Preamble : I previously made some short stories here under a different username. I had to kill that ID for reasons relating to my virtual security, but the writing bug needed to be scratched.

As always, any and all input and constructive criticism welcome! :)

The solar sailcraft Dandelion Seed 3303 sailed forth, pushing hard towards its interplanetary-space design speed of 8,000 km/second. The Earth-Luna system was a dim blue dot behind it, and its destination planet was another, much fainter blue dot ahead of it. The black velvet stretched all around, stars strewn all about like God's own bag of diamonds had burst; the Milky Way was a stunning band of light and dark, heart-breakingly awesome to see this far from the Sun.

Eva Greenfield was not so busy that she did not go about her work with eyes wide open. The sail array fully unfurled was large enough to gift-wrap most of humanity's major cities, and it and the thousands of miles of carbon-nanotube rigging needed a constant weather eye; the sail-control AI unit did much of the balancing work, but for fine-tuning and spot-patching work, a person worked better.

Eva blipped the jetpack controls, nudging her forward at nearly 100 meters/second as her heads-up display overlaid a stress area on the other side of the sail array. The throaty response was a muted roar in her ears, the acceleration a pleasant pressure on her back and the speedometer on her display smoothly ticked upwards.

She looked out again, lost in wonder, when suddenly a loud bang and a kick against her spine shocked her out of her reverie. She felt her inner suit padding crush flat and was suddenly sure that her back would be one huge bruise at the end of the day. But what really got her worried was how her vector suddenly looked; if she didn't react, she would fly straight off into the deep black.

The pain started making itself felt as she reacted out of pure reflex and adrenaline. Her jetpack status was all red, but there was still enough reaction gas and control that she could slow down and slightly change her vector. Another swift kick that crushed the other side of the inner suit padding flat and her breasts against her chest-plate, and she felt herself slow down.

A blur went by, and another, and blind instinct made her grab the third one. The hug nearly dislocated her shoulders and legs, and the line began to warp worryingly as it took the brunt of her momentum. She passed out..

.. and came back with a shock. It had only been fifteen seconds, and she'd warped the line about 400 meters, but it did not snap, and she was stationary relative to the sail. The pain hit, and she passed out again..

.. and came to an hour later. The pain was all over, concentrated mainly on her shoulder and hip sockets. She felt nauseous, but a nearly empty stomach made sure there was nothing she could vomit up.

She looked at the oxygen meter. There was plenty of her to breathe, but not enough for her to crawl back spider-like to safe quarters. The newer models of sailcraft had small hutches interwoven in their sail arrays, safe areas for when things go wrong, but Dandelion Seed 3303 was the third ship built in its series, and not yet retrofitted.

Shaking off the pain, she tweaked the oxygen up as high as she dared, then looked hard at the menu, concentrating - nay, willing - the menu to cycle to the only option that may save her life.

There!

The data cable feeding sail position and stress vectors lay 200 meters away, in an access panel noticeable by the position arrow helpfully provided by the system. She crawled, gritting her teeth at the pain, now scared out her mind from going fast for fear of further injury.

She did it right this time, and when she came to a full stop, the pain had plateaued into a dull throb that resisted all efforts to recede into the background. She was developing a huge headache, easily the worst in her life so far, and it took all her effort to just get herself ready for the next task on hand.

Attaching her lifeline to the main line, she braced herself further by straddling the line between her legs, freeing her hands to work on splicing a connection onto the data trunk line.

For a few minutes, her world contracted to the opened seam in the carbon-nanotube line and the intricate splicing work. The inductance pads in particular was giving her trouble, but she attributed it to the pain and fatigue, and she was only partly right.

A few minutes more, and she suddenly found it easier to concentrate on the job at hand. Her ears pricked at the deep throaty bass hum that seemed to be more felt than heard.

Thump thump thump went the sound, at something like eight seconds per thump. It shook her deep, at the core of her innermost self. For a few seconds, she became aware of every aspect of her womanhood, of how aroused she was suddenly becoming..

.. her breasts pressing hard up against the inner padding of her breastplate, and her taut nipples rubbed and thrumming to the pulsing beat..

.. her vagina fully open and sympathetically spasming..

.. her O-spot and cervix throbbing..

.. her crotch getting really, really wet, and her skin tingling from head to toe, as if ten pairs of hands were massaging every inch of her.

She bit her lip, all pain washing away in sensational waves of pleasure, the likes of which she’d never felt before, and definitely not out here in the space between Saturn and Uranus!

Her first orgasm was clitoral and silent, rapidly followed by a G-spot orgasm that made her throw her head back and her eyes roll back in her sockets and soon thereafter an O-spot orgasm that nearly bucked her off the main rigging line. The pulse train of orgasms that hit her one after another finally dislodged her off, but her Ariadne lifeline saved her, and incidentally muted her orgasms enough for her to retain a tenuous hold on the line, as well as her sanity.

A couple of hours went by in a blur of orgasms and terror and wonder before she was picked up by a maintenance/rescue drone, alerted by the sail control AI when her first orgasms triggered a medical alert. She made it back to quarters safe and sound, but had to spend a few days recuperating from muscle trauma and bruising.

Eva Greenfield’s brush with death and eventual rescue became the impetus for a requirement that gradually equipped all solar-sail vessels with safe-harbor shacks within their sail arrays, stocked with food, water and oxygen in case all else fails. It also sparked the space legend, true as it turned out, that a woman’s reproductive organs have a resonant frequency of 33 Hertz and that at sufficient amplitude can trigger unassisted chains of orgasms.

For a time, until Humanity’s solar sail freighter fleets became fully automated, women stationing themselves at certain points of a solar sail array’s rigging became a common sight, eliciting titters and pointed comments among those who know..