“Looks like you got a pretty good haul, Lieutenant.”
PSO Lt. Commander Nicolette Frasier smiled and nodded to the corpsman who had jogged over to open the door to the pre-containment module for her. The larger facility, officially christened Brockmere-Liège ISS, was a joint venture conceived at the Brockmere Institute of Sciences in Massachusetts. It was a collaboration with an international team of specialists at the Liège Space Center in Belgium.
It was also the temporary home of Expedition 777. The Expedition was 15 years in the making. The goal of her team was to study mineral samples collected on the exoplanet Kepler-22b for evidence of human habitability.
The pre-containment module was carefully designed to decontaminate the humans without damaging any specimens being carried in from the field. She placed the carton of specimens on the belt that would convey it through pre-containment and entered the decontamination chamber. The 90-second process completed. The green light over the exit panel flashed briefly before the airtight chamber decompressed and the panel slid open.
Entering the lab, she noticed her assistant, SO Elton Berry, writing notes in the corner by the computer terminal. He’d been running tests on the specimens they collected yesterday and was finalizing his report.
He looked up when she entered. They exchanged a brief greeting as she sat her latest finds on one of the laboratory tables.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
“The mineral samples showed trace elements of nitrogen and oxygen that could indicate the presence of water. I think we’ll get more relevant results when we’re able to go deeper beneath the surface. Any news on when that might be?”
The equipment they needed was en route from the docking station just inside of the habitable zone around Kepler-22, the exoplanet’s sun.
“The last update puts its ETA at some time tomorrow,” she replied.
“Good enough, I guess. What do you have for us today?”
“I went back to that area we discovered last week and gathered some surface samples. I’m just going to do some preliminary sorting and log them into the system. We can conduct further analysis tomorrow while we’re waiting for the divining rod.”
This was their nickname for the tool that could gauge the presence of wadsleyite and ringwoodite deep below Kepler-22d’s upper mantle. These blue-green minerals were capable of soaking up large amounts of water trapped in subterranean oceans, a key ingredient for human habitability.
“This shouldn’t take long if you want to go. I can log them in myself. Just leave your report on my desk,” she said as she opened the carton of samples.
He stopped to glance at the contents of the carton and left.
Nicolette powered up the mini-tablet mounted on the laboratory table. As it came on, she began the visual examination of the mineral samples, removing them from the carton one by one.
The first few showed nothing remarkable at first glance. She was shocked to find something on the side of the third sample, near the bottom. It was a growth of some sort, about 2 centimeters in diameter.
Interested, she turned the sample over to get a better look. She was amazed to discover that it covered nearly the entire underside of the mineral sample. It was a rubbery, greenish material, shapeless and glowing softly. It definitely hadn’t been there when she placed the sample in the carton an hour before.
She prodded it gently with the tip of her index finger and gasped in shock when it seemed to respond to her touch. Somehow, it sensed her fear and surprise.
The greenish color subtly changed to a pale blue. A tentacle-like shape emerged from the mass and slithered up her hand and around it until the tip rested on the inside of her wrist and began to gently probe until it found her pulse.
Nicolette knew she should be alarmed, should raise an alarm, but somehow the probing tentacle was having a calming effect on her as it softly pulsed on the surface of the thin, delicate skin of her wrist. It was as if it sensed her distress and emitted invisible, soothing waves that penetrated her nerves and traveled through her system.
She stood and watched in amazement, knowing she should be terrified but feeling mildly euphoric instead. The tentacle began to grow and spread, softly probing as it moved up and along the inside of her arm.
“It’s going to wrap around my neck and strangle me,” she thought as it reached her shoulder, fear now beginning to override whatever spell the being had cast on her.
Sensing the slight change in her demeanor, the shapeless form changed again from pale blue to lavender, the tip of the tentacle now caressing her shoulder as if to put her at ease before moving up the side of her neck, along her jaw and up until it rested on her temple. It seemed to attach there although she was sure it never broke the skin.
“It’s trying to connect with me, to read me,” she thought. Her science brain kicked in as she surrendered to the experience, wondering if it could read her thoughts as well as her emotions.
She hardly noticed that another tentacle formed from the mass of the specimen until it inched toward her belly, making contact with her uniform and moving slowly up her torso over the fabric. It stopped at the base of her left breast, seeming puzzled by the obstruction at first before it began to inch upward again.
As it slid slowly over her nipple, her sharp, sudden intake of breath took it by surprise. The pulsing and probing stopped for a minute, but the tip of the tentacle on her temple pressed more firmly as if trying to register her reaction.
Whatever wave it emitted seeped into her brain, only to withdraw again within a fraction of a second. However, the tip of the tentacle on her breast began to pulse in a slow, rhythmic motion, gently tapping the tip of her nipple, the pace increasing to match the quickening of her breath.
Soon, the pleasure centers of her brain exploded in a cascade of dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins. This seemed to interest the shape, and the tentacle over her breast stopped and moved upward again over fabric, then skin, until it settled on her other temple.
The tentacles probed in tandem, analyzing the mix of chemicals as they settled back to normal levels. After a few seconds, the twin arms of the shape moved up and over her scalp, stopping to probe, sending signals, and waiting for a response. It seemed to grasp the inner workings of the web of neurotransmitters and activate them.
Those areas of her brain that emitted anything it deemed negative, it quickly left and moved on. However, they lingered on the areas of her brain that responded to pleasure, feeding them until the sensations coursed through her body, making her knees weak and her body quiver.
None of her training prepared her for the cosmic mental orgasm she was experiencing.