A mysterious ship attacks with a lust-inducing weapon

Still feeling the eyes of her superiors on her, Cassidy quickly began her first task for the shift. It was clear she was on thin ice (and frankly, she had been for a while) so it seemed wise to spend her time today making a good impression.

It wasn’t that she was bad at her job. Really, she wasn’t! She just… got distracted sometimes. A new project would come along, or she’d download an interesting game off the commweb, and before she realized it, she’d have been awake thirty six hours straight obsessing over it.

She sighed, realizing she’d done it again—drifted off into her own thoughts just moments after she’d resolved to put in some proper work—and resumed her efforts. She had about eighty pages of requisition reports to proofread, after al—

Three loud notes sounded from the communications terminal a few seats to Cassidy’s left. She glanced over—as did most of the heads in the vicinity. It was a familiar but uncommon sound; the alarm for the emergency comm channel.

The doors to Sharaf’s office hissed open, and he stepped out. “Answer it,” he ordered. The comms officer opened the channel… and a deafening noise filled the bridge—screeching, hissing static. Cries of pain sounded throughout the space as officers clamped hands over their ears. One lieutenant—a skendite, with sharp hearing—actually fell out of her seat. “Volume to ten percent!” Captain Sharaf shouted, barely audible over the racket. The comms officer took his hands off his ears and rapidly entered a quick series of inputs.

In an instant, the sound dropped to a manageable volume; still irritating, but no longer deafening. Sighs of relief rose from the collected officers. The skendite lieutenant pushed herself to her feet, looking dazed. “Sick bay,” Sharaf said to her (she nodded and staggered toward the lift) then turned his attention back to the transmission.

“What’s causing all the noise? Is something interfering with the transmission?” Sharaf asked the comms officer. The little femboy—Junior Lieutenant Orinole—checked over his readout, then said, “No Captain; this *is* the transmission.”

His eyes narrowed. “Analyse the signal. See if there’s a pattern to it. This could be some communication form we’re unfamiliar with.”

Cassidy perked up. She’d done her senior year dissertation at the academy on neoxenolinguistics! She jumped to her feet, and said, “Captain! I have experience with this. Permission to assist Lieutenant Orinole?”

Sharaf glanced at her and nodded. Cassidy stepped over to the communications station and stood behind Orinole, inspecting the incoming waveform. Over her shoulder, she heard Captain Sharaf say, “Sensors, can you pinpoint the signal to any ships in the sector?” A moment later, Ensign M’zetna’s voice called out, “Yes Captain! Its direction of origin matches an alien vessel on mid-range scanners; about five thousand AU out, currently moving toward us at high speed.”

“Is it sending an ID ping?”

“No sir. And the vessel’s profile on scanners doesn’t match any on record.”

“Time until it arrives?”

“Nineteen minutes at current velocity.”

Captain Sharaf paused. “Five thousand AU in nineteen minutes? They’ve got to be moving at, what, at least eleven alcubierres?”

“Thirteen point oh six, sir.”

“Tell me they’re at least slowing down?”

There was a pause, M’zetna presumably re-scanning the vessel before answering, “No sign of that, sir.”

“The hell are they thinking?” Sharaf muttered. “That sort of speed so close to a star? The amount of plasma they’d need to vent to shed the heat…”

“Well, they are broadcasting on emergency channels, sir. Perhaps they’re being pursued?” Junior Lieutenant Orinole suggested. Cassidy hadn’t even noticed him vacate his seat. She was only half paying attention to the conversation; this alien signal was fascinating.

“Any sign of other ships in their vicinity, Miss M’zetna?” Sharaf asked. M’zetna responded moments later, “None, sir.”

The officers waited for Captain Sharaf’s orders. They came a moment later. “Keep monitoring them, Ensign. If they get to within three thousand AU without decelerating, we may have to intercept. Ensign Cassidy: you now have eighteen minutes. Before we interact with them, I’d like to know what they’re trying to tell us. Security, put the docking clamps on lockdown; we don’t want anybody getting in the path of our reckless driver. And broadcast a C1 warning to the entire system—imminent neutrino breach in the area is possible; advise caution.”

The relevant officers, Cassidy included, gave a collective, “Sir!”

Sharaf nodded, then looked at Commander Len-vok, his first officer. “With me, Commander,” he said, walking back into his office.

Cassidy returned her attention to the screen, slipping into Orinole’s empty seat. The signal really was interesting. There was a definite pattern to it, though it didn’t look linguistic to her. She focused in on it, trying to isolate individual wavelengths.

Time passed with a nervous excitement hanging in the air. Around ten minutes in, Ensign M’zetna reported that the vessel was indeed starting to decelerate as it approached—though was still coming in very quickly. Cassidy barely noticed; she was too engrossed by her analysis of the signal. She was starting to piece something together about it, though it was too soon to be sure…

After several more minutes, Captain Sharaf emerged from his office with Commander Len-vok. “Status?” he requested.

“Vessel is approximately one hundred fifty AU out, sir,” Ensign M’zetna reported. “Approaching now at just under eight alcubierres; that’s two and a half minutes until arrival.”

“Ensign Cassidy?”

Cassidy was startled out of her focus by hearing her name, and took a moment to figure out what was being asked of her. “Umm… it’s not a language form, sir. Or if it is, it’s so different from any we know of that it would take weeks to decipher. There is some kind of pattern to it, though; I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Well you’ve got two minutes to give me anything you can.”

“Aye sir,” said Cassidy, resuming her efforts. Whatever else was being said faded away; her focus was entirely on the display panel in front of her. There was a pattern to this. Not a language. A code maybe? Or coordinates? She ran certain segments through some mostly-remembered algorithms, hoping to match the patterns against any known ciphers.

No results.

She tried a number of different ways of translating the peaks and valleys of the wavelength into coordinates, then matching those against the local charts.

No results.

There were raised voices in the area; she was dimly aware of them, but her attention was solely focused on her task. A pattern. A code. Why would they communicate in such an obscure way? Unless… it wasn’t communication at all…

She isolated several sections that stood out, ran them through a simulation… Yes!

Cassidy spun in her chair. “Captain, I—”

She froze. All eyes on the bridge were raised, looking through the paraglass at the large starship which hovered in view. Its nose pointed right at the bridge of Lamarr Station, it was long, sleek, and elegant. It filled nearly her entire view of the surrounding space.

It was maybe ten meters shy of touching the glass.

Cassidy swallowed, her mouth dry, as Sharaf glanced back at her. “What was it Miss Bell?”

“The signal, sir. It isn’t a communication; it’s a computer program. It’s about forty exabytes of trinary code.”

Captain Sharaf frowned. “For what purpose?”

“I’m not quite sure yet, I—”

Cassidy was cut off, as a new noise filled the bridge. Neither as loud nor as piercing as the initial signal, it was round and sonorous; almost like a whale’s call. It came from every workstation, and as it did, displays flickered and momentarily blacked out.

The tone seemed to reverberate through Cassidy’s very body; she almost felt like it was vibrating into her soul. And it made her… hot. A flush rose to her cheeks. Her skin began to tingle; she could feel her uniform on her skin—the way it rubbed and pulled and creased. Her heart started to race, and she felt a not-unfamiliar tension build in her torso, spreading and growing toward her crotch. Her nipples stiffened. She felt her pussy start to throb, and a gathering wetness.

She was aroused. Very, very aroused.

The sound slowly faded, but the sensation stayed. Around the bridge, every officer present seemed to be having a similar experience. Cassidy heard some moans, and even some splattering sounds as a few female officers lost control of their cunts and squirted through their uniforms onto the floor. A smell of sex—wet pussies and precum-dripping cocks—filled the air. Looking at the captain standing in front of her, Cassidy watched as a large bulge appeared at the front of his uniform. She felt an overwhelming desire to dive forward and bury her face in his crotch.