General Davies raised his binoculars up high just in time to see the coordinated explosions lighting up even further the afternoon sky. The cloud of grey smoke that swept through the capital provided a moment of respite from the ongoing carnage and even a glimmer of hope the like the soldiers in the front lines hadn’t experienced in ages. It was all for naught though for the dreadful iridescent energy beams of the Voltraxian ships didn’t stay silent for long, the characteristic mechanical sound before the blast travelling faster than the tired legs and arms of humans too tired to run away. At the age of seventy, the General believed he had seen everything there was to see, yet the sheer magnitude of the alien invaders weaponry proved him wrong at every turn. He sighed and wiped a lonely tear from the corner of his left eye.
“I can see that, I’m not blind yet!” the General replied, driven by anger and frustration, two feelings he should do his best to keep hidden. He regretted his rudeness right away. Davies was just another good man doing his job, and they had lost far too many already. He did not deserve to see the chain of command he had put so much faith in falter before his weary eyes. “Please forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean...”
“Yes, it does. All wars do but this one is worse.”
“Not by brute force, it seems. Their technology surpasses ours by a long shot but there may still be a way to come out victorious.”
“Yes. Fire Wall was always a risk which is why I asked the Pentagon to consider implementing Plan H as well and they agreed to it.”
“... desperate, yes, yet desperate times require desperate measures. I’ve already sent for Miss Reynolds. She should be here, soon.”
“I’m already here,” Phoebe Reynolds declared, her silky tones drowning the two men’s conversation. Both the General and the Major hesitated before turning to meet her gaze.
“No reason to be embarrassed, gentlemen,” she giggled. “Whatever you’re trying to hide, please remember I’ve seen and heard it all, before.”
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Reynolds,” Davies said. He almost used her stage name but calling her Empress Hypnotica didn’t sound right given their current predicament.
“Do you... do you really think you can pull this off?” Harrison inquired, torn between wanting to believe the fantasy and accepting reality.
“This way, please,” the General said, escorting her to the Command Center. Once a highschool gym, it had been converted by the military into a state-of-the-art facility after the aliens had destroyed the primary lines of defence during their first strike. The three ignored the horny couple making out under the bleachers for they knew all of them could be dead in the next couple of hours and if there was one last chance to go wild then...
Major Harrison did the honors. “Miss Reynolds, this is Dr. Kowalski. It was his expertise that allowed us to open a channel straight into the enemy’s communication system, the one you shall use to do your... hmmm... thing.”
“I have to say that when they first informed me of this plan, I laughed my socks off,” he muttered. “but then I listened to one of your recordings and...”
“I hope you enjoyed it,” she smiled, and Kowalski almost had no time to breathe. “And, for everyone’s sake, let’s hope the Voltraxians do so, too.”
“I’ll never be more ready than now,” she noted, assuming her position. Had anyone told her three weeks ago that the fate of the world would ever lie in the hands—or rather, voice—of a proud sex worker, she would have laughed as everyone else. Now, she had to put on the performance of a lifetime and wait for a mesmerizing miracle. She took a deep breath, held the microphone close to her sultry lips as if she were holding a man’s hardened cock and started talking:
* * *
“What... is... mass...turbation?”
“Vrok-nyl, what are you doing?” a telepathic signal echoed, one that was reciprocated with a furious downward motion and an unexpected moan. The Captain saw this image projected a thousand times over a thousand through the tendrils of his neural network, Phoebe’s voice prompting a response.
Twenty-six thousand uhns later, or five minutes in its Earth equivalent, Cruiser SRV-U spun out of control above the skies of Washington D.C. before crashing into another ship.
“Oh my God,” Dr. Kowalski looked at the monitors, jaw dropping as hard as a rock in the middle of the ocean. “We have a hit! One ship just... no, two ships! Three! Fuck, their entire armada has lost control, they’re dropping like flies!”
“If there was ever a time to strike, this is it, gentlemen,” she declared as, one by one, the enemy dots on the screens before her fainted into nothingness.
Of the two thousand and thirty-three enemy ships rampaging through the planet that day, only three escaped through a hyperspace window back to the dark pits of Voltraxia and yet it’s doubtful the survivors will ever reveal the real reasons their massive onslaught failed at the eleventh hour. Chances are they won’t return for another round soon either but if they do, Plan H from good old Earth will be waiting to make them cum to their senses again... multiple times.