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Issue 0012, January 2018

Sovryn Tech Newsletter

Greetings, programs! And welcome to Issue 0014 of the Sovryn Tech Newsletter! See that picture above? In March of 2018, the ESA released this image from the Hubble Space Telescope of a pair of barred spiral galaxies some 350 million light years away in the process of merging, their two galactic nuclei still separated by a wildly massive distance, but still throwing out clouds of hot gas and mid-formation stars.

It's destruction and creation at the same time on a scale that we don't often consider, part of the "galactic mindset" that I've discussed often over the years on Sovryn Tech. You wan to talk about problems at scale? It doesn't get much larger scale than two galaxies "cuddling" in a symphony of destruction (cue Megadeth! WOO!).

Now before you move on to the articles, videos, and short fiction, take a few moments to appreciate the dark beauty and scope of what's in that picture. If you've been in a mental rut, I assure contemplating everything that is happening in that picture will shake you out of it.

And, oh, there's something very special about this month's Sovryn Tech Newsletter! For the very first time, the erotic short fiction (okay, it might not be that short this time) isn't actually a part of the Sovryn Universe this's a prelude and introduction to the upcoming Star Trek erotic audio theater from the Sovryn Tech crew and volunteers: Star Trek: Forbidden Frontiers. I hope you have as much "fun" reading it as I did writing it! WOO!


NOTE: If you are reading this on release day (March 31st, 2018), please be aware that the Sovryn Tech Prime episode for this week will not be released until April 1st, 2018. Sorry for the delay.

Guess what? There is a secret, NSFW, official Sovryn Tech subreddit on Reddit, and it's a wild, intellectual, and naughty place...just like Sovryn Tech! If you want to come hang with everyone, just message Brian Sovryn on Reddit at the link below to ask to join, or request through the subreddit link! It's that simple! See you there!
CLICK HERE for Brian Sovryn's Profile on Reddit
CLICK HERE for The Official Sovryn Tech Subreddit



The "dream" of nuclear fusion is on the brink of being realized, according to MIT, that says it will put fusion power on the grid within 15 years.

The project, a collaboration between scientists at MIT and a private company, will take a radically different approach to other efforts to transform fusion from an expensive science experiment into a viable commercial energy source. The team
intend to use a new class of high-temperature superconductors they predict will allow them to create the world’s first fusion reactor that produces more energy than needs to be put in to get the fusion reaction going.

Bob Mumgaard, CEO of the private company Commonwealth Fusion Systems, which has attracted $50 million in support of this effort from the Italian energy company Eni, said: “The aspiration is to have a working power plant in time to combat climate change. We think we have the science, speed
and scale to put carbon-free fusion power on the grid in 15 years.”

Okay, reality check. This whole "Oh! In a decade we'll have zero-carbon, cheap, combustion-free energy!" has been claimed more times than I can count in even my short time on this planet, and there are so few details on what this whole new process is that I'm fairly skeptical. Not that I think it's impossible, quite the opposite, in fact. I think nuclear fusion is going to be a reality at some point in the future (though it may be a few hundred years, which granted, I fully expect to be around for), I just don't know that a corporation, an energy company out of Italy, and MIT are going to pull it off. The kind of breakthroughs this would require would already have papers published about it and its lowest levels of operation, and none of those are out there yet.

So I wish this project the best (I really, really do), but their either blowing some kind of smoke up some very foolish asses, or this is at such early drawing board stages that we likely wouldn't see any fruit from it for 50 years, not 15. Read more about it by clicking the button below.


Oh, Firefox, you jewel. You're not perfect, but hot damn you do some things right. And in light of the more recent (of many) Facebook debacles, Mozilla has created the Facebook Container Extension, designed to allow you to run Facebook in its own little sandbox in Firefox to keep it from collecting data from the rest of your computer/Web habits.

How this works is it's based on a feature that Mozilla added to Firefox when they went to Quantum (version 57 of Firefox), a feature called "Multi-Account Containers" which allows you to--for example--run multiple Google accounts in one browser through "containers" that keep each Google account from affecting the others. It's a pretty brilliant
idea, and one that I use frequently.

So now Firefox there is an extension that allows you to use this very feature to "contain" your Facebook usage, because as we all (should) know, just being logged into Facebook on your browser collects data
across your browser experience, or at least wherever Facebook has its APIs implanted (which is frighteningly almost everywhere).

Do check this add-on out, it's well worth it if you feel you still must use Facebook. Get your hands on it and find out more by clicking the button below. 
DOWNLOAD Firefox Facebook Container Extension HERE


"I got my first smartphone in the summer of 2012, and ever since, I’ve found myself wishing I had stuck with my flip phone."

This is how the story linked to below begins. For me personally, I got my first "modern"
smarthpone (after the advent of the iPhone) in 2011, and obviously it was an Android phone. At that time in 2011, the app boom was in full swing, and developers were coming up with all kinds of novel uses for their apps, along with consistently changing the UI. The very act of updating apps and those apps having more than just bug and performance fixes made having a smartphone exciting in itself when you're a hardened computer junkie. About the only thing that continued to bother me was the fucking touchscreen keyboard (which, of course, I would buy Android phones off and on that would have physical keyboards).

Regardless, eventually the fact that this thing was taking over my routines was starting to sink in, and the inherent security and metadata issues bubbled to the top of my mind fairly quickly. It was actually in 2013 when I started yelling
on Sovryn Tech to stop relying on smartphones so much, as they're both shit at productivity, and at respecting what you do in general in life. I said to use your PC if you need to do something, because it's easier to walk away from them, and harder to carry them...both advantages.

The linked article has a basic point in the vein: Stop carrying the damned fondle slab around all the time. And it's a good idea. Granted, that can be tough since smartphones are particularly good at one thing: media consumption.

From podcasts to audiobooks, to YouTube videos to Netflix, to books and even tweets, music and talk radio, it's endless the media you can take in while still having freedom of movement. It's the Walkman on steroids, and it's really good at it. It's probably the main reason I can't dump my smartphone completely (well, that and Signal...for now).

But if we can learn to keep it in its place (and maybe get a good pair of
bluetooth headphones), I think people will be better off for it. Read the whole deal below.

Did you know that there is a secret, official Sovryn Tech Facebook Group?! It's called Sovryn Tech UNCENSORED, and it is a wild, intellectual, and naughty place...just like Sovryn Tech! If you want to come hang with the cool kids, just "friend" Brian Sovryn on Facebook at the link below, and then Private Message him asking to join the group! It's that simple! See you there!
Brian Sovryn on Facebook
The leading guide to privacy and security on your Android device! In this guide you will learn:
  • The best apps to use for privacy and security.
  • How to delete your history with Google and minimize how much data Google collects.
  • How to properly use encrypted communications like Signal and PGP-encrypted emails.
  • Encrypting your entire Android device.
  • How to use VPNs.
  • And more!
This is your no-nonsense guide to reclaiming your privacy and to begin using best practices for security. Written for beginners and experts alike!
Buy the Dark Android eBook


This is the section of the Sovryn Tech Newsletter where I share various videos from all kinds of sources. Videos of things that I've found either entertaining, informative, or even trailers of things to come...maybe even documentaries of the strange and unknown!

Marine mammal expert Dr. Regina Eisert thought minke whales were a little boring until she captured some striking footage of one swimming underwater near Antarctica. Now she thinks they're beautiful. And I agree.

From growing up watching Irwin Allen's Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, the original 1972 The Poseidon Adventure, and of course the inimitable SeaQuest DSV, and reading the anarchist classic 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, I've had a fascination with all things oceanic. It is Earth's own final frontier, and a realm that continues to surprise us all, and intrigues the Hell out of me by the day. As much as I love space, I love the ocean. And seeing the beauty and
granduer of one of its lesser known creatures of majesty just adds to my lust for the sea.

According to Dr. Regina Eisert, the minke whales look apparently always looked similar from the surface, but she's now gained a new appreciation for their individuality after seeing the markings on one up close. She said her team got the underwater video by luck. They'd planned to film underwater for two weeks but managed to get just 90 minutes of footage before running into technical problems.

Yeah, the Man of Tomorrow loves Star Trek (what, do you think Ellen, Stephanie, and I actually talk about anything else??), and any time I get to talk it up in the Sovryn Tech Newsletter, I go for it. Even better when it has to do with one of my favorite characters.

When Stephanie was recently on Sovryn Tech, she gave a review and her thoughts on Star Trek: Discovery, and when we got around to talking about favorite characters, I instantly spoke up and mentioned none other than Empress Georgiou of the Mirror Universe, and it looks like that character is going to go away anytime soon. And I couldn't be happier.

The above video is a "deleted scene" from the last episode of the recently concluded Season 1 of the show--really, it's a bonus scene as it is declared canon--that shows the fate of Empress Georgiou...and gives us an introduction to Section 31 (a major part of Star Trek: Forbidden Frontiers). This is pure badassery, and Star Trek: Discovery is clearly going to heat up in 2019 when Season 2 premieres. I can't fucking wait.

WOO! Speaking of favorite characters! Another fairly well known fact about me is that I'm a crazy Power Rangers fan (ever since the good ol'days), and the recent comic series from BOOM! Studios has been one of my top picks many times over whenever I'm asked or talking about it on Sovryn Tech.

Well, in an upcoming storyline for the comic series called Shattered Grid (released March 28th, 2018), Lord Drakkon (think of him as a "Mirror Universe" Tommy the Green Ranger) finally makes his way over from his own alt-reality—where he’s basically got his own army of heavily armored, cool looking Power Rangers to boot, some of who you see in the teaser—to the main Power Rangers universe, threatening the survival of not just the Mighty Morphin’ rangers, but the future teams that will come after them, too. That all sounds plenty fun, but the fact it’s inspired BOOM! Studios to create this mini-movie teaser trailer for the comic, and also given
originaly Green Ranger actor Jason David Frank the chance to suit up once again for this brief teaser, makes this pure magic.

You have to understand...I love the Green Ranger. Like...that way. And his genuinely evil version--Lord Drakkon--has quickly become one of my all-time new favorites. Check out the teaser, and then get to reading the comic,


It's the Sovryn Tech First University Book Club! Wait...doesn't everybody have a fucking book club? Yeah, it seems like it, and I find most of them annoying, but since so many Sovryn Tech Patrons asked for this, you're getting one from me, too (by demand of the listeners), as a new feature in the Sovryn Tech Newsletter!

But understand, I don't expect you to follow along and read (or listen to) all of this at the same speed I do, and myself and the other members of the Sovryn Tech Cabal (my lovely co-hosts) may never talk about these books on air, but if you want to see what we're taking in on our lesiure (or not-so-lesiure) time, below, every month, will be the books that myself, Stephanie, and Ellen had read for that month, or are in the middle of reading. Most likely, though, we'll have completely gone through it if we're going to even mention a book here.

March was admittedly a slower month as far as consuming books, but no less interesting!So enjoy,
t urn your screens off, and flex your mental muscles for a journey in the literary world!

And don't forget you can download wild and free out-of-print eBooks from!


Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Expanded Edition by Jason Fry
The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon


Chaos: Making a New Science by James Gleick
Come As You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life by Emily Nagoski
Artificial Intelligence by Jerry Kaplan
Humans Need Not Apply by Jerry Kaplan
Welcome To The Universe by Neil deGrasse Tyson



It's true! You can now get Sovryn Tech t-shirts! But now there's not just the shirt with the retro Sovryn Tech logo on it, there's also the first gear from Sovryn Tech First University...STFU!

Available in sizes S-5XL, as well as in unisex t-shirt and women's shirt styles, you only get one color choice: triple-black, baby! But then, what other colors are there, really?

Also available are Sovryn Tech mugs with the same design, a hoodie, and even stickers! Don't miss out on getting some of the coolest swag in the universe! All in our new Sovryn Tech Gear store!
The Sovryn Tech Merchandise Store Page:


Shielded ZenCash Address: 
Shielded Zcash Address: 
Bitcoin Address:
Transparent (unencrypted) ZenCash Address: 
Transparent (unencrypted) Zcash Address: 

Litecoin Address:



"Vulcan Incognita"
by Brian Sovryn

The battered and unsuspecting freighter landed perfectly in its appointed dock aboard the space station deep in Orion pirate territory. A docking procedure performed so perfectly that the dockmaster’s voice came over the freighter’s comm to congratulate the precision flight crew.
The response from the freighter was brief, “Thank you, dockmaster. All in a day’s work beyond Antares.” But aboard the bridge of the small freighter, there was no one. No one to utter those words. It came from the computer.

In a storage compartment just behind the bridge of the freighter, a lithe, young woman looked back towards the bridge, ensuring that the freighter’s automated flight, command, and communications systems met the criteria of the Orion crew of the space station she had just landed in, knowing that if the computerized ruse hadn’t worked, no one else was around to try and mitigate the failure.
She was completely alone aboard the ship.  

And the freighter’s advanced computer was supposed to inform her of either success or failure upon task completion.

The woman’s calm, low voice caused an echo in the otherwise empty freighter as she queried, “Computer, any issues with docking or station personnel?”

The computer responded from the comm in front of her next to the open storage compartment, “Negative, Lt. T’Lana. Dockmaster has this ship registered as a Tellarite freighter with a shipment of dilithium for the Orion slave trader Zaminhon.”

“Thank you, computer,” T’Lana responded. While just a computer, though highly advanced compared to other models in this part of the Alpha Quadrant—Federation or Orion Syndicate—the young woman felt a unique understanding with it, as she saw its databanks to be closer ordered to her own mind
than most of the organic species she regularly came in contact with. The ship’s computer’s ability to perform all functions required of a crew aboard the innocuous looking freighter also reminded her of her own ability and preference to take care of things herself, by herself, as the humans would say.

Before pulling down the first article of clothing from the storage compartment, she brushed her shoulder-length, dark hair behind her pointed ears with her hands to keep it from falling in front of her face as she bent over to remove her underwear from underneath the high skirt of her all-black uniform. The hairstyle was uncommon for a Vulcan woman, but she wasn’t on Vulcan, and she found that other species often responded more favorably to the length and flow of her hair in shoulder-length fashion.

Nor was her uniform common. Though it was styled like a standard Starfleet uniform favored by the Constitution-class Starship Program, it had two distinct features: It was completely black—save for the gold rank embroidery on the wrists—and it had no symbol on the chest of it. In Section 31, there were no symbols, the customary wearing of all black was symbolic enough for the shadowy organization that saw itself as the protector of the United Federation of Planets…at any cost.

At any cost, included getting out of her already skimpy, mini-skirted Section 31 uniform, into an outfit—if it could be called that, she considered—even more revealing. It was a tattered two-piece, meant to resemble the clothing worn by a slave being put on the market by the Orion Slaving Guild, which is what she would be going undercover as, and why the computer had to pretend to be the entire crew of her freighter.

She was already supposed to be here. And on auction.

Lt. T’Lana pulled the uniform up over her head, her breasts falling free as they were released from the confines of the uniform which held them and threw the uniform into the storage compartment. She looked down at her knee-high boots and began to remove them, then thought better of it as they were already scuffed and had plenty of wear, thinking they would match the outfit she was to
don better than what was provided.

As she slipped on the two-piece, T’Lana began mentally preparing herself for the role. The look of the outfit in the mirror helped with setting the mental stage. The skirt of the outfit didn’t even completely cover her toned buttocks--the bottom, rounded skin exposed, also partly because slaves didn’t wear underwear as they were to “always be ready for their master.” The top of the outfit completely exposed her midriff, and only a small piece of fabric held it across one shoulder. Like her buttocks, the lower part of her ample bosom was exposed under the small, but flowing top.

While she had no emotional reaction to her attire—on Vulcan, it was commonplace to walk around nude in many districts, as it was seen as only logical—she knew that less evolved species and cultures would find her appearance “alluring,” which is exactly what she knew she needed.

T’Lana went to the back of the freighter where a holographic viewer was installed, and ordered the computer to contact her superior officer in Section 31: Captain Damien Ivanov.

In seconds, Capt. Ivanov appeared before her with a green hue to him, and then seconds later she was surrounded by an entire green holographic representation of his office which now replaced the dingy, gray walls of the freighter’s interior. The green color of the holographic presence differed from the brighter, more colorful holographic transmissions that had largely fallen out of use in Starfleet, with the green color being a byproduct of the heavily encrypted nature of the hologram.
In the holographic transmission, T’Lan also noticed Cmdr. Varese Jenn, a Betazoid female she had come to respect and work with as part of Capt. Ivanov’s small team of Section 31-commissioned scientists
was sitting on the Captain’s desk, her legs crossed and fully-exposed by the black mini-skirted uniform like the one T’Lana was wearing just moments before…and the Betazoid commander was smiling at what she saw.

The hologram of Capt. Ivanov stood up from behind his desk and walked directly up to T’Lana, standing face-to-face with her now, gauging her appearance as he looked her up and down. “Lt. T’Lana, I didn’t think someone of your regal composure could pull this off, but you actually look the part.”

T’Lana responded matter-of-factly, “Female Vulcan slaves are highly sought after by the Orion Slaving Guild. I’m sure you’ve seen others in your reports, Captain, and I am merely a reflection of them.”
“Of course,” the Captain said as he walked around her, still inspecting her outfit, “You’re relatively new to Section 31. I meant no offense, Lieutenant.”

taken, Captain. I have no ego to bruise,” T’Lana responded, causing the Captain to grin within his peppered goatee. She locked gazes with him momentarily. Captain Ivanov was what she would describe as a particularly healthy human, with a musculature developed to a point she saw few humans engage in developing today. And he was tall, adding to the size of his overall frame. Others, she was sure, would consider him an imposing figure, maybe even fear his physicality alone. His only physical oddity was his wearing of eyeglasses, apparently due to an allergic reaction to Retinax V, the common prescription for correcting vision. But it took nothing away from his presence, a presence that was matched with an intellect that she both admired for a human and knew not to enrage. Though she knew the Captain was a scientist first, she also knew he was given a command position in an organization that did not do so for the meek, as the humans would say.

As the Captain turned from T’Lana’s gaze and returned to sit behind his desk, she again noticed Cmdr. Jenn smiling at her, with a grin that contained a hint of what she thought was the human emotion of lust.

Captain Ivanov interrupted the moment, “Do you have your tracking bracelet, Lt. T’Lana? I don’t want to lose one of my best operatives on account of a fashion mistake.”

T’Lana turned back to the storage compartment and put on a brushed metal bracelet that had an onyx-like stone in the middle decorating it, then stepped back into the hologram of the office and raised her left-wrist, showing the Captain the disguised tracking device.

“Good,” Capt. Ivanov said, “and you have your…enhancements.” His statement trailed off as he tapped a pen on his desk, his other hand unabashedly caressing the small of Cmdr. Jenn’s back, the Betazoid woman’s turn of her head towards the Captain with a grin making it clear it was not an uninvited touch. His eyes matched the Commander’s, then returned to T’Lana, “I won’t keep you from your mission any longer, Lieutenant. We’ll see you in forty-eight hours. Ivanov out.”

The holographic office disappeared around T’Lana. She breathed a meditative breath and took one more look at her slave’s outfit in the nearby mirror, making sure everything was in place, though if anything were problematic, she knew Capt. Ivanov would have caught it just now. Or Lt. Jenn would have with her attentive stare. Satisfied, she called out to the computer, “Computer, open the escape hatch in the main cargo hold and close it once I’m through. You should receive a report soon from the dockmaster that the Orion trader Zaminhon has been dead for some time now, and inform them that you will be taking your business elsewhere. Then depart from this station and set a course for Deep Space Station K-7 immediately.”

The freighter’s advanced computer confirmed the order, and T’Lana headed for the main cargo hold. As she walked down the freighter’s corridor, she disappeared from sight. Literally.


Dermal photoreception wasn’t something that could trick infrared or thermal sensors, but it was a useful genetic “upgrade” when trying to get around an old Orion space station that wasn’t lined with the latest sensor packages in the quadrant. Dermal photoreception—or, the skin’s ability to mimic the color and designs of its surroundings to effectively “cloak” a living thing—also wasn’t the latest development in the quadrant. It had been experienced by the Federation, and particularly to the attention of Section 31, before during the Temporal Cold War with the Suliban in the mid-22nd century.
The Suliban had used similar genetic enhancements that they had been given by a contact from the future, and after collecting some Suliban DNA from the NX-01 Enterprise, Section 31 now had it as a part of their toolset, though they had learned quickly that the procedure was extremely painful, and the genetic alterations were lethal to humans.

Which made Lt. T’Lana—as a Vulcan—the inheritor of the dermal photoreception enhancement in Capt. Ivanov’s team, an ability she used now to leave the docking bay her freighter was in without anyone seeing her. Invisibly walking past Orion security guard after
security guard, and quietly doing so in part due to her Section 31 espionage training, as well as having studied years of Suus Mahna, T’Lana quickly made it the massive, central agora of the station.

It wasn’t what she expected as she saw hovercycles fly just overhead the various merchants, slavers, and “customers” from what she could only gather was thousands of worlds, as well as large animals being herded around in processions that even a small moon shouldn’t have been able to handle. The entire design of the station’s main interior was an affront to her logical sensibilities, and she couldn’t fathom how anyone could do business here and was now questioning whether she successfully could.

Then T’Lana remembered that she wasn’t here to do business. She wasn’t the merchant. She was the product.

Staying in her cloaked state, she carefully walked around the deluge of creatures until she found
holographic signage that appeared to bring a small semblance of order to the chaos of the Orion station. The directory before her displayed information that continually shifted what language it was displayed in: Klingon, Orion, Tellarite, and some she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a surprise to her that neither Vulcan nor Basic English was listed this far into Orion territory—though some human and Vulcan traders did deal with Orion pirates, it was known, though widely shunned by the rest of their respective species—but she understood and could read a few of the other languages displayed, regardless.

After only a few moments of orienting herself with the information displayed, T’Lana found what she was looking for, and it was three levels below her.

Slave cages.


The cages were filthy and antiquated. T’Lana imagined there wasn’t much need to update such barbaric contrivances, but these looked as if they had been in use for centuries. Her dermal photoreceptors still active, she physically inspected the bars of the cages unnoticed by any of the Orion slavers around, or the slaves inside the cages, and realized the cages were quite weak, and she doubted she even needed or more-than-human Vulcan strength to easily escape from them. And even the spacing between the bars was significant enough that most humanoids could easily slip past it.

But a quick glance at the slaves inside the cage solidified why the cages barely needed to be cages: the slaves were all wearing shock collars. If one of them even tried to escape, they could either be temporarily paralyzed or induced with a severe amount of pain. Fortunately for T’Lana, she had been provided with one of these by Capt. Ivanov. One that would automatically sync with the any localized control device, and could be deactivated by voice command when needed.

The lieutenant made sure the faux collar was activated and worn at an appropriate tightness, then slid between the widely-gapped bars and sat down in it against the bars, knees to her barely covered chest due to the slave outfit she was wearing, and then sent the mental signal to herself to “turn off” her dermal photoreceptors, now appearing as a hapless slave, as if she had always been in the cage.

None of the other slaves in the cage even noticed that she wasn’t there a moment ago, most of them either asleep or having a deadness in their eyes that didn’t seem to pay attention to anything, at least that she noticed with the species there that had what could be called eyes. The cold floor of the cage was slightly uncomfortable even as a Vulcan, and it didn’t help that her buttocks were practically bare upon it from the shortness of the skirt of her slave disguise. To take her mind off of it, she took a moment to tousle her dark, longer-than-usual-for-a-Vulcan hair and spread some of the dirt from that cold floor onto her exposed skin; her arms, her abdomen, her legs that she continued to hold close to her in attempt to display a sense of fear that T’Lana didn’t actually feel.

Slavers loved seeing fear.

As a large Orion male suddenly grabbed her from outside the cage, lifting her from under her arms onto her feet, she knew the false display of fear had worked.

“Vulcan,” the giant green-skinned man barked. T’Lana’s universal translator in the shock collar kicked in as soon the Orion began speaking, “Female. Rare. Pretty. I must have this one!”

Another large Orion man walked up to the one holding her, with a less gruff voice saying, “She must go through the auction. And Karramon loves Vulcan females. You’ll have a hard time outbidding him when she goes up.”

The Orion holding T’Lana let her go and then grabbed the other Orion by the neck, “Put her up now!”

Though all Orion men seemed to have an impressive muscular that lent itself to the idea that they possessed impressive strength—and T’Lana considered it fact after the way the one Orion manhandled her—the other Orion seemed genuinely afraid of the taller of the two. Not that T’Lana had much experience with Orions—she was a scientist more than a field agent—but it was a fascinating exchange, she thought, based upon what she did know of the green race.

Her fascination was cut short as she suddenly felt stiff and almost completely paralyzed. Her eyes could move, as she soon saw from the corner of them four Orion men enter the cage she was in and then lift her up and take her out of it. She was still able to talk and attempted to protest, letting out a sluggish series of, “No! Let go of me,” statements. But she didn’t intend for them to have meaning. Before long she found herself on a platform, a stage, in front of tens of Orions and other aliens, all waving datapads that she assumed
controlled varying amounts of currency.

The same Orion that argued for the importance of her being auctioned off could be heard to the side of her, “Here we have a rare treasure, indeed! A Vulcan female! Prized throughout the…”
And before the auctioneer could finish his sales pitch, a loud chime went off behind T’Lana. She couldn’t see it, but by the look of disappointment in the crowd of buyers, she assumed it said something to the effect of “SOLD.”

Her paralysis ended unexpectedly as another Orion man grabbed her arm, laughing at its thinness, and then gasping in surprise at her Vulcan strength, T’Lana pulling away from him, quickly turning to see what the auction display had said. Her assumption was correct: “SOLD. Buyer: Karramon.”

If T’Lana were human, she would have grinned. Mission accomplished, she thought.

The Orion man grasped her arm again and turned her around roughly, raising a small cylindrical device to her face, a green gas that matched the color of his skin ejected from it. Consciousness faded as T’Lana slumped into his arms.


T’Lana felt what she could only describe as grogginess and intense confusion as her senses came to her. As her eyes slowly opened and her nervous system activated more, she realized she was lying on a floor, with the feeling of fur underneath her. She arched her head to look ahead of her and saw the head of the unrecognizable beast that the fur was from. As a vegetarian as all Vulcans were, it troubled her for a moment, until she brought her head looking straight forward, only to see a veritable throne of a chair, with a large, shirtless, bald man with green skin sitting upon it. Lt. T’Lana recognized the Orion man seated before her as her target: Karramon.

“Good. You’re awake,” the Orion said, his face low and gruff, and his English slightly slurred. The lieutenant second-guessed whether she actually heard him speaking English, an odd choice for an Orion, until he spoke more, “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my new prize in the comfort of my palace.”

At the mention of a palace, T’Lana worried that she had been taken further away than she had planned, wondering how long she had been unconscious. As her senses continued to return to her completely, she listened intently
for background noise. Her superior Vulcan hearing quickly picked up the background noise of the Orion space station’s power generators, reassuring her that she was still aboard the station she had originally arrived on.

Her train of thought was quickly broken as a shock went through her body from the collar she still wore. While she had learned long ago on Vulcan how not to express pain when necessary, at this time she felt the opposite was necessary and made a brief grunt of pain when the Orion man activated her collar. Even though she could deactivate the modified collar she wore at any time, and she had been given an injection which dulled her reaction to any pain, for the purposes of her mission she would play the part and go along with the usual reaction and treatment that she imagined the Orion man was used to. She was mentally and physically prepared for the worst, a readiness she knew to always have in the service of Section 31.

He spoke again, his voice still low and gruff, “I am Karramon. You…are my slave. It has been a long time since I’ve added a Vulcan female to my harem. I know much about your race and the women of your race. Like you.” Karramon stood up from his throne and walked around her. He was tall, with a muscled body that appeared magnitudes larger than any other male species she had encountered. He continued to speak as he walked, “You claim to suppress your emotions, but deep down you are all…wild. Especially Vulcan females. Perhaps even as wild as our own Orion women.” The massive Orion man, his musculature brushing up against her body for his closeness, breathed heavily on her neck, his large fingers tracing up her thin, bare arms until his hands were at her shoulders, grasping them tightly. She felt the strength in his hands. His strength was significant, she gauged, but also felt she could easily at least match it due to her Vulcan physiology.

“You are beautiful. And healthy,” Karramon continued. “Your name does not matter. The only thing that matters…is that you please me.” Karramon then returned to his throne and sat, staring at her intently. The sudden sound of his commanding clap startled her after being used to his low voice, along with his now barking tone, “Dance for me, Vulcan!”

T’Lana stared back at him just long enough to hint at a small remnant of resistance to such base commands, but as
the Orion’s hand went to his remote for her collar, she slowly began swaying her hips. The lieutenant looked around the room and noticed various poles and furniture that could be used to perform the seductive dance she knew her new “master” was desiring. Three weeks prior to the mission, Capt. Ivanov sent her to Risa for training in erotic dance, along with other “skills” that the Captain and Cmdr. Jenn said would be useful.

The Vulcan lieutenant was a quick study.

She waved her arms in a slow, seductive motion, as she slowly walked over to one of the poles in the room, her gaze locked on the Orion. T’Lana took the opportunity to look for any guards or defensive mechanisms in the room but was surprised to find none. Orions must feel very confident about their slaving techniques and technologies, she assumed. T’Lana then grabbed the pole and
thrusted herself around it in a spinning motion, her legs reaching outward as she spun to the floor, the bare skin of buttocks touching the coldness of it now. Karramon looked impressed, and his gaze quickly fell to her breasts as her nipples hardened from the coldness of the floor.

T’Lana pulled herself on the pole back up to standing and took the opportunity of his gaze to slowly remove her barely concealing top, letting her breasts fall free as he continued to stare. She then stretched out her arms, performing a standing spin on the pole until she brought herself closer to it, her breasts wrapping the pole between them as she hugged it and ran her body up and down the shaft of it. While Karramon’s Orion libido was clearly already increasing--his stare one of lustful desire already--T’Lana, by comparison, kept her’s even, impassive, logical…Vulcan. And that impassive expression seemed to entice the Orion all the more, she thought as she started to dance away from the pole and back towards his throne, her hips swaying and hands caressing the entirety of her body as she moved.

“You dance well,” he grunted, rubbing his angular jaw.

“I am well trained in the arts of pleasure,” she
said, and was about to say more until she suddenly felt a powerful shock from her collar again, causing her to instantly fall to her knees, quickly remembering to let out a moan of pain to keep up the act.

“You were not told to speak, Vulcan!” Karramon’s look of lust had quickly turned to one of anger as he barked at her. T’Lana considered that this emotional outburst would have been the perfect opportunity to complete her mission, but quickly decided that now was a moment for continued subservience and
not attack.

T’Lana bowed her head as she remained on her knees before him as the effects of the shock collar wore off. She remained silent, looking down at the fur rug she had initially woken upon. Karramon also said nothing, but the sound of a clasp and belt could be heard, his leather garments falling to the floor to T’Lana’s side as he tossed them there. She began looking up, not intending to look in his eyes in a sign of submission, but her head stopped as her gaze reached his waist, and what was below it.
hanging, was his large, green member. From the onset of the assignment, T’Lana assumed her façade would get to this point—and beyond—but wasn’t exactly prepared for the girth of what she saw before her. While Orion males had exaggerated features compared to many other humanoid races, Section 31’s files had left this detail out. Or perhaps Karramon was a rarity, even among his people.

Her thought was disrupted as he gently, though still gruffly, said, “Pleasure me, Vulcan. Show me these arts you speak of.”

T’Lana lifted her hands from her thighs, raising her thighs into a higher kneeling position, then attempted to wrap her hands around
the Orion’s giant organ. It was useless, her hands so small in comparison to it, but the low grunts Karramon made assured her that her efforts weren’t ineffectual in fulfilling his command. She continued to stroke the shaft of it, and as it hardened to an even greater length and girth, T’Lana brought her mouth to it and began kissing along it, then kissing the head gently.

Karramon pulled away, the green cock sliding from her hands, and he sat on his throne. For a moment the Vulcan lieutenant thought that she had caused some dissatisfaction—a potential danger to her mission—but knew otherwise once the Orion arched his finger for her to come to him. T’Lana crawled on all fours to his throne, then kneeled before him again and returned her hands to his hardness, stroking it up and down again with both hands, then lowered her mouth on the head of it—not kissing it this time—taking it into her mouth and slowly rolling her tongue around it.

His slight moans were of an even lower octave than he had hit with his voice before, and his hand now resting and pushing down gently on the back of her head indicated to T’Lana that her training on Risa was adequate.

As she continued to suck on his cock, she could feel the pulsations of it, an early sign of eventual orgasm. That would be her time to strike. And just as she was certain Karramon was about to ejaculate, he sat up in his throne and grabbed her by her sides, instantly lifting her small frame from the floor, and into a kneeling position on his throne with her legs straddled to the outside of his own.
With a lustful grin on his face, he groaned, “You are…well trained…Vulcan. But is your body able to please your master?”

T’Lana heard it for the question that it was and saw it as an opportunity to speak, and did so with a Vulcan matter-of-factness that in the proper moment she knew other species found alluring, “My body is yours to use, master,” raising her eyebrow as she referenced him with the title.

But her raised eyebrow turned to a wince as, without warning, Karramon lowered her onto his shaft. While slowly, the size of the Orion was still beyond anything T’Lana had experienced—and though she was prepared for this and knew it had the potential to be a part of her chosen duty—it gave her sensations even her Vulcan reserve couldn’t contain. The lieutenant was surprised that she heard herself uncontrollably moaning at the feeling of his large, green member filling her.

She had no control. Karramon was using his inhuman strength to thrust her entire body up and down on his cock. Though she had only said her body was his to use as a way to placate him, she realized it wasn’t difficult for an Orion male to make it a literal statement, as it was now. Her Vulcan logic reminded her again that this was for the safety of the Federation, and though the size of
the Orion’s hardness caused her body to react in some uncontrollable ways, and created a filling sensation she found fascinatingly pleasurable—something she had never experienced before—she also felt no lust or desire for the situation.

His use of her body, the continued lifting up and down on his cock, began to speed up, and so did her grunts matched by her moans. Her ample breasts were heaving now, making a flesh-to-flesh sound each time he plunged her back down to the base of his groin over his shaft. T’Lana was tiring of the role she played, and remembered on Risa they explained that the use of “dirty talk” during sexual relations could bring climax more quickly.

T’Lana attempted it, gasping out between her uncontrollable moans, “Please…master…mmm…I’ve never…had…so large…in me…please…fill your Vulcan slave…”

The attempt worked as Karramon let out a low groan and a surprising heat filled her insides,
the Orion’s amount of cum surprising her almost as much as his cock. And as his head slumped back onto his throne, his breathing uneven and heavy, she quickly raised her fist and brought her hand to the side of his face in the hardest punch she could manage, hoping that her Vulcan strength was enough to knock him out completely.

It didn’t work.

Karramon threw her off of him with a barbaric yawp, T’Lana landing on the furs of the floor. And as he reached for his collar controller to shock her, she loudly yelled, “Code Foxtrot Bravo!” Her collar fell instantly off of her neck and to the floor, and in the moment of shock on Karramon’s face, she brought her foot up to his face in a roundhouse kick that sent him spiraling. Without wasting the opportunity, she leaped onto his back, grabbed his head in her hands and slammed it against the base of
the Orion’s throne. Then again. And again.

After Lt. T’Lana was satisfied that Karramon was unconscious, she ran over to the nearby computer console in Karramon’s “throne room.” An assumption she had made ended up being correct; the Orion wasn’t intelligent enough to encrypt his own databases. While she could barely understand the Orion characters on the computer screen in front of her, T’Lana knew she didn’t need to, because she could recognize the very different language that denoted the files she had just found: Gorn.

Opening files, she quickly memorized the coordinates, names, and vessels now on display. Section 31’s concerns were accurate. The Gorn were mobilizing, and they were buying some very rare and uncharacteristic scientific equipment from the Orion that was laid out nearby, still unconscious.

T’Lana looked at the giant lump of a green man and remembered that she permitted to kill as necessary. But with what knowledge she did have
of the Orions, and of this now verified arrangement with the Gorn Hegemony, the lieutenant imagined that Karramon’s death would only alarm the Gorn, and Karramon’s need to save face with his Orion compatriots would keep the escape of a “lowly slave” a secret, effectively writing her off, as if she were never here.

The way Section 31 liked things. And how she intended it to be as she put on what little made up her slave outfit, then mentally activated her dermal photoreceptors, causing the animal skin of her outfit, the special material of her boots, and herself to disappear. She then activated the tracking beacon on her bracelet, which silently and cryptographically let Capt. Ivanov
know she was ready for extraction.
Lt. T’Lana then headed for the nearest door at the back of the throne room. Her mind raced in orderly Vulcan fashion, processing everything that just happened, with the feeling of a raised eyebrow as the thought of Karramon’s member came to mind, and a unique sense of satisfaction, she realized, only to be superseded by the satisfaction of her parting thought: Mission accomplished.

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"You must acquire the trick of ignoring those who do not like you. In my experience, those who do not like you fall into two categories: the stupid, and the envious. The stupid will like you in five years time, the envious never."

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