First Contact #1: The Strigoi
Millie Dynamite
The Strigoi
In the vast unknown, humanity’s newest contact
becomes its deadliest encounter.
Millie Dynamite
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© Copyright 2024 by Millie Dynamite
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, or real events, is entirely coincidental.
First Contact #1:
The Strigoi
On April 12, 1961, Yuri Gagarin was launched into space, and manned exploration began. By Earth’s 36th century, explorers from the Alliance moved through the Milky Way galaxy, expanding known space. These brave people mapped the stars, met previously unknown races, and found new friends and a few foes. But in thousand-plus years of the Alliance’s existence, in all their travels, they’ve never encountered a genuinely evil species.
In the year 2064, the first colony on Mars was established. The year 2125 saw the first FTL engine development by Earth. The first contact with an alien species happened in 2130. The Alliance of Worlds was formed in 2368. Doctor Neculai Dumitru developed the first Wormhole drive in 2858, and space travel became instantaneous.
As stated before, the Alliance has never encountered a purely evil species. Until now!
****
Friday, October 1st, 3775
It was a pleasant day on Merritt Island, Florida, one of the old historic homes of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s facilities. Now, it was home to Alliance Space Fleets Operations on Earth. Admiral Leaf Ericson Quin’s office looked out over the Atlantic Ocean.
Captain Genevieve Boleyn sat across from Admiral Quin. The admiral was relaxed and held his coffee cup with his pinky extended in some ancient etiquette from over a thousand years before. He lay in his chair more than sitting there. Languid and easy, as if Genevieve were his best friend and they hadn’t a care in the galaxy.
As for Captain Boleyn, she was grateful to him. She’d been his first officer seven years before. She’d been promoted to captain of the Pioneer WH2010 when he advanced to the admiralty two years before. Her promotion was primarily due to his recommendation. Genevieve positioned herself perched on the seat’s edge, her toes hovering an inch above the floor.
“You’ll like Gordon, Gene. He’s levelheaded, a bit… emotional, but you’ll drum that out of him,” Admiral Quin said.
“He’s not humorous, is he?”
“Not so much that’ll make you want to take a CPS or PPB and blow his head off.”
“Humor has its place, Leaf, but not on my bridge. I’m sorry, sir, I mean Admiral Quin.”
The admiral laughed; it was a relief to Quin that Genevieve could still let her guard down with him.
“As long as we’re alone, you can call me anything you want. I seem to remember asshole being used on more than one occasion.”
“Is there a way to lower this seat, sir?”
“Gene, sit back, relax, and enjoy your coffee. Can’t you do that?”
“Sir.” one eyebrow raised, a sly smile curled on her lips, “After nine and a half years, you ask a stupid question like that, asshole‽”
Admiral Quin laughed again, louder and with more enthusiasm. Genevieve Boleyn only smiled and sipped her coffee. She’d depart on her new assignment in two hours. Admiral Leaf Erickson Quin always enjoyed a tete-a-tete before she departed. He loved her like a daughter. He wondered how she felt about him.
“You’re Chief Medical Officer will need to continue performing the Science Officer duty until I can arrange a replacement. I know it’s the second trek in a row, but the last six months haven’t been that bad, have they?” Admiral Quin asked.
“Why is it so hard to find me a new Science Officer?”
“I guess it’s like men. All the good ones are taken.”
“Hardy, har, har, sir,” Genevieve said in a mock laugh. A mock was about as close to laughter as he’d heard from her.
“I swear, once I find one that’ll measure up, I’ll send him or her straight to you via WHD Transport.”
“I’m keeping the Wormhole capable shuttle when you do.”
“Good luck, but be careful. The Andromeda picked up the welcome from this world. They had been on a mapping mission for two years. When they used the wormhole comm link, I ordered them to return to Earth and not to communicate with the planet. The message was in perfect Alliance Standard language. I wanted my best captain for First Contact.”
The compliment went unacknowledged. This was quite typical of Boleyn.
“Them knowing our tongue is… fortuitous… but more than a shade suspicious.” Setting the coffee cup on the table beside her chair, she slid off the seat with grace and saluted her superior.
“Stop that.”
Her eyebrow cocked once more, and the grin from before became a toothy smile.
“Goch-ya!”
She smiled. By god, he thought, she actually made a joke and smiled.
Standing on the teleport pad, Genevieve closed her eyes as soon as the tingling invaded her body. Boleyn hated teleportation. The hum followed on the heels of the tingle, and then nothing. It was, for an instant, as though she no longer existed. In less than a heartbeat, the buzz returned, accompanied by the prickle, and both ended.
Genevieve opened her eyes.
“Commander Gordon, your commanding officer requests permission to come aboard her ship…”
“Permission granted, Madam Captain,” Gordon said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“How quaint.” She squeezed hard and then released her grip. The strength in her tiny hands caught him off guard, and he flinched. As if not noticing his reaction, she turned her attention to the teleport officer. “Very smooth ride, POFC Micucci.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“I’ll be on the bridge in one hour, Mister Gordon. Can you manage to get us out of our solar system by then?”
“Yes, Madam Captain.”
“Well, that’ll be a pleasant surprise.”
The hour passed slow as molasses for Gordon and seemed but a blink of an eye for Boleyn. Captain Boleyn’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as she surveyed the bridge. “Ensign Mann, enter the coordinates into the navigation system. Prepare the Wormhole Generator.”
The short captain’s body tensed, coiled energy contained beneath her crisp uniform. She watched the helmswoman input the critical data to propel them into the unknown.
“Wormhole Engine spinning up, Captain,” Mann said, her tone steady despite the moment’s gravity.
Boleyn nodded, a slight furrow creased her brow. “Time to full charge?”
“Less than a minute, Ma’am.”
The bridge fell silent, save for the low thrum of machinery. Boleyn reflected as she considered possibilities and potential outcomes. Her thoughts were rampant. Captain Boleyn longed for action or something different. Companionship beyond that which regulations allowed.
“Drive at full capacity,” Mann said.
Boleyn’s order rang out, clear, commanding, “Puncture space… Let our adventure commence.”
“Now leaving Orion Spur, Captain, estimated arrival, two seconds from—” Mann said, touching the WH engagement icon… “now.”
A blinding flash, a few milliseconds of impossible pressure. The craft lurched beyond the event horizon, then—
The hole opened thirty-seven thousand light years from Earth in the central area of the Milky Way’s Perseus Arm Spiral, and the Pioneer emerged. The fissure collapsed as soon as they passed out of the same event horizon they’d entered.
Genevieve Boleyn perched on the edge of the chair, the tips of her shoes dangled just above the deck. Her stomach lurched when they entered the hole and continued until a few seconds after they exited. Her calm expression never wavered.
“We’ve emerged, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Barrett said. “Wormhole has collapsed.”
“Captain, I’ve always wondered what happens if the hole breaks down before we exit?” Gordon asked.
“Nothing good,” Boleyn said.
Susana Mann’s eyes lit up. She knew the answer and thought, how better to impress the new first officer and my new captain than to give Gordon a lesson?
“The travel is instantaneous, Mister Gordon, sir. However, should a ship try to follow, it might end up with half the vessel where we started and the other half behind us. Or they could find themselves dead. Their ship ripped apart by the nothingness, which is nowhere and at no time, bits of flotsam and jetsam on both sides of points A and B. The debris scattered in the separate voids thousands of light years apart.” Ensign Mann said.
“Unpleasant, either way,” Captain Boleyn said. “Status report.” Her tone was crisp and authoritative, and her words almost barked out rather than spoken. She carried the weight of command responsibility on her tiny shoulders.
The tale of woe, elaborated on by Mann, was a reminder that the crew members’ safety was foremost in Genevieve Boleyn’s thoughts. Seconds ticked by, charged with the quiet beeps and whirs of the ship’s sensors.
“We’re receiving a transmission. It’s… in Alliance Standard.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the bridge. Boleyn’s eyes focused on the viewer. “On screen.”
The message came to life, a simple greeting of friendship. But how? How could a pre-spaceflight civilization grasp their verbal communication? Mummers ran through the bridge of surprise and wonder.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we expected this. So, calm down,” Boleyn said.
Lieutenant Commander Piper Vanderhoff responded, “FTL Drive in standby, Captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”
Boleyn nodded curtly, her mind overwhelmed with good and bad prospects.
“Helmswoman,” Boleyn said, “when you can, please, take me to that signal.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
“Light Factor Four, Miss Mann. We’ll be there before the end of Gamma shift. Mister Allen lay in a course for the location of the message. Ensign Mann, please request Engineering to wind the FTL Hyperdrive.”
Captain Genevieve Boleyn stood, moved a few feet forward, and cast her eyes on the infinite stellar ocean visible on the viewer. The ship hummed with power. Its FTL-Drive system’s powering up growled low and spun to higher and higher pitches.
“Might I stay on duty until we arrive, Ma’am?”
“Yes, you may. But whatever shall the Gamma shift helmsman do while you pilot the ship?”
“Play cribbage,” Mann said, and the bridge laughed. “Sorry, Captain.”
“You should be. This is no laughing matter, people. First Contact is a solemn occurrence. Now, be sharp. Commander Gordon, please contact Mister Hess and tell him to spend his shift on the simulator.”
“Yes, Madam Captain.”
Four hundred and seventy-two crew members occupied the ship. The captain knew every member’s name, rank, job, and face. Every one of them treated with the same respect, absent any perception she liked or disliked any of them.
And yet, every one of them would follow her orders. They’d live and die under her command, because she was the best. Every one of the ship’s crew understood she had their best interest in her mind and heart.
“Coffee, Captain,” a pretty and young yeomanette asked. “I can whip it up quick as three shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Tea, Darjeeling, please. Do I need to say hot?”
“No, Captain, I know the drill. The only thing I don’t know about your drink preferences is when you’ll want which.”
“If it makes you feel better, Miss Spicer, I never know myself until you ask.”
Captain Genevieve Boleyn rose and moved a few feet forward, concentrating on the vast expanse of stars visible on the viewer. The ship shuddered as the FTL reactor charged.
“FTL Drive at full capacity, Captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”
Boleyn nodded. The possibilities varied, and not nearly enough of them were good. The weight of responsibility pestered her mind, a constant reminder of the lives in her care.
“Helmswoman, engage.”
“Aye-aye, ma Capitaine.”
“Alliance standard will do, Ensign Mann. But thank you for the pleasantry,” Genevieve Boleyn said, suppressing the urge to smile or sound friendly.
“Your tea, Ma’am.”
The craft moved into hyperspace. The captain settled on the edge of her command chair and sipped her tea. Genevieve was in her proper place, and all was right in the universe, at least for the moment. Well, that was, if she could put her feet on the floor, everything would be right. Without moving her head, she snuck a peek at the empty science station and wondered what her lover was doing.
“We’ve but scratched the surface of the Perseus Arm,” Genevieve Boleyn said under her breath as she sat the empty cup on the table beside her.
Boleyn drummed against the arm of her chair. Patience had never been her strong suit. She craved action, contact, and the thrill of the unknown. And something else, something she dare not name in the company of others. Again, her eyes turned to the Science Officer station.
“Captain.” First Office Alastair Gordon approached, his tone friendly. “Perhaps we could discuss the mission parameters over a late dinner? I’ve some ideas I’d like to…”
Boleyn cut him off with an icy retort.
“Not now, Commander, I’m needed right here, right now, on my bridge.”
Gordon’s face fell, but he retreated without argument. Boleyn felt a twinge of guilt, quickly suppressed. She couldn’t afford attachments, not here, not now. Why does Gordon feel the need to establish a rapport beyond professional association? Hasn’t he heard I’m a card-carrying lesbian?
As the stars streaked by, Boleyn’s thoughts drifted to her quarters, to the unofficial comm unit hidden there. Would there be a message waiting? The possibility sent a thrill through her, a hungry ache she couldn’t ignore.
“Ma’am,” Vanderhoff said as she snapped back to reality. “Long-range scanners have detected the exact source of the transmission. I’ve sent those coordinates to the helm console.”
Boleyn leaned forward, her emotions boiled under the surface. At last, the adventure could start. She pondered if she was an action junky.
“Excellent, Vanderhoff. Miss Mann, take us there, and let’s see who or what we have found. Increase speed to light factor six point five.”
As the crew bustled around her, Boleyn almost showed a small, secret smile. The hunt was on, and she was ready for whatever the universe offered her.
Pioneer WH2010 dropped out of hyperspace. The FTL drive fell silent. The STL Solaris Reactor Propulsion engine fired up at the same instant the temporal stabilizer kicked in and prevented time from slowing down. The ship sliced through the void toward the planetary system ahead of them at three-quarters of the speed of light.
The closer they got to the friendship message, the slower their approach. The slower they moved, the less the temporal stabilizer had to adjust. It made a dull vibration underneath the throbbing of STL engines. It was all a common background noise in daily life onboard a starship.
Captain Genevieve Boleyn’s petite frame flooded with anticipation as Pioneer approached the alien world. The viewscreen twinkled to life, revealing a swirling hazy orb.
Captain Boleyn sat, bird-like. Her eyes darted, to-and-fro, from one bridge station to the next. She returned her gaze to the viewer, and she transfixed on the monitor as the sphere came into better focus. Its surface was a patchwork of sickish greens, blues, and grays, like mottled flesh. Almost a Frankenstein globe sown together from bits and pieces of other worlds. But it wasn’t a jumble of other worlds, but a world that had evolved utterly different from other worlds they’d visited.
Even the oceans appeared spotty. With open water here, swamps there, and rocky shoals breaking the expanses with uninhabitable ridge-like islands.
“Sensors detecting humanoid life forms,” Vanderhoff said. There was a tinge of unease in her words. “But there’s something… off about their biosignatures.”
Boleyn clenched her jaw. “Elaborate.”
“They appear humanoid, Captain, but their cellular activity is… unusual. Almost like—”
“Like what, Commander?” Boleyn snapped, her stellar, renowned impatience flaring.
Vanderhoff swallowed.
“Like they’re caught between life and death. This is my first, first contact, Captain,” Lieutenant Vanderhoff announced, her voice tinged with awe.
Genevieve’s pulse pounded, but her face remained an impassive mask. Years of training and preparation had honed her ability to project an aura of extraordinary authority. Even as her mind reeled at the momentous occasion.
“Rest assured, Lieutenant, ‘tisn’t mine. Open a channel,” Boleyn said.
As Vanderhoff scrolled over the holo-inputs of the console, Genevieve allowed herself a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Her gaze drifted to the empty station where her secret lover often sat during alpha shift. The doctor’s absence left an ache in her chest that she suppressed.
Focus, Boleyn, she thought. Just think of it as though the fate of humanity rests, at this moment, on my tiny body.
Static crackled, then resolved into a litany of alien voices.
“Greetings, visitors. We welcome you in peace.”
Genevieve’s brows knitted. The words were in perfect Alliance Standard, just as the single voice had been when they exited the interstellar opening. How was that possible? A chill of unease flowed down her spine.
“This is Captain Genevieve Boleyn of the Allied Space Craft Pioneer. We come in friendship,” she said smoothly, pushing aside her misgivings.
“We are the citizens of Mort,” six to ten voices said in unison.
The viewscreen shifted and showed the spokesman and an entourage of eight individuals. They had an oddish look about them. Humanoid and almost indistinguishable from her crew. Other than a slight glowing of their grayish flesh. And yet, for all their similarities, something was disturbing about their appearance. Their eyes perturbed her the most, a pale blue cast across them with a different shade or color underneath.