This is not the storey of the Exoplanet Protection smart set's onset on the orbital station above the frontier planet Mariachi-2, of the programme to protest by shutting down the station reactor, leading to the meltdown of the reactor, destruction of the station and a dozen nearby ship, and a rain of orbital rubble that devastated the fragile and primitive ecosystem of the very planet they were trying to protect. You can get that write up from the news and, someday I'm sure, the history 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 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 12 such account from the 87 survivor from the Peg, and most, to be honest, are more compelling.

This is not the story of the world-class disruptive hr after the lifeboat launched, of our lifeboat getting pummeled with debris from the Peg, tumbling and burning for hour before it stabilized while we cried and screamed, vomiting and pissing ourselves in sheer affright before the lifeboat finally stabilized and we collapsed into an exhausted slumber. I never want to revisit those twelve hour 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 months ago by a patrol ship out on the edge of research 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 say it, I wanted it to be written.

Before we get to that narration, let me bring in the cast of characters of characters, my family.

We'll head start with my dad. His name was Michael prime, 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 couple of small fry, but I guess matter just gradually started to come apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech companionship on Podarok-2 where he met my mother, the final examination nail in the coffin for his union. He and my mom got tie soon after the divorce, I was born a yr later, and my sister was born a twelvemonth after that. He was a good dad, and seemed to be a honest husband, although he poured so much energy into his study that we all kind of had to make the almost of the time he had unfreeze. And he was apparently swell at what he did, because he got picked to be an executive director Vice President of this big financial services firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our head trip. That's why we took it - he was taking a break between line of work to finally enjoy some time with his family. He was a salutary guy.

My mom is Anne rosiness, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kilos. She was a teenage beauty fagot on Podarok-2, but her folk couldn't afford the kind of usance transmissible improvements needed for her to make a career out of it, so after heights school day she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new secretary on batch, a for certain augury that he had already mentally left his marriage. She kept working until after my sis was born, by that pointedness Dad was really raking it in. She was a housewife after that, but the rich, glamorous kind. I don't ever remember her lifting her mitt to do actual housekeeping - that's why we had a household stave. Her independent job was to host party and see good, and she managed both with a keen sense of vogue and an puzzle hourglass pattern that was probably 80 % natural and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a poor kid from the hills in her spunk, she's a dear mom, and from everything I saw she was a right wife, too.

My gens is Michael Joe Jackson Bloom. I turned 17 standard years old a few months before all this happened, and should deliver started my fourth twelvemonth of high-pitched school about a month ago. I was genetically engineered at birth and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the human population, but while my upgrades were truly top shelf, I've always lacked the variety of motivation that would really let me survive up to my potential. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of incline, athletic muscular tissue, I'd say I'm really a pretty normal teenager. Well, I am a little unusual in one big way. Or two slightly smaller ways, depending on the juncture. I mentioned that Dad worked for a big biotechnology company, and somehow he was allowed to give me some"limited characteristic ”, things they had invented but would never loose. Things like enhanced pheromones, and testes that can churn out more semen than a distinctive college frat house. Oh, and two pecker. Sometimes.

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

The genic technologist at the caller gave me a few new muscle, a few new sphincters, and a second, more elastic penis. Most of the metre, I keep those sphincters shut with no more effort or thought than you use to keep your cocksucker closed, and even during sex it is nothing at all to keep Tricky shaft hidden away. The enhanced elasticity lets it heavyset really diminished when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest Lyndon Baines Johnson isn't already too erect ( it gets complicated, trust me ), a barely visible"mi"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky Dick joins the political party. The only tangible check is that I only have so much blood, so when both of the boys are in free rein they're only about 24cm long 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 great as it sounds. I had to acquire to control all that as a tot, and until then apparently my parents had some really occupy experiences at bathroom times and when changing my diapers. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured acrobatic good looking at kept me reasonably popular with the ladies, most don't want anything to do with a dick that size, much less two. By the time I was 15, I had successfully gotten three girl to take a personal interest group in my detritus, and two of them had called it quits on the spot - the tierce was intrigued and resulted in a brief but very educational human relationship. On the downside, one of the former two also talked about me to her friends, 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"natural endowment ”, I don't really know. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious understanding no longer can. My upright guess is that he wanted mass to see me as a contemplation of him, and part of that included some kind of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the rest of the report, there is one to a greater extent person to mention : my sister, Louis Comfort Tiffany. fuss was born exactly one stock year after me. My female parent wanted a boy and a girl, 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 glad and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the agreement. She also got some significant tailor-make genetic sweetening, nada quite as eccentric as my own… I think. Dad let mom choose her features, and I don't think Mom really understood what she was doing. Regardless, bickering has always been incredibly smart and in excellent health, but by the fourth dimension she hit baker's dozen she could pass for a few class sr. and attracted the persistent attention of every man ( and many women ) in any room she entered. She's about 157cm tall, maybe 50kg soaking wet, and her proportionality are almost occult - long of leg and arm, tiny waistline, nicely proportional tits and ass, and all perfectly symmetrical. Most of my booster ( all of the Guy, and many of the female child ) had made passes at her and I was fully aware of how attractive she was… from a purely academician stand, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving administrator Dad, a beauty queen secretaire Mom, an underachieving superman, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family, pretty wealthy and therefore a little more distant than virtually, 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 prissy class of starliners. They were designed to get passenger away from the ship as quickly and safely as possible, and then basically just wait for service to make it. They were designed to continue 24 people alive for 30 days, and not a lot else - they offered safety, not comfort. They can't really land anywhere with an standard pressure, 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 gloss over thing like engines and armor plating and artificial gravitational attraction and focus on what we could actually put our hands on.

The prat section of the lifeboat had 24 speedup seats in six rows of four with an aisle down the middle. There was a crosshatch at the rear by which we had entered, but it literally welded itself shut on launching, so it didn't really exist as a crosshatch anymore. At the very figurehead there was a small-scale air lock big enough for a single tumid person, and on either position of it a match of"instruction"tush with the limited mastery and presentation needed to furnish the rider just enough noesis and ascendance to stay sane. In between was a belittled open area lined on one side with dispensers for rationing out food for thought and water and a few repositing lockers with some other supply, and on the early with a laundry, commode, and shower that could be isolated from each other and the rest of the ship by privacy panels - hygiene wasn't considered all that of import but survivors might involve to moisten life-threatening materials off. In the very centerfield of the floor were a duo of panels concealing the location of two automeds.

The front and the arse part were lined with display that simulated windowpane, connected to cameras on the outside of the armored Cordell Hull, and the whole space was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a niggling warmer than pattern elbow room temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a delight yacht.

Ok. Let's Menachem Begin .