Echoes of Death

Michael surveyed the terrain before him. This was possibly one of the most desolate planets he and Dash'r had visited in the months after Korhal. He had been surprised at first that Dash'r, while first and foremost was a warrior, most of his time was actually spent doing almost the exact same thing he did, that is, find old relic, and bring them back for others to study. Michael still did not fully understand how Protoss society worked, it seemed that amongst the Nerazim, as the Dark Templar referred to themselves, lived in such small communities, or alone altogether, that they had no sort of functioning economy, and each member simply did what they did for the simple reason that it was right. Michael, figuring it was just because he was a human, and humans were simply too different to fully understand an entire society that had a real work ethic, simply enjoyed the benefit of having someone around, who was as good as, or possibly better, him.

The world they now stood on had been identified by the various science teams working in the ancient Xel'Naga pathways, to have once held a door to that odd structure. In the intervening millenia, something had caused the folded space doorway to collapse, a feat that neither the Protoss or humans could figure out what could cause it.

They had stayed on that world for only a week. Less then a day because of the planets unusually slow rotation, but by his own clocks, a week, just as they had spent a week on every world on their list. 17 doorways, out of hundreds, had been shut down, and with each planet, no evidence found as to why.

He turned to his companion, barely visible in the dark. His mind still reeled in shock every so often when he viewed him, not because of the alien, but because he had always figured that he would never meet someone, whom he could both respect, and who could put up with his personality. Figures, he thought to himself, that it took a mind reader to figure him out.

"You know, Dash'r, my money is on the Xel'Naga just turning the doors off. I mean, come on, we're not going to find anything."

Dash'r turned to face him, and Michael knew, after more then three months of being with him, what was coming next, "We are still going to this next world, I do not see why you wish to avoid it."

Michael cringed. He never tried to hide important things from Dash'r, largely because he figured it would be pointless to try.

"I've been to the next one, and there's this evil shrew of a woman who's gonna try and kill me if I go back."

Dash'r simply looked at him, even with the lack of a real set of facial expressions, he knew that the Protoss wanted him to stop acting like a, well human.

"I'm better at cards then her, and she things I cheated and stole from her, which I'll add, I didn't."

They had made their way onto the small Protoss ship which had been supplied to them, and Dash'r was idly bringing the systems back online, "It is undoubtedly a large enough world for us to avoid her, is it not?"

"No, she's scary and evil." He said with a shudder, "She'd find me." And indeed he had a distinct feeling that if she was still on that planet she would have no issue, whether by skill or simply being creepy, the woman could seemingly appear out of nothing in a very similar way that Dash'r could.

Dash'rs response made Michael wish he had never inducted the usually stoic Protoss into the subtle arts of human sarcasm, "I will protect you from her, there is no need to worry."

Even though he could not hear the emphasis on the word her, he knew it was there. Dash'r had taken to sarcasm like a duck to water, and had far surpassed Michael's own abilities with it.

"Fine, lets go." Michael sighed. He took a seat at one of the few consoles he had managed to learn to operate. Most of the shipboard systems required a better control of psionics then any human had, but Micheal’s own unique ability to stay in tune with the various telepaths he ran across allowed him rudimentary control of the communications system. Enough so that he didn't feel like he was making Dash'r do all the work. When he tapped into the system he lets out a whoop of joy, "Hey Dash'r, looks like we don't have to go to Pandora after all, we've been recalled."

"Is there a reason stated?"

Michael stared at the console, still working his way through the message, written in the Protoss tongue. "No, I think they don't want to transmit it over open frequencies, cuz they're being really vague."

Dash'r sent the sensation across the telepathic gap separating them, another thing that had no true human equivalent, but after many questions, he had determined that it was in effect, a smirk, raised eyebrow, and rolled eyes, all in one package.

The lights around them shifted, the shift of inertia that signified when a Terran ship entered warp was not present on the sleek Protoss vessel. "I have altered our heading, we will arrive back in approximately a day." Michael grinned, he loved Protoss ships, the same journey would have taken almost a week on a human ship.

Michael departed the control room. The world they had just come from was inhospitable, forcing Michael to stick to being armored for the entire expedition. Dash'r had his technology, namely a shield, which allowed him to work freely in the open, yet Michael was not so lucky, and now a layer of grime had built up, which the lining of his armor, while specifically designed to disperse, had been unable to keep him even remotely clean after so long. Specially installed by Dash'r was a handful of human compatible facilities, specifically the shower was what he needed now. When he had finally reached the tiny compartment that had been set aside for human needs, he stripped his gear off, storing it carefully in one of the water tight alcoves on the wall, from the dust that had collected on it, he knew that it too would need cleaning, and he made a mental note to accomplish it when he got done scraping the weeks worth of crud from his body.

He had his head thoroughly planted under the powerful jets of water when a set of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him tight against a broad chest. He recognized the very essence of his lover, from the way the bony ridges of his pelvis pressed against him, the way the strange positioning of the knees and ankles lightly grazed against his own legs, and mostly he recognized the rough skin on the Protoss three finger hands, holding him and stroking over his abdominal muscles. He relaxed back into the grip, lightly arching his back to increase the pressure against Dash'rs half hard member.

"Howdy, Dash'r," he said, reveling in the contact. He had grown accustomed to the odd double sensations he got when being intimate with the Protoss, the telepathic connection allowed them to feel what the other felt, with almost perfect clarity, in spite of occasionally not having the same appendages. For instance, a lack of a digestive tract meant he would never be able to be inside Dash'r, in any way, and yet, whenever he was with the Protoss, the shared feelings gave him a sense of what it would feel like. The intensity was not something that could be toned down, and their mutual orgasm always happened far quicker then either of them wanted.

"I decided I would help you pass the time," Dash'r said, and even with the lack of a voice, the mental tone gave full implications of lust and desire after having spent a week in a hostile environment, allowing almost no contact between the two of them.

"Sure thing," he said breathlessly, as he clamped his cheeks and thighs over Dash'rs member, allowing the organ, much larger then his own, though average according to Dash'r, to slide slowly back and forth, rubbing against his hole, but not yet seeking entry. He batted the large four fingered hand away from his own member, knowing that the urge to cum would be arrive far quicker if both were receiving the sensations from both their dicks.

"We have all day," the Protoss said, once again stroking Michael's dick, "we don't need to last long."

With a slight shift of posture, possible only due to the alien structure of his legs, the tip of Dash'rs cock came into full contact with Michael's butt, and after a week of abstinence, he had tightened up enough that the large penis only made the barest amount of penetration. He knew that he could handle the pain that would occur with a more forceful entry, even after a week of abstinence and no preparation, but he had come to realize that Dash'r, hardened warrior that he was, could not, or didn't see the point, and only under a handful of cases, would he subject the both of them to any degree of pain. Having a days travel, with nothing else that needed to be accomplished, this was not one of those times, and Michael simply relaxed as much as he could while the fractional thrusts gradually loosened him. Coupled with the sensation of his own member being fondled, it was only minutes before he felt his cum boiling up from his testicles. He desperately removed the hand from his shaft, trying to prolong the encounter, wanting more ten the handful of inches that had penetrated him, but it was too late. The mind shattering orgasm, felt in stereo, rocked him, blanking his mind. His own knees went limp, and it was only Dash'r wrapping his arms even more tightly around his chest that held him up, still slightly impaled.

His mind eventually returned to him. His carefully extricated Dash'rs member from him, as the echoed sensations let him know how sensitive it had become. His knees were still shaky, but he was holding himself up. One of the things he had learned about the shared orgasms, was that if one had them, the other did as well, unless separated by a respectable distance, and that they were always intense enough that both were extraordinarily sensitive to touch.

The distance and sensation had actually been experimented with at one point, when before they had departed from Korhal, Michael had found himself bored in a meeting with one or another of the new Dominion leadership. Later Dash'r had told him that he wanted to show him something uniquely Protoss, after Michael had felt the sensations echoing over the distance of Dash'r masturbating.

He was glad that he had made it off world, and hoped that he would not have to ever meet whatever official that was when they returned.

When he had recovered the ability to speak, as well as walk, he turned to his lover, "Since your going to help me 'pass the time' does that mean your gonna help me get the grime caked into my armor off, too?"

It was hours later, the next day, even though the lack of a fixed cycle was beginning to make that irrelevant, that they touched down at a star port on the outskirts of a military base on Korhal. He could see the welcoming committee, Raynor, Captain Horner, a few others that Michael vaguely recognized.

His blood went cold when a mechanical synthesized voice opened up, a voice that he had been desperate to the point of murder to never hear again, "Greetings, my designation is CL4P-TP, but you may call me by my locally designated nickname-"

"Oh fuck, where the hell did you guys pull this Satan infested robot out of," Michael yelled at the assembled crowd. He then recognized the luscious woman standing behind commander Raynor. He turned to Dash'r, "See, if she can find me here, of all places, she would have been able to find me on Pandora."