by Walker Long
“What do you,” Hardaway asked in a low rumble that sent a shiver down Quantrill’s spine. He was close enough for Quantrill to smell his sharp, manly scent. Hardaway reached around and grabbed at Quantrill’s rounded ass through the thin fabric of his dress. Quantrill was nearly lifted up off his feet by the Lieutenant’s powerful hand. “What do you need from me?”
Hardaway pulled Quantrill into his body. Quantrill felt the Lieutenant’s hard manhood press against his softness. The young Private threw back his head in desire. “I need to be fucked,” he moaned into the darkening night.
“Good girl,” Hardaway growled. He took Quantrill’s ass in both hands and lifted the Private up off the ground. Quantrill wrapped his legs around the Lieutenant and covered his mouth with his own. As they kissed, Hardaway slowly lowered him to the sand.
***
Quantrill woke some time later lying curled by Lieutenant Hardaway’s side on top of a pile of their clothes. Hardaway stirred and pawed around to find his beeping com. He found it and slipped the small device to his ear. “This is Hardaway,” he said in a voice raspy with sleep.
Suddenly Hardaway sat bolt upright. “Holy shit. Get everyone out of there,” he ordered. The Lieutenant jumped to his feet and found his pants in the confused pile of clothing. “No! Everyone!” he barked into the communicator.
“What is it?” Quantrill asked with a yawn.
“The buzzard,” Hardaway replied curtly and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “The thing’s life signs have gone erratic. It might be dying.”
“Holy shit,” Quantrill breathed. If that buzzard kicked off right now it would take a dozen scientists into oblivion along with it. “What do we do?”
“Get everyone the hell out of the way,” Hardaway said in a rush. He stepped into his boots and ran off down the beach toward the buzzard.
“Wait for me!” Quantrill pleaded. He pulled his simple sundress on and followed right behind the Lieutenant. He had sand in places he preferred not to think about and his enormous breasts were going all directions at once, but he ran as fast as his short legs would carry him.
Hardaway ran past the hotel and kept going. All the while he was barking orders into his com. Soon they reached the beach where the science team’s supply shuttle squatted in the sand. Hardaway turned down a trail into the trees and Quantrill followed. When he’d been there last they had to hack their way through the thick brush. Now there was a clear trail leading straight up from the beach.
Portable lanterns were hung on the trees to light their way as they sprinted through the dark night. Up ahead Quantrill saw Hardaway skid to a stop in a wide clearing. That was also new. The science team had cleared an area the size of a parking lot. In the center a huge prefab dome rose up like a gigantic silver soccer ball. Hardaway was at the edge of the clearing talking to a group of men in pale blue Fleet uniforms.
“We’ve evacuated all non-essential personnel,” one of the men was saying. He was wearing the insignia of a Lieutenant Commander with the two overlapping circles of Sciences Corps, so Quantrill guessed he was in charge of the science team. “As a precaution. It’s all under control.”
“Non essential?” Hardaway spat back. “How many are still inside?”
“We have not yet finished some key scans or taken all the tissue…”
“How many?” Hardaway growled.
“There are three men inside but they’re working on…”
“Tell them to get out of there now!” Hardaway ordered. His tone did not encourage debate. The Lieutenant Commander might technically outrank Hardaway, but in a life-or-death situation the battle-hardened Marine took control.
“There are no coms into the dome,” the scientist insisted. “There’s no way to talk with the men inside.”
“What’s the status of the buzzard?”
“Here,” another scientist approached with a large p-vid. He showed a wavy line scrolling across the screen to Hardaway. “This is the subject’s cerebral cortex activity. It’s spiking randomly and then flatlining. Those regions of zero brain activity have been getting steadily longer for the past ten minutes.”
“Doesn’t look good,” Hardaway shook his head. “You need to go get those men. They’re in danger.”
“I can’t … I’m not going in there!” the Lieutenant Commander protested.
Quantrill frowned. The man was willing to order others to risk their lives by staying on the job, but wasn’t willing to risk his own hide for the few seconds it would take to go warn them. That was pathetic! But then Quantrill considered – was he any better? He had been more than happy to keep his distance from the buzzard and let the others handle the situation. That was about to change. Without another thought, he ran toward the dome at a full sprint.
“Q, wait!” Hardaway yelled after him, but Quantrill didn’t even pause. Every millisecond counted. If he was going to do this – and much to his own surprise he was actually doing it – he had to do it as fast as possible.
Quantrill’s bare feet slapped against the hard packed soil. He reached the airlock of the prefab dome and ripped open the door. Fortunately it was made from microfilament fabric on a lightweight framework. It came apart like a cheap child’s toy. He burst into the bright interior and saw the massive buzzard lying just as he remembered. Three scientists in environment suits looked at him with identical expressions of shock.
“All of you!” he screamed. “Follow me if you want to live!” Without another word he turned and ran out the door. Quantrill sprinted across the clearing without looking back. He could hear the rubbery flopping of environment suits from behind so he knew at least one of the scientists had heeded his warning. He hoped they were all back there, but he knew he had done all he could do. He ran as fast as he could toward the outer limit marker, afraid that any second he might be yanked out of existence.
“Oh thank, God! Thank God you made it!” the science commander exclaimed when Quantrill reached the edge of the clearing. He seemed almost in tears. Quantrill wasn’t sure why the man was so worried about him – they didn’t even know each other. Then he saw the AR316 that Lieutenant Hardaway had pointed at the man’s head.
“Lucky you,” Hardaway told the scientist and then handed the rifle back to Corporal Harper. “And as for you, PFC Quantrill, we will need to have a talk about following orders.”
“Yes, sir,” Quantrill replied sheepishly.
“Oh, and you might want to fix your …” Hardaway said vaguely and gestured at his chest. Quantrill looked down and saw that both of his tits had come loose from his dress at some point in all his running around. They were entirely exposed in their full, perky roundness.
“Oh shit!” Quantrill spun around and turned his back to the others. He quickly tried to tuck himself back into his dress.
Meanwhile the scientists were still running in their direction. They were too slow! They weren’t going to make it in time. “Hurry! Hurry! You can do it,” he encouraged them.
When the last man reached the perimeter marking, Quantrill breathed a sigh of relief. They were all safe. He had saved them! The three scientists pulled off their protective masks and wiped away sweat slicked hair. They all gathered around Quantrill and tried to introduce themselves in between huffing and puffing from the exertion of running all that way.
“Nice to meet you,” Quantrill replied politely. He wasn’t sure if they were so eager because he had warned them or because he was the only woman they’d seen in months. Or possibly because he’d had his large tits hanging out in front of everyone.
“Well,” the Lieutenant Commander said smugly. He gestured to the prefab dome still standing peacefully under the stars. “It looks like that was all for nothing.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Hardaway countered calmly.
“Yes, let’s interrupt important work that might turn the tide of the war,” the scientist ranted. “Let’s endanger millions of lives throughout the galaxy. Just to be safe. Why don’t we even…” In less time
than it takes to blink, the dome was gone. The ground, the trees, and everything for dozens of meters simply disappeared.
Immediately after, a powerful gust of wind blew past as air rushed in to fill up the half a million cubic meters of empty space that had just been created. Quantrill staggered under the force of the wind and two of the scientists in their bulky environment suits fell over. They found themselves standing on the rim of a gigantic, bowl shaped crater in the ground. A stunned silence fell over the group as they looked out at the eerily precise destruction wrought by the dying buzzard.
Lieutenant Hardaway was the first to break the silence. “I think we’re done here,” he said.
Chapter 13
Jericho
Quantrill thought of Lapis Lazuli quite a bit over the next few days. He thought about the beauty of the ocean, the peace, the freedom, the warm sun. Mostly though, he thought about Lieutenant Hardaway. Did Hardaway really like him? Or was the Lieutenant just making the best of the situation like the others? Quantrill felt so sure of Hardaway’s affection when the two were alone together, but back on the Jericho – and back in his own, unattractive, male body – that all seemed so far away. It was like a dream he could only dimly remember.
He hardly ever saw his commanding officer space-side. Officers ate at a separate mess from the enlisted men, and officers bunked in private quarters on the sixth deck. Hardaway showed up to supervise their daily PT, but effectively they lived in different worlds. As far as Quantrill knew, Hardaway had completely forgotten about him.
As confusing as deciphering Hardaway’s feelings might have been, Quantrill was even more at a loss to figure out his own feelings. Hardaway was the best man he’d ever known, but he was still a man. Quantrill always pictured himself finding a nice girl and settling down. Becoming a nice girl was a wrinkle he had never anticipated.
“Q, wake up, man,” Jabara whispered and pulled at his arm. They were in assembly, standing in neat, even ranks in the gym – a giant, empty cargo bay that the Marines put to use for PT and drill. Major de Coverly was up front on the platform talking about something or other. Quantrill had spaced off most of the speech.
Major de Coverly was the company commander. He was in charge of all the Marines on Jericho. The Major would call these assemblies to deliver news from other divisions, make announcements, and bitch about whatever policies and procedures weren’t being followed that week.
“Wha—?” Quantrill mumbled. Jabara was out of rank. That wasn’t allowed. What was he up to?
“We’re supposed to go up front,” Jabara growled under his breath. “Come on.” Quantrill shrugged and followed the big Marine through the lines of men to the platform where Major de Coverly waited. They lined up with Corporal Guan and two Marines from other platoons who Quantrill didn’t recognize.
Major de Coverly was joined on the platform by Lieutenant West, the company XO. West was a poser. He spent more time in the gym than he had ever spent in combat. He looked good in the uniform, but sat in an office pushing papers while the platoon gyrenes chewed dirt. He was probably going to tell people he was a big war hero when he got back home, too.
But then, right behind West was Lieutenant Hardaway! He looked so strong and confident standing there in his fatigues. Quantrill had a big, silly grin on his face before he caught himself and put on a serious expression. Hardaway was followed by the other platoon leaders, Lieutenant Badol, Lieutenant Dolemine, and Captain Wakefield.
“PFC Jabara,” de Coverly ordered. “Front and center.” Jabara smartly marched to the Major’s side and stood at attention. Lieutenant West handed a small, flat box to Major de Coverly, who pulled something out of it and walked over in front of Jabara. The Major held up his hand and Quantrill could finally see what he was holding – a small, purple medal. Jabara was getting a medal!
“PFC James J. Jabara,” the Major drawled. “On the date of September 19 of this year you did sustain injuries while participatin’ in action against an enemy of the Interstellar Defense Alliance. You are hereby awarded the Purple Heart Medal for your meritorious service. Congratulations, son.”
The Major pinned the little, purple medal to Jabara’s shirt and then stepped back and snapped a neat, precise salute. Jabara saluted back, standing up just a little straighter. There was a smattering of applause and Jabara went on to shake hands with Lieutenant West and Hardaway and the others.
The Major brought up Private Glibman and Corporal Guan who each got Purple Heart Medals. Then PFC Castro received a Bronze Star for defending a machine gun nest from a dozen attacking Formids. Quantrill clapped and cheered. He hadn’t met this Castro before but he was apparently quite a badass.
Then Quantrill was the only one left. Was he getting a medal, too? That seemed like too much to hope for. Quantrill never won anything in his life. Finally the Major called him to the front.
“PFC Arlon C. Quantrill,” the Major began. “On the date of September 19 of this year you did, at great personal risk, single-handedly pull a fella Marine from the jaws of a Formid warrior.”
A cheer went up from the gathered Marines. There were whistles and a few shouts of “Oorah!” Major de Coverly waited patiently before he continued. “You are hereby awarded the Silver Star Medal for gallantry in action against an enemy of the Interstellar Defense Alliance.”
Quantrill’s jaw dropped open. A Bronze Star would have been amazing, but a Silver Star. That was unbelievable! He stared down as the Major pinned the polished metal star and red, white, and blue ribbon to his fatigue shirt. It was one of the most prestigious awards in the whole Alliance military. He never in his wildest dreams imagined having one of these.
Major de Coverly stepped back and snapped a salute. Quantrill blinked a few times before recovering himself and saluting back. He walked to the line of officers and shook hands with Lieutenant West and then turned to his commanding officer.
“Congratulations,” Hardaway told him. “I’m so proud of you.” Quantrill wanted to run to him and be wrapped up in the man’s powerful arms. He wanted it so badly he was almost quivering with need. He managed to control himself and shook the Lieutenant’s offered hand instead.
“Thank you, sir,” Quantrill said.
At that moment General Quarters sounded on the crew alert system. The Marines stayed in their ranks – they hadn’t been dismissed, after all. Besides, there was no real hurry. They didn’t have battle stations, necessarily. Marines weren’t much help fighting in open space, so their assigned battle stations were just to sit in their racks and stay out of the way.
“All right,” de Coverly drawled. “We’re gonna dismiss by squad so we don’t get a traffic jam. Captain Wakefield, let your platoon go one squad at a time.”
Quantrill and the rest of Vanlanding’s squad waited for about ten minutes. There was nothing for them to do but stand around in the cargo bay and wonder what was going on. They might have become impatient and irritable but they knew when they were dismissed they would just go to their bunks and stand around there and wonder what was going on. Interstellar warfare wasn’t as exciting as it always seemed in the streams.
As the Marines waited, they felt the ship rock to one side. It wasn’t a large jolt – not even enough to spill a coffee left setting on a table. It was more like the giant starship hit a small bump in the road. Since there was no road, Quantrill guessed Jericho launched a missile. The ship carried big guided missiles with 5 tons of fuel each and a fusion warhead. They could destroy buzzards from hundreds of kilometers away. The recoil from such a massive projectile could be felt throughout the gigantic ship.
In addition to dropping Marines off at various hot spots, the Jericho was on buzzard patrol. Fleet battle ships protected the wealthy, inner planets from Formid attacks by killing off the buzzards while they were still in open space. Only the less influential outer planets – places like Antioch and Lapis Lazuli – were left unprotected.
After a few minutes, the ship rocked several more times in quick succession
. “Three missiles?” Quantrill wondered aloud.
“I counted four,” Jabara replied.
“There must be a lot of buzzards out there,” Jordan said with a note of panic.
“Don’t worry,” Jabara told him. “Jericho has fragged more buzzards than you’ve ever seen.” His words were punctuated by two more quick lurches in the deck.
“How many missiles do we have exactly?” Quantrill asked with some concern. In a typical action, Jericho would fire two or three missiles and that would be the end of it.
“There are seven launch ports,” Jabara answered. The big Marine frowned. “They have more in storage but it’ll take time to reload.”
The Marines looked at each other with worried expressions. They just fired all seven missiles. Did that kill the Bugs? Or were they just reloading? After the close call on Antioch they weren’t taking anything for granted. Quantrill wished somebody would tell them what was going on. All they could do was stand around and wait.
Lieutenant Hardaway was walking up the line of Marines. He would stop and talk with each group of men in turn. When he got to Quantrill, Jabara and the others he told them softly, “When you are dismissed go suit up. Full battle armor.”
“Are we dropping, sir?” Jabara asked.
“No,” Hardaway shook his head. “This time I think the fight is coming to us.”
When his squad was dismissed, Quantrill and the others ran down the corridor to their quarters. He didn’t know what was going on, but it was clearly not good.
They were nearly to their bunk when the public address system blared out three quick high-pitched tones. It was an alert Quantrill had never heard before. “What the hell was that?” he yelled.
“Collision alert!” Jabara shouted back. He skidded to a stop and grabbed a handhold on the corridor wall. “Hold on!”
Quantrill reached for one of the smooth, plastic handles set along the corridor, but before he could get a grip, the entire ship jerked out from under him. He was thrown across the corridor like the last coin rattling around in a piggy bank. He smashed into the opposite wall and then dropped to the floor.