourglass human body that was probably 80 % rude and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a poor kid from the hills in her heart, she's a upright mom, and from everything I saw she was a good wife, too.

My name is Jackson Bloom. I turned 17 standard years old a few calendar month before all this happened, and should receive started my fourth year of high school about a month ago. I was genetically engineered at birth and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the man population, but while my ascent were truly top shelf, I've always lacked the kind of motivation that would really let me live up to my potential. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of lean, gymnastic muscle, I'd say I'm really a pretty rule teenager. well, I am a petty unusual in one big way. Or two slightly lowly ways, depending on the social function. I mentioned that Dad worked for a big biotech company, and somehow he was allowed to give me some"particular features ”, things they had invented but would never release. Things like enhanced pheromones, and testes that can roil out more semen than a typical college frat house. Oh, and two dicks. Sometimes.

I have a unconstipated phallus. Well, not steady - it's about 15cm long when hobble and Thomas More than 30cm erect, and a little more than 6cm across. I call it Honest Lyndon Baines Johnson. But it is basically a regular penis. Underneath it is where matter get complicated.

The genetic engineers at the company gave me a few new muscles, a few new anatomical sphincter, and a second, more pliable penis. nearly of the clip, I keep those sphincters shut with no more effort or thought than you use to observe your asshole closed, and even during sex it is cipher at all to observe Tricky Dick hidden away. The enhance elasticity lets it constrict really small when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest Johnson isn't already too upright ( it gets complicated, confide me ), a barely visible"knot"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky dick joins the party. The alone existent hitch is that I only have so a good deal line, so when both of the male child are in play they're only about 24cm retentive and 5cm thick. But they look and function more or less identically, one stacked over the other.

By the way, this isn't all as bang-up as it sounds. I had to learn to control all that as a yearling, and until then apparently my parents had some really occupy experiences at bath prison term and when changing my napkin. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured acrobatic good feel kept me reasonably democratic with the gentlewoman, almost don't want anything to do with a cock that sizing, much less two. By the metre I was 15, I had successfully gotten three girlfriend to take a personal involvement in my junk, and two of them had called it quits on the office - the third base was intrigued and resulted in a legal brief but very educational relationship. On the downside, one of the quondam two also talked about me to her friends, which quickly spread, earning me the cognomen of"Tommy Two-Dicks"around school.

By the way, if you are wondering why my Dad gave me this particular"gift ”, I don't really know. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious rationality no longer can. My outflank conjecture is that he wanted people to see me as a expression of him, and part of that included some variety of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the balance of the history, there is one More somebody to mention : my sis, Louis Comfort Tiffany. Tiff was born exactly one standard twelvemonth after me. My mother wanted a boy and a lady friend, wanted us to be close in age, and thought it would be cute if we shared a natal day. My dad wanted her to be happy and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the placement. She also got some significant customized genetic enhancements, cypher quite as outlandish as my own… I think. Dad let mom select her features, and I don't think Mom really understood what she was doing. Regardless, spat has always been incredibly smart and in excellent health, but by the time she hit thirteen she could pass for a few long time honest-to-god and attracted the haunting attention of every man ( and many char ) in any room she entered. She's about 157cm tall, maybe 50kg soaking wet, and her ratio are almost supernatural - long of leg and arm, tiny waist, nicely relative bosom and ass, and all perfectly harmonious. almost of my friends ( all of the guy cable, and many of the girls ) had made passes at her and I was fully aware of how attractive she was… from a purely academic viewpoint, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving executive director Dad, a smasher queen secretaire Mom, an underperform Lucy in the sky with diamonds, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family unit, pretty moneyed and therefore a little more upstage than most, but happy nonetheless.

Oh, one more thing before we begin : The lifeboat.

The Ceres-Hastings line of lifeboats were pretty new but also pretty typical of those found on the nicer class of starliners. They were designed to get passengers away from the ship as quickly and safely as potential, and then basically just wait for help to arrive. They were designed to keep 24 multitude active for 30 24-hour interval, and not much else - they offered condom, not quilt. They can't really land anywhere with an standard atmosphere, and the passengers are deliberately locked out of matter like seafaring to keep them from accidentally crashing it into the something, so let's just rubric over things like engines and armor metal plating and artificial gravity and center on what we could actually put our hands on.

The rear section of the lifeboat had 24 acceleration seats in six rows of four with an aisle down the middle. There was a hatch at the nates by which we had entered, but it literally welded itself shut on launch, so it didn't really exist as a hatch anymore. At the very straw man there was a small airlock big enough for a ace with child person, and on either slope of it a dyad of"command"seats with the limited controls and show needed to provide the rider just enough noesis and control to persist sane. In between was a humble undecided orbit lined on one side with dispensers for rationing out intellectual nourishment and pee and a few storage lockers with some other supplying, and on the former with a laundry, toilet, and shower that could be isolated from each early and the residual of the ship by privateness board - hygiene wasn't considered all that important but survivors might involve to wash dangerous materials off. In the very meat of the floor were a couplet of jury concealing the location of two automeds.

The front and the tail end plane section were lined with displays that simulated Windows, connected to cameras on the outside of the armoured hull, and the wholly space was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a piffling fond than normal way temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a delight yacht.

Ok. Let's Begin .