Parke's First Day (The Detective Day 0)

[Writers_Bloque]

Teaser: The Last Day always seems the longest.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. All sexual acts depicted in this story take place between consenting adults. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2

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Title: Parke's First Day
Author: Writers Bloque

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Sometimes a man's fuck it bucket gets too full and he needs a change before going full nihilistic.
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Parke's First Day.

Last Day.

"So you are really leaving, Parke?" The large man next to him on the drop pod inquired, stamping out his cigar as the landing zone came into view. The rest of the squad was already waiting for this to be over.

"Yeah, too much blood, not enough pussy." Parke said, his stubble was lightening up. The man was his best buddy, well most of the squad were friends at least, but the large man was the guy who always came in clutch as Parke found himself in deep shit often. Parke was twenty-three, having spent his entire life in the military. His body was still mostly human, where it counts. The comm chatter was mostly reports of the rebellions movements, holding the embassy on Genimon VII. The Commonwealth had set up a trade station, that was soon taken over by political dissidents.

"Fuck, one hell of a last day." Another in the squad spoke up.

"Stow that death flag talk, were going in, extracting the civvies and bureaucrats and dusting off. We are not fighting in this skirmish, let the general infantry do the dirty work, in and out." Parke called out.

"We jump in three, one click to the north of the embassy, we move to the walls and begin our extraction. Stay frosty, and no fighting unless we are ambushed." He ordered as the lights went from red to yellow. Then to green. The doors opened above a sparse jungle, near a mining site.

"Go go go!" The jump mastered shouted as the squad lined up.

They hit the ground from three hundred feet, and that is when the shit really hit the fan....

The moment they got their bearings, hijacked high security drones, deadly and only used in extreme situations were on them. Deadly plasma rained down on them as they used the trees and rocks for cover. Parke switched to his shockwave cannon that is the only effective weapon against machine targets. Did not last long, but long enough to finish the bots off. They were pinned down as general infantry were ordering air strikes on the bots position. From behind, the rebels were using a pincer movement to kill the squad that just landed. But this was not an ordinary squad, and Parke used his stealth generator to find the leader of this group, slicing his throat as his men watched their leader lose all his blood. Parke dropped a charge into the troop transport, and leapt to escape the blast. The rest of the squad was shielded up as the air strike rained metal eating hell on their position.

The bots died as hard as a bot could, and the squad, minus one, who was injured, being treated by his nanomachines, made their way to the walls. But Parke had seen it. A sight so horrible, it took all of his will power to not vomit.

Bodies.

Mutilated, tortured and burned. The inner walls were painted in various species blood, including Terran. The messages were threats and even promises of further atrocities. Scanners above and on their gear told him the place was deserted, save for three life form signatures, confined in a space that gave no room to move. He motioned to his team, as scouts fed movement data to the teams operating in the entire area. The large force bearing down on them slowed down to a stop. The gnawing at the back of his head continued. He knew what it meant the moment the comm cut.

A trap.

They were sitting ducks, and yet, there was nothing moving within one click of their position. Parke gave the signal to the team to regroup.

"Everyone, secure the LZ and wait for me. I am going in." He barked.

"Stuff the martyr act, Parke, we are coming along." Big Man said.

"Follow my orders. My gear is best suited for this, just get the LZ ready, as it will be hot the moment things go their way." He hissed as he hid, his sensor fooling optical camouflage made him vanish.

Parke could see the nearly invisible sensor sweeps, expecting a reckless soldier to trigger it. He followed the traces, finding a Particle Decelerating Bomb. This bomb was fucking nasty. Oh it is powerful, deadly, and banned in warfare. The premise and ability is that it completely stopped the movement of all particles in the blast radius. This will kill, and worse, kill you with you realizing you were not dead until you turned to dust soon after.

So the three living beings were in an obvious spot, a floor safe. Booby trapped, waiting for the unwitting detonator to pop open the safe. The trigger was contact based. So he ran to the room below the safe and used his cutting laser to slowly cut the bottom out of the safe, using a mattress to catch whatever fell out. What fell out was two human girls and an Inferian girl. She looked like her fur was on perpetual fire, though it was not hot, a hell cat with an almost human body.

"LZ secured, its a fucking slaughter here, you got ten, tops before the boat comes for us with or without you." Big man said with weapons fire was going on behind him.

"Copy that. Ladies, its time to go." Parke said as he scooped up the half dazed ladies who barely resisted.

It was not easy. His enhancements groaned at the extra weight, and clearing the wall was a miracle. The timer beeped loud enough for his sensors to pick up many meters away. He knew it. No one just leaves anything to chance. They planned it out. It made him run harder, but his top speed was reduced by a quarter. He reached the fire fight, as the bomb exploded, and then the ground dusted behind him. Fire from the sky was the signal the drop ship was on approach. The embassy no longer existed in any form, as the dust blew with the wind being kicked up by the drop ship landing. He carried the ladies on board, as his team was dragging the freshly wounded again teammate on board. The ship launched as the sky turned dark as the ship approached the UCSS Jager. Below, the tide of the skirmish turned, and the rebels were put down quickly, despite being well armed and well funded.

The smoke barely cleared as the Commonwealth soldiers began clearing any surviving rebels, as they retaken the planet.

And just how any good detective story starts, it starts with a theft.

A theft of a part of a secret map that will lead the person who completes it to riches beyond imagination.

A cache so grand that the Commonwealth denounced it as a myth.

But why go so far to outlaw any search of the very outer edge worlds for it?

Why silently remove anyone who says more than its a fairy tail?

And why do the higher ups sitting in the core worlds care so much about a grand treasure that is worth maybe two percent of the Commonwealth's actual wealth and holdings?

And how does a disgruntled vet turned detective fit into this mystery?

End of chapter 1
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A Taste of Detective Parke's backstory. Thank you for reading, and any comment is welcome.

[Shocker]

As a start to military science fiction this will work ratter nicely, in the long run you will need to explain to your readers some of the technology in use. It’s perfectly fine to leave a reader confused at the beginning of a story, it’s a disastrous mistake if the reader is still as confused at the end of the story.

There are is also a jarring break in narrative everything starting at

And just how any good detective story starts, it starts with a theft.

Reads like a book teaser with the author telling the reader what is to come, that should be structurally separated from the narrative you have provided.

On another note, military service does tend to age one quickly, but a 23 year old one thinking of having spend his whole life in the military, feels a bit off.

[Writers_Bloque]

I see. Chapter two will fill things out. He was basically sold to the Commonwealth as a toddler and from that point on, he was trained and modified to be a weapon and soldier. I had to gloss over that a bit so I would not tiptoe over any grey, rule skirting areas about the mention of children, abuse and all that in an erotic story. His parents owed, the Commonwealth collected, and then there he is, not knowing anything more than the few interests they allowed him to cultivate on his down time, and military service.

[Claire]

First, I agree with @Shocker that there is a tonal inconsistency for the narrator her. Early on, sentences like this

The large man next to him on the drop pod inquired, stamping out his cigar as the landing zone came into view. The rest of the squad was already waiting for this to be over.

read very much like third person limited from Parke's pov.

But this

And just how any good detective story starts, it starts with a theft.

has a some omniscient(?) meta aware narrator who knows that this is a story tells the story with hindsight vibe.


Some details:

Deadly plasma rained down on them as they used the trees and rocks for cover.

Would that not set the entire jungle on fire? Could be a legitimate military strategy to trap the enemy in a forest fire, but the chapter never mentions the jungle being on fire.

Parke was twenty-three, having spent his entire life in the military.

That is a very odd phrase for a 23 year old character.

Also, I think it would have made sense to make clear what the chain of command is in that unit. I got the feeling that Parke is in a leadership position. But that feels strange for a 23 year old.

I also didn't fully understand what the goal of the mission was. The commonwealth was running an operation to (re)conquer the planet (or just a trade station? Or is the entire planet a trade station?) from political dissidents and Parke was leading a special unit to save civillians? So is this a large scale (civil) war or rebels/terrorists taking a few hostages?

I find it hard to follow what's going on.

[Writers_Bloque]

First, I agree with @Shocker that there is a tonal inconsistency for the narrator her. Early on, sentences like this

The large man next to him on the drop pod inquired, stamping out his cigar as the landing zone came into view. The rest of the squad was already waiting for this to be over.

read very much like third person limited from Parke's pov.

But this

And just how any good detective story starts, it starts with a theft.

has a some omniscient(?) meta aware narrator who knows that this is a story tells the story with hindsight vibe.


Some details:

Deadly plasma rained down on them as they used the trees and rocks for cover.

Would that not set the entire jungle on fire? Could be a legitimate military strategy to trap the enemy in a forest fire, but the chapter never mentions the jungle being on fire.

Parke was twenty-three, having spent his entire life in the military.

That is a very odd phrase for a 23 year old character.

Also, I think it would have made sense to make clear what the chain of command is in that unit. I got the feeling that Parke is in a leadership position. But that feels strange for a 23 year old.

I also didn't fully understand what the goal of the mission was. The commonwealth was running an operation to (re)conquer the planet (or just a trade station? Or is the entire planet a trade station?) from political dissidents and Parke was leading a special unit to save civillians? So is this a large scale (civil) war or rebels/terrorists taking a few hostages?

I find it hard to follow what's going on.

1. Yeah, kind of wanted a narrative akin to the helicopter scene in Predator, where they are bantering in the copter before landing in hell.

2. Wanted to set a mood, as if the plucky detective was reliving the memory, but it will unfold in future chapters.

3. I mean I could have went into better detail with the plasma, but then again, I wanted to limit the world building a little to focus the spotlight on the character interactions.

4. He's seen enough shit to be aged beyond his youth, this is a defining moment in his past that put him on the path he is currently on. Its a little foreshadowing. This was a special ops snatch and grab mission within the retaking of the trade planet. Also this unit does not officially exist as a standard unit. Still soldiers, but no clear designation externally as to who was what rank, but Parke would be considered barely in charge, at the rank of Sergent. Its Parke, Bishop, Perpetually wounded on missions, and so on. It was a shadow rebellion, in the vein of a theft, sorta like Die Hard, except on a global scale. The whole planet was held hostage, well mostly, as many of the hostages met grizzly ends.

[Writers_Bloque]

Chapter Tags:

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It is always simple until the powers that be point out how flawed and complicated things can get.
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High Noon, No Relief


The dropship docked and the medics came to tend to the almost certainly wounded heavy gunner, the man thinks because his gun is huge, that shots will avoid him like the plague. His gear let him negate most pain, but not the debilitating effects of direct hits. He wont die so easily, but Cpl. Thomsone was just that kind of soldier. The man almost lost limbs and laughed it off days later over beer and strippers.

Parke had powered down his combat gear and was ordered to the Captain's private Comms. This was not good. It never was.

In the small room, figures blocked out by darkness stared at him through the screen. The War Council of the Commonwealth, or as it was known down the command chain, "The Powers That Be," rarely talked to anyone who did not wear enough brass to make an infantry load out feel like a purse. Calling him directly meant one of two things. One, he was fucked, and two, he was triply fucked three ways from Sunday.

"Parke, a problem has come to our attention. First, you are not permitted to retire yet. You will be moved to inactive status during this new mission we have for you." The dark figure on the largest projection said, as he deleted the retirement paperwork submitted in front of Parke.

He silently stood there his emotions conflicting with the military discipline he was instilled with. But they were not done. Not by a long shot.

"You will be escorting the three survivors alone to Delta Symphonis IX, and while you escort them, you will also locate and recover a toddler and this toy in his possession. The last known location of the juvenile was in the Jacarti system. Recovery of both the child and toy is paramount. The survival of the three survivors comes before your own survival. Are we understood?" On the screen his records, and testing results over the years betrayed him. He tried to hide the fact that while not a super genius in any right, he possessed an intellect and deductive reasoning scores higher than even the most die hard paper pusher in the military.

He saluted. That was all he could do. "Understood, sir!"

The only screen active now, was the Logistics General's.

"You will be given everything you need. When the ship docks at the barracks station a private ship will be waiting for you. Your team will only know that you are on a solo mission, no one else is to know what you are doing. Failure will end with your complete erasure. Success will grant you semi-retirement. Do not fail us." The woman's voice, cold and authoritarian spoke, then she killed the transmission leaving him alone, as alone as he could be, the military highest up gets off on listening to the true spoken thoughts when people think the comm is off. He sighed and left for his bunk.

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The alarm woke him up. He was not in the mood for the day ahead. His plan by now was to be in the outgoing class, then on a luxury liner to the resort planet, until his savings dried up, and then to kick around the galaxies being wild and free.

But fate had other plans for him.

His gear, and bunk was cleared out while he showered and cleaned up. He was summoned to the quartermasters office where several large cargo crates awaited for him. Through the window, a rare sight had him pause. A ship. A private ship. One that looked two trips away from ending up as salvage. A mech loader started to carry crates to the cargo platform.

"Sign here, here and here." The quartermaster, a playful but no nonsense lady held a data pad under his nose.

"Sure thing. Need anything else?" He barely restrained the snark in his tone. They were technically the same rank, but in a pissing contest she would win on sheer fact that without her sign off, you could wind up on the battlefield with a slingshot.

"Parke! Whatever you did, you make it right, you got it?" The unit commander who was waiting for him said, looking like someone drunkenly pissed in his space cereal this morning, standard operating mood when dealing with Parke, a known problem, and chronic pain in the commander's ass. But his saving grace was for all the bullshit Parke put him through, the man got the job done, despite the mountains of paperwork explaining why Parke's way was not correct.

"Yes sir!" Parke saluted his commander.

"Just get your ass back here so I can retire you properly." The Commander said as Parke left.

He had a quick bite with his squad said his goodbyes and boarded the small shuttle to the ship with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

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The airlock hissed as it sealed behind him. Not in his uniform anymore, but far from the civilian clothes he dreamed of, he entered the quarters of the small ship. Three bedrooms, a shared kitchen and small common area, held an oppressive atmosphere. Compared to the soldier quarters on most military ships, this was a luxury condo on world. But what made the air thick were the three women, a minute younger than him, sitting in the common area, arms crossed, ready to deliver the righteous fury of hell upon his head as he made his way to the bridge.

He in theory and a little practice could pilot the ship. Its controls were similar to a drop ship, and small attack transports minus the weapons.

They started their list of demands, in order of importance, as he sat down and started the launch procedures.

"Look, Mr. Parke, all we are asking for is the basic amenities. Military issued clothing is far less comfortable than you soldiers make them seem to be." The first woman, the Inferian, named Fira said matter of factly.

"I see, but not to be rude to your people's customs, but your people go nude unless there is a ceremony or religious holiday, and even then only your hands and feet are covered." Parke quipped as he started the decoupling.

The second woman, a human, picked up where her friend was stonewalled by logic left off.

"You can't expect us to just lounge around in pressed pants and tank tops for the four month trip." She said, becoming Terra in the exchange.

The third woman, a little more reserved but no less indignant, Kyla spoke up.

"Just a simple stop, for clothes and books, that is all we ask." she spoke up from behind the decorated datapad she used as both shield and comfort.

Parke snapped a little, something inside shifted as the damning realization in his chest was becoming reality.

"Four months? Ladies, I do not think you understand the scope of the situation, this ship cannot make the trip through the direct jump gates. It barely passes for adequate transport, we will have to use the less popular, and even less savory gates, and even being hauled in freighters to even get to the halfway mark. Four months, try almost one and a half years if we are lucky. Six months if fortune smiles on us and we can at least get either a better ship or tickets on a Liner for the last legs of the trip. My orders are to get you to your destination safely. Think long and hard on it. Safely. Meaning there is an unknown source of danger that wants you three dead or worse. So sit down and relax, its going to be a bumpy ride." He spat out, his fuck it bucket reaching near overflowing levels.

The Station gave him departure clearance, and he watched the automated turrets stop tracking the slowly moving ship, and finally he joined the line at the smaller cargo jump gate, as it was the only gate that could clear him. Not even the higher ups in the military can override the laws regulation Gate use without raising too many uncomfortable questions.

The bright side of the ship was that it had a shared bathroom, with two showers and a soaking tub. The bad news, was he did not have a room for himself as none of the ladies would share a room to give him one. But the bridge would be more than enough, as it did have a fold down bed, and a small kitchenette in case he could not leave to get food. In a box barely hidden under the controls, he found a care package from his squad. They only knew he was on a mission, but must have figured out he would be gone for awhile.

Inside the box:

A datapad with at least a decades worth of skin magazines, videos and games.
Two bottles of very top shelf liquor with a note stating the next round was on him when he returned.
An illegal pistol. Probably tossed in to get it off of the station before inspections.
A digital frame with photo's of him and the squad.
Lingerie from the ladies in the unit, with personal comm numbers "Just in case he got lonely."
Passes for free food at the sex station in the completely opposite direction of his destination.
A carton of actual earth cigarettes, worth a years worth of pay.
and finally...

A cigar. For the trip back.

He felt a tear try to fall, as he had to pilot the ship as the line moved forward. The jump was uneventful, his digital dog tags at least earned him a pass on the standard inspections of cargo and ship. He did not need to tell the guards why he had enough firepower in storage to start and stop a small war.

Their first stop was lets just say, interesting. He had an almost endless credit account, but had to send weekly reports on what he bought and why. Buying a better and newer ship was out of the question, so their first unofficial shopping trip turned into an abject experiment in just how far his patience could go and how much do three mid twenties women needed to survive. The living areas of the ship now looked like someone decided that a ship was actually a home shared by three women and their personal butler and protector.

But in their defense, if you are stuck on a ship with no papers, no real way to prove identity that was more than the standard passive scan of your wrist comm, and had no resources, you too would make your cell a little nicer. But at least they let him eat lunch with them on the trade station.

It was not that they disliked him, but the system that forced them to confront their utter powerlessness. He was just an easy target to vent everything on.

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Two weeks in, in the quiet expanse of space between gates, the only other things out this way were asteroid campers and void hippies, a distress beacon signal woke Parke up from a nap, as the auto navigation did its job.

"My ship is running low on fuel, energy levels down to twenty percent, and structural integrity is failing." The female voice sounded as if one more incident would break her completely. The long range scanners picked up the damaged craft.

He hit the intercom, and asked if the ladies wanted to assist, or should they keep moving on. They voted to help. Of course they did.

He cursed silently, and notified the nearest station to prepare for a tow in, and set course to the emergency.

This would start a chain of events that would most likely not end well.


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Question to the ladies of the site: Would you be flattered or insulted to be described this way?

[Claire]

@Writers_Bloque I enjoyed chapter 2 more than chapter 1. I found it easier to follow what was going on than in chapter 1.

I find the idea interesting that you are sending Parke and the three women on a long journey together. Right now, your story runs the risk of portraying the three women as a collective group rather than individuals. So far, they are just a group of superficial women who care only about clothes while Parke is the annoyed veteran who rools his eyes at them because they don't understand how dire their situation is.

I think the next thing your story has to do is to flesh out Parke as a character and show the three women as individual people, not just a collective group of stereptypes.

If this was an anime, the next three chapters would be dedicated to the three women, introducing each one of them with a short self-contained storyline that techhnically involves all characters but puts one of them into focus.

[Writers_Bloque]

@Writers_Bloque I enjoyed chapter 2 more than chapter 1. I found it easier to follow what was going on than in chapter 1.

I find the idea interesting that you are sending Parke and the three women on a long journey together. Right now, your story runs the risk of portraying the three women as a collective group rather than individuals. So far, they are just a group of superficial women who care only about clothes while Parke is the annoyed veteran who rools his eyes at them because they don't understand how dire their situation is.

I think the next thing your story has to do is to flesh out Parke as a character and show the three women as individual people, not just a collective group of stereptypes.

If this was an anime, the next three chapters would be dedicated to the three women, introducing each one of them with a short self-contained storyline that techhnically involves all characters but puts one of them into focus.

Yeah, I wanted to set up their archetype first, because each one will be important later on for very differing reasons, so I dont want to play my hand out fully with them yet. But I will do as you suggested, because I think it will meld better with the teasing and titillation I want to portray with the three women. Right now they are unknowns, but soon their import to the story will be crystal clear.