Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica: Volume 2 (Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica Series)

by Charlie Buxton

  In a dash of fur, four of the beasts leaped forward toward Galen, swords high in one hand and claws readied in the other. In a second Galen lifted his rifle up to the flying fur balls and squeezed the trigger, a burst of 7.62 mm rounds spitting from his rifle and punching clean through those breast plates of these cat creatures and dropping them from the air.

  Their leader bounced back as his four men fell to the ground, one screaming in agony as blood surged through his armor. Without hesitation, Galen brought the barrel of his rifle up to the wounded cat's head and gave one last pull of the trigger.

  The head exploded as the .308 caliber round hollowed out his brain pan. When Private Galen looked back to the leader, he had already turned to flee back to wherever he had come from.

  "Don't let that bastard escape!" the Sergeant ordered.

  With a nod and an adjustment to semi-auto, Galen shouldered his rifle and lined up the shot. The rifle gave a deafening crack as it fired. The cat creature pirouetted as his shoulder burst open from the high powered round.

  When he hit the ground, Galen pulled a bayonet from his belt and fixed the six and a half inch blade to the end of his rifle, not willing to take any chances as he ran after his newfound foe.

  ...........................................................

  The Neko woman watched in total awe as the human ran after the fallen Ra'zorlich officer.

  This human, by himself, had slain four fighting men of a Ra'zorlich hunting pack. They were no mere tribesmen who trained for battle when they came of age. The Ra'zorlichs were violently reclusive, training themselves from birth to be ready to fight and die for their lands. They never left their home, and those who dared to come in rarely left alive.

  The fact that the humans still drew breath -and drew it in victory- sent chills down her spine.

  This momentary delay would not last long. More would come, and unless she and the humans wished to join those whose remains fertilized the Ra'zorlich victory garden, they had to leave. Her own tribe had peaceful terms with the human lands; they could bring them to safety, return them to wherever they had come from.

  With the swift agility of her feline body, she leaped down from her tree, landing just a few feet short of the wounded Michael. In an instant, he pulled an axe from his belt, drawing his arm back to throw.

  At first glance, his eyes went wide. His hand wavered a bit.

  "I mean no harm, human. I have come to help," she stated in a low voice, searching around for any Ra'zorlichs that may have come toward the thunder.

  "Stay back, woman!"

  "I am not here to hurt you! I wish to bring you to safety! To help!"

  Michael stared at her a moment, his weapon still drawn back to throw. While she made no hostile moves, he quickly glanced to the other five bodies around him, all of them the same race as her.

  There was no reason for her not to attack, to try and take his life. Michael debated whether or not to throw his tomahawk and end her. He needed help, however, and something about this woman... something about her churned up his chest, softening his grip on the weapon in his hand.

  Returning his tomahawk to his belt, the paratrooper grabbed onto the rifle beside him and made sure the safety was off. With his weapon serving as a brace, he managed to sit himself up to properly face her.

  "What's your name?"

  "Mila, a tracker of the Willher tribe. What is yours?"

  "Michael. You know how to dress a wound, Mila?"

  "I do, Michael. But I have not the herbs or wraps to help."

  Michael set his rifle aside, pulling his field medical kit from his webbing and tossing it to her. When she caught the first-aid kit in her hands, he opened the holster on his hip and laid the pistol on his lap. Mila, however, didn't even acknowledge the firearm as she inspected the medical kit. Either she knew that he wouldn't kill her, or she didn't even know what he held in his hands.

  Whatever her reason, this lack of knowledge bothered Michael. If she didn't know what a gun was, how many creatures or men would be killed going against a weapon they knew nothing about?

  Mila stared at the package Michael had tossed to her, wondering what exactly it was until she felt something move inside. At once, she tore it open, barely catching the contents that spilled out. She wondered at the white packet and small white bulb with the pointed needle encased in glass. Half the items that were within this package were completely alien to her, but she knew what the white bandage was for.

  Unwinding the wrap, she knelt down beside the soldier and tore away the remnants of the pant leg.

  "Have you any water, Michael?" she asked.

  "I do," he answered, pulling a canteen off his hip. He twisted the lid, opened it up, and took a swig before passing it off the Mila. She washed off the open gash that ran deep into his muscle, cleaning away what blood she could before more of it could fill the wound. At least it seemed that nothing important had been damaged.

  "Dump that white powder packet in there, it helps," Michael ordered.

  The Neko woman fumbled with the rattling packet. She tore it open and dumped the contents over the wound and started to wrap it up.

  "What the kinda creatures are you?" Michael asked as he winced at the tightness with which she wrapped his leg.

  "I am a Neko," Mila answered.

  "Neko?"

  "Yes. Cat people, as you humans simplify."

  Michael thought for a moment as he analyzed her features. She wasn't much taller than him, heck, she may even be shorter, but from his sitting position, trying to guess her height proved to be quite difficult.

  Her face was somewhat cat-like, with the carnivorous fangs that lined her mouth and a coat of fur covering her body. But, unlike a true feline, she had no whiskers, and her nose and lips were very much human. As her hands moved around his thigh, Michael could feel how incredibly soft was the layer of fur that covered her entire body. She had the fur of a young kitten, and yet that long, flowing grace of beautiful, reddish brown hair descending from her head was just like that of a human.

  Michael was pulled from his moment of admiration as Mila tugged hard on the bandage to tighten up the knot.

  "That will do. We must collect your friend and leave this area, quickly."

  "Yeah... where is Galen?"

  ...................................................

  The Ra'zorlich warrior lay back against a tree with Galen's bayonet prodding his throat. Thoughts of grabbing the weapon and plunging it into his neck crossed his mind; it would certainly end the suffering of his obliterated shoulder. Such a shame it was for him to fall to a single, pathetic human. What respect would his warriors hold for him if they knew their officer had been beaten by an inferior parasite such as this? Then again, his shoulder told a different tale, as did the rest of his pack.

  "Why'd you attack me?" Galen demanded.

  "You are in our land, human. A hundred years, we told your kind that these woods are forbidden to you. A hundred years, we have slain the trespassers. Now, you dare ask me why I strike?"

  "Listen, cat, I don't got any idea where the Hell I am, or who the Hell you are. I just came here for my friend, next thing I know, you an' your kind are pickin' a fight and tryin' to kill us. Now if you can just point me to the nearest radio, I'll be happy to get out of here, and never come back."

  "What in Necela's name is a radio?" the warrior asked.

  Galen's brow raised as a confused look came across his face. None of this seemed to be good news for the Private. For one, this creature wasn't human, which was not a good sign. Two, the cat creature didn't seem like he was lying, though it was difficult to read the alien body. And three, if he spoke his tongue but didn't know what a radio was, then Galen was definitely not in Vietnam. Wherever he was, it was not even his world.

  Slowly, Galen began to take steps back from the warrior but not even daring to pull his aim away from his skullcap.

  "I'm gettin' out of here. If you or any other cats come after me, you'll
be dead before your claws leave those pretty little hands."

  "We are not cats, human. We are Neko. And if you return again, I shall see that you pay dearly for this day," the Ra'zorlich warrior swore.

  This provoked an uncertain look from the soldier as he tapped his finger against the trigger of his rifle, debating whether or not to pull it. Scanning the forest that flanked him at every angle, he spotted the shadows shifting in the distance. The darkness of night had already begun to set in the sky, and without light, the beasts would surely get him. Right then, a twig snapped in the direction of the village, immediately followed by a pack of voices growling at each other to be quiet.

  "My people come, human. Run or we will feast upon your bones."

  Galen didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel and sprinted full speed toward Michael. This was his only chance as the Nekos would be on him in minutes. Twigs and branches snapped underfoot as he ran, bushes were trampled and trees were dodged. As he bounded over a bush back into the clearing, the sight of another Neko made him bring his rifle up as he landed in a kneeling firing position.

  "Private, stop!"

  The Private swapped his target toward the voice, freezing as he found himself drawing a bead on Michael.

  "Put that weapon down, soldier!"

  His hand was off the trigger the second the order registered in his mind. What did not register, however, was the Neko that had the Sergeant hanging in a fireman's carry over its shoulders.

  "What the Hell---?"

  "Galen, this is Mila. She's here to help! Now get on your feet and let's go!"

  There was no time to ask, Mila and Michael were already moving back up the hill, back to where Galen had come from. It was probably the fastest way out of the hostile territory, which meant that was his-

  PING!

  Galen was caught off guard as an arrow glanced off of the side of his helmet, the stone tip barely scratching the steel. Without missing a beat, the soldier turned and brought a Neko archer in blue armor into his sights. As the anthropomorphic feline was reloading his bow, Galen shouldered his rifle and fired. The Neko was thrown off its feet, legs kicking into the air as the Private took off in pursuit of his Sergeant and their new friend.

  Hot on his trail was a pack of the Neko warriors, running with their claws out and a thirst for blood boiling in their eyes. If even one caught up to him, or got past his rifle, he was a dead man. He set the rifle to full-auto and spun around as a beast lunged forth. The muzzle blast lit the area around him as the four round burst tore through its body.

  When the solid thud of the beast hitting the ground registered in his ears, he brought the next cat creature into his sights and pulled the trigger.

  But all he heard was a click.

  In that moment, Private Martin could feel his heart stop. The bolt of his battle rifle was locked open, showing the hollow interior of his empty magazine.

  "Galen!" Michael yelled, "Come on!"

  The world raced through the Private's mind in an instant. His rifle was empty, Michael was wounded. Once these creatures tore through him, the Sergeant and Mila would come next. These things needed to be stopped, or at least delayed so the others could get out.

  Once again, his heart pounded in his ears as he shouted, "Go! I'll hold them back!"

  As his words came from his mouth, the pack of beasts closed in on him. He could have turned and ran but they would pounce on his back. Retreat was not an option. The only thing standing between him and death was the six and half inch knife on the end of his rifle.

  "Let go of me!" Michael yelled. "You fucking bitch, let go!"

  Galen glanced over his shoulder, watching Michael fight Mila's grasp as she locked him down tighter over her shoulders. She had one hand locked around his wrists and the other gripping his uninjured leg to haul him out of the area. She left him completely helpless to only watch as the Private was encircled by the pack of Ra'zorlichs.

  "You are brave to stand and face us, human," growled one of the Nekos, his golden blonde fur easily identifiable in these final minutes of daylight.

  Natural dark black streaks ran down from below the officer's glowing, orange eyes right to the breast plate of his pitch black armor. There was no doubt in Galen's mind that this Neko was an officer, judging from the silver bands that wrapped around his shoulder plates.

  "Few have ever stood to fight alone willingly against the might of the Ra'zorlich warriors."

  A bead of sweat ran down Galen's leg, going past his knee into his quivering boots. "I... I'm not lettin' you bastards kill my friend."

  "I smell your fear, human."

  This made him swallow hard. He slowly began to fish into his ammo pouches to pull out a fresh magazine. Yet, even in the dark, the action did not go unnoticed by the Neko leader.

  "Is your thunder stick finished? Human?"

  "You wanna find out?" Galen threatened, leaving the magazine in its pouch as he aimed his empty weapon at the leader's head.

  At once, the warriors growled and were about to step in, but their leader roared, growling orders in their own tongue. The officer glared at Galen for a moment, one side of his mouth coming up into a snarl.

  "Tell me human, why have you invaded our land? Slain our men?"

  "Listen, bud, I didn't know where the Hell I was until about ten minutes ago. I just came to get my friend and get us both outta here. I didn't want to fight anyone, I only defended myself. If I had come here for war, then we wouldn't be talking right now."

  The leader began to chuckle, "If you are so confident that you can slay us all, release the power of your thunder stick, human. Take my life with your magic."

  If there was any game beyond the capabilities of a young Private of the US Army, it was the bluffing game. He could go for his colt, but by the time he would clear the holster, their claws would be sunk into his flesh. There were, however, the four grenades hanging off his combat webbing.

  "If I'm gonna die," he started, each one of the Nekos taking a defensive stance as he grabbed hold of one of his grenades. He slung his rifle over his back and ripped out the pin from the grenade, holding it high above his head. "Then I'll drag each one of ya to Hell with me."

  The Neko leader took a step back, obviously cautious about the new weapon. If the human was ready to give his own life in the taking of theirs, then whatever he held was surely the weapon to do it. He was certainly not willing to sacrifice more lives of his fighters just for one cursed human.

  "Step back!" he ordered in his own tongue. "Return to the village. We shall let this human leave our lands."

  The men slowly backed away from the human with confused snarls and enraged glares. Their claws withdrew and swords returned to their sheaths as they backed off, turning back for their territory. At first, Galen wondered what was happening, but as the leader drew closer, he readied to release the lever on his grenade.

  "You win today, human. But know this, if you return to our lands again, weapons or not, I will follow you to this, 'Hell' of yours and slay you a second time. Now be gone, lest I choose to join you in your journey into the Nether."

  When the Neko leader backed off, Galen took his first deep breath and stared at the grenade in his hand, slowly attaching it back onto his combat webbing and reinserting the pin. Then he brought his rifle around and dropped the empty magazine to load in a fresh one, pulling the bolt and chambering a new round. Just in case.

  When he was certain that the Nekos had retreated into the bush toward their village, Galen turned and ran off to catch up to Michael and Mila. Laughing silently to himself, he made the facetious note to clean out his underwear next chance he got.

  .....................................................................

  The last glimpse of the sun sank below the hills in the west, its dying glow fading into the horizon to drown the world in a sea of darkness. Michael held his head low as he limped along the ground through the scar made by the crashed plane, his arm draped over Mila's shoulder.
The war paint on his face was smeared with the flow of sweat.

  "Your friend was a brave man," Mila commented.

  Michael stayed silent. He was on his first tour of duty, just like half the men of C-Company. Though he had killed and seen men wounded, never had he seen one of his own die. This first loss in combat was chewing at his gut, and he hated it. He hated the Nekos that killed him. Every inch of him wanted to go back there and tear the head off of every cat creature he saw, to charge in and sink his tomahawk into the skull of that golden bastard with the fancy armor.

  "I'll kill them. If I kill their whole tribe, it's what I'm gonna do."

  "Do not charge into a fight that you cannot win, Michael. The Ra'zorlichs were only defending their home. They lost many of their warriors as well, and in the balance of the world, you both should have lost your lives this day."