by Walker Long
He fished a pressure bandage out of his kit and gripped one end in his teeth to unroll it. Then he laid it over his midsection and pulled the activator strip. Coagulant foam filled his wounds to stop the bleeding – for a while, at least.
The tunnel was empty for as far as Quantrill could see in either direction. That didn’t mean he was safe, however. Where there was one Bug there were always more on the way. He wasn’t sure how far he was from the surface, but there was only one way to find out. He tried to lever himself up onto his feet, but his core muscles were so badly injured he couldn’t support his own weight.
“Shit,” he groaned. “This is going to take a while.” Using his one good arm, Quantrill dragged himself along the tunnel floor. He didn’t know where it led, but the opposite direction from where the Formid had been taking him seemed like a good start.
After an agonizing few meters Quantrill saw another option. Most of the tunnel had been cut right into the solid stone. The walls were consistently smooth and even, except for one section where there had been a cave in or a rock slide. For two or three meters the smooth, seamless wall was replaced with a pile of rubble. Two huge boulders at the base created a small gap where their rounded sides didn’t quite come together. The opening was just large enough for him to fit through, but way too small for a Formid. If that opening extended back far enough, he might be able to hide in there.
He shined his light inside and saw a much larger cavity just past the boulders. Finally a lucky break! Quantrill slid on his back and dragged himself through the gap. There must have been another tunnel, but it had caved in long ago. Massive slabs of rock had collapsed at crazy angles, leaving enough space in between to create a small chamber. He was in a space about twice as long as he was tall and just narrow enough that he could have reached out and touched both sides at once. There wasn’t enough space to stand, but he didn’t have the strength to stand anyway. Altogether it was more room than his rack on Jericho. More importantly, he should be safe there until … well, he wouldn’t think about the until part. He had enough problems to worry about in the immediate term.
Since he was not in imminent danger of being eaten, he took some time to look at the control panel embedded in the forearm of his armor. The com wouldn’t connect – maybe he couldn’t get a signal so far underground or maybe the thing had been smashed in the explosion. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, anyhow. What would he tell them? Come get me in a “dark tunnel?”
His vital status was flashing “CRITICAL” in big, bold letters just in case the excruciating pain and blood gushing everywhere hadn’t gotten his attention. The monitor also recommended he should seek medical attention immediately. “That is outstanding advice,” he mumbled softly before his eyes fluttered closed.
***
Quantrill regained consciousness slowly. First he became aware of the pain. His body hurt – everywhere. The sheer agony made him want to retreat back into unconsciousness, but old habits wouldn’t allow that. He pried open his eyes and blinked at the light. The first thing he saw was an AR316 rifle leaning against the stone wall of the cave with a bag of amber fluid hanging on the barrel. A thin tube connected the bag to his right arm.
“Welcome back,” a voice chuckled. Quantrill turned toward the sound – flinching at the flare of new pain in his shoulder – and saw a tall, handsome Marine in full battle armor crouching over him. Lieutenant Hardaway! Hardaway found him!
Quantrill grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. The chill of the deep, dark cave melted away. The Lieutenant had come to get him. All was right with the universe because Hardaway was there. “Hi,” he whispered.
The Lieutenant leaned closer and said, “I think I’m going to give you one more unit of Plaz before …” Quantrill interrupted by grabbing Hardaway with his good arm and pulling him down for a kiss. Quantrill gently sucked at Hardaway’s lower lip, savoring the man’s scent and his physical closeness.
Suddenly Quantrill’s mind caught up with his body – and realized that body was male. Like completely, one hundred percent male – with beard stubble, chest hair, a penis, and everything. What the hell was he thinking? He broke off the kiss and let go of Lieutenant Hardaway. “I am so sorry!” he gasped.
“Don’t worry about it, Q,” Hardaway told him with a smile. “I love you for more than just your pretty face, you know.”
Quantrill was stunned. Did he say “love?” Was that even possible? It was too good to be true! Wasn’t it? He was about to ask the Lieutenant to repeat himself, when Hardaway cut him off by leaning in and kissing him a second time. Quantrill’s lips parted and Hardaway’s tongue slipped into his mouth.
“I love you too, sir,” Quantrill panted when Hardaway pulled away.
“You know,” Hardaway said. “When we’re alone together, you can call me Bale.”
“Yes, sir,” Quantrill agreed.
“We’ll work on that.”
Hardaway connected another bag of Plaz to Quantrill’s arm to replace more of the blood he had lost. Hardaway planned to Juice him, but not until his vitals were more stable. They would hide out in the cave while Quantrill slept off the drug. When Quantrill was up and around they would find a way back to the staging area and safety.
“Good plan,” Quantrill agreed. “Hey, how did you … unngh … find me?”
“The telemetry was still live on your suit,” Hardaway told him. “Led me right to you.” The Lieutenant scanned Quantrill with a med scanner from the corpsman’s kit. “Looks like you’re ready to handle a shot of Juice. Let’s get you fixed up.”
“Roger that,” Quantrill agreed. The Plaz transfusion would only last so long. He was losing blood too fast. They needed to plug those leaks or he was a going to buy a nice, big farm right there.
“Shit,” Hardaway grumbled. He was hunched over the med kit tossing out tiny vials.
“Huh?”
“Okay, new plan,” Hardaway announced. He moved to Quantrill’s side and took his hand. “I’m going to change the dressings on your wounds one last time and then carry you out of here.”
“What?” Quantrill groaned. That was crazy. He would bleed to death before they got out of the cave, much less back to the LZ. “What about Juice?”
“I’m sorry, Q,” Hardaway said solemnly. “I grabbed a med kit, but I didn’t check it over. All the vials are empty.”
Quantrill closed his eyes. That was it then. His time was up. At least he got to see Hardaway one last time. And Hardaway loved him. He had earned the love of the most amazing man he had ever known. He could go out with no regrets after that. He just wished they could have been together the way they were meant to be – as a man and a woman. Of course! As a woman! “No,” Quantrill said. “I have … better idea.”
“Don’t even say it,” Hardaway refused. “I am not leaving you behind. We are getting out of here together.”
“Not that,” Quantrill whispered. “You can see … pretty face one more time.”
“Ohh,” Hardaway said. Understanding suddenly dawned on his face. He reached for his utility belt and drew out a small vial with a pink label – PinkVector. Hardaway was a platoon commander, so the gene splicing drug was part of his standard equipment. And PinkVector used a double dose of Juice to rebuild a body with female DNA. Quantrill knew it would turn him back to a woman – but more importantly a woman who wasn’t on the verge of bleeding to death. It was a win/win.
“We might have to fight our way out of here, you know,” Hardaway cautioned.
Quantrill rolled his eyes. Even the best of men could be so silly. “She can handle it,” he insisted.
Chapter 23
Evacuation
Quantrill woke from the PinkVector-induced nap feeling better than she had for days. The excruciating pain was gone, her soft sexy body was back, her energy levels were through the roof, and – best of all – she was curled up next to Lieutenant Hardaway. The Lieutenant had spread their bedrolls onto the dirt floor of the cave. She was lying there cozy and safe – at
least as much a Marine in a war zone could expect – while Hardaway sat next to her. Her only problem was typical for someone on PinkVector.
“I am starving,” she said in a sleepy voice. “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Hardaway chuckled. “Try these.” He handed her a protein bar and an energy bar. She tore open the wrappers and gobbled them down greedily.
“Ana mowuh?” she asked around a mouthful of synthetic protein. Hardaway tossed her another bar and then unwrapped one for himself. Quantrill sat up and stretched. Of course her injuries were totally healed – the Juice in the PinkVector took care of that. Her uniform, however, was less well off. Her armor was in a pile in the corner, her feet were bare, her fatigue pants were crusted with dried blood, and her shirt was completely gone. The only thing she was wearing above her waist were a half-dozen compression bandages. “Where’s my shirt?” she asked while gingerly peeling away the now-unnecessary bandages.
“That’s it over there,” Hardaway pointed to what looked like a pile of torn, bloody rags.
“Great,” Quantrill grumbled. She looked down at her bare torso. The pale skin of her heavy, round breasts was streaked with brick-red blood, grey soil, and tracks of sweat. She looked like the Slutty Murder Victim from a cheap slasher stream.
“Here, wear mine,” Hardaway suggested. He pulled his grey t-shirt over his head, exposing his broad, muscular chest. Quantrill’s heart rate soared at the sight. His physical presence just oozed power and manliness. He handed her the shirt, but she just dropped it on the ground.
“Thanks,” she breathed. Hardaway was sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out in front. She straddled his lap and put a small hand on the bulging muscle of his chest. “But maybe I don’t need to get dressed quite yet.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed with a voice husky with lust. He grabbed her around her narrow waist with one hand and pulled her to him. With the other hand he cupped her generous breast and squeezed her yielding flesh. She melted into him and her soft, eager moan was squelched by his mouth on hers.
“Wait. Wait.” Hardaway pulled away.
“No,” she whined. “Don’t wait. Let’s not wait.”
“We have to get back,” Hardaway insisted. “This op has turned to a huge Charlie Foxtrot. The task force will be bugging out of here as fast as they can load the transports.”
“I’ve been down here for hours,” Quantrill insisted. “What difference will a few more minutes make?”
“Q,” Hardaway chided.
“And besides,” she went on. “You or me or both of us might buy it out there. Don’t you want to fuck me one last time, just in case?”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Awww,” Quantrill pouted.
She stuck out her plump, lower lip and batted her big, blue eyes. Hardaway gave her a sly look and then shifted to the smoldering, intense glare that both frightened and aroused her. “I’m going to make love to you,” he said in a voice that did not invite argument.
Quantrill had no intention of arguing anyway. “Yes, please,” she agreed eagerly and pulled at the fly of his fatigue pants with both hands.
Hardaway lifted her and gently lowered her to the bedroll. Then he slowly peeled away her baggy pants, revealing her short, shapely legs and the flushed lips of her hot, wet slit. He tossed her pants aside and rose to his knees. Quantrill looked up at him. In the dim light of the cave Hardaway looked more than ever like the raw, untamed warrior he was. He pulled away his gray fatigues and let them fall to the floor. His manhood stood out straight and hard. Quantrill’s legs spread as if they had a mind of their own.
“Come here, you,” she purred. Hardaway lowered himself onto her. The two lovers locked eyes in silence – not saying a word but communicating volumes. Then Hardaway kissed her. His kiss filled her with a slow, smoldering fire. His passion, his desire entwined with hers and together they created something more radiant and intense than the sum of their two bodies.
Quantrill was transported. She was captivated by the fulfillment of a tremendous need within her. She and Hardaway were joined together in more than just body. She could feel it. They were connected, deeply and powerfully. She was adrift in their union – a creature of thought and sensation, not crude physical matter.
When her attention slowly turned to her body once again, Hardaway had entered her. He slipped his thick, solid manhood in and out of her opening slowly and deliberately. He was savoring her – savoring her tight, pliable body. Did he also feel their deeper connection? Did he know how drunk she was on his closeness? Did he feel it too?
“I love you, Q,” he moaned in a voice rough with emotion. His words blew away the last remaining walls between them. Her overflowing heart stoked the passion of her body and the exquisite pleasure of her body filled her heart with joy. They were not two people any more. They were one. Together.
“I love … Ohhh! … you!” she cried out in joy and lust. Her cries continued but she lost the ability to form words. Hardaway moved faster within her, driving her wild with passion.
She had no idea how long she and Hardaway went on that way. Time had lost all meaning. The Fleet, the Corps, the war had all ceased to matter. There was nothing but her and her man. It was all she needed.
Eventually the physical world came crashing back to her. Her body convulsed with an explosive orgasm. Jolts of pleasure rocketed through her like guided missiles, erupting with showers of sparks throughout her body. Hardaway, too, spasmed into her and cried out his pleasure. Then they both sank to the bedroll in a sweaty, heaving mass.
“That was amazing,” Hardaway panted.
“Yes,” Quantrill agreed breathlessly. “Oh, yes. I am yours. Forever.”
They lay in silence for a while, breathing heavily and holding each other. It was a moment that Quantrill wished would never end. Of course, she knew it would. One way or another it had to. “We should get going,” she finally said.
“Yes, we should,” Hardaway agreed. But neither moved.
Finally the Lieutenant rolled away and gathered up his discarded uniform. “I’ll take the SAW,” he suggested. “You can have my three-six-teen.”
“Yes, sir,” Quantrill agreed. They were Marines again and they had a job to do.
Hardaway pulled on his battle armor and Quantrill did her best to wedge her curvy body into her own suit. The rigid, carbon fiber plates flattened her breasts uncomfortably and squeezed her around the hips and thighs, but it was better than going up against giant, killer bugs half-naked.
Hardaway went through his own kit to find all the AR316 ammo he had and passed it to Quantrill. She stowed the spare clips in her ammo vest and then checked over the rifle. It was Lieutenant Hardaway’s personal weapon, so of course it was immaculate. “Are we ready to go?” Hardaway asked.
“Oh, one more thing!” Quantrill squeaked. She poked through the pile of bloody rags in the corner until she found Hardaway’s shiny, silver Lieutenant’s bar pinned onto the remains of her shirt. “Wouldn’t want to lose this.”
“Actually,” Hardaway said ruefully. “I probably lost it already by coming down here.”
“Awww,” Quantrill said in sympathy. If they took away Hardaway’s command it would be a shit deal – for Hardaway and for the Corps. She edged closer to the Lieutenant and pecked at his lips. “I’ll have to make it up to you … somehow,” she whispered.
“That should be easy,” Hardaway agreed with a lopsided smile.
The hike back to the surface was about a kilometer through dark, featureless Bug tunnels. They didn’t run the whole way, but they didn’t take their time either. There was no telling when a Formid or two might come that way. When they finally emerged into the tired light of Angkor’s sun, Quantrill was so relieved she felt like singing. She was still on a nightmarish alien planet with God knows how many giant killer Bugs, but she wasn’t down that damn hole anymore and that was fantastic. “I never thought I’d be glad to see this shit-hole,�
�� she said with a laugh.
“I’m glad to see we don’t have company,” Hardaway agreed while scanning the area. “I’ll try to flag us a ride.”
While the Lieutenant used his helmet radio to contact the battle controller, Quantrill kept an eye out for danger. They were surrounded by jagged, black peaks and clouds of noxious vapors. Danger was all around, but at least it wasn’t coming at them. It wasn’t a great place for a relaxing hike through the wilderness, though – even without giant bugs running around. She hoped Hardaway would be able to get a bird to come pick them up soon.
“Feel like going for a walk?” Hardaway asked when he got off the com.
“Ah, fuck,” Quantrill grumbled. “They won’t send a ship?”
“No,” Hardaway shook his head. “It was a long shot anyway. You’re not the only one having a bad day today.”
“Misery loves company,” Quantrill said with a shrug. The two Marines set off for the staging area. They were in a great hurry, but moved cautiously and slowly. Hardaway insisted the last thing they wanted was for a troop of Formids to get the jump on them. Quantrill thought the overwatch was a little overcautious, but didn’t protest too much.
Her mind was changed, however, when she saw the serrated mandibles of a Formid warrior peek over a ridge on their right. Because of Hardaway’s deliberate formation she was already in fire position and simply squeezed the trigger to blast the Bug. Its ugly head disappeared back over the ridge.
“Run for it!” Hardaway yelled. They sprinted up a rocky embankment on their left. By the time the Bugs came over the ridge, the two Marines were half way up the hillside. That head start would let them put enough distance between themselves and the Bugs to disappear into the rocky terrain.
“Shit!” Quantrill swore. They reached the top of the hill and skidded to a stop. There were more Formids on the other side! This new group was already on their way up the embankment – alerted by their mysterious communication with the Bugs on the right no doubt.
“This way!” Hardaway ordered. He ran across the crest of the hill, perpendicular to the two groups of attacking Formids. They were not moving cautiously now – they were in a headlong sprint, leaping over rocks, boots slapping the ground.