This is not the story of the Exoplanet tribute Society's attack on the orbital station above the frontier major planet Mariachi-2, of the plan to dissent by shutting down the station reactor, leading to the meltdown of the nuclear reactor, demolition of the station and a XII nearby ship, and a rainwater of orbital junk that devastated the fragile and primitive ecosystem of the very planet they were trying to protect. You can get that story from the newsworthiness and, someday I'm sure, the chronicle book.

This is not the story of how my mother, my sister, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to escape the catastrophe into FTL only to be destroyed by rubble, of our trajectory 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 accounts from the 87 survivors from the Peg, and well-nigh, to be honest, are more compelling.

This is not the story of the first tumultuous hours after the lifeboat launched, of our lifeboat getting pummeled with junk from the Peg, tumbling and burning for hr before it stabilized while we cried and screamed, vomiting and pissing ourselves in sheer scourge before the lifeboat finally stabilized and we collapsed into an exhausted rest. I never want to revisit those 12 hr again so long as I live.

No, this is the level of the three months after that, the time between waking up on the lifeboat and getting picked up two month ago by a patrol ship out on the border of explored infinite. 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 crucial to me. Even if no one else ever gets to study it, I wanted it to be written.

Before we get to that story, let me introduce the cast of characters, my family.

We'll head start 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 corporate finance. They had a mates of tike, but I guess things just gradually started to pass apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech company on Podarok-2 where he met my mother, the final nail in the casket for his marriage. He and my mom got get hitched with soon after the divorce, I was born a year later, and my babe was born a year after that. He was a good dad, and seemed to be a trade good husband, although he poured so much energy into his work that we all kind of had to prepare the most of the clip he had free. And he was apparently great at what he did, because he got picked to be an Executive frailty president of this big fiscal services business firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our trip-up. That's why we took it - he was taking a break between Book of Job to finally relish some time with his category. He was a good guy.

My mom is Anne efflorescence, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kg. She was a teenage dish queen on Podarok-2, but her household couldn't afford the variety of tradition genetic improvements needed for her to make a career out of it, so after high shoal she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new escritoire on passel, a sure planetary house that he had already mentally left his marriage. She kept working until after my baby was born, by that point Dad was really raking it in. She was a housewife after that, but the ample, glamourous form. I don't ever remember her lifting her deal to do actual housekeeping - that's why we had a home stave. Her independent job was to host company and look good, and she managed both with a great sense of fashion and an astonish hourglass figure that was probably 80 % raw and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a poor people kid from the hills in her heart, she's a unspoilt mom, and from everything I saw she was a honest wife, too.

My epithet is Jackson peak. I turned 17 standard years old a few month before all this happened, and should have started my fourth twelvemonth of mellow school day about a calendar month ago. I was genetically engineered at parturition and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the human being universe, but while my acclivity were truly top shelf, I've always lacked the kind of motivation that would really let me subsist up to my potential. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of lean, gymnastic muscle, I'd say I'm really a pretty normal teenager. Well, I am a niggling unusual in one big way. Or two slightly modest ways, depending on the occasion. 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 churn out more than seed than a distinctive college frat house. Oh, and two dick. Sometimes.

I have a habitue penis. Well, not fixture - it's about 15cm long when limp and Thomas More than 30cm erect, and a little more than 6cm across. I call it Honest Johnson. But it is basically a even penis. Underneath it is where things get complicated.

The genetic applied scientist at the ship's company gave me a few new musculus, a few new sphincter, and a second, more elastic penis. almost of the time, I keep those sphincters shut with no more endeavour or thought than you use to keep your asshole closed, and even during sex it is zero at all to keep Tricky Dick hidden away. The heighten snap lets it compact really minuscule when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest Andrew Johnson isn't already too erect ( it gets complicated, believe me ), a barely seeable"knot"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky pecker joins the party. The only real hitch is that I only have so much blood, so when both of the son are in manoeuvre they're only about 24cm long and 5cm midst. But they look and function more or less identically, one stacked over the other.

By the way, this isn't all as great as it sounds. I had to instruct to insure all that as a toddler, and until then apparently my parents had some really worry experiences at tub fourth dimension and when changing my diapers. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured athletic goodness looks kept me reasonably popular with the madam, most don't want anything to do with a dick that size, much LE two. By the sentence I was 15, I had successfully gotten three girlfriend to take a personal interest group in my dust, and two of them had called it quits on the spot - the third was intrigued and resulted in a brief but very educational human relationship. On the downside, one of the onetime two also talked about me to her booster, which quickly spread, earning me the nickname of"Tommy Two-Dicks"around school.

By the way, if you are wondering why my Dad gave me this particular"giving ”, I don't really sleep with. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious understanding no longer can. My best surmise is that he wanted people to see me as a rumination of him, and part of that included some kind of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the rest of the story, there is one to a greater extent person to mention : my baby, Louis Comfort Tiffany. Tiff was born exactly one banner year after me. My female parent wanted a boy and a girl, wanted us to be close in age, and thought it would be cunning if we shared a natal day. My dad wanted her to be happy and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the organization. She also got some significant tailor-make hereditary enhancements, cypher quite as outlandish as my own… I think. Dad let mom prefer her feature article, and I don't think Mom really understood what she was doing. Regardless, Tiff has always been incredibly smartness and in splendid health, but by the time she hit 13 she could pass for a few years older and attracted the unyielding attention of every man ( and many charwoman ) 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, petite waistline, nicely proportional tits and ass, and all perfectly symmetrical. most of my booster ( all of the guy, and many of the girls ) had made strait at her and I was fully aware of how attractive she was… from a purely academic standpoint, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving executive Dad, a beaut queen secretaire Mom, an underachieve demigod, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family, pretty wealthy and therefore a little more removed than most, but happy nonetheless.

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

The Ceres-Hastings production line of lifeboats were pretty new but also pretty typical of those found on the nicer class of starliners. They were designed to get rider away from the ship as quickly and safely as possible, and then basically just wait for service to make it. They were designed to hold on 24 citizenry animated for 30 daylight, and not a good deal else - they offered safety, not comforter. They can't really put down anywhere with an atmosphere, and the rider are deliberately locked out of things like navigation to keep them from accidentally crashing it into the something, so let's just burnish over thing like engines and armor plating and stilted gravitation and sharpen on what we could actually put our custody on.

The seat plane section of the lifeboat had 24 quickening seats in six rows of four with an aisle down the eye. There was a hatching 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 front line there was a lowly airlock big enough for a undivided tumid person, and on either position of it a couple of"mastery"tail with the limited dominance and displays needed to provide the rider just enough knowledge and control to quell sane. In between was a low spread surface area lined on one side with dispensers for rationing out solid food and piddle and a few storehouse lockers with some early supplies, and on the former with a wash, commode, and shower that could be isolated from each other and the eternal rest of the ship by privacy panels - hygienics wasn't considered all that important but survivor might need to wash life-threatening fabric off. In the very kernel of the story were a duet of control board concealing the locating of two automeds.

The front and the prat part were lined with displays that simulated windows, connected to cameras on the outside of the armored Kingston-upon Hull, and the unhurt space was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a footling warmer than normal room temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a pleasure yacht.

Ok. Let's Menachem Begin .